The Code of the Mandalorians

[Sisk_Renelo]

For over a thousand years, a single tome has provided the Code of the Mandalorians. Penned by Mand'alor Jaster Mereel in 60 BBY, this work has been the defining work in the daily life of a Mando Verde. Known as the Supercommando Codex, this work changed the way that Mandalorians saw themselves, giving them a written code by which to live, and turning them from the raiders and savages that they had become to an honorable and glorious people.

The original copy of this work has been lost for almost a thousand years, hidden away by Jango Fett on the homeworld of Clan Fett, Concord Dawn, its location unknown to all except its secret keeper, long dead. Rumors abound of possible locations, but the possibilities that have been followed have always led to dead ends, false trails, and disappointment. But one possible location still exists, in the burned out shell of the old capital, destroyed by the Death Watch and never rebuilt.

But this location is at the heart of a conflict, one that has raged on Concord Dawn since Clan Fett left the planet. Clans Montross and Rook battle over the ancestral home of Fett, each seeking to claim the planets fertile fields and productive farms for themselves, strengthening their position within Mandalorian Space. With the city considered sacred to many former Fett Members, each knows that to control it means to control the planet. A savage campaign by these Renegade Clans has left the area a death trap, with landmines, buried ordinance, roving death squads, and booby traps dotting the landscape.

It is into this wasteland that a single squad of Renelo Warriors descends, armed to the teeth and prepared to give their very lives to help preserve the true code of their people.

Concord Dawn:
Journeyman Province
1024 ABY​

"Incoming!" The word is carried across the ruins by a slight breeze, reaching the ears of the embattled squad from Clan Rook, hidden in the remains of a former armory in the heart of the ancient capital city. A mortar round screams down from the sky, its impact gouging a large hole in the cracked street nearby, showering the armored squad with dirt and debris, turning their dark armor a sickly shade of grey as the dust adhered to the plates. They'd been here for 9 days, 9 days of fighting against Clan Montross, 9 days of repelling attack after attack on their position, 9 days of losing friends and brothers to the ruthless members of their enemy. Where there had once been 50 warriors, only 5 remained, none of them having come through unscathed. Ruus'alor Tobias Rook popped his head out of cover for a moment, his weary eyes scanning the landscape, searching for signs of the mortar emplacement. Seeing none, he raised his voice, amplified by his helmet's systems. His words boomed across the landscape, and he hoped that any Montross warriors nearby could hear them.

"Is that the best you can do? My ba'buir has better aim, and she's been in the ground 15 years!" Defiant to the last. That was how Clan Rook operated. Tobias' head ducked back below the short wall, and he turned to his comms officer, who was fiddling with the portable comm generator they had brought with them. Something was wrong with it, probably from shrapnel, and the last transmission that had come through had promised reinforcements were on the way. That was 3 days ago. "Any luck?"

"No. This thing is fried. Relay generator got hit, and I don't have any spares on hand." Tobias grunted noncommittally, and checked the charge of his rifle. He was down to three packs, and the one inserted read 9 shots. That meantt he had to pray for either reinforcements or another attack so that he could scavenge ammo, and although the gruff warrior relished a fight, right now he could only think of a decent night's sleep at their temporary bunkhouses, far from the front lines.

"Keep trying. I need to talk to the Alor. This position has become too precarious to hold onto. We need to fall back and formulate a new plan." The comm officer nodded, and went back to work. Tobias rolled his shoulders, and cracked his neck, stopping in mid tilt as a sound caught his ears. It was a high pitched whistling, but was... Different from the sounds of the mortars that had been falling on them for the last 36 hours. It was bigger, louder, more defined than the small explosive shells. For the first time in days, a smile cracked his chapped lips, and he turned to the men. "Dropship is on its way! Stow that gear and lets get ready to move!"

As he scanned the skies, his eyes alighted upon the craft, the belly burning cherry red as it dropped. It stopped him in his tracks. Why would reinforcements from the camp be making an orbital drop? Why were they using a true dropship instead of the skimmers at the base? As the ship grew closer, the skin around his eyes tightened as the symbol painted on the side of the craft came into view. It was a symbol that had been the bane of the Renegade's existence for years. Renelo. The hated former Protectors had been rooting out the 'fallen' clans for years, and it appeared now they were here to do the same.

Tobias opened his mouth to yell, but the warning was cut short as the heavy emplacements on the craft opened fire, burning lances of justice ripping into the entrenched position. Tobias screamed soundlessly as the burning air ripped the oxygen from his lungs to feed itself, before the rolling fire reached him, the extreme heat burning through his ablative flightsuit like it was paper, turning his skin to ash, melting his plates, and scorching the bones. His last sight, before his eyes melted in their sockets from the heat, was of his squad falling to the ground, reduced from a squad of men to a collection of bones and liquid metal. As Tobias died, he tried to form a curse, but it was impossible to speak through lips that were no longer there.

 

[Livgardist]

After the dropship had landed, for several moments everything seemed to stop, as if time had frozen. Then, the sound of pressurized air being released signalled the opening of the dropship's ramp, and a small squad of Mandalorians stepped out. They were led by a man not wearing the traditional beskar'gam of the Mandalorians, but rather a tactical combat armor of Nar Shaddaa design, painted in a speckled green pattern to provide camouflage. However, his face was disguised by a buy'ce, a traditional Mandalorian helmet with a pitch black, T-shaped visor. On the side of it was written in Mando'an alphabet, a single name; "Galaar".

"Fan out. Secure the trench." Gutterson spoke as he raised his blaster, bent his knees slightly in a combat stance, and began to move forward towards the dead Rooks. His weapon sweapt over them until he was certain they were all dead. Not until then did he allow himself to crouch in the cover of the trenches to search a small materiel point where a couple of backpacks were located. None of them contained anything very useful, though he found a couple of thermal detonators, some batteries and some old field rations. Probably the last things the Rooks had had to rely on before their line would have fallen.

"Grab a detonator." He said to the others, placing one in his belt. "Then we move out. We head east. No firing unless you're being fired upon. If possible we'll want to avoid any fights. We move quietly, and if you spot anyone, you duck and cover. Let's try to stay hidden for as long as possible. We're outnumbered here. Badly so." He removed his buy'ce for a moment, while waiting for the others to grab what they could and wanted from the packs, and took a deep breath as he looked up into the sky. The air was filthy, the stench of burnt flesh and blaster bolts heavy in it. The sky was grey, from smoke and poisonous fumes caused by the destruction of the war.

This was the filthiest, the lowest that Mandalorians had ever stooped. The lowpoint of the Mandalorian culture.

These people... Montross, Rook. They weren't Mandalorians. Fighting each other like mad dogs for the sake of power and resources. They weren't Mando'ade,they were Dar'manda. He spat on one of the dead Rooks in disgust as he pulled his helmet back on and stood up.

"Let's move. Elias, take point. The rest of you, behind me." He assumed the second position behind Elias, blaster on his chest ready to be put to use. As they made their way up from the trenches and headed east, the full destruction of Concord Dawn from the war became obvious to them. It was a wasteland. Burnt crops and scorched earth, ruined homesteads, and a once lush and fertile land now literally littered with dead Mandalorians. Wherever one looked, there were destroyed beskar'gams, turned into twisted, horrible looking steel prisons for chunks of meat once unified in a living body. Hundreds of them, if not thousands. And in the distance, they could still hear the endlessly continuing sound of explosions, blaster fire, screams... The sound of war.

Gutterson cringed under his helmet.

 

[Arisalin]

The flight in had gone well, and after watching from the gunship the last few defenders of the area get destroyed under the firepower of the ship Elias felt ready. After a week at home with his son and wife, the time had come to set out again. It was the longest break he had had in over three years. Though he cherished every moment he had with his family - the hardened Protector was at peace with moving out again.

Elias stepped off the gunship after it landed, eyes scanning the area through the sights of his E-26 blaster rifle. He stooped low as he walked by the detonators and swiped one, clipping it onto his belt with a smooth motion. He didn't skip a beat as he then dropped into the trench. He flipped the amplified heartbeat sensor attached to his rifle out, giving it a glance. It read up to fifty meters, and the only signals he was receiving currently were from the men around him. "We're clear for now, as long as we stay low." He said over the group com channel, then he started forward. Debris crumbled and crunched under his boots as he made his way forward in the trench. It had been a long time since Elias had seen the carnage that he saw now. Dried blood, scorched earth. He heard the distant fire, and anger melted into his system. The Clans had come a long way. He remembered fighting alongside his brothers and sisters against an enemy, now he was walking through the thousands of dead.

 

[Intratec]

Once her boots had touched upon Concord Dawn's once verdant, and fertile ground, Seda felt naught but disappointment. Disappointment mingled with the unquenchable fire of rage stoking itself in her chest. All it had taken was to see the two scorched, and faded emblems painted upon the corpses of the fallen. The anvil of Montross, and Rook. Montross! The Mandalorian woman could positively feel her pulse hammering away even up to her ears after picking up the Montross emblem-clad pauldron. "Montross aruetii, nothing but trash." Her crushgaunt-clad hand quickly becoming a fist crushing the thin duraplast into a warped scrap. Tossing it into the muddy earth, Seda refused to even so much as look at it again. The small woman's chest heaving while reining in an ancestral hatred that may very well be ingrained into her very genetic makeup.

The filth-laden air, and leaden sky did little to alleviate her mood. She'd heard stories of golden fields of wheat swaying in the breeze, like liquid ripples of pure sunlight upon this world's surface. Fields of produce the hue of emerald, lush forests and rolling plains. All now laid fallow. All ground under the bootheel that was war, and rogues calling themselves a clan. This had been the home of Clan Fett. Her blood cried out for vengeance at the desecration, and sullied state of a once truly beautiful world.

Her armor was a stark contrast to the land now. Green and black drab, a non-reflective silvery Uur'prudii Repulsorlift Pack clad to her back. And a her customary twin DC-17 hand blasters now in hand. Whereas the others may have utilized rifles, the powerful heavy blaster pistols served her well enough to fore go a bulkier rifle as her primary weapon which consisted of a Heavy Charric Rifle strapped to the side of her Repulsorlift Pack. Stooping beside one of the packs, Seda took stock of the old field rations Gutterson had found. Stamped in Mando'a, it gave a list of what was inside.

"Tinned Gihaal and Haarshun Bread." Knocking one of the aluminum cans around she caught sight of other items. "War rations." None of the powerpacks would fit in her blaster pistols, but the Thermal Detonators looked in serviceable condition. Taking one, Seda soon stood up and scanned the area while following her comrades.

 

[batumshakalaka]

Graves jumped from the drop ship touching lightly on the surface of the planet. His dark green armor glowed a warm orange in the light from the burning corpses of the dead dar’manda. Disgusting he thought.

Moving forward he pulled both rippers from their low holsters checking them for any changes. He had checked them at least ten times on the way to the planet’s surface and they shined perfectly back up at him. It seemed, to him, that the two pistols were happy to be down here close to the action and serving a true clan like Renelo and not one of these gutter rat clans. He holstered the weapons with a smile and scooped up the last thermal detonator and clipped it to his belt.

Unslinging his assault rifle he put the stock to his right shoulder with the barrel pointed down across his body, ready to spring up in a heart beat. He followed suit trailing Seda and taking up the rear position turning back every so often to check their flank.

A mortar went off twenty yards to their left. No damage done to them, but surely the attackers would see them coming. So far nothing. “We got eyes on those mortar emplacements?” Graves asked. His voice was calm collected, and he felt that way, but there was excitement too. His stomach bubbled at the thought of retrieving the codex. He was fond of history and this would be the most significant find for the Mandolorian people in sometime, possibly ever. He would fight through the entire city with his bare hands just to get a look at it. But the safety of the squad came first and he knew that. He wouldn’t jeopardize the mission.

 

[Sisk_Renelo]

Night was falling. A deep, oily blackness that covered the city in an impenetrable shroud. Even with night vision filters, it was impossible to see more than 10 meters in any direction. Every now and again, a muzzle flash lit up the night briefly, the rat-a-tat-tat of the weapon almost deafening in the silence. It was quiet, still, not even a breeze stirring the dust in the ancient streets, as if death himself had come over the city and even the elements backed down from his icy stare. As the darkness had begun to creep over the shattered city, both Montross and Rook had retreated to the outskirts, leaving only small squads to hold their hard won gains. Nighttime on Concordia was nothing to be trifled with, especially when the moon did not shine. The squads that had been left in the darkness were on their own until morning, the men nervous and quiet, fingers on their triggers, eyes straining to pierce the veil that had been laid upon them. It was a bad night to be in the city.

As the Renelo squad had moved down the trench, they had come to a dead end, forcing them to leave the cover and move into the city proper. The city center, the most heavily contested part of the city, lay dead ahead, a once glorious monument to Mandalorian strength reduced to rubble by constant shelling. On the west sat Clan Montross, and on the East sat Clan Rook, at least the remnants of the two, anyway. In the center sat a large stone fountain, reinforced with beskar, which amazingly had been barely damaged by the fighting. It will be a difficult move through the center of the square, but with some careful planning and movement, the small squad should be able to avoid the eyes of the watchers...

 

[Livgardist]

Gutterson held up his hand, crouching as he looked around. They were moving along the trench in quick pace. It was littered with dead Mandalorians o Clans Rook and Montross. A great battle had taken place there, but it seemed that the battle had long since moved elsewhere - which, for them, was of course good. Darkness had arrived now, and with it a new collection of threats, however. Predators, looters, maybe even deserters trying to escape the war by abandoning their duty.

They had to be very careful. Gutterson resisted the almost mechanical motion of bringing out his pack of cigarettes and lighting one, instead opting to take a deep breath of the cool night air, and then focus on the navigation equipment attached to his left arm. He found the spot marking their location, and the X marking their destination, the old city that had once been the capital of the Mandalorians on the planet. It had since become nothing but a massive city of ruins, and subsequently, the center of a violent conflict over control of it, between Montross and Rook. Somewhere in that city was the old underground bunker that was their destination.

Gutterson proceeded to point in the air in the direction they were heading, making sure Elias saw it.

"It shouldn't be far. The tombs are supposed to be hidden from sight, but the ruins of the old city have become a warzone between the clans. Let's hope these fools haven't found the entrance while fighting." He nodded to Elias again: "Move out. Watch out for landmines. The region is littered with them." He made a disgusted grimace at the thought, and resumed his position in the squad as they pressed on.

In the distance, they heard explosions and blaster fire on a massive scale, once again.

The sounds of a battlefield.

 

[Arisalin]

'Watch out for land mines? How am I supposed to kriffing see them?" Elias thought to himself as he scanned the darkness. It closed in, oily and black - like a dark curtain of silk spreading through the air. A few blinks, and his helmet switched to night vision. He saw shapes of buildings, and piles of rubble, as they moved forward. Eyes darting from their surroundings to the ground constantly, he made his way carefully forward. A loud crack echoed throughout the air from farther down the street. An distant yell followed from even farther away. Elias was already crouched as low as he could be by the time the second verpine shot fired. That was a sound he knew, and he signaled for them all to lay low. The shots were not coming at them, so there was no worry.

The darkness wore on, and he felt himself sweat inside his armor. Seconds passed, and another shot bursts the sudden silence from the surrounding area. More waiting. Elias didn't know how the others felt about their situation, but he suddenly was very calm. A memory of a similar situation had come upon him from the war all those years ago. He hadn't given into fear then, and he wouldn't now. The seconds dragged into minutes without another round fired. His hand lifted from his rifle, signalling they were clear.

The tense time was past, and the marker on Elias' HUD for their destination began it's slow crawl once more. Closer and closer.

The group of warriors moved forward.

 

[Intratec]

"I'm having a hard enough time blocking out all of this tension in the air, Gutts. I probably couldn't cut it with a Vibroknife. Now you're telling me to look out for mines?" The gunfire and screams of pain momentarily forgotten. The youngest of the group groused. Looking up from the ground as an explosive retort finally caught up to the bright flash in the distance. She'd had a hand on the ground then, allowing her senses to extend outward through blood-soaked and churned earth. There was too much there. Too much pain, hatred and greed coated the city in a thick empathic fog. It would've overwhelmed her had she not taken a moment to bolster her mental defenses.

Following in Elias' shadow, Seda kept her gaze on the ground around them. "Just keep your eyes peeled for disturbed earth. Other than a bunch of der'manda fighting I can't get a good read on where there might be danger from mines. They've fouled the air so bad with their desires I'm fighting to keep calm. If we had the time I could probably cut through this haze and plot a path, but that is time we don't have. You'll have to make do with my sensing any hostility projected toward us." Voice low, Seda felt a little shaken by everything she felt from the area. Death, guilt, anger, desperation, greed... Both sides vying for every inch of land. All while tainting it with traitors' blood.

 

[batumshakalaka]

Graves held his rifle tight to his chest as he lay prone. He liked to consider himself a scout, but he knew he was more of a soldier or commando. He was the type to shoot the guard then sneak around him. However, he did know how to not get himself killed and in this case that meant listening to his squad mates.

The rifle blasts stopped and the group began moving again, the order came down to watch for land mines. How am I gonna see a damn mine in the dark? Graves wondered to himself, I'd be lucky to see my own shadow in broad daylight with all this rubble around. He didn't voice his concerns instead being careful to watch where his follow mando's feet hit the ground.

It was slow going, but as the old saying goes "slow and steady wins the race." This situation called for a more apt saying, something like "slow and steady stays alive." Graves smiled to himself under his helmet as he checked behind the squad again, all clear.

They were coming up on an intersection, three tall buildings and one large pile of rubble sat on each corner. There hadn't been any noise save the distant rumble of explosions and the occasional crack of blaster fire. But as the squad approached there came a soft clunking sound as a rock the size of a bantha's head rolled leisurely down the pile of rubble that had once been a towering building. A soft light clicked on highlighting the rock's path down the mountain of rubble.

The squad froze. Waiting for orders, Graves checked back behind them again. A light was shinning down a cross street behind them as well.

"Gutterson, we've got company behind, too."

 

[Sisk_Renelo]

The light that was descending towards the group from the front came from the lumen attached to the barrel of a rifle held by a member of Clan Rook. It was steady, barely wavering as the fallen warrior made his way down the uneven footing. "I'm telling you, I heard something. Voices or something. We can't let Montross find us. Need to check it out." a grunt answered him, and the Rook descended slowly, sweeping the beam slowly across the alley.

Behind them was a Montross group, attempting the same tactics as their opposite number, attempting to move to a better tactical position for superiority in the morning light. 6 warriors moved slowly through the rubble, the only evidence of their passage the crunch of debris underneath their boots and the light of the man of point.

The squad was stuck between a rock and a hard place, their possible discovery looming over them as the lights converged on their position, coming ever closer to lighting up the small squad. If discovered, they are outnumbered at least 5 to 1, and even though Rook and Montross hated each other, they hated Renelo more. It would be a bloodbath.

 

[Livgardist]

Gutterson nodded slowly, as his instincts kicked in, and he crouched. They needed to get out of there before either squad saw them - and fast. The NVG equipment most Mandalorians had installed in their buy'ces made spotting enemies in the dark that much easier. Guts looked around for an escape. He found it when he caught sight of a slope leading down into the trench they were in, from the elevated ground around them. It was located to the left of them and just slightly in front of them. A couple of big trees up on the plain drowned the area in shadows, hiding it from the moonlight. He motioned with his head, and spoke in a low voice:

"Follow me."

With that, he started into a quiet crawl along the ground. Thanks to the mud, he slid easily along the ground without making scuffling noise. Staying low, they avoided creating silhouettes against the lights caused by the two squads. When he reached the slope, he used the tips of his toes to push him upwards towards the upper edge. There, he grabbed a root, and pulled himself up to the edge, before quickly, yet quietly rolling away from the trench and into the cover of the trees. He let out a quiet sigh of relief as he reached the cover, waiting for the others to follow. He took up a lying down firing position by the ledge, readying his blaster to provide covering fire for the others if they were spotted.

 

[Arisalin]

Elias saw where Gutterson was moving to, face a mask of concentration under his helmet. Something came upon him then. He was one of the Netra Gaan, and he was letting the dar'manda soldiers brush him to the side. First the Sith, and now this? His hand fell to his belt where he instinctively began to draw his knife silently from it's sheathe. Then reality hit once more. He would endanger the others. His shoulders shook in the few moments of unmoving his thoughts had brought him to. The others surely noticed it, especially since Gutterson was going and Elias was holding them up.

The Protector slid the knife back in it's place, and started his crawl. He moved silently, balancing on his hands and toes, less then an inch off the ground with the rest of his body. No scrapes, and a speedy movement. It burned in his muscles, but he made it all the way to where Gutterson covered with his rifle, making no glance or excuse for how he had slowed them down. Elias turned around, scanning the others and hoped just as he was sure the man beside him did, that no one was seen.

 

[Intratec]

Seda bit her tongue as the urge to let forth a mutter of revulsion rose in her throat. The mud wasn't too thick, but the slick substance made her skin crawl a little. Surely blood, ash and sweat had been mixed into the muddied earth she now crawled through while following the others. Her arms and legs driving her forward through the muck. Briefly a memory flashed across her mind of her childhood. Her mother driving her long into the evening as she imparted her own experiences, philosophy and skillset on to the only daughter of her family.

'Keep your body low to the earth, use your forearms and legs to propel you along. Laying flat on the muck'll just be shoveling it into your chestguard and weigh you down.'

Had been her lesson on the subject, Seda, then only nine had ended up with toy armor set so thoroughly caked in mud it had molded itself on the interior of the armor set when she'd taken it off. The memory brought on a downturn of her lips at the phantom cackling her mother laughing at that.

Coming upon Elias and Gutterson, Seda nodded to the pair while she took a few moments to breathe deep and relax tensed up and straining muscles after having joined them duo.