The Open Air of Onderon - Mando'ade Intro Post

Flickr Link (the file size of the pictures were too large)

The once-Mandalorian stepped out into the cool evening. Fresh credits from his most recent pawn -a scavenged confederacy E-5- weighed down his coat pocket. 

Feeling the wind on his face took him back to that cold night on Krownest back when he was a mere teenager, only having completed the early stages of fighting core training. As imperial forces bore down on the resource-stripped clans, their monstrous starships pinning them to the surface, desperation struck the Mandalorian leaders.

It took the sacrifice of many but one ship escaped the blockade. One ship carrying the trainees and children. All Akaris Vo wanted to do was fight. Yet as he stood, bag in hand being led onto the ship he looked into his grandfather Makar’s eyes and knew the fight would have to wait.

Forced to find a life for himself, it was odd job after odd job wherever he could get passage on a ship to. Spot-welding on Corellia, bartending on Gorse, Anything to stay above the poverty line and under the radar. The Emperor lay dead among the stars, yet imperial remnants still leached off any planet they could, so avoiding them when possible was also a priority. 

Akaris had been living in Iziz, Onderon’s capital for about one hundred rotations. Of all the places he'd been, it was one of the best. Consistent work, few Imperials, and no questions asked.

Akaris looked up into the cosmos; it was nights like this that reminded him of the beauty the galaxy could hold. It reminded him also of the box beneath the floorboards of his meager apartment. The box which contained the echoes of his ancestors forged from beskar.

The conversation from the marketplace faded away as Akaris traced a ship across the sky with his eyes.

There has to be a way to go back, to reconnect, to continue what I started all those years ago. 

And I am going to find it.