The Funeral of the Mand'alor

[Prudence]

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The sun hung low in the skies of Sundari, casting a golden light over the city. The gleaming durasteel and transparisteel towers that made up downtown Sundari caught the light, shining like golden pillars rising directly from the ground. The crowd that had gathered was in the central plaza of Sundari, a long stretching flat area that was partially brick, partially greenery. The plaza was situated directly infront of the Sundari Capital Building. The building towered above like a saddened giant, looking fondly upon the last rite of its one time ruler. The city had turned out in droves, masses of beings here to bid their one-time leader farewell.

The funeral itself consisted of a large flammable pyre, which atop it would sit the fallen Mandalorian. The crowd parted somewhat, as a guard of Mandalorian Commandos carried the body on a stretcher to the waiting pyre. He had been stripped of his armor, and was wearing a simple black tunic and trousers now. An attempt may have been made to cover his injuries that the warrior had sustained by Talia prior to his death, but that would not have been loyal to the man's legacy. Instead his split lips, black eyes, and multiple lacerations to his arms and face were clearly visible in all of their gruesome truth.

During the normal funeral of a head of state a stage may sit behind the pyre, from which the head of state could be eulogized, and words could be spoken. Instead people were packed as tightly around the pyre as they could be, and those who wished to speak up could do so around the fire - the Prime Minister included.

 

[Karissa Fett]

Karissa stood within the inner most circle of Mandalorians that were gathered around the pyre. She wore her armor, its classic design and muted red colors glinted the evening light. She was glad that her helmet was on at the moment, because the occasion left a mask of pain on her face. She hadn't seen Prudii in person in years, and every time she'd tried to meet up with him prior to his death something had come up and it hadn't worked out. She hadn't known Prudii as well as others had growing up, but they had known each other none the less. His success in freeing Mandalore from the Republic, and in bringing strength back to their enslaved people had inspired her to return home. The funeral hadn't begun yet, and beings were still gathering around to catch a glimpse, and pay their respects, to the man who had brought them to freedom. What was it that Almec was saying about Prudii? With his life he freed Mandalore from the Republic, and with his death he freed Mandalore from the Sith? It was a shame that it had taken the man's death to secure that.

She crossed her arms, her visor panning as she scanned the crowd looking for familiar faces. She saw the sea of beings part as an honorguard carried his body to the pyre and gingerly laid him atop it. Her body ran cold seeing the lifeless form sitting before her, and she wasn't able to stop herself. One of Karissa's hands shot out and squeezed the man's arm one last time. She bit her lip to hold back tears for a moment. She had seen the footage of the battle as everyone else had, and she realized how this man had died. In his final moments he had saved Moira Kryze, his eventual killer, from an incoming shower of turbolasers. It had appeared from footage that he had attempted to talk her out of her rage, but from the lifeless face staring into the starry Mandalorian night she could tell that his efforts had been for naught.

She steeled herself, waiting for the guests of honor to arrive - one of whom she assumed would be the defacto new Mand'alor, Moira herself. Karissa's blood boiled in her veins at the thought of it, Moira taking Prudii's title. She considered Moira her friend, as she had Prudii, but she held no small amount of pent up anger for the woman. She had slaughtered a man that had considered her a friend, for what? A title? Karissa gritted her teeth as she glanced downward, trying to remain calm.

Spoiler: tags

Roster:
Prime Minister (FL):
Veryc Almec (@Arclight )
Chief of Staff (AFL):
Nalu Fibuna (@Nalu Fibuna )
Duchess:
Jemma Rhi'mans (@Proleptic )
Alor High Warpriest, Prophet of the Old One and Spiritual Guide of His Chosen:
Mikha'el Atin'al (@Loco)
Mand'alor:
Vacant
Protectors:
Aethon Kast (@Kori Buor(AFL))
SuperCommandos:
Dak Veren (@Phœnix )
Abigail Soler (@Rae Anne Jarrus )
Q'san Genet (@Gian Greydragon )
Aria Deece (@Relent )
Mav Kote (@RedneckLoves )
Aryn Rau (@Arclight )
Saviin Echoy'la (@The Star of Chaos )
Nicolás Saprophyt (@Deviant )
Jatt Bralor (@Demetrios )
Tsunami (@Tsunami )
Aiden Fett (@Chask274 )
Talia Al'saif (@Sreeya )
A'den Vhett (@Apollyon )
Kael Rodarch (@Branok )
A'donii Rodarch (@Rimrald )
Tau Lu (@Malon )
Jeyne Merrik, M.D. (@Padmé )
Lexi Frost (@Gamov )
Kando Gedyc (@Caleb Richardson )
Thyr Amnis (@Simonev )
Barr Wren (@Ecclessey )
Adkae Keldau (@SithFTW )
Jean Havoc (@Wit )
Dax Rowen (@Nerovec )
Karissa Kryze (@Prudence )
Korun (@The Maelstrom )

Other:
Seera Lone (@DEC-1BL )
Jace Lorso (@Ecclessey )
Versae Almec (@Balla Vahla )

 

[Malon]

Tau was by no means a guest of honor. An outlier within the Dominion, she had come to the Mandalorian leader's funeral out of respect for the man. She tried not to pay much attention to the politics of the Dominion. Politics was never her forte in the first place, but she was well-aware that there were some within the Dominion that despised Prudii for his stance towards the Sith Brotherhood.

None of that mattered to Tau.

Though she never knew him personally, she respected the man as a warrior. On Haruun Kal, he would have undoubtably been hailed as one of the great warriors of the jungle. She knew that to be even more true among the Mandalorians. Few could claim the title of Mand'alor and command the respect of the various clans, but Prudii had. And, in the end, he had died honorably—in battle, fighting for what he believed in.

And so, in respect to this man—this warrior—of honor, Tau Lu donned her full Mandalorian armor. She stood amongst the throngs of other Mandalorians who had come to see their late leader off, just another face in the crowd; but she was okay with that. As the guard brought the Mand'alor's body towards the pyre, she didn't incline her head in a bow; rather, she held it high, as a warrior should; as she knew he would have expected from her and the rest of his troops. It was the best honor she offer him: to honor his death and continue fighting.

For Mand'alor...

 

[Vinny]

Darth Cain had used an illusion to restore his own appearance. He crafted it carefully, meticulously, to ensure that he was more than just presentable to those at the funeral. It was the least he could do. Even so, he concealed his face. The Sith Lord strode out to the pyre. He was here to show respect to a fallen soldier. There were some traditions of the Sith that made his stomach churn, and disregarding the death of a great man was one of them.

He had given the damn order to find Mand'alor! Those insubordinate little-! He cleared his mind, his subordinates had failed to rescue Mand'alor. There was nothing to be done about that now. He could only offer his condolences as best he could, a great man had passed, and Cain was going to show him the respect he deserved.

Cain strode through the crowd and stood at the edge of the ring wearing simple gray robes. No one looked his way.

Cain dropped to a knee and lowered his head. "To a true warrior." Darth Cain whispered. He rose to his feet, his eyes glinting with flames. First Mand'alor had been taken, and Solum had been scarred so deeply. The republic would pay. He may not be Dark Lord, but he was certainly capable of inflicting his own special kind of vengeance. Cain cleared the emotion from his throat and spoke.

"There is a word in Tundish for an individual who turns combat into something of beauty and power. Dervasi, Dervish as you may know it. It is an esteemed title, one of respect, honor, and ferocity. A title rarely given in a society that demands perfection. Mand'alor Prudii was Dervasi. He was the living embodiment of everything it meant to be a Mandalorian. Something we should aspire to emulate, in what small ways we can." Cain said in a crisp but subdued tone. He rose to his feet.

"Farewell, Dervasi." Cain said, and stepped back into the crowd. He left in peace shortly after, knowing better than to stay for long. As amenable as his words had been, he did not want to risk drawing the ire of these people. He retreated to a small shuttle and made his way off-world, his work done. He would perform a proper Sith funeral for the hero when he found a place to erect a monument.

It was the least he could do.

 

[Rimrald]

Making his way through the crowd A'donii and a handful of his clansmen pushed their way to the inner portion of the circle stopping to look on A'donii made his way as close as he could. Now surrounded by his fellow commandos he removed his helmet never being one to let his nerves get to him, he couldn't help it this time. The leader of his people had fallen and the title was soon to be filled by another even those who'd not met Prudii could feel the heavy burden on their hearts for any true Mandalorian felt the loss of a brother that day; A'donii took a moment to compose himself and spoke up.
"Although I did not know this man, he was my Alor and my Vod the same as all of you gathered today so let us keep his memory alive by continuing to live in accordance to the Resol'nare." With that he bowed his head for a moment and placed his helmet back on, pushing through the crowd once more he found his clansmen and departed; now they would have a celebration to welcome the new mand'alor and remember the old.

 

[Logan]

So many things had changed. Watching the funeral pyre dance in front of her, the light from the flames glinting dully off the plexalloy of her T-visor, Aria could do little but hang her head in silent despair. For many years she had wandered the galaxy, aimless, her life pointless and serving no purpose. She had lived as a person, a Sith, a criminal and a Mandalorian among all of the other things a person could call themselves after nearly thirty years of life. Out of all of those, the place she had felt most accepted was with Prudii - with his Death Watch. They were the family she had always wanted, had longed for since her turbulent upbringing to parents who hadn't really cared. Prudii had cared. He had done what no other man or woman could have. He saw something he wanted and he just took it, regardless of the means in which he had to do it.

The galaxy would label him as a terrorist, maybe some of the Dominion would too. To her though, and to those that served under the true Mand'alor he was so much more. A revolutionary, a mentor.. a friend. He was a polarizing figure who could draw those from all walks of life to follow his lead, to believe in his goals of a free Mandalore. And he had done it, with blood, sweat, tears and death he had done it. Mandalore was free from the Republic, and with his death it was free from the Sith. Whether or not this new Dominion could stand on its own two legs was something to be seen, but it wasn't something Aria was interested in seeing. Her devotion to the cause had died with Prudii Kyramund. There was nothing left here for her to believe in.

Removing her helmet, Aria pushed her way forward so that she could see Prudii's body, his face one last time with her own eyes. The injuries that caused his death covered him like warpaint, but Aria knew that is the way he would have wanted it. At the end of the day, that's what Prudii was - a warrior. Dropping to one knee before the pyre, Aria placed her helmet on the ground, a few tears finding their way out of the corners of her eyes to stream, hot and unwanted down her face. The Dominion had lost something with Prudii that they could never recover, though Aria knew it would take them many years to realize that. Turning away and speaking to no one, the former member of Prudii Kyramund's Death Watch left the pyre, left the crowds of people who had barely known the man who they all were mourning for - left the Dominion that she had no allegiance for.

Tears now dried on her face, she approached her ship and turned around to give it all one last look before leaving.

"Ret'urcye mhi, Mand'alor."

 

[Sreeya]

Talia was dreading this day since the events on Coruscant. Her life had been a whirlwind since she had faced off against him and ultimately had him die in her arms. She hadn’t been allowed a moment to reflect upon what happened or truly think about how this impacted her. Her emotions had been guarded and chained, and she wanted to keep it that way. Talia was also uneasy as this was an appearance where rumors of her being the Mand’alor were still abuzz.

Unlike her usual armor, she had opted to wear traditional Beskar’gam with the tell-tale T-visor helmet she never wore otherwise. Talia slowly made her approach towards the gathering, hushed whispers erupting all around her as she walked. People parted ways, allowing her to pass. She said nothing as she walked, her heart heavy as she saw the great flames ahead. Seeing the pyre hit home that he was truly gone. She watched as Prudii was carried towards the fire, flowers adorning his sides and many helmets lining where he was set down before he would be placed on the pyre.

Talia could see him from where she was standing, her eyes lingering on his peaceful face that didn’t carry the hardships of everything he faced as Mand’alor. She saw the face of an old friend, and her heart was twisted in knots. She felt pressure on her chest, felt as if she couldn’t speak, and she was suddenly glad no one could see her face. She knew she had to be strong, she wasn’t simply another face in the crowd as much as she wished it.

Ignoring the whispers and attention temporarily cast her way, Talia came to stand near the body. She was still a part of the crowd that had gathered, waiting for the arrival of others. She put her thoughts together, preparing to step up shortly and say a few words. Talia had to stabilize her mind first and reel in her emotions. Her fingers were curled into fists, and she felt almost physically ill. Yet she still couldn’t look away from his peaceful face and imagine how many times she had seen him laugh and joke. She would never see that smile again, she would never hear that laugh again. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks at once. At that moment she would have given anything to even have another heated argument with him, just to hear his voice again.

 

[Jason Vaiken]

Saviin stood by the body just listening to the people as they said goodbye to her father. While she did not wear her normal armour, she wore a set of standard armour with an orange scheme. Her helmet held in the crook of her arm as some tears drop from her face as she stares at the body of her father, who she only knew for a few months. She flashed back to Coruscant, when her father's guard started to chant Mand'alor and the joy she had assumed meant that he lived only for the crushing reversal, he died of his wounds. By the time she got there she could tell by the shots that he was beyond any help. That even if they managed to get him to a field-hospital it would have been far too late... her father died on Coruscant, but he died with his guard around him and died well. Well, that's what she's been telling herself to make the pain go away. It doesn't change the fact she has to watch her father's pyre, that she only knew him for a few months. That these people she barely knows, knew them better than her.

One of her biggest regrets will not knowing him as well as she would have wanted. But, as she stares at the body of her father. She vows to herself and his spirit that she will carry on his legacy. That she will fight for Mandalore and ensure that it remains independent. That the sacrifices he made will forever be protected. And that when she tells her children the story of her grandfather and goes to meet him one day, she can do so knowing that she lived up to his example, his legacy, and entrust it to the next generation of Mandalorians.

"Until, we meet again father. I will fight for Mandalore and to ensure that you are remembered."

 

[Kori Buor]

Walking through the crowd of people who had come to celebrate the life of the previous Mand'alor. Asterion had recalled a Prudii from before his death and resurrection, vague and broken bits of memories trickled into his mind of a man who seemed to enjoy the bloodletting a little too much, and whose eccentric idiosyncrasies had caused him to be received with some suspicion by Caedryn, Bardan, and their contemporaries, all of whom were now gone. Whatever that had happened to allow Prudii to ascend to leadership must have been rather drastic, but with his lack of memories Asterion wasn't sure if he should care or not. All he could recognize was that Mandalore was free. Free of the Republic, free of the Sith. The shattered memories told him this was significant in some way, as though that had been something he had worked towards. The lack of context, of understanding, of being able to see the full picture was frustrating to say the least.

But Asterion wasn't there for Prudii. As much as he could respect the shade of a man for the things that were attributed to him, he had only recently bought stake in the Dominion, and that was only because of one person. And that person was the reason he was there, the reason he had any semblance of his old self again, and his reason for caring about the Mandalorian people again. Shadowing Talia a safe distance so as not to attract attention and draw eyes away from her and onto him, the Mandalorian watched his ward with hawk-like blue eyes from behind his T-shaped visor. He would give his life to fulfill his unspoken promise to her, the promise he made when he requested that specific position. Seeing Talia in the traditional Mandalorian armor brought back memories of his childhood with her, nothing significant, just bits and pieces of who he was; more pieces of the puzzle snapping into place and forming smaller images he could recognize.

As she approached the pyre, he hung back a little, giving her the space she needed while still making sure no one would try and dishonor the ceremony with some ill-conceived attempt to revenge the fallen Mand'alor. Their culture demanded that the strong rule, and that the one who killed the previous Mand'alor must also become Mand'alor. Talia killed Prudii, thus honor and tradition demanded she take the mantle, which it seemed that she reluctantly had. That meant she would not be a target for others, and Asterion was going to make sure she was safe from those who would seek to harm her for personal gain or avenge the previous leader.

Watching her, Asterion could see the almost insignificant things that only his former self would have been able to recognized. It wouldn't have been very obvious to others, but to him it was almost as plain as day. She was in pain. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do even if Talia hadn't wanted that, which he knew she did not. The knowledge of that simple fact was like a dagger through his chest, but he knew that he could only blame himself for what had happened. So, with a heavy sigh, he watched, marveling how Talia could remain imposing and regal even when she was hurting. If there was one thing he had to give her, it was her ability to put up a convincing facade.

They both watched as the body of the man was carried to the fires, Asterion moving a little closer to make sure he could stop any attempt on her life. With the cremation of the old, the new would rise from its ashes. It was rather poetic to Asterion as he wondered about his place in all of this. This was a new world to him, a new life and yet so old and familiar at the same time. He could simply only wonder what that all even meant.

 

[Phoenix]

Grim. Solemn. Heavy-hearted. Grave. There seemed to be no end to the words that would describe this day. This was a day for Mandalorian custom and Dak stood in full battle armor near the flames as he watched them lick at the body which was covered in the wounds that he ultimately succumbed to. As was always true, he was thankful for the protection of his helmet, not because he feared danger, but because it offered him a haven away from prying eyes that would seek judge him or determine his thoughts.

Wisps of smoke rose into the air, and from the ashes of Prudii Kyramud - Manda'lor - rose the Dominion. Many had doubted what he would do and many had stood against him. They had pursued the comfortable life of submission to the Republic and forgotten what it had meant to be free. Until Prudii Kyramud had come along. The Death Watch had risen to stand against the Republic's tyranny and freed their kin giving them the ability to stand, unbowed, under their own government once more.

He had traded his life and his reputation for the people of Mandalore. People would scorn and mock him; they would sneer at his name, but there were those who would remember. Men like himself who had stood by since the beginning watching the evolution of their cause from mercenaries to freedom fighters and now a fully functioning and independent government. Prudii had taken on scorn from the people and even sold his soul to the Sith so that they could be free. It had killed him, but he would not be forgotten.

As he watched the proceedings and speeches, he remained silent. People each remembered the fallen in their own way, some spoke up in memory, some made speeches, and some stood amidst their own thoughts. Dak had always been one for the latter.

At the appearance of Talia the entire proceeding seemed to look to her. That was the unfortunate part of leadership, everyone looked to you for guidance and direction. He didn't envy her position, but he waited for her eyes to fall on him for even a moment and nodded at her, indicating that he had her back, as always.

 

[Karissa Fett]

The rustling of movement stirred her from silent meditation. Off to the side she could see an armored figure pushing through the crowd, and upon closer inspection she could recognize the figure as Aria Deece, long time member of Death Watch. The woman had silently set her helmet forward in honor of Prudii, gazed at his body, and turned to leave. Karissa allowed her eyes to follow her for a moment, before turning back to Prudii. The body was ablaze now, amber flames licking up at the air. The sun had finished setting, leaving Sundari in darkness - only illuminated by Prudii's flame. The symbolism of the moment wasn't lost on her as she swallowed hard. Karissa reached to her head and removed her helmet. Gingerly the Mandalorian set her helmet down beside Aria's and stood resolutely. Beside her she could see Saviin, the Mand'alor's daughter, and it hit her now how the girl must be feeling. To discover your father, only to have him taken away months later. It was during this revelation that she saw her. Standing across the pyre from her was Moira herself, or as she was calling herself now - Talia. Hot tears spilled over now, streaking down her eyes and across her cheeks. A storm of emotions brewed within the woman, pain and anger foremost among them. Still in the back of her mind welled confusion, as to why Talia would turn her back on a life long friend for little more than a title. She clenched her jaw and moved so that she had a clear line of sight to Moira, and pointed her finger at the woman,

"How dare you stand where he stood?! You looked him in the eye, a man that trusted you and murdered him! For what?! A title?!"

Karissa instantly felt bad, her cheeks blushing. Her temper, yet again, had gotten the best of her. She looked away, her eyes now on the ground as she waited for whatever rebuke it was likely Talia had in store. All those in attendance had turned to look at her, their faces ranging from angered, to sad. The Mandalorian girl tried to breathe through her nose, but found herself sniffling instead, as hot fat tears began to streak faster down her cheeks.

 

[Jatt Bralor]

Well, ya' don't go pouring alcohol on a grave, especially when the person wasn't buried yet. Jatt despised crowds, but there was a good platform off maybe a hundred yards from where the ceremony was held, there he stood alone with a bottle of Jack in his hand. The thing was half empty already, as the large man was taking swigs from it occasionally, thinking back to the old times in Ha'rangir's Fortress where the two sat drinking away while the Mand'alor tried to make Jatt laugh. Annoying at first, but maybe it was something that began to break through the hard exterior of this Mando. Rubbing at his chin, the gruff expression visibly rugged with an unkempt and dirty beard, a grunt came from the man before he slung a loogey into the air and watched it get caught by gravity until it disappeared from his vision.

“Ya' were a proper dickhead, but ya' freed ah' people. Aye'll drink to that.”

Leaning on the railing before him, tipping the bottle to a fallen brother, Jatt slung back a large portion of the bottle before clenching his eyes at a sudden fire burning in his gullet. A large belch came from the man, making him laugh, then a sullen mood washed over the area. The deep belly laughter died, feeling the absolute loneliness of the area around, and realized maybe that was also a gift to the old Manda'lore. Took Prudii long enough to get a laugh out of Jatt, it just took the man dying, even if it was only a coping mechanism from Jatt's past. The Mountain of Mandalore would come back to visit later, make it more personal, maybe when there weren't so many pests around. For now, he'd stay up on the platform until deep into nightfall then go hole up in an apartment somewhere before a new person came to bug the big man.

 

[Sreeya]

Talia remained where she stood as Karissa had her outburst. There was no movement, no acknowledgement right away. For all intents and purposes it appeared as if Talia hadn’t heard her. Her T-visor gaze was fixated directly ahead, still lingering over Prudii. Whispers erupted around them and a few had begun to shout at Karissa. Talia raised her hand to silence them, slowly turning her head to face Karissa.

“I did murder him,” Talia finally spoke, her tone icy, “I did kill him. And I did take his title,” She turned away from Karissa again, slowly making her way towards the pyre. Talia took her helmet off, her face difficult to read for emotions. She kept her helmet tucked under her arm, walking right past Karissa and standing across the pyre. Talia gazed out at the crowd, saying nothing for a few seconds. She drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

“I wish more than anything I wasn’t standing here before you today instead of Prudii Kyramud,” She slowly began, blue eyes gazing over all those present, “But here I am. I wish more than anything that I did not have to watch the life drain from a friend I have loved and known since before I knew what war was. I wish more than anything I could go back to a time when Prudii Kyramud’s name was not tied to Mand’alor, back to when he was simply my friend Prudii. Back to when he was a simple boy with big dreams, just like the rest of us.”

Talia looked at the flames before her, “Prudii Kyramud was the necessary force when our people was at its weakest. We had no guidance, we had no path and we were simply another grain in the jar of sand neatly kept locked up by the Republic. We whispered, we complained, we did many things. We left Mandalore, we found work elsewhere, we made entirely different lives. I was among that,” She thought about Coruscant and her life in the Core, “Prudii was the one that came back and offered the first inkling of a promise. That promise was one of freedom, that promise was one of autonomy and a free people. He had the courage to do so and also the courage to face the challenges that came with it. Where you or I would have let pride get in the way of how far we would go for our people, Prudii let nothing stop him.”

Talia sighed, biting her lip to keep emotions in check, “He walked through a door and into a realm he could never return from. He walked through that door and put himself in the jaws of the Sith as a last ditch effort to free us,” Her voice grew louder now, “And free us he did! We shattered through the cage the Republic built around us, we tore through the chains of GAR, and we spat in the faces of the manipulative Senators that would have us kept as pets.”

She looked across the crowd, her face firm, “Prudii’s one mistake was that he could never come back from what he had done. His chapter in our story was coming to an end, and he knew it. I saw it when I looked into his eyes. He had accepted his fate and he knew he was in too deep with the Sith. He was the last thread to a crutch and weakness we no longer needed, one we could finally walk without, and he knew it had to be removed. I took the step to make that happen.”

Talia’s eyes were watering now and she took shuddering breaths, “I am your Mand’alor out of necessity, not out of delusions of grandeur. Through every trial and tribulation, through every necessary evil, through every hardship we cross… we have to come out on top. Prudii understood that before he died. He understood the steps that need to be taken towards fulfilling the promise he laid the foundations for. He knew it meant his death,” Talia looked over at Prudii, where he looked like he was in deep slumber. She managed a small smile, “There are some massive shoes to fill after Prudii Kyramud, and I think even a lifetime won’t get us there. But the truth is, as Mandalorians we have to persevere and carry on. We have to build upon what Prudii Kyramud has done for us and understand that he had a role to play in all this and we would never be here without him. As for me… I will forever remember him as my friend and brother. I will remember him as someone I cherish and will forever hold onto."

 

[Kando Gedyc]

Kando slowly hobbled through the crowd with his spare helmet under his arm, pushing and shoving to get to the front. He then stopped and looked at the body of the so called Mand'alor with disgust in his eyes. He then whispered under his breathe, "Sooran, shab!" He then set down his spare helmet, while people were preoccupied with some woman's dramatic speech and walked back toward the direction of the hanger he had left his rented ship. As he made his way around the corner, he adjusted his regular helmet and pressed a button on the right side. He poked his head around the corner, and in the distance he saw a blinking light, indicating the 20 second timer for the pulse grenades had kicked in. He then dashed down the corridor and into the hanger. He knew the grenades weren't powerful enough to cause any real damage outside the range of a few feet, but would ultimately cause a lot of panic. He looked at his timer on his wrist.
14... 13... 12...

 

[Wit]

Speeches bored her, always had and always would. Speeches, debates, politics, it all bored the living hell out of her. So her gaze wandered, lingering on the the scenery around her, which wasn't much to keep her occupied so she shifted to the crowd. She hadn't come here of her own accord, she was getting paid to observe and record, though what she was supposed to be recording was lost on her. As far as Jean was concerned she could just as easily have been listening to some old hag yapping away about her guilty conscience, and that wasn't particularly high on her must watch list.

But as her gaze wandered she spotted something, years of training and battle awareness made it almost second nature for her to pick out something out of the ordinary. And someone dropping off a helmet in the middle of a crowd, while actually wearing a helmet, and hobbling away was definitely suspicious. Specially when his body language made it evident that he intentionally planted the helmet where he did and darted off. Almost like he was running away from something. Sending out a message for one of the patrolling units to take a look at the helmet, which was now blinking, she moved after the man.

As he slipped into a hanger, she followed, moving silently but quickly. She caught up with him inside the hangar, his gaze locked on his wrist as he observed a blinking light. A countdown. Making the connection with the blinking light she had seen under the helmet, she reacted on instinct. Pulling out her rifle, she lined up the shot and fired three shots in quick succession, all to the head, all perfectly aimed. If her shots hit, as his body would fall she would run to him and slap down on the countdown, hoping that she was able to deactivate it in time.

Regardless of whether or not she would be able to deactivate the bomb, she would straighten up and pull out her TS-15 and empty its rounds into the man's torso. I'm the only one who wreaks Havoc in this town.

 

[Jatt Bralor]

Dweep-doooo

The sound of a MK 3 droid sounded in the Mountain's comms, lifting up his gauntlet, the Mando watched as a screen flashed on his gauntlet eyeballing the proceedings as a helmeted person walked into the crowd. The only thing interesting about this was the guy had an extra helmet under his arm, and that was sketchy. A gruff laugh bellowed out as he put the helmet of his armor on, igniting the jetpack and moving closer from his position near the hangar. Ohhh, this hellhole was gonna get real fun real fast, ain't no better time to get over someone's death than by causing another person's. Jatt having the droid follow the man from up high, ordered it to pour more plasma into the guy as another mando shot her blasts towards the guy. Six shots from the droid from a blaster bolt, it was great, raining hell from above. Shooting this guy was getting cool, so why not everyone do it? As Jatt touched down, walking up like the droid wasn't his, it was time to whip out the big ol' claymore and slice this guy's head off. But the Nova 67 was probably a better idea as he unloaded a barrage of ten shots with his carbine, effective within 300m, yet Jatt within 20m to the left of Havoc it was a beautiful crossfire.

“Sucks to suck, bucko.”

Should there be a dead body, it was Claymore time, a fun time for decapitations and presenting a head plus body to the new Manda'lore. Like hey, here's this dumbass who tried to interrupt a funeral. Cya later.

 

[Arcangel]

Aryn was working overwatch on the funeral. As much as she wished to be there to express her feelings over the Mand'alor's death. The proceedings were going well, until Aryn noticed something suspicious. A single Mandalorian walked up to the pyre, which wasn't unusual in itself. What was unusual is that he was wearing a helmet, and carrying a helmet under his arm, which he laid down by the pyre before turning to walk away. As soon as he turned the corner, the helmet began to blink.

"Bomb by the pyre!" Aryn shouted into her comm as she activated the jetpack to follow the man. Landing at the corner where he had disappeared, Aryn saw him running towards a hangar, with another individual following him silently. Following at a sprint, she entered the hangar just as two other Mandalorians, one 10m to her left, and one 10m to her right, were lining up shots on him. Quickly snapping her rifle to her shoulder, her line of fire clear of friendlies, she lined up on his torso and pulled the trigger five times. Five ruby red plasma bolts spit out of the R-8R battle rifle, quickly speeding towards the man and his impending death.

 

[Rimrald]

As A'donii and the other clansmen were making way through the corridor leading to the hangar, one minute they were heading for their ship to return to Concordia the next his comm filled with a warning of bombs at the funeral site. The sound of blaster fire sounded dangerously close, seeing a droid up high and a woman behind the man running in his direction he deduced it might be the assailant. Dropping to a knee A'donii disengaged the lock on his weapons holster, producing the Nova 67, and unfolding the custom stock resting it into his shoulder he took a deep breath and fired two bolts square at the mans chest. Being that he was maybe 100m in front of the man the corridor was tight and A'donii cracked a devilish grin underneath his helmet 'Funeral at a Funeral', how poetic he thought.

 

[Malon]

Tau Lu was snapped out of her daze at the words 'Bomb on the pyre!'

Her attention snapped to where one of her fellow Mandalorians had jetpacked towards the culprit; she reacted on instinct. Touching a key on the wrist of her armor, she jetted into the air on her own jetpack, blasting over the crowd towards her comrade and the fleeing assailant. Her thoughts seemed to resonate with several other Mandalorians, because, as she tugged her blaster pistols free of their holsters and loosed several scarlet bolts at the fleeing would-be bomber, at least three other Mandalorians attending the funeral did as well.

Who ever said Mandalorians couldn't think as a unit clearly hasn't seen the way we conduct our funerals, she thought smugly as she holstered her blaster pistols again and returned to the ground. Now, who's gonna deactivate that bomb?

 

[Phoenix]

As soon as Dak heard the alert over the coms device everything went tense and his training kicked in.

Without hesitation, Dak activated his boots and launched himself into the air, following the sound of gunfire and the flashes of light to all of the individuals that were firing weapons and aiming in the same direction they were. As he hurtled through the air his hand fell to his TS and as he pulled to a slow speed - nearly stationary - he emptied the two shots from this pistol at the individual's torso, careful not to hit anyone else or be hit by them. It was turning into a disaster and Dak couldn't think of why in the heavens someone would want to bomb a funeral where every person was fully armed. It was like bombing an NRA convention: not the best move.