Private Steps Towards Salvation

[Kranak Vizsla]

Tags: Shai Maji

​

Under the night sky, a giant of a Mandalorian, clad in a set of beskar’gam painted jet black with a spot of white on his right pauldron, bearing the insignia of House Vizsla over it, walked the empty streets of Tor Valum’s industrial sector, alone. The man’s long black kama fluttered lightly from the gentle wind; the lily-white snow crunched underneath his boot with each step forward, drawing nearer and nearer towards the grand manufactorum that belonged to the company of his comrade, the Maji Ironworks.

Immersed in thought, his head hung low as he walked. His search for her, after recovering from his injuries, namely finding a replacement for his left arm he lost during the battle on Tython, finally yielded the results he sought after. One way or the other, he had made that Scoundrel ( Xyoz Maji ) talk, which in turn had led him back to Kestri.

Instead of contacting his chain of command and informing them of his findings regarding the Wardog’s case, the Vizsla had taken it upon himself to handle it, as he believed firmly for it to be his responsibility to do so. In a way, failing to find her when she had gone missing in action during the defense of Roon, and failing to rescue her when the Maw turned her against them through whatever utterly sick and evil machinations and perversions of the Sith, he had regrettably played a hand in the Shistavanen downfall into damnation, he thought.

He put the blame on none other than himself in that regard; the burden of the consequences of these failures became harder to bear in his heart and soul. It’s weight grew heavier with each passing day. He was the one that had led the search and rescue effort for her, after all.

He was supposed to watch her back, like one would expect their comrade to do.

Coming to a halt before the entrance to the manufactorum, the giant’s left hand reached out and grasped the door’s handle, but froze still as a moment’s hesitation got a hold of him, preventing him from twisting the door's handle and opening it.

He was unsure what to expect to find within the building. Could he really trust the word of that Scoundrel? Was she, really her old self again? Purged from the mind altering influence of the Maw?

Or was he just merely moments away from walking into an ambush?

No matter what fate had in store for him, there was only one way to find out.

And whatever it was that awaited him inside, he would face it.

Heaving a deep breath, the giant opened the doors to the forge, and stepped in with sharp vigilance; the Vizsla Alor’s gaze scanned the forge’s empty halls behind his helmet visor glowing white. His muscles tensed in the anticipation of a likely attack from the one he sought after, or any other likely hostile contact.

But despite the apprehension and unease within him about all of this, he hadn’t had his hands rest over the grip of his particle pistols, holstered on either side over his kama, over his thighs.

If what the Scoundrel had told him was in fact, nothing but the truth, and if she really was somewhere in the halls of the forge, then he would not be the one to take hostile action, unless he was met with such from the Wardog, first; but he was also not the one to leave caution out of the picture completely.

Its forges gone cold a few hours ago, and its workers already clocked out, the giant began to roam the halls of the manufactorum in search for his old friend as he kept his guard up, and moved as silent as the night.

Whether the Scoundrel told the truth or lied to him, he would see it for himself, soon enough.

​

 

[Shai Maji]

Shai had hoped that everything would be fine when she got home. That her time in the Maw would be forgiven, that her sins would be washed away and she could return to her people with everything going back to normal. It was a naïve hope she should have seen coming. She was ostracized, hated by many, shunned. Even her clan turned against her, stripped her of her name. That "chat" with Jos hurt the most. The only place she found solace for the moment was with her mother. She was terrified that her mother wouldn't be able to forgive her... she was the only one that didn't hesitate to welcome her back.

Deep in the factory, hammering echoed through the quiet walls. A single light burnt through the moonlit plant, coming from the Wardog's personal office in the factory. Behind the desk and bed, the hammering rang through the sliding door to Shai's own forge. With tears staining her cheeks, she hammered away at a new cuirass on the anvil. The rest of her armour laid next to the furnace, the electronics piled up on a nearby workbench. The only piece of armour untouched was sitting next to the forge, the cracked T-visor, scorched crimson paint, and singed mane staring back at her.

The worst part of it all was that there wasn't anyone to blame for all of this. The Enclave did what they could when the Maw took her, and she couldn't keep fighting against their cruel tactics forever in that cold cell. The only people to blame for all of this was the Maw.

The echoes grew louder as Shai continued to hammer away at her new cuirass, taking out all of her anger and frustration on the Beskar beneath her hammer.

It was only when she paused for a moment that she faintly heard heavy footfalls in the factory. She listened for a moment then moved towards the door with her hammer at the ready. She wouldn't put it past some people to try and kill her after what she did. But only as she opened the door of the forge as well as her office, did she recognise the giant figure approaching her. Shai stood in place for a long time as her new, organic eyes studied him. She was speechless for a while as she sniffed the air a few times. A strange scent drew her attention to his left arm, the familiar scent of cybernetics telling her exactly what she needed to know.

A smirk finally formed as she looked into his visor. "I told you so. I told you on Kaddak that I could take you, and you didn't believe me." She pointed at his arm with the hammer in her hand as she wiped at her eyes and adjusted her tank top. "That was with three other people all comin' at me. Imagine if you were alone." She snickered as she turned and walked back into her office to pull out a cigarette from a drawer in her desk.

"If you wanna get even, I'd suggest you aim between the eyes for a more permanent effect. Body shots won't do much against me anymore." She commented as she lit her cigarette and took a long drag, smoke pouring from her nostrils as she watched him.

Kranak Vizsla

 

[Kranak Vizsla]

Tags: Shai Maji

​

Not long after entering and roaming within the empty halls of the manufactorum in search of the Wardog, a rhythmical, loud beating of a hammer against something metallic reached his ears. The noise came from the deeper parts of the factory. It could not have been a forge worker doing over time, he thought, as all of them had already clocked out long ago.

Was it the one he sought after, then?

Moving as quietly as possible, the giant began closing in on the source of the rhythmical hammer strikes to investigate. Rounding a corner in the halls, he could see a faint ray of light peak out of the door left ajar. The noises were coming from the personal quarters of the Wardog. He could hear the faint crackling of flames and fire of the forge inside the room from here.

Although he still had a level of doubt whether the Scoundrel had set him up or not, he started to lean on more towards the fact that he was told the truth.

After taking a few steps forward in the hallway towards the door, the Vizsla would silently come to an abrupt halt a mere moment after the last hammer strike fell, beating against metal over an anvil the last time. Not a moment after, he faintly heard a set of footsteps, briefly moving about in the room, behind the door in particular.

He didn’t put past the Wardog to notice his presence. She was a Shistavanen, after all. Their auditory, visual and sense of smell were far sharper than humans. One would require the right technology to fool their senses or negate them completely for their benefit of staying masked and hidden from their senses, but that wasn’t his goal. He had only made use of stealth to perceive whether he was set up by Xyoz or not.

His concerns of walking into an ambush would be swept away as the door left ajar opened, with the Wardog’s familiar silhouette standing before him. The Shistavanen’s gaze swept over him, just as his swept over hers as they exchanged looks in silence for a moment. The Wardog would be the one to break the silence between them after her gaze shifted back to the Vizsla’s helmet visor, from his left cybernetic arm.

A smirk finally formed as she looked into his visor. "I told you so. I told you on Kaddak that I could take you, and you didn't believe me." She pointed at his arm with the hammer in her hand as she wiped at her eyes and adjusted her tank top. "That was with three other people all comin' at me. Imagine if you were alone."

The man remained silent as the Shistavanen turned around, and walked back into her personal quarters. As she disappeared into her office, the giant would follow in her wake slowly, in a trudge.

Despite everything she joked and quipped still; the all too familiar demeanor of hers he got used to as they served together for so long. It really was her. There was no doubt about that in his mind anymore. The revered shaman really had restored her, it seemed.

The Vizsla Alor’s gaze shifted from the Wardog and to his surroundings in the personal forge as she reached for a drawer in her desk and produced a cigarra. As he took in his surroundings, his gaze would hover over a piece of damaged battle-gear by the forge. Extending a hand towards it, the giant would inspect the helmet and its cracked helmet visor more closely as the Wardog spoke.

"If you wanna get even, I'd suggest you aim between the eyes for a more permanent effect. Body shots won't do much against me anymore."

The giant heaved a sigh at her words; his gaze remained over her helmet in his hands still; the damaged battle-gear was adorned with the markings and paint scheme of the Maw, albeit scorched and singed. The white glow of his helmet visor glanced back at him from the cracked helmet visor. His heart sank at her words as she spoke. Yet again she suggested to be shot by his hand. He very much understood the crave she had for the release of death; it was something he sought for himself, after all.

But he would not be the one to carry out that wish for her. Never. He did not do it then, he would not do it now. The mere thought of it that crossed his mind, sickened him.

<”In contrast to you, what I sought out that day was not your death,”> The giant broke his silence at last, responding to her comment earlier about how their confrontation over Tython went. It was a difficult fight, but not because the Wardog was of match to him. He had held back on purpose, whether she noticed that or not during the fight. Causing the death of his friend while wanting to save her, foregoing restraint… The weight of that guilt would have been something he could not bear over his shoulders.

The giant lowered the helmet in his grasp as he walked towards the workbench beside the forge. Leaning his back against it, the giant continued as he shifted his gaze towards the Wardog. <”As for this? Well…”> He said as he raised his cybernetic left arm. <”I earned this… injury, rightfully in combat. I will bear it with honor.”> There was not a hint of contempt in his voice. The time he spent alone with his thoughts as he recovered from his injuries took that away, for the most part.

Although he had taken silent pride in not losing a limb once in the countless operations and fierce battles he took part in, until Tython, it was just that, an injury; among many of which adorned his body, from head to toe. He’d refer to his battle scars as his “medals”.

Adjusting to the cybernetic replacement proved to be difficult, however. His body did not reject it, thankfully. But despite the numerous advantages it would give him in combat, he would choose the natural over the fake imitation any day of the week.

His glance shifted away from her visage, and onto the pieces of freshly crafted beskar’gam beside him on the workbench. <”You’ve been busy.”>

​

 

[Shai Maji]

Shai let out a scoff at his comment as she ashed into the circular furnace, glancing off at the armour for a moment before her crimson gaze returned to him. She watched him as he studied her helmet, only to continue on as he leaned against the workbench. A frown settled in as she took another long drag of her cigarette. "Cut the bantha crap, Kran. I can smell the grief on you. Honour is for people who wanna get an overnight ticket into a six foot hole. You think I was honoured when I had barely any meat left on my body?" She flicked the bud into the furnace with a shake of her head before tossing the cuirass back into the furnace. "Loyalty's a lot more important than honour. I thought you'd learn that after spending so much time with my cl-... my old clan." She grumbled.

Pulling a flask from the drawer, she took a long sip of its contents, though the crimson stain on her lips and teeth indicated that it wasn't alcohol. A chuckle rumbled in her throat as he commented on her armour. "Yeah well, I got six or seven death threats already on the tally since I got back with Runi. I might have some wackjob healing goin' on that'll make a Gen'dai blush, but I'm not in the mood for some lucky schutta to land a lucky hit on me." She took another sip and set the flask away before pulling the cuirass from the furnace. "Besides, the red paintjob looks dope as hell, but I don't think people will appreciate me still lookin' like a Scar Hound." She pulled her goggles over her eyes and began to hammer away again at the cuirass, with precise and powerful hits.

"Why are you here, Kran? You come to gawk at me? See if I'm still some schizo mutt tryin' to tear people's throats out? Or did you just come to gloat?" She looked up at him as she quenched the plates and shoved them back into the forge. "I heard Gwyn's ready to blow my head of, not that I blame her. You know what Jos said to me? He said I'm a disappointment. I'm excommunicated. Stripped of the name I helped build. The clan I pulled together on my own. You know what the worst part is? Now that I can think straight, I can't even be angry at him or anyone else." She pulled the plates out again and hammered away.

After several moments, she pushed the plate into a barrel of liquid and left it in as she turned to face him fully. "I know the answer now. I've moved on, I'm dealing with the consequences of it all. But I wanna hear it from you directly. Why did y'all never get to me?" She asked with a sigh as she drifted a hand over one of the furnace jets.

Kranak Vizsla

 

[Kranak Vizsla]

Tags: Shai Maji

​

"Cut the bantha crap, Kran. I can smell the grief on you. Honour is for people who wanna get an overnight ticket into a six foot hole. You think I was honoured when I had barely any meat left on my body?" She flicked the bud into the furnace with a shake of her head before tossing the cuirass back into the furnace. "Loyalty's a lot more important than honour. I thought you'd learn that after spending so much time with my cl-... my old clan." She grumbled.

Shifting not his gaze away from her visage as she flicked the cigarra into the furnace and the cuirass of her armor afterwards, Kranak remained silent as he dwelled on her words as she spoke. Their concept of what honor really meant was always in stark contrast. Always had been from the start. Unlike the Wardog, he took pride in every wound and injury he received throughout his service to their people, and always held death during the line of duty at the highest possible regard in both his heart and mind. Martyrdom. It was something he did not fear. Quite the contrary; he longed for it, and hoped to achieve that one day, ever since he joined the ranks of the Supercommandos of the Union Army when he was far younger, all those years ago.

But she did have a valid point, he could not deny that. Although it was debatable whether honor trumped over loyalty, or vice versa, the latter was just as important as the former, unquestionably so.

The resentment she had nurtured towards him… she had felt betrayed, and understandably so. If he hadn’t killed hope on the very first day of his imprisonment at the hands of the Dar’manda Commandos, the day Mandalore fell, he would’ve felt the same.

"Yeah well, I got six or seven death threats already on the tally since I got back with Runi. I might have some wackjob healing goin' on that'll make a Gen'dai blush, but I'm not in the mood for some lucky schutta to land a lucky hit on me." She took another sip and set the flask away before pulling the cuirass from the furnace.

That did not surprise the giant in the slightest. She had wounded and killed Mandalorians before their inevitable confrontation on Tython, after all. Nobody took that kindly, of course. The giant included. How could they? For many, it was an undebatable sign of her betrayal, but unlike the many that he shared that resentment with, he sought solace in hopes that she did not exactly have conscient input going into her actions. It was not the first time the Sith had managed to turn their numbers against them, after all. They were creative with coming up with newer techniques for manipulation, those spineless, scheming cowards.

"Besides, the red paintjob looks dope as hell, but I don't think people will appreciate me still lookin' like a Scar Hound."

<”Yeah…”> He muttered as his helmet visor looked away from the Wardog’s visage, and at the broken, damaged helmet within his grasp. <”You could paint it white, perhaps.”> he said. Although it was up to the armor’s bearer as to what a given color of their beskar’gam meant, certain colors carried certain meanings in their culture. The color white was a connotation of their philosophy of a “fresh start”. Cin vhetin. It meant that once becoming a Mandalorian, one’s past would be erased, that they would only be judged by their deeds from that point onwards.

But with that in mind, that might not have been so fitting of a choice. It wasn’t exactly a clean start.

"Why are you here, Kran? You come to gawk at me? See if I'm still some schizo mutt tryin' to tear people's throats out? Or did you just come to gloat?" She looked up at him as she quenched the plates and shoved them back into the forge. "I heard Gwyn's ready to blow my head of, not that I blame her. You know what Jos said to me? He said I'm a disappointment. I'm excommunicated. Stripped of the name I helped build. The clan I pulled together on my own. You know what the worst part is? Now that I can think straight, I can't even be angry at him or anyone else."

The giant looked up from the broken helmet visor to the visage of his friend again, as she went about working on her beskar’gam.

He wasn’t here for either of those. He did not doubt that her psyche was restored; back to normal. Or at least, as normal as it could get for the Wardog. She would not have been given the freedom to roam the streets of Tor Valum so freely if her psyche had resembled anything remotely to that of her old psyche while she bore the banner of the Maw over her armor. She was likely under surveillance regardless however, he thought.

He was here to help her in any way he could, to make it up to his failures as a comrade. He had failed her. He felt guilty as all hell for her current situation as a result. If he could have found her in time and rescued her, then none of this would have happened. She would not have been led astray from The Path to such an extent. The Si’kahya she wounded and killed on Tython, would have likely been alive today if he was successful.

But alas.

The sharp sizzle of heated metal doused into some liquid denied him further thought. Turning to face him fully now, the Wardog stood before him as she let the plating rest inside the barrel.

"I know the answer now. I've moved on, I'm dealing with the consequences of it all. But I wanna hear it from you directly. Why did y'all never get to me?" She asked with a sigh as she drifted a hand over one of the furnace jets.

The Vizsla Alor heaved a deep sigh before he answered her question, after a moment of silence passed in his deliberation. <”We… I have launched the search for you, when you turned out to be missing in action on Roon,”> He said. He reached and removed his helmet with his free hand. The helmet slipped off with a faint, depressurizing hiss; the dancing flames of the forge beside him shone over his scarred, aging features. “I tasked teams to look for you on the battlefield in which you went missing. I feared the worst, assuming you had begun the long march to the Oversoul,” the giant said in a bitter tone.

The term “missing in action” was often used to classify a fallen whose identity could not be discerned in any way, often due to a gruesome death. One could not identify a body if there was nothing left to identify in the first place. “Discovering nothing pointing towards your death, the search continued to find you. I’ve read dozens of after action reports, interrogated captured Mawites and their other considerable high ranking personnel before their inevitable field executions, but…” He came to a pause. Turning his visage away from hers for a moment, the giant set aside his helmet on the workbench, and reached for a canteen hung over his left hip. “Nothing. I could not find anything noteworthy pointing to your whereabouts. With no leads and the trail growing cold with each passing day, I went after several of their officers. I’ve captured them and interrogated them. One of them mentioned a name: Exogol.”

Unscrewing the canteen's lid, the giant took a moment to take a hefty quaff of tihaar in the water canteen. Lowering the canteen onto his lap afterwards, the dark brown eyes turned back at his friend’s visage, and continued to answer her question. “Searching for that, was… unfruitful. Futile, almost. Whether it was a name given to a planet, or a space station, or a prison ship, I could not find out. Not in time,” His head hung low slowly. He anticipated this, explaining his failure to her, being reminded of his shortcomings every second so far.

“Four to five months into your disappearance and with no proper trail to follow, I received concerning reports of an individual matching exactly with your description, waging war under the Maw’s banner on Empress Theta, against the Alliance. I didn’t want to believe it, but…” the giant paused; his broad chest plate rose and fell heavily as the Mandalorian heaved a deep, troubled sigh. “I mustered all of the assets I was provided to get a fix on your whereabouts after the battle for Empress Theta, but the drums of war had reached Tython shortly after that battle. I could not find you in time before that and… you know how the rest played out,”

The giant fell silent for a moment, taking a deep breath. Lifting the canteen to his lips, the giant took another swig of tihaar. Although he had drastically lessened drinking for none other than his daughter’s sake, he still made heavy use of it to help deal with his failures. “As to why I’m here,” he said, as he lowered the water canteen to his lap once more; the giant’s gaze looked up from the floor and at the pair of red eyes before him. “I did not come here seeking revenge, for this,” the giant raised his cybernetic arm, his hand grasping the water canteen still, before lowering it to his lap again. “Or to berate you like Jos did, or to make an attempt at taking your life. I came here to make up for the consequences of my shortcomings. I’m here to fulfill the binding duty I have towards you as a comrade. As a friend. You…” Pausing, the giant closed his eyes shut in response to the resurgence of anger and hate he harbored for his inability. Taking a moment to keep it in check, the man would continue a moment after, soldiering through it. “I failed you as a friend, as a battle-brother. I could not save you as they’ve led you astray from The Path, steering your soul towards the road to damnation.” He wanted to be there for her and help her back towards the path to salvation, even when everybody else regarded her as a traitor and casted her away.

Alone, cast away, forgotten, with seemingly no hope of salvation… These were some of the things he himself experienced under captivity well over a year. What prevented from breaking was the burning desire to deny his torturers the satisfaction of breaking his spirit.

What good would that do to her to relive that now again? He understood that punishment for her damning deeds was necessary. She had to answer for killing seven of their kin, and injuring eleven of them.

But this could not be the way to do it.

“I have a question of my own for you,” The giant said as he looked up at her after a long moment of silence. “Were you… conscious with your actions as you carried them out over Empress Theta, and Tython?” He asked. Although he would not give away his concern for the possibility of the damned truth that could be the opposite of what he had assumed from the start, his gaze could give that away at a careful glance, as he looked at the visage of his friend, waiting for her answer.

​

 

[Shai Maji]

Shai snorted at the thought of running around in white armour, shaking her head. "Yeah right. I'll stick to the orange and gold. Works better for me. Kark a fresh start, I got my body back thanks to Xyoz, I'm gonna enjoy it while I can." She quipped, taking out another cigarra from her packet. "Hell, I can smoke, drink and snort what I wanna and it won't even phase me. I ain't gonna let that slip past." She lit the cigarra and set her elegant lighter aside as she leaned against the furnace, uncaring of the jets right behind her back.

Kranak went on to explain the mess of a search he spearheaded after Roon. It matched what she could find out from Runi and whoever else was willing to talk to her, the one thing she clung to when the Maw tore her apart. Shai said nothing for a moment, even as he finished up. She wasn't sure what to say. "Exogol... yeah, that's the Maw's homebase. Planet's in a weird spot. Almost impossible to find, let alone reach. Fact of the matter is y'all would never be able to get to me, even if you found the coordinates of the planet." She admitted as she took a long pull from her cigarra. He continued, giving her a question.

Shai looked up at him for a long moment without moving an inch. "You know what makes the Maw dangerous?" She let the question hang for a moment. "Creativity. Give anyone else in the galaxy the materials they have, and they wouldn't be able to match the Maw. Same goes for how they treat their prisoners. I didn't have much meat on me anymore... they found ways to make me feel pain I've never felt before. Losing my body on Coruscant doesn't even come close to what they made me felt." She pushed off the wall of the furnace and walked over to her weapon rack against the wall. "But no matter what they did to me, their torture wasn't what broke me. You know what did?" She turned to face him again. "The hope of y'all comin' to find me. I was gone for... what? Weeks? Months? Hell, it could've been a year for all I knew."

She walked back to the barrel and pulled out the cuirass, the acidic liquid eating away at her pelt and skin on her hand, but the wounds quickly closed up and the fur grew back within seconds. "When they set me loose, I still hated them. Every chance I got, I went after a Mawite or Sith. But every kill, every bomb dropped, every city block flattened... I saw it as a road to the Enclave. To you. I wanted to leave a crater in Tor Valum's place. Glass Kestri until Mandalore looked like a paradise in comparison. And all the while... every drop of blood I spilled made me smile like a kid in a sweets shop. I felt a joy I haven't felt in years when I tore those Siks apart on Tython. Watched their bodies break against the ground." Her cold gaze stayed locked onto Kranak's eyes as she smoked her cigarra and tossed the bud aside.

"It took Runi tearing my very being into three to get me right. I can legally say I killed the voices in my head. The demons in my life. I only realized just how badly I've been warped when I had a moment of silence to think for myself again. And even then, it took some longass days of thinking to reach a point where I can say I made peace with what happened. I ain't angry or nothin' anymore... but what got to me was the fact that my ma was the only person to be happy to see me again." She walked over to the cuirass and studied the piece. With a casual nod, she set the slab of Beskar onto the pile of forged pieces.

Kranak Vizsla

 

[Kranak Vizsla]

Tags: Shai Maji

​

The Vizsla held the Wardog’s gaze as moments passed in silence. He did not have to wait for the Wardog’s response to his inquiry for too long, as she finally spoke. She first raised a rhetorical question at the giant. Although he took a wild guess as to what it was, the man kept his silence regardless, listening to the Wardog making her point.

Shai looked up at him for a long moment without moving an inch. "You know what makes the Maw dangerous?" She let the question hang for a moment. "Creativity. Give anyone else in the galaxy the materials they have, and they wouldn't be able to match the Maw. Same goes for how they treat their prisoners. I didn't have much meat on me anymore... they found ways to make me feel pain I've never felt before. Losing my body on Coruscant doesn't even come close to what they made me felt." She pushed off the wall of the furnace and walked over to her weapon rack against the wall. "But no matter what they did to me, their torture wasn't what broke me. You know what did?" She turned to face him again. "The hope of y'all comin' to find me. I was gone for... what? Weeks? Months? Hell, it could've been a year for all I knew."

It wasn’t a direct answer to his question, but as she was slowly getting to the point to answer the question he raised at her, what she said had confirmed a few of his assumptions. What had set their experiences apart, was the fact that he had killed the hope for rescue when he was taken prisoner, and got tortured. He did not expect to be saved, unlike her. He did not assume anyone would have been out there looking for him, leading an organized search to find and rescue him from captivity. And to an extent, he was correct with that assumption. There no longer was a government entity, along with its army, left standing after Mandalore fell. Chaos reigned. Clans and houses, whatever was left of the Union, were all scattered in disarray. It would not have been for a year after he was captured until his House had begun searching for him.

With the hope of escaping his captors, or being saved by his friends or family, purged completely from his mind, all that was left in their wake in his mind was to deny his enemies the satisfaction of breaking his mind and spirit, as he could not do anything to prevent them from breaking his body. Faced with such a circumstance back then, he had made his peace with the fact that he would die by their hand rather than grant them that satisfaction.

The giant’s gaze followed her as she moved towards the barrel she had chucked her cuirass in, and watched in silence as the corrosive liquid within the container ate away the pelt and skin of her hand as she retrieved the piece of armor. However, the injuries caused by the acidic liquid were healed in a matter of mere moments; the Wardog hadn’t even shown a telltale sign of enduring pain. Perhaps the nerves in her hand, as they were damaged, healed at such a swift rate that her body registered pain no longer.

The only way one could even mimic such regeneration capabilities would have been through a bacta processing implant, or a piece of technology that resembled it, but even that would fail to reach such efficiency. Although he witnessed a greater level of self regeneration from Xyoz in the past, the giant was impressed by the feat nevertheless, to say the least.

"When they set me loose, I still hated them. Every chance I got, I went after a Mawite or Sith. But every kill, every bomb dropped, every city block flattened... I saw it as a road to the Enclave. To you. I wanted to leave a crater in Tor Valum's place. Glass Kestri until Mandalore looked like a paradise in comparison. And all the while... every drop of blood I spilled made me smile like a kid in a sweets shop. I felt a joy I haven't felt in years when I tore those Siks apart on Tython. Watched their bodies break against the ground." Her cold gaze stayed locked onto Kranak's eyes as she smoked her cigarra and tossed the bud aside.

"It took Runi tearing my very being into three to get me right. I can legally say I killed the voices in my head. The demons in my life. I only realized just how badly I've been warped when I had a moment of silence to think for myself again. And even then, it took some longass days of thinking to reach a point where I can say I made peace with what happened. I ain't angry or nothin' anymore... but what got to me was the fact that my ma was the only person to be happy to see me again." She walked over to the cuirass and studied the piece. With a casual nod, she set the slab of Beskar onto the pile of forged pieces.​

The man’s gaze wavered not away from the pair of red eyes that cut deep into his soul; although the giant remained emotionless and indifferent from the outside at her words, a whirlwind broke out within him. Anger, pain, regret, confusion and despair; all swirled in his mind together in a bitter storm. She really was herself when she carried out those deeds; her desire to get back at those who “left” her to the mercy of the Maw, fueled her massacres. <…A joy I haven’t felt in years…> the giant repeated her words in his mind. This was the cost of his failure, but it also appeared not at the same time.

If what she said of Exogol was true, and it did appear to be so, then they had no chance of finding her, no matter how much they strived for it in the first place. And she herself learned of that later on, presumably while still under their captivity and later on, service, that they could not find her, no matter how hard the people that gave a damn for her tried. So, just how logical was her personal vendetta to get back at those who supposedly “failed” her, then? She would have been fully in the right if nobody even bothered to look for her and abandoned her completely.

But that was not the case. Far from it.

But perhaps that was the thing: under captivity, broken, tortured almost without pause, granted respite only when the torturer grew tired or bored, with the hope for rescue turned against her and abused by her captors… it wrecked one’s psyche; stripped of sense and reason, it was likely that she clung dearly to revenge as her single outlet.

He understood her, more than she may assume.

But coming to understand and being able to relate to her torment, what she experienced, and the cause of it all, did not simply rule out the necessity of punishment for her offenses many, namely the ones she committed against their people. Although her mind may very well have been warped as a result of the inhumane torture she was subjected to, she was conscious of every action she carried out while she committed her misdeeds, as she confessed. Every single one of them. That’s what damned him the most, now. He was under the firm belief that she was under a mind influence of some kind by the Sith, that she had no conscious input in her actions, but alas.

And what confused and angered him was the fact that not only she seemed to be aware of this fact, she expected others, namely her kin, to have welcomed her back into the fold without so much as questioning her doings; she expected them to forget and forgive the fact that she wounded and killed fellow kin, brothers and sisters. Their natural response towards her -although he himself did not approve of simply treating her like an outcast- had “gotten” to her.

Although forgiveness would come in time, it would not be granted so easily without penance from many of those she regarded as family, he thought. But forgetting about her misdeeds? That was simply impossible to ask of the people, from anybody.

“At a brief point in time, you became an enemy of the state by serving the arch enemy, Shai,” The giant said; despite the grief, anger and heartbreak growing within him, he remained stoic as ever, as evident from his demeanor, and tone of his voice. The giant set aside her broken helmet he held in his grasp beside him on the table as he continued. “You wounded and killed fellow servicemen. Not everyone will share your mother’s pure, uncorrupt joy of seeing you alive and well again.” He spoke non judgmentally, even though expecting such a level of acceptance for her misdeeds from her kin, was highly selfish of her.

The Vizsla Alor gave her the benefit of the doubt nevertheless. Maybe it was just the shock of abandonment talking. Not everyone understood, or wanted to understand her; their prudence and understanding was more than likely swept away by understandable anger, grief; and mourning from the relatives of those that fell by her hand.

​

 

[Shai Maji]

Kranak was silent for a few long moments as he mulled over her words. The Shistavanen calmly walked over and plucked his canteen from his belt for a hefty swig of the potent liquor inside. He finally spoke up again as she set the canteen aside and took her helmet to strip the electronics out.

The piece of armour was finally tossed into the furnace after a few quiet seconds. She wished it was so easy to fix her wrongdoings as it was to reforge her armour. "You think I don't know that? You think that wasn't the first thing to pop into my head when Runi finally managed to help me? When I could finally look Xyoz in the eye and tell him how sorry I am? I know I messed up. I know I killed our people. But karkin' hell, Kran... I hoped at least a handful of people would get the fact that I wasn't exactly hundred percent up here." She tapped the side of her head before looking into the smelting compartment of the furnace. The helmet was steadily turning into liquid in the base of the furnace.

"Even saying that I messed up feels like a slap in the face. I didn't just decide one day that I wanted to fight for the Maw. You of all people should get that. Yeah I killed our people, and yeah I feel guilty as hell for it... but nobody can say that I'm to blame. That I'm wrong after my eyes got ripped out, my teeth knocked out, and what was left of my body either sliced up or pumped full of shit that's got no business being inside a person." A firm scowl settled in as she raised a finger at him.

"I got more right than most to say I hate the Maw. They turned me against the people I dedicated two karkin' decades to. So really sorry if I held onto the little sliver of hope that at least a handful of people would be glad I'm finally home again. I'm finally back together again, both literally and figuratively." She grasped the tray in the bottom of the furnace and poured the molten Beskar into the hydraulic press.

Fiddling with the terminal, Shai flicked through the helmet options and tweaked the design until she was satisfied. And then the press got to work, hammering the basic form out for her helmet. "I tried to visit them." She spoke up after a long silence. Turning to look at him, she rested against the terminal. "The families. The ones I owe. I knew it was a bad idea. I knew it wasn't going to go smoothly, but I wanted to offer... something... to try and make it right. My services, favours, whatever the hell I could think of. What surprised me the most is the fact that out of the seven families, only two blew my guts or lungs out. I expected them to tear me apart and I was ready for it." She admitted more gently as she walked over and took his canteen again.

Kranak Vizsla

 

[Kranak Vizsla]

Tags: Shai Maji

​

Extending his left hand forth, the giant wordlessly passed the canteen to the Shistavanen when her motion implied she’d like a sip of the strong, colorless alcoholic spirit inside it. Having spoken his mind, the giant watched in silence as she set the canteen aside on the workbench beside him after taking a swig, and grabbed her broken helmet, stripping away all the electronics underlaid beneath the dome of her helmet.

Her old helmet, the last piece of armor that bore the Maw’s mark still, was cast into the furnace by the Wardog after a brief moment’s contemplation. His comrade responded to his comment not long after.

"You think I don't know that? You think that wasn't the first thing to pop into my head when Runi finally managed to help me? When I could finally look Xyoz in the eye and tell him how sorry I am? I know I messed up. I know I killed our people. But karkin' hell, Kran... I hoped at least a handful of people would get the fact that I wasn't exactly hundred percent up here." She tapped the side of her head before looking into the smelting compartment of the furnace.

As the Shistavanen spoke, the giant’s gaze shifted away from her visage and onto the floor for a moment, giving her words a thought in silence. Kranak nodded his head slowly, acknowledging her sentiment as he absent mindedly reached for one of his magazine pouches on his chest rig. Pulling out his tabac pipe from the pouch, the giant went about filling the pipe with a few generous pinches of high quality tabac while the Wardog continued to speak.

He preferred rolling up a cigarra over smoking from a pipe, but he couldn’t do that just yet with his new arm. The ones he had painstakingly managed to roll with hadn’t turned out great. Although performing combat actions with the replacement had created no issues so far, actions that demanded greater precision of the hand, was difficult to perform for the moment. Whether it was a calibration issue or just the fact that it was the natural troubles of adapting to a new, cybernetic limb, he hadn’t quite gotten used to it yet.

Placing the mouthpiece between his lips, the giant lit up the pipe after striking up a match against the side of the matchbox in his hands. Putting away the matchbox into his empty mag pouch, the giant blew the excess smoke away to the side after a drag.

He was somewhat correct with his assumption then, the Vizsla thought. Although she very much expected backlash for her actions, she did not perceive it to reach such an extent. And although she was conscious with every action she took while she carried out her misdeeds under the Maw’s banner, she was not a hundred percent herself, that much was obvious.

The giant heaved a sigh as he gently grasped the heel of the tabac pipe with his left hand and drew it away from his lips for a moment. He hoped that, whatever the punishment she would receive from the military court, it would be just to her. The Wardog’s situation was, although very much uncommon, it wasn’t unheard of. Similar instances had occured in the past.

She would be prosecuted under their military criminal law, seeing as though she had resigned from her Si’kahya duties long before Roon, she had remained in service in their armed forces still. It probably wouldn’t be for long until she received notice for a trial, the giant assumed.

Looking up from the floor and back at her visage again, the giant would remain silent for the moment, taking a few drags from his pipe as she continued on.

"Even saying that I messed up feels like a slap in the face. I didn't just decide one day that I wanted to fight for the Maw. You of all people should get that. Yeah I killed our people, and yeah I feel guilty as hell for it... but nobody can say that I'm to blame. That I'm wrong after my eyes got ripped out, my teeth knocked out, and what was left of my body either sliced up or pumped full of shit that's got no business being inside a person." A firm scowl settled in as she raised a finger at him.

"I got more right than most to say I hate the Maw. They turned me against the people I dedicated two karkin' decades to. So really sorry if I held onto the little sliver of hope that at least a handful of people would be glad I'm finally home again. I'm finally back together again, both literally and figuratively." She grasped the tray in the bottom of the furnace and poured the molten Beskar into the hydraulic press.​

The giant would give a deliberate nod of his head on a few occasions as continued, further explaining her side of it all, and how she felt of the unfairness of the situation. Thinking more of it in silence, it seemed… unfair if her penance would have been anything other than spiritual redemption of some kind. She was no traitor. Not a Dar’manda. Her recorded deeds that stretched years back, was not expunged.

Her mind was warped; even though she consciously took the lives of those good men and women, she would not have done so if she was in her right mind.

She wouldn’t. The Shai he had confronted on Tython, although shared an undeniable resemblance to the woman that stood before him right now, they were not the same person. Whoever that was, it was not the same woman she got to know over throughout their service together, over two decades.

Taking a deep drag from the tabac pipe, the giant blew smoke in a deep sigh before he spoke, as the Wardog went about the process of reforging the remainder parts of her beskar’gam. “Witnessing the near plunge to damnation of one they looked up to, damned near everyone, old girl,” He said, pausing for a moment to take a short drag from his pipe before he continued. “You, me… everyone who at one point in their lives that have achieved the right to bear the revered title of ‘Si’kahya’… our people look up to us all. You know that. We are their sword and shield, the resolve of our people.” They were all held to such a high regard, and rightfully so; they were the best of their people.

The glimmer of envy in their eyes, Foundlings and full on Mandalorians alike… so many wanted to become like them, to become a Si’kahya. And yet only a handful out of hundreds would emerge triumphant out of the arduous selection period, however. Sometimes it would be even less than that.

The thought of one of them, even though she was a Si’kahya no more, on paper, had come so close to damnation… the mere possibility of such a thing that could occur hadn’t even crossed the minds of the many who despised her now.

“They could see the light of reason once their anger subsides, perhaps… In due time.” The Vizsla sighed, heaving a drag of smoke from his tabac pipe in further silent contemplation of her words. Their costly victory against the Maw, and the wounds they’ve taken during that battle were all fresh in people's minds, still.

Rapid hammer strikes echoed in the room from the machinery the Shistavanen interacted with via a terminal, not long after she had fed it commands to design the remainder of her battle-gear. The Wardog spoke after a long period of silence from the both of them.

"I tried to visit them." She spoke up after a long silence. Turning to look at him, she rested against the terminal. "The families. The ones I owe. I knew it was a bad idea. I knew it wasn't going to go smoothly, but I wanted to offer... something... to try and make it right. My services, favours, whatever the hell I could think of. What surprised me the most is the fact that out of the seven families, only two blew my guts or lungs out. I expected them to tear me apart and I was ready for it." She admitted more gently as she walked over and took his canteen again.

The giant remained wordless as the Wardog walked towards him, and reached for the canteen that sat beside him on the table. He silently mulled over her words as he puffed at his tabac pipe, and the steps she had already taken in her path towards redemption. She had the opportunity to leave it all behind; she could have lived free of the consequences of her misdeeds if she had chosen to just walk away, with a man that loved and cared for her dearly.

Yet she didn’t. She chose not to. She came back to them all. And that was not exactly the doing of the revered Shaman either, who had extended her a helping hand during the Wardog’s time of need.

She cared, wanting to make amends for her misdeeds; even though she could have relatively cleared her conscience from her sins, from both her mind and soul by firmly grasping onto the idea that her mind was wholly warped when she committed those acts.

A faint, bitter smile emerged from the giant’s scarred features in wordless response in realization to that. It would leave its place to his usual, more stern facial expression when the giant would speak, due to the gravity of the subject. “A martyr only truly dies when they are forgotten,” the giant said as he drew away the mouthpiece of the tabac pipe in his hand. “It falls upon us, those who remain, to forget not their names and deeds; to remember them forevermore.” He raised his pipe to his lips afterwards to puff at it; quietness got a hold of him as he pondered.

She would not be atoning alone, as the men and women that she had killed had died under his command during that battle. He took the loss of any that had given their lives under his watch personally; and the fact that he blamed himself for their deaths for this instance, made it all the more difficult to bear on his shoulders.

If he could have found his comrade before she was taken to what appeared to be the only planet out and away from their reach, they could have been alive today. But no matter the grief, the desire and wish they were alive today, what’s done was done. Nothing the both of them could do would bring them back. They had begun the long march to the oversoul; a march one could not return from.

But not all was lost. The light of salvation shoned upon the both of them. It fell on his shoulders now to be there for her, and amend for his own failures. He could not help her when she needed it the most back when she was taken prisoner, and tortured. He could not forsake her the assistance she needed. He could not bear to repeat that. He had to be there for her.

That was what friends, comrades were for.

After a long, silent deliberation of the subject matter at hand, with all of the truth in mind, the giant turned his head to the side and blew the smoke away from the Wardog. Shifting his gaze back at her visage as the pipe in his hand lowered onto his lap, the man’s lips parted, and spoke. “Welcome back, old friend.”

​

 

[Shai Maji]

Kranak spoke up, though Shai was more intrigued by the pipe he stuffed and lit. Suddenly she felt a lot younger than he was, despite knowing it wasn't the case. She stifled her laugh and looked into his eyes as he mentioned the weight her former position as Si'kahya held in the Enclave. She shook her head as she walked back to the hydraulic hammer's terminal. "We do not forgive. And we do not forget. You should know that, Kran. No amount of time will bring back their people, and every time they see my face will be a reminder of what happened." She turned to face him again. "The day they forgive me is the day I likely meet their grandkids." She remarked, stopping the hammer to remove the pressed helmet and shove it back into the furnace.

“Welcome back, old friend.”

Shai scoffed at his words, waving it off as she lit another cigarra. "Yeah, yeah, you can feel sorry later." She dismissed as she gestured to the pipe. "You know you can buy cigarras right? You don't have to look like a sixty year old grandpa with a pipe and stuff." She teased as she pulled the helmet out and set it back into the hammer. A grin formed as she turned and pulled her goggles back up. "Missed you too, Kran. No hard feelings over the arm, right?" She quipped with a snicker. "You should let me scan it, make you some Beskar plating for it. Alora can fit it for you, she's a mastermind with cybernetics. Can help you with the fine motor control too." She offered as she watched her helmet take shape.

"I need to see her still. I hope she can forgive me." She admitted, taking a deep drag of her cigarette. Despite all the chaos, Alora Vizsla was the one entity she could never hate. Something she could never figure out, even now with a clear head. "She's still around, yeah? Think I might swing by her place... but hey, on the bright side... at least Eliz didn't get to see me mess up this bad." A sad smile took hold as she stared back at Kranak.

Kranak Vizsla

 

[Kranak Vizsla]

Tags: Shai Maji

​

The Vizsla remained silent as he heaved a puff from the pipe he raised to his lips. His gaze remained on her visage as he huffed the smoke with a sigh. The giant remained silent indifferent to the Wardog’s stifled laughter as she shook her head to his sentiment, before turning around and walking back to the terminal of the hydraulic hammer. In silence, the man listened to what she had to say in turn.

"We do not forgive. And we do not forget. You should know that, Kran. No amount of time will bring back their people, and every time they see my face will be a reminder of what happened." She turned to face him again. "The day they forgive me is the day I likely meet their grandkids." She remarked, stopping the hammer to remove the pressed helmet and shove it back into the furnace.

He shook his head slowly in silent response towards her sentiment. One could forgive the other for their wrongdoings, without forgetting what they had done. The sentiment of hers only applied to their enemies; there were certain things one that could never find the mercy in their heart for forgiveness, and although her misdeeds came somewhat close to that, it was very much still far from it.

She had the opportunity to make up for it all, in time, one way or the other. She knew that too, but she struggled with forgiving herself for what she had done. He very much understood, and knew how that felt.

Shai scoffed at his words, waving it off as she lit another cigarra. "Yeah, yeah, you can feel sorry later." She dismissed as she gestured to the pipe.

The giant cracked a grin in a wordless response to the Wardog’s scoff; he knew what really lied under that expression. He had gotten used to her demeanor over the two past decades. She was just pulling his leg.

An inquiring expression would emerge from his features in response to her gesture to the tabac pipe he smoked.

"You know you can buy cigarras right? You don't have to look like a sixty year old grandpa with a pipe and stuff." She teased as she pulled the helmet out and set it back into the hammer.

Unable to contain his laughter to her likening him to an old man, the giant heartily laughed at her tease. “Whatever it is that they process the tabac with,” the giant said as he chuckled, pulling the mouthpiece of the pipe away from his lips. “They somehow managed to give it a taste worse than ration cubes.” The giant remarked. That was the primary reason he preferred rolling them his own instead of buying packs of cigarras; the pre-packed cigarras didn’t have that earthy, nutty flavor he liked.

The giant raised the mouthpiece of the pipe to his lip again, puffing at it as she turned to face him again, pulling her goggles up.

A grin formed as she turned and pulled her goggles back up. "Missed you too, Kran. No hard feelings over the arm, right?" She quipped with a snicker.

The giant grinned as he blew the smoke to the side. “When I said I would bear this injury with honor,” he lowered the mouthpiece to his lap while he spoke. Reaching for the canteen sat on the workbench beside him, the giant gently twirled it in his hand; what little tihaar was left softly sloshed about inside the canteen. “I did not say it for the sake of conversation,” raising the canteen to his lips, the giant took a hefty swig. The bitter, yet tasty alcoholic contents within the canteen depleted, the Vizsla tucked it into its respectful pouch at his hip. A bitter grin emerged from his features as he spoke “I deserved it, in a way; it will serve me as a reminder for my…” the giant paused for a moment. “Yeah.” Standing up from the workbench he had leaned his back against, the giant paced slowly about the room, stretching his legs as he occasionally took a pull of smoke from his pipe.

"You should let me scan it, make you some Beskar plating for it. Alora can fit it for you, she's a mastermind with cybernetics. Can help you with the fine motor control too." She offered as she watched her helmet take shape.

Pondering no further about his failure as a battle-brother for the moment, the giant looked up at her visage when she spoke about swapping out the arm with another one. His arm was already plated with beskar, its structure. “Thank you, but a replacement is not required. My little Gwyn’ika fashioned this for me,” The giant smiled heartily from ear to ear; the pride he had felt for his daughter would be evident in his words whenever he’d speak of her. The pride he felt for her grew only stronger after she passed her Verd'goten successfully, and became a fully fledged Mandalorian.

The replacement she had made for his missing arm in that regard, now had a sentimental value for him.

But he did entertain the idea of paying a visit to his fellow clanmate to get checked up. Performing actions that demanded the more precise movement of the hand was still difficult for the giant. “I might just pay her a visit if Gwyn’s too busy to fine tune the motor controls,”

"I need to see her still. I hope she can forgive me." She admitted, taking a deep drag of her cigarette. "She's still around, yeah? Think I might swing by her place... but hey, on the bright side... at least Eliz didn't get to see me mess up this bad." A sad smile took hold as she stared back at Kranak.

The giant came to a halt and turned towards the Wardog as he listened to her speak of Alora. He gave a nod of his head in wordless response to her question; she was still around.

His gaze would lower slightly, away from her visage as his thoughts dwelled on the half chiss kid now. He shifted his gaze back at her, after a moment passing in silent pondering. “Saying the kids did not take kindly to your misdeeds, would be a severe understatement. But Eliz?” He took a moment’s pause to heave a long puff of from his pipe before continuing. “After Panatha, after he… somehow found his way back to us with the state he was in,” The kid was believed to be dead, with his body buried under tons of rubble after a massive occuring explosion, during the battle that raged inside the mines of the Iron Mountain that looked over Canthar, the planet’s capital. “He did not return to us with his memory fully intact. Major cranial trauma. He returned seemingly healed from his injuries. Though it took him several months to even begin remembering his own name.” The giant crossed his arms over his broad chest plate, turning his visage away from the Wardog to avoid blowing the excess smoke towards her face. “There’s a good chance he hasn’t even begun remembering what you once meant to him; your name, who you are, the memories you two shared...”

​

 

[Shai Maji]

Shai snorted as he commented on cigarras with a shake of her head. "You're just buying the wrong stuff, man. I'll get you a proper case of Copacabana cigarras when I head out that way again. Trust me, that's good quality stuff." She commented as she removed her finished helmet from the hammer and set it down on the anvil. She'd finish it up later.

He went on to talk about Eliz, though what he said was not at all something she expected to hear. She paused and turned to look at him with wide eyes. "Hey, hey, hey, hold up. You mean... you mean the kid's alive?" She blinked as a smile formed. "How the kriff did he manage that?! Dude had a karkin' mountain come down on him. Holy kriff..." She laughed with disbelief as she picked up her helmet. "I'll pay him a visit later. Don't care if he remembers me or not, I just... wanna see him. Holy kriff... the kid's alive..." She set the helmet down and walked over to lean against the table beside Kranak.

There was a long silence as her smile faltered. She still had a lot on her mind. "I've... been thinkin' about stuff. I think... I'm done. With the whole Mando thing." She admitted softly. "Not like... dropping the armour and stuff. I'm a Mando, that'll never change. But... the duty. I sacrificed my entire life for our people. Lost a part of myself with every fight we went through. I'm still sticking around, but... Xyoz gave me a second chance. A chance to make right with what I did wrong... but I don't wanna go through all of that again. The wars, the bloodshed, the pain of it all... I got a chance at a fresh start and I want to use it." She finished with a sigh. Another thing that stuck in the back of her mind, the fact that she could never repay Xyoz Maji for what he did.

"Oh... and... on that topic..." In an instant her attitude changed. She turned and jumped up to slam her forehead against his, hard enough to knock him to the ground as the Shistavanen lit another cigarette. "That's for karkin' with my husband." She exhaled a plume of smoke as she stood over him with a harsh glare. "Don't let me catch that happening again, please." She warned with a cold voice before reaching down and yanking him back onto his feet with a surprising lack of effort. She made sure that he was okay, patting down his gear as a grin took hold. "Welcome to the Mando'ade, brother. Come on, I got some ice in my freezer." She tugged him along to her office where she pulled a packet of ice from a freezer filled with flasks of blood. Back to normal, she pressed the ice against his head as she checked for any serious damage with concern in her eyes. "Hope you ain't going home anytime soon, I got a bottle of tihaar and a helmet that needs finishing." She quipped as she pulled her bottle from her desk.

Kranak Vizsla

 

[Kranak Vizsla]

Tags: Shai Maji

​

"You're just buying the wrong stuff, man. I'll get you a proper case of Copacabana cigarras when I head out that way again. Trust me, that's good quality stuff." She commented as she removed her finished helmet from the hammer and set it down on the anvil.

The man only smirked at her remark of his lapse judgment of the cigarras he had stumbled upon so far, sold on shops by vendors and all. If those Copacabana smokes tasted even remotely better than the ones he had come across before deciding to buy the tabac himself and smoke them from a pipe, he’d most certainly give it a try.

Talking of the hybrid, moreso the giant mentioning the fact that the kid was in fact alive, had made a visual impact on the Wardog. Pausing, the Shistavanen had turned around; a mixture of surprise, confusion and glee shone from her blood red eyes as she looked at the giant’s visage.

"Hey, hey, hey, hold up. You mean... you mean the kid's alive?" She blinked as a smile formed. "How the kriff did he manage that?! Dude had a karkin' mountain come down on him. Holy kriff..."

The Wardog’s joy was contagious; a smile was quick to take hold of the giant’s features. Puffing at the tabac pipe he raised to his lips, the Vizsla gave a nod of his head as he chuckled softly at her natural, heartfelt bewilderment and joy, confirming the kid was indeed alive, and relatively well aside from missing most of his memories. ”I think only the Manda knows how he survived all of that in one piece. He has no memories of how he survived that ordeal as of yet,” he said; the mouthpiece between his lips slurred not his speech.

"I'll pay him a visit later. Don't care if he remembers me or not, I just... wanna see him. Holy kriff... the kid's alive..." She set the helmet down and walked over to lean against the table beside Kranak.

There was a long silence as her smile faltered. She still had a lot on her mind. "I've... been thinkin' about stuff. I think... I'm done. With the whole Mando thing." She admitted softly.​

As a long silence took ahold of the room, Kranak’s smile faded to a grin, but an inquiring glint would shine from the pair of dark brown eyes at the Wardog’s change of mood; her smile fade away with each passing moment before she eventually spoke again, after a long pause spent in her contemplation. When she eventually spoke, the giant felt his heart sink at her words, but would let out a brief, muffled sigh of relief with a small cloud of smoke he huffed to the side as he realized what she had ment, and clarified it in the coming moment. Of course she would remain a Mandalorian. Why else would she reforge her armor, and come back to them?

She admitted softly. "Not like... dropping the armour and stuff. I'm a Mando, that'll never change. But... the duty. I sacrificed my entire life for our people. Lost a part of myself with every fight we went through. I'm still sticking around, but... Xyoz gave me a second chance. A chance to make right with what I did wrong... but I don't wanna go through all of that again. The wars, the bloodshed, the pain of it all... I got a chance at a fresh start and I want to use it." She finished with a sigh.

The grin on the giant’s face did not fade as she clarified. He did not utter a word as she spoke, and the moments that would come after. As the Wardog continued to speak, his gaze would trail her while she walked towards the workbench and leaned her back against it; he gave an understanding nod of his head in a wordless response to her words. He did not hold her desire to quit waging war against her. He hadn’t done so when she had come up to him with a resignation request of her duties as a Si’kahya. He understood then, he understood now. What had surprised him then was the fact that instead of taking a step back completely, she had remained in the armed forces even after her resignation. He had assumed the Wardog would have quit entirely then, and manage her clan while taking part in the war on occasions.

As much as he had dedicated himself to the servitude to his people, following in the steps of both his mother and father in doing so, he could not deny that it took its toll greatly. After serving for so long, the sense of purpose it once gave him, had begun to dwindle; the young one he had taken as his daughter was among the very short list of things that had him wake up in the morning, to continue to live. That, had trumped over the sense of purpose his servitude had given him for so long, now.

Like him, and so many others, she had given so much to all their people. It was time she began thinking of herself again. The giant understood her completely.

"Oh... and... on that topic..."

His head tilted slightly to the side, the giant’s eyes squinted as the dark brown pupils flashed with an inquisitive glint at her words. What- “Argh!” a pained grunt escaped his lips as the Wardog jumped up and delivered one mean kov’nyn after running at him at the blink of an eye. Taken by surprise by the unexpected attack, the Mandalorian stumbled backwards from the blow, and fell onto his back as he lost his balance. Opening his eyes he had closed shut at an instinctive response to the pain, a red hue was cast over his vision as his gaze met the Wardog’s glare.

"That's for karkin' with my husband." She exhaled a plume of smoke as she stood over him with a harsh glare. "Don't let me catch that happening again, please."

Although the giant held her glare with his own, he conveyed wordless sympathy. The Scoundrel had told her of their little brawl, then. Of course he would, seeing as they were closer than ever before now. He must have told her the reason why Kranak had sought him out and had a chat with him too, seeing as the Wardog’s glare softened as she extended the giant a hand to help him up his feet. Grasping her hand firmly, the giant pulled himself back up to his feet without trouble; his brow throbbed sharply in pain from the blow. “There is no need for that,” he muttered as the Wardog went about patting down the gear and armor he wore after helping Kranak up his feet, but that hadn’t stopped her from extending that kind gesture regardless.

"Welcome to the Mando'ade, brother. Come on, I got some ice in my freezer."

The man chuckled softly at her words as the Wardog grabbed him by his right bicep and tugged him towards her office. As he walked with her, the giant shook his head slowly in response to the pain while he simply gritted his teeth and toughed through it. He had felt pain much, much worse than this; he could bear it easily.

And although the sharp pain would subside in a few moments, he did not decline the ice pack offered to him. The cold running down all over his visage as his brow numbed from the cold, was refreshing. He’d grasp the ice pack the Wardog pressed against his brow with his right hand. “It is nothing,” with a grin, he assured the Wardog upon seeing the glint of concern glimmering in her pair of crimson eyes.

"Hope you ain't going home anytime soon, I got a bottle of tihaar and a helmet that needs finishing." She quipped as she pulled her bottle from her desk.

The giant shook his head, gently tossing the ice pack on her office table with the precise flick of his wrist. “I don’t have a place to be until the day following,” he answered as he drew away the mouthpiece of his tabac pipe from his lips. Settling down on a chair by her table, the giant reached forth for the bottle of tihaar set on the table.

His gaze fell on the label of the bottle in his hand as he leaned back against the chair. “Seeing him tear you limb from limb… I thought he killed you,” he said, referring to his helmet cam footage he had watched; after losing his consciousness from the wounds he suffered from, the helmet had recorded the remainder of the fight, still. “Had readied myself for that reality, as best as I could, anyway. I’m glad it did not turn out the way I had falsely assumed,” Setting the pipe on the table for a brief moment, the giant opened the bottle of tihaar afterwards.

Tossing the bottle’s cap over his shoulder, the giant’s gaze turned towards the Wardog’s visage. “Here’s to a long and a happy marriage,” the man congratulated her with a smile as he raised the bottle to his lips. He took a long, hefty swig of the tihaar in the bottle. He heaved a sigh as he set the bottle on the table, and passed it to the Wardog for her to drink.

Immersed in thought, the giant’s gaze would shift from the Wardog’s visage, and onto a speck of dust on the table. Fallen silent for a moment, the giant would shift his gaze back at the pair of crimson pupils again, raising a question he had intended to ask for some time now, but hadn’t had the opportunity to do so. “So tell me,” he said, reaching for his pipe. “What is it that you saw in him that I can't, Shai?” He asked, heaving a puff of smoke from the pipe after raising the mouthpiece to his lips. "Xyoz,” he clarified who he spoke of. “Aside from the fact that he gave you back what was taken from you on Coruscant... what did you see in him?” he asked out of curiosity. The Xyoz he knew was a failed pirate turned to a very successful drug baron; an honest to Manda criminal, that had troubles with the use of technology.

And yet despite that, and despite the resentment he harbored towards the Scoundrel within him when he had mentioned he feasted on their kin fallen in combat, disrespecting the dead through despicable desecration of their bodies, he had felt a sliver of good within his heart, still. She had to have known of what he had done, and yet she accepted him regardless. What was it that she saw within that Scoundrel, that he couldn’t?

​

 

[Shai Maji]

Shai's grin escalated as he popped open the bottle and took a proper swig of it before holding out the bottle to her. "Long and happy marriage." She echoed with a wink. Leaning against the table, she accepted the bottle and took a long drink of the powerful liquor. Her face contorted into a snarl as she shook her head. "Hot damn, that stuff slaps. Haven't had it in a while. Man..." She took another gulp before giving the bottle back to him.

Kranak voiced his concerns over what happened on Tython, what Xyoz eventually resorted to in an attempt to subdue her. Her grin faltered as she gave a nod, throwing the ice back into the freezer. "Gotta admit, took me by surprise as hell. Also hurt like hell, but that goes without saying. Really thought everyone was turned against me. Entire galaxy was brainwashed into wanting to kill me, even him. When he tore me apart, I genuinely felt more pain from his 'betrayal' than actually having my guts and stuff ripped out." She made air quotations as she spoke, taking the bottle for another swig.

His next question was a lot more interesting, though. An eyebrow raised as a smirk spread across her maw. "He's my husband, get your own." She joked, lighting another cigarette. "Nah... in all seriousness, it shouldn't have worked out for us... but it does." She started as she walked back into her forge.

"I met him long ago, after we took back Mandalore in the Union. He had another name back then. He was also a Sith Lord in the Sith Empire." She leaned against her anvil and stared directly at him as she casually dropped the proverbial bombshell on him, knowing exactly how ludicrous it sounded. "I found him trying to deliver some kind of holocron and I went after his shuttle. His crew escaped in a pod while he tried to steer the ship down to some kind of planet. I tracked him down while my ship went after his crew's pod." She picked up her helmet and studied it for a few long moments as she figured out the layout.

"We got ambushed by a bunch of wacky creatures. He had a chance to just let me die, get overwhelmed... but he didn't. He saved my life that day. After my ship came back, I returned the favour and got him off the planet. We talked for a longass while after that, flying back to neutral space. He... understood me. And I saw a lot of myself in him. Kindred spirits, if you will. But overall... we got along. I showed him a different life, and he showed me an understanding that nobody else had. It continued to build from there until we ended up together, basically. Dude legit left the Empire because of me, the life I showed him. And I really thought about leaving the Union behind to start a life with him... in hindsight, probably wouldn't have been a bad idea." She laughed as she took the bottle for another swig.

"He disappeared after that. Basically walked out on me. But he somehow got stranded on a planet for years and went completely feral. I helped him out and nursed him back to a civilized state, though I was still angry at him for leaving me. That was when he decided to try the pirate's life. Shit snowballed all over again from there, and he never stopped trying to make it up to me." She finally finished with a breath as she started to assemble her helmet's components.

Kranak Vizsla

 

[Kranak Vizsla]

Tags: Shai Maji

​

"Gotta admit, took me by surprise as hell. Also hurt like hell, but that goes without saying. Really thought everyone was turned against me. Entire galaxy was brainwashed into wanting to kill me, even him. When he tore me apart, I genuinely felt more pain from his 'betrayal' than actually having my guts and stuff ripped out." She made air quotations as she spoke, taking the bottle for another swig.

Reaching for his tabac pipe from her table, the giant drew the mouthpiece to his lips. Taking a drag of smoke from his pipe, a muffled, acknowledging grunt to her sentiment escaped from the man’s lips as he turned his head to the side to blow some smoke.

"He's my husband, get your own." She joked, lighting another cigarette.

While he was taking another drag of smoke from the pipe between his lips, the giant could not suppress a fit of cough in response to her quip in answer to the giant’s inquiry. “You-” he could say in between his coughs and chuckling at her joke, turning his head to the side; his voice sounded hoarse from the smoke at the moment. “You can keep him.” he said after regaining his composure; chuckling and giggling at the mere, hilarious thought of the Wardog’s quip, the giant gently cleared his throat as he pulled away the mouthpiece of his pipe from his lips.

"Nah... in all seriousness, it shouldn't have worked out for us... but it does." She started as she walked back into her forge.

“Huh,” the giant muttered a notion of curiosity at her words as his eyes glistened with a glint of intrigue as he looked at the Wardog in her crimson set of eyes. “Do tell,” The giant muttered, urging her to explain how exactly it wasn’t meant to work out from the start. Falling silent as his gaze remained on the Wardog’s visage, the giant would raise the tabac pipe to his lips, taking a gentle heave of smoke every now and then as he listened; exhaling softly in between pulls of smoke from the pipe, the giant let the smoke dribble from his mouth and nostrils with a slow exhale.

"I met him long ago, after we took back Mandalore in the Union. He had another name back then. He was also a Sith Lord in the Sith Empire." She leaned against her anvil and stared directly at him as she casually dropped the proverbial bombshell on him, knowing exactly how ludicrous it sounded.

The ever so casual revelation of the Scoundrel’s true nature had the giant raise an eyebrow as he listened to her in silence. A Sith Lord? He had dealt with their lesser kinds, that of Sith Knights and Acolytes for the most part in the past, yet he hadn’t felt that dark, suffocating sensation of a Force Sensitive, powerful and corrupted by the Dark Side during the interactions he had with the man. Either her husband had quit practicing it long ago, -which, the giant assumed that was the case,- or he could easily mask that. He didn’t think it was the latter; he doubted Shai would have stuck with the Scoundrel for that long if the man had continued to serve the Sith Empire when it still stood, and continued practicing the dark side of the Force.

Now some of the combat abilities he had witnessed on Tython began to make sense. It was not just his Sangnir heritage that he had utilized during that confrontation.

"I found him trying to deliver some kind of holocron and I went after his shuttle. His crew escaped in a pod while he tried to steer the ship down to some kind of planet. I tracked him down while my ship went after his crew's pod." She picked up her helmet and studied it for a few long moments as she figured out the layout.

"We got ambushed by a bunch of wacky creatures. He had a chance to just let me die, get overwhelmed... but he didn't. He saved my life that day. After my ship came back, I returned the favour and got him off the planet. We talked for a longass while after that, flying back to neutral space. He... understood me. And I saw a lot of myself in him. Kindred spirits, if you will. But overall... we got along. I showed him a different life, and he showed me an understanding that nobody else had. It continued to build from there until we ended up together, basically. Dude legit left the Empire because of me, the life I showed him. And I really thought about leaving the Union behind to start a life with him... in hindsight, probably wouldn't have been a bad idea." She laughed as she took the bottle for another swig.

"He disappeared after that. Basically walked out on me. But he somehow got stranded on a planet for years and went completely feral. I helped him out and nursed him back to a civilized state, though I was still angry at him for leaving me. That was when he decided to try the pirate's life. Shit snowballed all over again from there, and he never stopped trying to make it up to me." She finally finished with a breath as she started to assemble her helmet's components.​

Leaning forward, the giant rested his chin over his clasped hands; his elbows leant on his knees as his gaze trailed from her visage and onto a spot on her office table. In silence the giant pondered her words as the Wardog went about working on her helmet. It was not exactly unheard of such unexpected relationships to occur; it reminded the giant of the Lethan they had taken amongst their ranks long ago. Her relationship with the Cathar, was roughly the same but not quite with that of the relationship his friend shared with the Scoundrel.

“Well,” the giant muttered as his clasped hands unfurled; reaching forth for the open bottle of tihaar on the table, the giant’s posture straightened up as he pressed the lip of the bottle to his lips. The clean, somewhat bitter spirit pleasantly burned his throat as the giant took a hefty swig. Heaving a muffled sigh, the giant lowered the bottle to his lap as he turned his visage to look at the Wardog’s. “The pirate’s life was certainly not a good career choice for him,” the giant said with a chuckle. “He had to be the worst pirate I’ve ever seen,” His gaze shifted back on the bottle he held in his grasp over his lap afterwards. With a sigh, he raised it to his lips to take another swig. “He’s been far more successful as a drug baron than a pirate captain, that’s for sure.” The Vizsla added, just before he sloshed down the pleasantly bitter alcoholic spirit once more, taking a long swig of it from the bottle.

He drank with mild concern in his mind, regarding all of this. Although he didn’t think the Scoundrel would dare to expand his operations into Enclave space, not when Shai was around at least, it was in his nature to think ahead and prepare in case Xyoz did tried to expand his operations here. If that were to occur, he would have no choice but to follow through with the clear, precise directives he was given to protect the people lawfully residing in their space.

​

 

[Shai Maji]

Shai erupted into cackling laughter at his comment on Xyoz's skills as a pirate. She couldn't help but nod in agreement as she looked back at him. "He was terrible! I never had the heart to tell him that, but hot damn!" she laughed away as she set her helmet aside and walked back to Kranak for a sip of the tihaar.

"But hey, at least he won't muscle in on Enclave territory with the drug business. He don't want trouble 'cause he don't wanna worry about me chewing him out." He smile faded as she took another sip. "Though with how these people are acting..." She gestured around her. "... If he feels like y'all are doin' me dirty, he might change his mind. I'll talk to him, naturally. I don't want to choose between y'all and him. But if there's one thing he values above all else, it's loyalty. Not just to him, but to the people he cares about. And you've seen him in action. He ain't what he used to be... but the day someone rubs him wrong... well, you don't wanna know how powerful he was when I met him." With one last sip she handed the bottle back to him and continued to work on her helmet.

"You mind throwing a light here? Can't see in here." She spoke up as she continued to fiddle with her helmet. It was a lie, of course, but right now she wanted to know that she could keep her friends close. "... But you don't gotta worry about him, Kran. He keeps his distance. Us mutts are good at sticking to our territories." She flashed him a wink as she glanced up at him. "But enough of him, what's the scene over here since I've been gone? Didn't look like something's changed. There's definitely more people, though." She asked casually as she leaned in for a closer look at the hardware.

Kranak Vizsla

 

[Kranak Vizsla]

Tags: Shai Maji

​

Shai erupted into cackling laughter at his comment on Xyoz's skills as a pirate. She couldn't help but nod in agreement as she looked back at him. "He was terrible! I never had the heart to tell him that, but hot damn!"

Lowering the bottle from his lips after taking a swig, the giant of a Mandalorian shared the Wardog’s heartfelt laughter with his own, as she walked towards him from her workbench. Extending her hand for the tihaar bottle, the giant wordlessly complied with a smile, passing her the drink. The giant’s smile faded to a grin as genuine as his smile and laughter was as he listened to her speak in silence.

"But hey, at least he won't muscle in on Enclave territory with the drug business. He don't want trouble 'cause he don't wanna worry about me chewing him out." He smile faded as she took another sip. "Though with how these people are acting..." She gestured around her. "... If he feels like y'all are doin' me dirty, he might change his mind. I'll talk to him, naturally. I don't want to choose between y'all and him. But if there's one thing he values above all else, it's loyalty. Not just to him, but to the people he cares about. And you've seen him in action. He ain't what he used to be... but the day someone rubs him wrong... well, you don't wanna know how powerful he was when I met him."

The giant occasionally gave an understanding nod of his head at her as she spoke. The way he had emphasized his words when he talked of the Scoundrel’s success as a drug baron, it was no surprise she had felt the concern he had within him regarding her husband; if he in fact did extend his operations into Enclave space, and became a threat to both the state and the people, then the Vizsla would have no choice but to follow through with his orders, and do what the situation required.

Manda his witness, he did not wish to be forced to make a choice between duty and Shai, as well as the man she dearly cared about; but if push came to shove, his wish and how he felt about it all would matter not.

Handing back the bottle to him after taking a swig of the tihaar, the giant raised it to his lips, taking a sip from the alcoholic spirit within as she walked back to her workbench to continue with her helmet.

"You mind throwing a light here? Can't see in here." She spoke up as she continued to fiddle with her helmet.

Taking another hefty swig from the bottle, the giant lowered it away from his lips as Shai requested his assistance. “Sure thing,” he said without a second thought; what little remained of the alcoholic spirit sloshed about inside the bottle as the giant set it down. Standing up from the chair, the giant walked towards the Wardog; reaching for one of his pouches, the giant produced a tactical glow rod, and turned on its light with the press of the black plastoid button at the back of it.

Standing close behind her, the giant shone the glowrod where she supposedly needed it while she went about slotting in the electronic components into her helmet; he listened to her as she spoke further on, trying to set his mind at ease.

"... But you don't gotta worry about him, Kran. He keeps his distance. Us mutts are good at sticking to our territories." She flashed him a wink as she glanced up at him. "But enough of him, what's the scene over here since I've been gone? Didn't look like something's changed. There's definitely more people, though." She asked casually as she leaned in for a closer look at the hardware.

The man returned the Wardog’s wink with a grin of his own as she glanced up at him from over her shoulder. The giant heaved a muffled sigh as he listened to her. He was a bit more relieved now, after her explanation and her attempt to relieve him from the troubling thoughts regarding the Scoundrel’s criminal activities, and their possible extension into their space.

He certainly welcomed the idea of talking about something else however, as the Wardog changed the subject.

“Yeah, things have not changed a whole lot during your absence,” the giant said, confirming her notion. "At least on Kestri, that is. Though there's a new establishment that opened up not long ago in Midtown. Rough Strill. I haven't had the opportunity to check it out yet. Though I doubt it will trump over the Shukur Kyr'bes in terms of quality and variety of drinks, but it still should be a place as good as any to get drunk and have some fun."

​

 

[Shai Maji]

With Kranak's light shining into her helmet, the Shistavanen quickly worked to finish up her installation of parts and systems. While she worked, she listened to Kranak commenting on the changes around the place. As to be expected, Nothing major had happened aside from a new cantina opening in Midtown. With a snort, Shai glanced up at him. "Rough Strill, huh? Sounds like my kind of place. I'll paint on a moustache and get some glasses. Should be enough for me to get in, right?" She joked as she looked back at her work.

After a few moments, she picked up the helmet and slid it over her head, watching as she systems came to life. She cycled through her vision modes, scanned Kranak's IFF code, and scrolled through her contacts on her comms before she shut it all off. "Looks good." She commented as she pulled the helmet off and set it on the table. "Thanks for the help." With a light slap against his cuirass she walked past him towards her office.

"Think I'm gonna shut off for tonight. Today's been... emotional to say the least." She snickered as she shut the lights off in the forge room, though she kept the forge running and the door open. Her gaze lingered on the gentle glow for a moment. "You know what sucks? I realized the other night that I'm afraid of the dark all of a sudden. Can you believe that?" She chuckled as she turned to face him. She did nothing but stare at him for a moment as a gentle smile spread along her features. "Good to see you again, Kran. Glad I can still count on you." She muttered as she wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug.

Pulling back, she gave him a slap on the backside and gestured to the door. "Come on, chungus. I need my beauty sleep." She snickered as she walked with him to the front door. "I'll hit you up when I'm done with my armour. You can do the honours of christening it with a fresh new set of scorch marks." She opened the door for him as she looked around.

Kranak Vizsla

 

[Kranak Vizsla]

Tags: Shai Maji

​

"Rough Strill, huh? Sounds like my kind of place. I'll paint on a moustache and get some glasses. Should be enough for me to get in, right?" She joked as she looked back at her work.

Providing illumination for the Wardog with a tactical glow rod as she went about installing circuitry and electronics alike, vital for the inner workings of her helmet, the giant’s lips curled to a smile at her joke. “I don’t think a ‘mustache’ will cut it,” he chuckled as he watched her put her helmet together. “You might require a more convincing disguise.” he joked back at her. Finished with putting her helmet together, the giant turned off the tactical glow rod, and tucked it back into a pouch affixed firmly to his chest rig as the Wardog slipped on the helmet.

Taking a few steps back, the giant casually crossed his arms over his chest as he watched the Wardog checking her heads-up display of her new helmet; it wasn’t long until her armored visage turned to face him, after presumably checking a wide range of internal systems and running a diagnostic check.

"Looks good." She commented as she pulled the helmet off and set it on the table. "Thanks for the help."

A faint grin emerged from the Vizsla’s scarred features as her palm lightly slapped against the man’s broad chestplate as she walked past him and back into her office. Following her close behind her a few steps, the giant walked towards her table, reaching for his tabac pipe; its fire, what little tabac was left within the bowl, was aflame no more, its flames died out. Reaching for an ashtray on her table, the giant pulled it before him, emptying the smoke’s ashes into the tray.

"Think I'm gonna shut off for tonight. Today's been... emotional to say the least."

“Hmm,” with a slow nod of his head, the man’s acknowledgement came in the form of a muffled grunt, expressing understanding at her words. No doubt she had a lot of things to process now; same as him. Even though he would have liked to stick around and drink some more, a lot more together with his friend, he understood her desire to get some much needed rest. Tucking the pipe into an empty pocket, the man walked towards the workbench in her office; extending his left cybernetic hand forward as the lights to the Wardog’s office turned off, the man tucked his helmet under his arm.

"You know what sucks? I realized the other night that I'm afraid of the dark all of a sudden. Can you believe that?" She chuckled as she turned to face him.

At her words the giant was taken aback for a brief moment; it had him raise an eyebrow. Afraid of the dark all of a sudden? The man smirked in response. She had to be just joking, he thought. “Now you’re just taking the piss,” the Vizsla said with a chuckle. Though he joked about it, he did entertain the idea that she might have actually spoken the truth; although her demeanor was relatively the same, unchanged with that of her old self before Roon, he couldn’t help but wonder how much her Sangnir heritage she got from her husband had changed her. Was that the source of her new found fear of the dark now? Or was it something else?

As the Wardog’s glowing crimson eyes looked at him, the giant of a man held her warm gaze with that of his own. A smile emerged from his features as the faint, warm light cast on the Wardog’s features from the lit forge revealed a similar expression on her visage.

"Good to see you again, Kran. Glad I can still count on you." She muttered as she wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug.

Pulled into her tight embrace, the man heaved a relieved sigh as he returned the Wardog’s gesture in kind, wrapping her with his right arm, tightly hugging her. “Good to have you back, old girl. Welcome home,” he muttered back, tightening his embrace. Her descent towards damnation had utterly damned him. Witnessing the Wardog walking the path towards salvation now, attempting to make things right even though she could have easily chosen to walk away and leave all of it behind her, eased his mind tremendously.

Whatever it took to help her now in her path towards redemption, he would be by her side; it was the only way he could make up for his failure.

Holding each other in their embrace as a moment passed in silence, he felt the Wardog’s embrace loosen before eventually pulling back. Loosening his own, the giant slowly slipped on his helmet as she slapped him at the back of his cuirass; the obsidian black helmet visor sparkled to life with a snow white glow as the man’s heads-up display came to life before his eyes. Gesturing towards the door as she spoke, the Wardog accompanied him as he walked.

"Come on, chungus. I need my beauty sleep."

The giant threw a gentle jab at her right shoulder as a synthesized cackle escaped the giant’s helmet annunciator in response to the snickering Wardog while he walked past her. <”Alright, sleep well ‘princess’,”> he quipped in response as he walked out of her office and into the lightless hallway.

"I'll hit you up when I'm done with my armour. You can do the honours of christening it with a fresh new set of scorch marks."

Hollering behind him, just as he was a few steps away from rounding the corner, the giant came to a halt as he turned his head, looking over his shoulder at her visage. <”Now here is something to look forward to,”> he said with a chuckle in response. It had been a while since the last time they had sparred together; that really was an experience to look forward to with great anticipation. <”Rest well, old friend! Farewell.”> his voice echoed in the hallway as he took his leave after saying his farewell. Disappearing from her line of sight shortly after rounding the corner in the hallway, the giant’s footfalls would barely become audible after a moment, until completely fading away into eventual silence that would wholly dominate the empty halls of the manufactorum.

-End-​