Private One Warrior To Another

[Vilaz Munin]

It was another venture for those of Munin, soaring through the stars in search for glory and honor as they left a fury of fires behind their trail with the innocents and aruetiise they pillaged. They were scheduled to continue this campaign for one month before returning to their mother bade where the majority of the clan was located. They were nearing the end of their campaign as it was this was the last week to conduct their ruthless raids.

They had concentrated their efforts in the lawless Outer Rim where the Outer Rim Coalition loosely controlled systems and defended them from foreign attacks as was evident when the pathetic Mandalorian Empire invaded Utapau and the many skirmishes the defunct First Order wrought. They had to deal with Jedi, smugglers, mercenaries, and others that pledged to defend these systems. Casualties were suffered, but they were compensated with great spoils for their hard work.

They had conducted reconnaissance on an estranged world called Manas. Rural land with little technology except its capital; however, that would not receive their fury.

“Alor, why will we not take our glory from the city?”

An ambitious, young warrior of his clan approached Vilaz with a tone of respect, yet confused. Dealing with the youths like this one was insufferable, seeking for their own selfish desires instead of complementing the warband they were in.

“If you wish to do so, you will not receive my help, Galaar. You may wish to pursue others to join your offensive, but I doubt they’ll want to participate in a suicide run with a child leading them.”

He scolded the man, knowing he left him stunned and a tongue without words. Before he could stutter with not trying to be disrespectful to his chief, Vilaz dismissed him.

“Prepare the others, Galaar. You’ll be in my squad,” a treat for the young lad as it was always a great honor to be in Vilaz unir which comprised of veteran commandos. He would be the young blood in the squad.

“In time you will learn that personal glory is not all that matters, helping to secure a victory for all of us is a great honor than glory itself. Now prepare the others, we attack the village soon.”

It was hours before dusk fell on the land, the sun slowing sinking to the earth for the moon to rise up and take its place. What value did this village had? They did not have credits or any technology that could be of any value, but there was something else in mind: the youth of the village.

They could find some valuables to sell on the black market and other hubs, but it was the youth they had come for.

Rosalina​

 

[Rosalina]

Alm had failed as Sith, then she had failed as a Jedi.

The wonders of the galaxy did not seem to agree with her. Wandering from planet to planet under different banners, the Nasvalo had never found her place. And so, after several years, she had given up and returned to her homeworld, Manas.

As accustomed as she had grown to modern amenities, Alm had bypassed the spiraling capital of Sel for the land she’d grown up in. The mountains of Manas were dotted with tribes, scattered and conventional in their ways. Pushes from the capital to modernize were meant with staunch resistance by traditionalists, occasionally leading to bloodshed.

Upon returning to the mountains, Alm discovered that her village had been eliminated in one such campaign. Her parents, her siblings—slaughtered. And with them went Alm’s last fleeting hope that she could live out her days in happiness.

Shortly thereafter, she’d moved to a remote village deep in the Uul mountains and gotten married. Life was peaceful but joyless, Alm taking no delight in her husband. With no family status, land or goods to her name, she could not afford to be picky. He was not a bad man; nearly a decade her elder and widowed. To Alm, he was simply a faceless means to an end so that she could maintain as normal of a life as possible on Manas. She clung to the hope of someday becoming blessed with children, but was terrified that she’d wouldn’t find delight even in raising a family.

The great sun, Nar, sunk slowly below the clustered silhouettes of mountains. Balanced on a ledge, Alm stretched one long arm out for Byamba to land on. The avian creature grasped at the leather perch on her arm with sharp talons, letting out a low squawk. Alm sighed. Nothing.

It will be dark soon. Night brought more danger, predators hiding unseen in the craggy mountain topography and brush. Even though the day’s hunt was uneventful, Alm did not want to return to her village. To the hut that she shared with a man she did not care for. Arranged marriages were common, and the concept of love came secondary to security. Love, she had been informed, was something you build over time. Alm did not love her husband, but his presence and role served as a reminder of her failure as much as it was her future.

Sighing, Alm hopped from the ledge and slowly began to wind her way back to the village. Teneg, her husband, would be cross if she did not make it home before dark. But three of Manas’ moons were already rising, and stars were beginning to speckle the sky. Lifting her arm, she allowed Byamba to take flight overhead on their journey back. After a few minutes of traveling in relative silence, the hawk shrieked and dove downwards at an alarming speed.

Confused and concerned for only a moment, Alm stilled as something pricked at her senses. A warning in the Force. As she glanced towards the sky, wondering what Byamba had seen, she was greeted by the sight of several ships. Her stomach dropped at the sight. The occasional ship passing by was not so rare anymore, but these were flying far too low.

Heart thudding in her ears, Alm sprinted back towards the village.

Vilaz Munin

 

[Vilaz Munin]

Everything was planned. This was textbook all over it, and more easy based on the scans and reconnaissance they conducted. The village they planned their strike were still living in primitive times unlike those in the only urban city of Manas. These people weren’t the only ones who found value in such ways. Sometimes it was worth it more than what the Galaxy had turned into even if it was worth more exhaustion than the luxuries of efficient technology.

“This shouldn’t take long, Alor, ‘lek?” The young Galaar asked with confidence in his voice.

“The young will never cease to be reckless,” he replied back to the young warrior, the lad giving a confusing look. “Have you not learn anything? Gods how are you still alive? Don’t think your enemies lesser than you, no matter whom they are.”

He once was like Galaar. Young and thinking to be invincible to all, being above all else. That changed with experience and with growing older with scars and wounds to match the countless battles he had won and lost.

“Do not move away from the group, you will only compromise yourself and us. Understood?” And was met with a nod from Galaar. He only hoped all that he told him didn’t went in one ear and out the other.

They were nearing their target, and would descend down upon the villagers. Unlike regular infantry they had their own style in landing. They wouldn’t wait until the shuttle to stop and land on the terrain; no, they’d jump out and gracefully land on the earth with the aid of their jetpacks or repulsorpacks.

“Dive!”

Everyone followed as ordered and were falling in the sky. A few seconds would pass until they would halt their descent with their aerial devices, suspending themselves above the village. Barrages if wrist rockets were fired with no aim in hopes to cause panic and confusion among the villagers. Without any organization they would have no chance of a counterattack.

“Mind whom you are killing, that’s all.”

He would allow his warriors to be as vicious as they wanted, so long no game came to the youth of the village. Adults and elders would find rest today.

Rosalina ​

 

[Rosalina]

It was a sight Alm had not seen in a long time, not since the Sith raids.

Homes made from wood, mud and grass burned brightly against the rapidly setting darkness of night. Villagers ran screaming in all directions, some ablaze. Explosive rounds rained down on the remote village, bringing a host of firsts. War was not a foreign concept, especially when it came to scuffles with neighboring tribes and the modernized outsiders of the capital. This was likely the village’s first experience with modern weaponry.

As Alm sprinted towards her home, their enemy, previously unseen, descended from the sky. Jetpacks were a completely foreign concept to the Nasvalo, but to Alm the sight of beskar’gam clad warriors made her stomach drop.

Mandalorians.

Alm rushed inside her small home, which was miraculously untouched. She nearly ran directly into Teneg as he rushed past her, wielding a curved blade in one hand. Catching sight of the sword made her heart thud harder, knowing that even the finest of Nasvali craftsmanship wouldn’t even dent the Mandalorian’s tough armor.

<”We are under attack!”> He spoke to her quickly in their native tongue.

<”I know.”> Alm breathed, her normally flat affect vanishing in place of an urgent tone. <”Bring the children into the mountains.”> It would be harder to foreigners to navigate the paths there, even with their repulsor technology.

Reaching beneath the bed they shared, Alm retrieved her hammer. A native weapon, it had been alchemized by the Sith and Alm had used it to great effect in more modern battles, her size and strength making her a deadly combatant.

Alm did not know much about Mandalorians, but she knew enough to understand how utterly in trouble they all were. She knew them as armored warriors with a love of combat and weapons, some of whom raided across the stars, or hired themselves out as mercenaries or bounty hunters. One of their defining characteristics was that blood was of no consequence—they frequently adopted the willing, and sometimes unwilling, into their clans. No matter the gender, race, or species.

As far as she could tell, Manas had no contact with the Mandalorian people before now. Decimating a small village would not send a message. They were not wealthy in coin or natural resources. No, they were here for something else.

When she returned to the doorway, Teneg was gone. Alm sprinted towards the nearest Mandalorian with a deafening roar and swung her hammer. The blow landed directly in front of her, shattering the ground beneath her enemy’s feet in a thunderous rumble. Temporarily caught in the jagged earth, the Mandalorian tried to activate his repulsor to lift him out of the mess. Before he could lift himself away, Alm’s hammer came down with tremendous strength across his groin, where the armor tended to be weaker.

They weren’t going to survive this, that much she knew.

Vilaz Munin

 

[Vilaz Munin]

Obviously he’d get a response from the natives, they would retreat and fight back. He could respect the will these warriors had to fight back against their invaders, even though they were primitive and did not possess not a single thing that was modern technology. It would be a quick fight that was not out of the question.

Fire and destruction consumed the earth, homes set ablaze and the ground was deformed by the sheer explosives of personal missiles used by the Mandalorians. Bodies already littered about, bodies of adults and elders that belonged to the tribe along with any Mandalorians that were killed with their armor being exploited or by engaging in close quarters and being outnumbered. He was hoping to at least come out with one death out of his men, but that wasn’t going to happen. These were mistakes made that was influenced with pride and confidence, confident to be able to take on more than one combatant. Foolish mistakes.

“Focus on the task, I don’t want to see more sloppiness from any of you.”

Killing off a male warrior, Vilaz went searching for prey; killing any adult or stunning any children and young ones they found. But he found a child, one older and taller but her face resembled youth and hardly touched adulthood. Unlike the others, she stood and fought for her tribe instead of running away. An admirable quality, and she managed a Warrior with just a hammer? Interesting.

A beskad was in Vilaz’s hands, not bothering to use any of his blaster unless he needed to. It would be bad taste if he didn’t give these people that. The archaic ways of warfare. He’d approach this child and made sure no one interfered his fight with. So young, yet so brave and he’d test her to see where her capabilities went.

Impress me

Rosalina ​

 

[Rosalina]

The heady scent of death pierced the cool night air, countless bodies littering the village proper. Trained as the Nasvalo warriors were, those who’d chosen to fight to buy the fleeing villagers more time were rapidly dwindling. Their superior physical strength gave them an advantage over their adversary, but the Mandalorians had many advantages over the Nasvalo. Better, more efficient weapons and armor, namely. And training.

The Mandalorian Alm had immobilized was next met with a back-swinging hammer to the helmet. Whether he was dead or not, the Mandalorian slumped over, motionless.

As quickly as he’d fallen, another one took his place. But this one was different. Taller, and held himself with the confidence of a chief. Alm withdrew her hammer to her side, the heavy alchemized iron hanging low towards the ground. Her eyes wild and posture tensed for battle, she turned her attention towards this opponent. Unlike the others, he didn’t rush at her but approached calmly.

Alm straightened upon realizing that he was advancing on his own, unaided by his clansmen. She raised her hammer and rested it across broad shoulders, her already sharp gaze narrowing on him. He was wielding a blade, not a blaster or any other piece of high-tech weaponry. Then, she understood.

This is the chief.

Somewhere in the reaches of Alm’s mind, she was honored. At least she would go out fighting against their leader. Sliding her left foot back, Alm bent her other knee before pushing forward with a burst of speed. The hammer, glinting with the reflection of flame and sparks, would aim for the Mandalorian’s neck with it’s pointed end.

Vilaz Munin

 

[Vilaz Munin]

She was taller than him; therefore, possessed more mass and muscle than him. Probably could pick him up and toss him across the village. He would have to caution and avoid wrestling or grappling with the woman. She could trample him if she wanted to, if he wasn't wielding weapons and armor. Unlike him, she didn't have the benefit of even leather armor to protect her from any crucial wounds...but who said anything about killing the woman? Killing was easy, decapacitating and capturing her required a whole different strategy.

That is if he were to resort to primitive fighting and not use his advanced technology to claim the victory. Despite being a ruthless Mandalorian, he had some honor in him towards his enemies. If a courageous warrior, like the woman before her, was to challenge him he'd fight on even terms. Fighting with only his blade seemed to be fair and just for the woman.

She made the first attack, sprinting with her right leg with speed and swinging her hammer, which carried some unnatural properties, with every intent in striking at his neck. A straight out block would just hurt him as much as taking the blow. Either dodge or intercept her attack with his own energy. He opted for the latter and thus stepped forward and swung his blade at the direction of Alm's hammer, his momentum meeting with hers in hopes to deflect the path of the hammer down to the earth. His next move, being so close, was a punch at her guts. Probably could have done better, but he wanted to see how resilient and strong she was.

Then again...he probably could have done that after capturing her. Should've aimed at the face.

Rosalina ​

 

[Rosalina]

The Mandalorian was quicker than she thought. For all of their bulk, Nasvalo tended to be slower than smaller enemies. Especially smaller enemies who were trained in combat.

As her hammer closed the distance between them, the Mandalorian brought his blade up to intercept the hammer at the lower point of its handle. Metal clashed against metal, and the velocity of her hammer was not halted but rather directed into the ground between them. Alm let out a grunt of surprise, her dark eyes widening.

For a moment, she had forgotten about the properties of beskar. But she would soon be reminded, as the man slammed an armored fist into her torso. A groan of pain vibrated in her throat as she lurched forward, using her now grounded hammer as a crutch. A heated wave of anger and pain tore through her, pulsing off of her skin and reaching her eyes. As physically strong as she was, Alm was still a child in certain ways and found her anger easily.

With a roar of pain and battle adrenaline, she shifted lower and swung her hammer at his knees, following up with a shoulder-ram to his chest. Whether he fell, dodged, or blocked her hammer, she would try to unbalance him any way she could. The shoulder to the chest, if it landed, would dislocate her joint at least.

Vilaz Munin

 

[Vilaz Munin]

One punch wouldn't subdue the woman despite the properties of his crushgaunt. Made her feel pain that's for sure, that's all it could do. If he wanted to capture her, he'd have to knock her out or break some bones to decapacitate her. If it came to the latter, there was plenty of kolto and bacta to ease her ails before giving her more detailed medical attention. Or...there was always cybernetics, something that gave more benefits than organics. Something Vilaz recognized, but never bothered in voluntarily cutting off his limbs and replacing.

His attack didn't discourage her, it encouraged her. Filled with rage and adrenaline, powerful tools to anyone and yet they were dangerous as it could lead to one's own self-destruction if not disciplined. He couldn't tell if this tall, young woman was capable of mastering that. She swung her hammer at his knee, a brutal attack that could ruin one's knee in the long term.

He swung his blade to intercept the swing, but instead of landing on his knee it landed on his calf. Armor absorbed the trauma, mostly, but there was still energy that transferred over causing him to wince and lose his footing. Perfect which allowed the woman to shoulder ram him with grace, and knocked him down on his back. The Mandalorian would push himself back on his feet, although he felt pain in his calf causing a limp in his leg. A win for the woman in this bout of theirs.

Rosalina ​