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Little Mandalore.
That's what the area was known as, or the Mandalorian Barracks to others. A makeshift home for the disenfranchised and near-extinct culture known as the Mandalorians. Granted by the gracious and merciful Hutt Lords. It was the safest they could be from the clutches of the Empire. Sure the Mandalorians were some of the most saught-out bounties and probably the most illegal people in the Galaxy, but for an organization that prided itself on illegal goods and merchendise, the Mandalorians weren't discriminated on Nal Hutta. The rest of the planet had spice-snorters, children-sellers, and a bunch more disturbing transactions taking place that a few testosterone-fueled warriors having a roof over their heads could really change much.
The greatest gift of the Mandalorians was that it wasn't limited to solely one species or archetype. There was a home in the society for all species and kinds of people, so long as they all shared was the core of their six tenants. For the unfamiliar, it basically revolved around fighting. Some, like Arkantos Rajax, were more passive in that philosophy. They fought only when they needed to, and they fought intelligently. Other more radical sects existed in the society however, much more aggressive and held no remorse for their action. Both had the best intentions for those around them, for their culture and society, but in dire times like these - the more prevalent of the two would decide the future for the next millenia or so. And so, it was imperative that the more radical be extinguished. And that was why Arkantos Rajax, or Elohim Aeon, was tasked to find a pest living among Little Mandalore.
Kandosii was the name of the group, fashioned themselves after the infamous Death Watch. A Mando'a word used for "ruthless" in basic, but it was a decleration of their effectiveness. The group itself was a terrorist organization that had grown bold in recent weeks. Having some success with outskirt Imperial settlements and even smaller Imperial Listening Posts, the group had begun their attacks on Cartel-supplied weapon shipments surrounding the space around Nal Hutta and even small Cartel-funded 'endeavors'. Clearly they soon would rack up enough enemies to bring upon even more ire to the Mandalorians as a whole. Surely they were looking to expand their capabilities and even membership and no doubt try and bite at the hand that fed them. For the Hutt Council, they didn't care what happened to them exactly, so long as they realized that they wouldn't sit idly by as someone blatantly attacked and stole from them. And so, here he was. Champios of the Cartel, sent on a simple mission: end them in any way possible. Granted, the human didn't know exactly what he would do once confronted against the group, all he knew was that they had to be stopped before they grew too popular and swayed more to their philosophy. The Mandalorians held into this belief of self-destruction in some selfish crusade, and Arkantos would try his best to end it.
His rusted swamp-racer came to a complete halt in the outskirts of Little Mando'a where what seemed to be an abandoned bait shop stood. A grumpy-looking gungan lazily shifted his gaze towards the human's loud and dying engine. Arkantos nodded his head as if to acknowledge the bait shop owner, but the gungan's gaze drifted back down unimpressed and disinterested in whatever the human was attempting to do. Clearing his throat in an awkward embarrassment, the human turned his attention to the rest of the neighborhood. Nothing that would notably distinguish it from any other alien-specific neighborhood. Some of the shops were inherently in Mando'a, but to non-Mandalorians, which was more easy to find, they couldn't really distinguish the language. But, the challenge was: how to find a terrorist group in their home turg without alerting them.
That's what the area was known as, or the Mandalorian Barracks to others. A makeshift home for the disenfranchised and near-extinct culture known as the Mandalorians. Granted by the gracious and merciful Hutt Lords. It was the safest they could be from the clutches of the Empire. Sure the Mandalorians were some of the most saught-out bounties and probably the most illegal people in the Galaxy, but for an organization that prided itself on illegal goods and merchendise, the Mandalorians weren't discriminated on Nal Hutta. The rest of the planet had spice-snorters, children-sellers, and a bunch more disturbing transactions taking place that a few testosterone-fueled warriors having a roof over their heads could really change much.
The greatest gift of the Mandalorians was that it wasn't limited to solely one species or archetype. There was a home in the society for all species and kinds of people, so long as they all shared was the core of their six tenants. For the unfamiliar, it basically revolved around fighting. Some, like Arkantos Rajax, were more passive in that philosophy. They fought only when they needed to, and they fought intelligently. Other more radical sects existed in the society however, much more aggressive and held no remorse for their action. Both had the best intentions for those around them, for their culture and society, but in dire times like these - the more prevalent of the two would decide the future for the next millenia or so. And so, it was imperative that the more radical be extinguished. And that was why Arkantos Rajax, or Elohim Aeon, was tasked to find a pest living among Little Mandalore.
Kandosii was the name of the group, fashioned themselves after the infamous Death Watch. A Mando'a word used for "ruthless" in basic, but it was a decleration of their effectiveness. The group itself was a terrorist organization that had grown bold in recent weeks. Having some success with outskirt Imperial settlements and even smaller Imperial Listening Posts, the group had begun their attacks on Cartel-supplied weapon shipments surrounding the space around Nal Hutta and even small Cartel-funded 'endeavors'. Clearly they soon would rack up enough enemies to bring upon even more ire to the Mandalorians as a whole. Surely they were looking to expand their capabilities and even membership and no doubt try and bite at the hand that fed them. For the Hutt Council, they didn't care what happened to them exactly, so long as they realized that they wouldn't sit idly by as someone blatantly attacked and stole from them. And so, here he was. Champios of the Cartel, sent on a simple mission: end them in any way possible. Granted, the human didn't know exactly what he would do once confronted against the group, all he knew was that they had to be stopped before they grew too popular and swayed more to their philosophy. The Mandalorians held into this belief of self-destruction in some selfish crusade, and Arkantos would try his best to end it.
His rusted swamp-racer came to a complete halt in the outskirts of Little Mando'a where what seemed to be an abandoned bait shop stood. A grumpy-looking gungan lazily shifted his gaze towards the human's loud and dying engine. Arkantos nodded his head as if to acknowledge the bait shop owner, but the gungan's gaze drifted back down unimpressed and disinterested in whatever the human was attempting to do. Clearing his throat in an awkward embarrassment, the human turned his attention to the rest of the neighborhood. Nothing that would notably distinguish it from any other alien-specific neighborhood. Some of the shops were inherently in Mando'a, but to non-Mandalorians, which was more easy to find, they couldn't really distinguish the language. But, the challenge was: how to find a terrorist group in their home turg without alerting them.
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