The Armorer slowly regained consciousness. She was lying in a puddle of
blood that was not her own. But it had apparently saved her life when
the Imperials thought she was dead. She was alive, and thus luckier than
most of the tribe. As she looked around, she remembered what had
happened.
They arrived not long after the shootout in the streets
of Nevarro City. The Mandalorians did not stand a chance against the
Death Troopers who invaded the sewer tunnels. It was not just the well
trained troopers, but also the heavy E-web heavy repeating blaster
cannon they brought with them that sealed the Mandalorians' fate.
The first explosion killed those standing sentry at the entrance to the tunnel system.
For
years, the tunnels were a safe haven for the tribe. A safe haven as
long as they adhered to the rule that only one could go outside at a
time and they were never allowed to remove their helmets in public.
Their secrecy was their survival - until now.
The Armorer walked
slowly through the carnage left by the Death Troopers. Her helmet was
dented where the blaster bolt had hit her and put her out of action.
The
damage to her helmet could be repaired, but not the damage to her
tribe. She had always protected her tribe like a mother protects 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
brought tears to her eyes. The Armorer knew what was expected of her now
if she followed the creed.
She took the armor off the dead and
piled the parts together with their helmets. There were not many made of
beskar, most were made of low-quality alloys. One of the reasons why
there were so many casualties from the Imperial raid. Beskar had rarely
been in Mandalorian hands since the Purge.
Tears flowed as the Armorer buried the once living, those with whom she had lived, laughed and fought.
After
a thousand tears she had cried, her work was done. The dead Mandalorian
warriors now rested in peace, but she would carry on.
