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In A Maze of Containers Casany Praxor Zad Ruzed “Zaia! Draugr reading you. We were sitting ducks outside your container so shifted position and got split up.” Where are you? Hunkered down, the warrior inside her asked with one knee on the ground, blaster raised, taking aim. “I’m in cover...

Mandalorian, Ranger, Mandalorian Sector Ranger or whatever if Katana was anything like her vodbrother, Ki’dut, besides being an idiot, Draugr was Mandalorian even if her name was Deucalic. Maybe, at the end of the day, that was the way? As Zad stole one corner of the container, Cas moved just...

Sometimes all you could do in this crazy galaxy of wolves and ghosts was to try. To survive, certainly, and if you thrive or die then so be it, but simply trying was what separated the sheep from the dead from the beginning to the end. Whether as a girl who had to learn to live in a world...

Cas didn’t know about Zad but, despite his lack of interest in the question and answer of Bone Katana and Zaia Krodas, she sensed that this man simply wasn’t Mandalorian enough to recognize it. Interrupted but not quite, Casany watched and listened. Eloquent was definitely one word this...

A long way, vod. Casany silently agreed as she exchanged a smile with Zaia. Sisters of battle like these had the kind of connection only Mandalorians could experience. It didn’t matter how far apart they were from one another, whether they wrote or phoned, they had fought together and hurt...

Crux was once a dog on a leash until he broke free. Dog. That’s what Endyr Ratheon had called him. Then he was promoted. From Dog to Wolf. He wasn’t another dead dog, or whatever Ratheon was fond of saying, what he called everyone who wasn’t a Mandalorian. He certainly called Casany Praxor...

Casany blinked at Zaia’s answer. Both? What did an assassin have to do with either the Badger or Endyr exactly? Either way, whether one could lead one to the other, both the Draugr and the Praxor within her were less interested in an assassin or the Badger for that matter. Both Cas and Jon had...

Casany took the opportunity to think about so many things as Jon asked Zaia what she thought about Endyr’s location. What did Casany really think? That was Zaia’s own question. Was Endyr working with Wolf? All three Mandalorians had essentially left him for dead, but namely Ratheon. Praxor and...

“You know each other?” At the question of whether the Mandalorian bounty hunter and the Duros bounty hunter knew each other, Casany simply rolled her eyes in place of explaining away how the Duros and the Mandalorian had ever actually come to be introduced to each other. That would come up...

Casany listened intently, her attention given to Zaia Krodas with every ounce of energy. Music continued pumping, patrons continued drinking and laughing and chatting, strippers continued dancing, and Jon Dromon continued blowing smoke into his phone. The Mandalorian, yes, the Mandalorian...

Casany was no Sephi, wasn’t a Thyrsian or Echani or anything, but she liked to think she had the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox. Sipping her Vod-Ka, licking the sweet burn from her lips, watching the dancer swing her hips, as if studying the tactics of a fighter. Of course, those were not...

Cas stood in silence for a moment, as motionless as her crossed arms ought to emit, if with a subtly narrowed gaze. Badger. I wonder... She already had a feeling that there would be more than just catching up over drinks between these two vods, stripclub or not. Both Mandalorians surely had...

Here she comes again. There she was. There she is. Cas and Krodas. Two women. Two Mandalorians. Two friends. No. Two sisters, not of flesh, not of blood, but in spirit. Two sisters of battle. They had certainly proven it. Different signets, and a Mandalorian wasn’t branded like cattle. Theirs...

Yautkan… That didn’t mean Mandalorian by any means, despite the similarities between cultures. A number of Yautkan had indeed adopted the ways of the Mandalorian and, judging by the arms and armor and other equipment on this one, well, he just might be one. Maybe. It was hard to see beskar in...

“DAMN IT!” The attack had happened so fast. No. Not an attack. It was nothing short of an explosion. A small one. A controlled one. The kind that didn’t open up the hull. It was designed for this purpose. Trap. Their attacker had meant for this to happen. Had rigged the hallway for it so as to...

The stun grenade had taken the enemy by surprise as was its design and intention. The Osseins in the corridor fell to the floor before the Mandalorians moved forward. Blaster in hand, Cas blasted one defender after the other, moving with her brothers and sisters, each one proving to be a...

She walked, across the glass, upon the land, on the floor of Mandalore. Forward, always. Always forward. Ever onward, toward the lost settlement, broken, abandoned, attempted for reclamation time and again; a relic stuck in the past, present and future, like a dragonfly in amber. Here we go...

Inside the hull of the frigate’s hangar, the Donnager—translated to Thunderer in Basic—Casany Praxor waited, blaster carbine in hands. Having given her speech into the breach, she played the lookout in the vacuum of space, or a bubble, watching for trouble. Jetpack having moved her into the...

She could count on one hand the times she had stood on these sands, on this glassed planet, and they amounted to five. If memory served her right. When Ars Dagon had summoned the moot. She remembered that moment on her dune. When Roland Rook left, if not Minerva Wren. She held glass in a hand...

Devils. Hawks. Rancors. The stage was set for a clash of titans. One Mandalorian brought his Gauntlet, but another did not bring her Hammer with her. She brought her vambrace, her armor, her armaments, her honor and her vengeance, if still and silent for the moment in a seat of her vod’s...