The armorer regained her consciousness slowly. She was lying in a
puddle of blood which wasn’t her own. But it has saved her
life it seems when the Imperials thought of her to be dead. She was
alive and so more lucky than most of the tribe. Looking around she
remembered what happened.
They came not long after the shoot out in the streets of Nevarro City.
The Mandalorians had no chance against the Death Troopers who invaded
the tunnels of the sewer. It weren’t only the well trained
troopers, but the E-Web heavy repeating blaster cannon they brought
with them which sealed the Mandalorians’ fate.
The first blast killed those standing sentinel at the entrance to the
tunnel system.
For years were the tunnels a safe haven for the tribe. A safe haven as
long as they followed the rule that only one at a time was allowed to
go outside and to never remove their helmets in public. Their secrecy
was their survival - until now.
The tribe’s armorer walked slowly through the carnage the
Death Troopers had left behind. Her helmet was dented where the blaster
bolt had hit and knocked her out. The damage to the helmet could be
repaired but not the damage to the tribe. Her tribe she had always
protected like a mother her children. Now they had lost everything,
their secrecy, their safe haven and their lives. She was battle
hardened but the sight of the fallen let her tear up. The armorer knew
what was expected of her now following the creed.
She stripped down the armors of the dead and piled the parts up
together with their helmets. There weren’t many made of
Beskar most of them were made of low-quality alloys. One of the reasons
there were so many victims of the Imperial raid. Beskar was rarely in
Mandalorian hands since the purge.
Tears were falling while the armorer was burying those who were once
alive. Those she had lived, laughed and fought with.
After a thousand tears which she had cried, her work was done. The dead
Mandalorian warriors were resting in peace now, but she would carry on.
