Star Forge - 29 (Patreon)

I stood on a raised platform before the entire four-hundred members of the former Death Watch. Vizsla Keep was now mine. It was very tempting to change the name though eventually decided against it to honor the legacy of the clan. They had forged the Darksaber. I had done away with the eye-sore of a throne, replacing it was a functional, but still regal version. The Mand'alor needed to project authority without being ostentatious. It was a mixture of ruler, military leader, and judge.

The number was smaller than expected. It probably got a huge push once the Clone Wars started. Seeing all those battles only for the Duchess to profess pacifism definitely ruffled a lot of feathers. I had just finished my speech laying out the disbanding of Death Watch and the formation of True Mandalorians. The first step was simple, reinforce the creed. Wear the armor, speak the language, raise your family in the way, and heed the call of the Mand'alor. I expanded on it, telling them we were going to seek out worthy foes, honorable causes, and work to become legends once more.

I stepped down from the platform; the crowd gave me space. They formed a half-circle in front of me, leaving a respectable distance without needing to be told.

"Any challengers?" I called. "I will each and every one, today, tomorrow, anytime. One caveat, do not be a coward, announce your challenge and we will face each other in one-on-one combat. Subterfuge, assassination attempts, or undermining my orders will result in presentation for public judgement."

I paused to let the words sink in.

"Any challengers?" I repeated.

"What are you going to do about the pretenders?" A voice called out from the crowd.

"They are pacifists," I answered. "There is no honor in violence against them. I will meet them in equal footing, diplomatic relations to guide them back to our number, or request they distance themselves from Mandalorians. There is a system I will offer for them to relocate."

"You would talk to them?" The same voice snarled. "You are another coward wearing the armor."

"Step forward," I ordered.

No one moved.

I put some iron in my voice, "I said, step forward."

The crowd parted of their own accord revealing the speaker. Their blue armor was pristine, every piece of their gear looked to be fresh off the rack. They did their best to stand tall now that the anonymity the crowd provided had been stripped away.

"Did you hear what I said, or are you simply too self-important to pay attention?" I asked. "They are pacifists. Approaching them with violence dishonors everything Mandalorians stand for. Violence would only bring more attention and support to her claims."

"They spit on the legacy of my people!" The speaker yelled back.

I tilted my head to the side, "You would rather assault the capital, launch troopers via drop-pods, and set the streets aflame?"

The speaker didn't answer.

"I will not punish questions," I said to the greater audience. "That is not subversion. Questions are good, they engage your mind and help you learn. I will not tolerate disrespect." I focused on the individual. "Your name?"

The speaker puffed up, "Ferres Saxon, of Clan Saxon."

"Ferres Saxon," I nodded to him in greeting. "Disrespect me again and the rest of your clan will watch as I strip that armor from your corpse." I stepped toward him. "Did you hear me that time?"

Ferres reached for the blaster holstered on his hip. To be fair, he was fast. Unfortunately for him, I was faster. A jet-pack enhanced lunge closed the distance. My hand clamped down on his, forcefully holding the blaster in the holster. Ferres struggled against my grip.

"This is your final warning," I spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. "Apologize, disengage, and take this as a learning experience."

His other hand snapped up with a knife aimed for my neck. It was a nice move. My neck was one of the few parts of my body that wasn't completely armored. The black bodysuit under my armor provided some protection against blaster fire, but blades were something else entirely. His hand froze a couple of inches from his throat, held in place by the Force. I shifted the focus to his entire body, locking him in place, then stepped back. Ferres was frozen, one hand on his blaster and another with his knife raised.

"Now," I turned to address the assembled crowd. "I won the Darksaber through combat. This gives me claim to the title Mand'alor. I have fought to protect the people of Alderaan, dueled a Sith warrior, and assisted in the liberation of Naboo. This I have done in service to others as a mercenary. Directed by my own cause, I have claimed the Darksaber, declared a war on the slavers of the Tatoo System, and made inroads to remove the influence of the Hutts."

Slowly, I turned to face Ferres once more. His body shook with effort to move.

"I am a Force User," I announced. "This is yet one weapon in my arsenal that you will face if you stand against me." I paused. "Clan Saxon, approach to answer for your clanmate."

A group of five armored figures stepped up, flanking the frozen Ferres.

"I am within my right, as a Mandalorian, a warrior, and THE Mand'alor to take this boy's life," I purposely moved my gaze from left to right, studying the group slowly as I spoke.

The motion was performative, my helmet allowed me to easily see them. In fact, I had access to three-hundred-and-sixty-degrees for my field of vision. I could look directly behind me with a simple flick of my eyes. My HUD identified their weapons, scanned their armor, and tapped into their private communication line. This helmet was amazing.

Their private channel was awash of angry words toward Ferres, insults thrown my way, and a few plans on how to get revenge. My favorite was sending an attractive member of their clan to seduce me then slit my throat once I was asleep. It had been a while.

"I ask you now," I addressed them. "Do you stand with me, or are you leaving that armor for those who deserve it?"

Was I being disrespectful? Fuck, yeah. Why? Clan Saxon was one of the supporters of Clan Vizsla in the original timeline and they were just as bad.

"Kriff it, we kill him now," one of the Saxon group growled over their private channel.

A wicked smile crossed my face under my helmet. They moved in practiced unison, drawing their weapons, and taking aim. I could have simply frozen them just as I had with Ferres, then executed each one in turn. However, using the Force wasn't the best way to earn the respect of Mandalorians. The Darksaber, though, was a historical relic with plenty of lore attached to it.

Time slowed as the Darksaber jumped into my hand. It activated with that goose-bump inducing sound in time to intercept the first few blaster bolts. I deflected them into the floor to avoid hitting the crowd. They were intelligent enough to give us more space. A cluster of melted metal clinked against my armor. At least one of them was using a slug-thrower. Smart. Lightsabers couldn't deflect bullets. It did reduce the velocity to less than lethal for small-arms, but there were limits. If I wore robes like a Jedi, I would have been peppered with shards of heated metal sharp enough to pierce the fabric.

I drew my Travelers Particle Magnum with my off-hand. My HUD marked the gaps between the pieces of their armor. I wasn't kidding about taking it from their corpses. The armor was an alloy rather than pure Beskar like mine. I would use a couple as test subjects once I got the forge in place.

It would have been hard to keep track of five blue-armored fighters against the audience wearing the same color if not for my helmet. My HUD marked all six, including Ferres, and tagged them with Saxon. A quick adjustment added another identifier to make things easier to track. Saxon First, Ferres, Saxon Third, Saxon Second, Saxon Punch, and Saxon Judy. First and Second seemed to be the most experienced, Third was a step up from Ferres in competency, while Punch and Judy were the two with slugthrowers.

A quick burst of blaster fire took Punch out of the fight. Two shots hit the spot between his leg armor and his belt removing his left leg from his body. The three following blasts drew a line of glowing hot across his chest-plate. Their alloy armor held better than I had expected. He dropped to the ground screaming, providing enough of a distraction for me to use a burst from my jetpack to close the distance.

I lifted the Darksaber in a smooth arc, deflecting a blaster from First. He was the only one to respond once Punch dropped. Either the others hadn't seen much fighting, or they weren't used to people actually standing up to them. The burst of speed from my jetpack eased, allowing me to slip by Judy. He snapped back into motion now that I was close enough to touch. His elbow lashed out, trying to knock my head sideways. I raised the Darksaber to block the strike. Judy had just enough time to regret his decision before the blade of compressed plasma sliced through his elbow, severing his arm above and below the joint. He dropped his weapon to clutch the stump. I pivoted, swiping my blade in a tight arc, ending his suffering.

Third bellowed in rage as they charged me. They were easily the biggest of the group. Regardless of his size, the guy was damned fast. His shoulder crashed into my torso with some serious force behind it. I felt the impact through my armor. He drove me back quite a distance, so much so the assembled crowd had to give us more space. I would have been in trouble if they had succeeded in taking me to the ground, or if the room was smaller. As it was, my enhanced strength allowed me to stay on my feet. Another point against him was the fact that he hadn't pinned my arms to the side.

I pressed the barrel of my blaster in the gap between his armor plates and fired. Third jolted in shock before they fell limply to the floor. I locked eyes with First as I casually decapitated the fallen thug. Punch was still alive on the ground and Ferres hadn't moved even after I let him loose.

Our stare down was interrupted by the sound of gunfire. A tight cluster of slugs to the center of my chest knocked me back a step. Punch had propped themselves up on an elbow enough to get a shot off. The dreaded sound of a bolt locking into place signaled his magazine was empty. He tried to reload quickly, rocking over to his other side to reach the replacement. The knife in my boot smoothly floated up until it was level with my shoulder. It rocketed toward Punch and he went still.

His death spurred First and Ferres into action. They unleashed a flurry of blaster fire. I wove the Darksaber in a blur, knocking the bolts back at them or into the floor. They kept the pressure on, each aiming at a different part of my body, keeping me trapped on defense. The Force sent a zing of warning along my spine as something moved at the corner of my vision. My HUD picked identified it as a plasma grenade. While not as powerful as a thermal detonator, it had a shorter reach which cut down on potential friendly fire. The blaster fire was meant to keep me distracted and any shots that hit were a bonus. It was a decent tactic to use against an unarmored Force User like Jedi. They would fall to the blaster fire if they let their defense fall to handle the grenade, but ignoring the explosive wasn't a viable option for continued survival either.

Too bad for them, I was wearing armor, and I had a couple of abilities that they didn't know about.

I held the Darksaber horizontally, moving it up and down to block what I could then activated my Blaster Manipulation ability. The barrage of blaster fire froze in the air about a foot from me. It took a bit of concentration to hold them all in place. I pointed at the grenade with the Darksaber and flicked my wrist back toward my attackers. The blaster fire came to an abrupt halt as the explosive landed on the floor in front of them.

They tried to move out of the blast area only to find they were frozen in place. I holstered my blaster and stalked forward as the timer on the grenade blinked faster. Their panic rose with every flash. The emerging wave of plasma and force expanded in slow motion.

"I told you, I told everyone here, I am a Force User," I said levitating the grenade to sit perfectly between them. "Think about it, Saxon. Why didn't I do this from the start? I could have frozen your crew just as I am now and executed you each at my leisure."

I unlatched his helmet, then did the same to Ferres. There was a clear family resemblance. The Force stripped the rest of the armor from their body.

"Dar'manda," I snarled. "You disgrace this armor and your clan."

With that I turned away, their armor floating behind me as I walked over to the cluster of frozen blaster bolts. A bit of concentration sent them upward, punching craters into the ceiling. The explosion returned to its usual speed.

I hooked the Darksaber on my belt. Their bodies were stripped of armor as I walked back to my throne. It floated over to a spot nearby. Each settled into a neat stack.

"Does anyone dispute the handling of Clan Saxon," I asked the assembled crowd.

"No, Mand'alor," a few voices called out.

"Let their kinsmen know," I ordered. "It is their choice if this fight ends here or with their clan in ashes." I paused to scan the assembled crowd. "Get yourselves colors that hold meaning. Remove that false crest from your armor. We meet back here in one week."

A loud CRACK of nearly four hundred fists against armor replied in salute.

Claim the Title of Mand'alor - How Long Will You Hold It?+500 FP[Roll – Bank – Shop- Purchase Bookmark]

That wasn't ominous at all. PURCHASE BOOKMARKED ITEM.

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BANK.

That could be dealt with later. I needed to check-in with my crew. A nice soak in a hot bath would be nice too. My body was going to be one big bruise once my adrenaline wore off. Note to self, getting shot sucks. Armor didn't make me untouchable. The sooner I learned that the better.

~

The crowd of Mandalorian dispersed over the next few minutes. Members of the assembled Clan approached to salute and pledge their loyalty before leaving. I returned the salutes, knocking my closed fist against my armor. Each strike reminded me that my body was not going to be happy in the morning.

It felt like there were more of them now.

Finally, the crowd thinned out until only the locals remained. There were around fifty on Concordia at all times. They lived and worked on-planet. There were more remnants of Mandalorians that held true. Hopefully, I would be able to earn their trust. I had plans that I would continue regardless of if they joined. They would have a chance to see my intentions as I progressed.

I stood from my throne and headed to my new private hangar. My ship had been moved there before meeting with the former Death Watch members. I wanted to limit the amount of open doors to my warehouse. There was one on the Zepplin, another on the Droid Control Ship, and the palace on Tatooine. It made contacting my crew much faster. Alderaan was closer than Concordia, but still too far for a direct line of communication. It required relays that were susceptible to outside interference. A strong solar flare, a passing comet, or a dozen other natural occurrences could delay or corrupt the message. All I had to do was step into the Warehouse, then step out on Tatooine.

The ramp closed behind me as I stepped into the Zepplin. I made sure to engage the locks, then moved on to the door to my quarters. It opened to the Warehouse. I stepped through making sure the door was closed and locked behind me. My progress came to a sudden halt as I stared out at the space in front of me. The Hammerhead-class Cruiser rested in the hangar on the other side of the Warehouse. I knew this place didn't follow what I thought were the rules of reality, but this was a bit much. The hangar had been vast when the Droid Control Ship arrived. Now, it was the size of a standard hangar like the one I'd seen on the space stations orbiting Alderaan. It was still large, just not mind-breaking which made my head hurt even more.

Jabba's Palace, I needed to come up with a better name for it, smelled better than it had a few days ago. I strode along the halls admiring the changes. Air filters had been repaired and were working at a steady pace bringing in a fresh breeze while keeping out the sand. The halls were well lit revealing the newly cleaned walls and floor. They had even taken the time to wash the tapestries and flags on the walls before hanging them up at regular intervals. I paused as my mind caught up with the sensory information. They were improvised doors, not tapestries. Clean, newly repaired, and fresh scented doorways. Living quarters replaced forgotten rooms that had been overstuffed with junk.

The only scent that remained from my previous visit was that of hot metal. I could hear a furnace working as I got closer to the end of the hall. A group of people were working at a reclaimed forge. They were melting scrap down to make it suitable for use.

"Boss!" Krulot yelled as I entered the main antechamber. "When did you get back?"

"Just now," I replied.

The Krogan stood before a small group of former slaves. A selection of blasters lay on a table in front of them. The weapons were partially disassembled and shinier than usual.

"Teaching them how to clean and care for their weapons," Krulot said before I could ask. "Lady Beth offered the stragglers training. I offered my services." He paused. "For a price."

"Stragglers?" I asked.

"These are the ones that didn't have anywhere to go," Krulot motioned to the group. "There is more around here, learning other stuff."

"Lady Beth," I repeated.

Krulot let out a loud laugh, "she hates it." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "I've been slipping some credits to get people to call her that."

"I'm glad to see you're settling in," I patted him on the shoulder.

"You show up and suddenly the slavers are running scared," Krulot said. "I didn't have a chance to take a shot at them before. I'm not giving it up now."

"I'll see you around, Krulot," I inclined my head slightly. "Where can I find Lady Beth?"

"No," Beth's voice came from above.

I looked up to see a new camera focused on me.

"Don't encourage him," she groaned.

"Where are you?" I addressed the camera.

"Follow the yellow-lit road," Beth gave a dry chuckle.

The floor of a hallway off to my right lit up with yellow light.

"I thought emergency lights were red," I said as I followed the trail.

"It's too harsh for a few of our residents," she replied. "We're right up here."

Beth and Bo stood around a table with my commandos. A holographic image of Tatooine floated above the surface. Lines of multiple colors snaked over the planet intersecting labeled settlements.

I motioned to the planet, "are those roads?"

"Got it in one," Bo answered. "Someone put in a lot of work, then it got buried for a few centuries."

"Wouldn't it be easier to build new ones?" I asked.

"They have some sort of force field to hold out the sand," Besh said. "We're tracing the routes to find the generator. If we can get it powered up then we'll have a tunnel network spanning the planet."

"Damn," I muttered. "How are the other plans coming?"

"We have a few teams set for the meeting as well as a few contingency plans," Besh continued. "Lady Kryze and Sanchez have been doing the heavy lifting with the locals."

"Nice work, all of you," I said and put as much meaning into the words as I could.

My eyes shifted to Bo. She stared at me, rather her gaze was locked onto the weapon on my belt.

"That's the Darksaber," she whispered.

"Yes, it is," I nodded. "Vizsla is dead, I have disbanded Death Watch and have claimed the title of Mand'alor. Those that choose to follow The Way will stay. I've already had to cull some unsavory elements that stuck around."

"Who?" Bo asked stiffly.

"Clan Saxon," I replied. "Not all of them, just those that were at the gathering. They attacked me, five against one, after I explained how things worked going forward." I paused. "It didn't work out for them."

Bo took a moment to steady herself, "what are you going to do to the rest of the clan?"

"Nothing," I replied easily. "I sent word that I would not do anything to them unless provoked. If they attack me or my people, I will see it through to their end."

Bo visibly took a deep breath. She nodded after a moment.

She knocked her clenched fist against her chest armor in salute, "what now, Mand'alor?"

"I need to talk to your sister," I replied.

"Good luck with that," her tone was anything but pleasant.

I kept my movements easy as I walked over to her, "do you have any advice?"

"She has a glass jaw," Bo snorted.

I gave her a long, lingering flat look.

"Fine," she muttered. "She thinks she's right about everything and everyone else is wrong. She won't listen unless you're stroking the Republic or professing the virtues of peace regardless of the cost. She takes her caff with three sugar but uses big enough spoon so that it's really seven. She was my best friend until she was sent off to that shabla academy and now she acts like all of our traditions are just those of backward savages."

I nodded, "do you need to punch something or a hug?"

"Both," Bo snapped.

"Any volunteers?" I asked.

No one answered.

I sighed as I held out my arms to her, "come on."

Her footsteps were heavy and fast as she closed the short distance between us. She gave me a quick hug before pushing me away and socking my straight in the faceplate. Her gauntlet made a bell-like sound as it connected with my helmet. My head jolted back from the impact, but her heart wasn't in it. I was pretty sure she could have rocked me gray matter if she had put her full force behind it.

"Thanks," she muttered.

"Next time, it's Beth's turn," I replied.