There existed a moment in your life where it pivoted. It could have been something substantial, a turn down an aisle at a grocery store that causes you to meet or see someone. A choice to go out or not, to talk to that girl or not. To go to the gym more, to eat healthier for weeks on end.
For Feydrik, it happened outside of a cage fight.
A chance to be something more, to be part of something greater than he could fathom.
And by saying yes, in just that small moment across billions upon billions of moments in the galaxy, choices made every nanosecond- Feydrik was on track to change the galaxy, to make it quake with fear. Already, the Alliance met to discuss their attacks, their raids, their response.
The Sith did the same, and so would others. The Mandalorians were not looked at as weak, has-beens. They were feared again. They were respected again. They did not need reforms. Love and kindness, progress and tolerance. Relationships with Jedi, Sith, bargains, deals, bartering.
No.
The Mandalorians, his people, the Crusaders, did not need anything but to burn the galaxy to remind them of who they were. There may exist Mandalorians who claimed to be beyond their ways, but the Old Ways were not really, the Old Ways. They were the way, the path before. Clans may have preached tolerance and understanding, but equality was a false god, a lie. In nature, there was no equality. In species, there was no equality. It was simply the law of the universe, the cold unflinching fact that the galaxy and nature was cruel. The strong were meant to cull the weak, meant to reign, meant to dominate, meant to conquer. It existed in every facet of the galaxy and in every biome, every species, every animal to grace any planet.
And now, the Crusaders had come to remind the galaxy of it, since they had forgotten and grown weak with peace.
Feydrik found clarity in it, found purpose in the truth of it all.
So he waged
war.
And he would do so until his end came.
The Umbarans were the next ones to attack, the ones who dwelled in the dark. Feydrik was no stranger to darkness now, having been trained with the best of them. They were vicious, brutal combatants, competent in war and no stranger to it. But Feydrik was no stranger to violence, and he charged forward towards a barricade, manned by an Umbaran squad. Blaster fire and the bark of their rifles scattered around him, red streaks of light juxtaposing against the sanguine night as he charged forward, rifle in hand. He vaulted over the barricade, driving his legs into the chest of an Umbaran soldier, sending him tumbling backwards.
One of his comrades pulled a knife. Feydrik used his forearm to block the downward stab, and curled his fist- one that had one many fights in a cage, now adorned in a crushgaunt. He crushed half of his skull with one of the hardest hits he'd ever throw to another living person- with his left hand, at least. The Umbaran's mask cracked, and his skull fractured, his jaw dislocating before he even hit the ground.
Another wrapped his arms around Feydrik, pulling him from behind. Feydrik reached between his legs, grabbing the Umbaran by his ankle, squeezing tightly and tossing him onto his back. He raised a foot quickly, driving it towards his chest first, before using the stock of his rifle to bash his skull in.
Other Umbarans, unflinching of his display of brutality, came and began to fire on his position. Feydrik slid on the ground to avoid becoming mincemeat, and took the time to catch his breath behind cover, while it literally disintegrated around him. He looked up at the night sky, and laughed.
Feydrik Munin began to laugh, waiting for the Umbarans to reload before making his next assault.
