OBJECTIVE
The Search of Kusla
The cockpit was cold, the hum of the ship’s systems the only sound filling the enclosed space.
Murtog sat at the helm,
his hands steady on the controls,
while Kallina worked beside him,
adjusting their hyperspace calculations with practiced precision.
His armor lay to the side,
mostly removed its surface marred by scorch marks, blaster burns, and, surprisingly, a dent.
Beskar was not known to dent.
He wore only the simple garments beneath his armor ragged, worn, and stained with battle.
A dark brown turban was wrapped around his head,
but beneath its folds,
dried blood clung to his skin.
He had been wounded recently, and not lightly.
The Search of Kusla
The cockpit was cold, the hum of the ship’s systems the only sound filling the enclosed space.
Murtog sat at the helm,
his hands steady on the controls,
while Kallina worked beside him,
adjusting their hyperspace calculations with practiced precision.
His armor lay to the side,
mostly removed its surface marred by scorch marks, blaster burns, and, surprisingly, a dent.
Beskar was not known to dent.
He wore only the simple garments beneath his armor ragged, worn, and stained with battle.
A dark brown turban was wrapped around his head,
but beneath its folds,
dried blood clung to his skin.
He had been wounded recently, and not lightly.
“Well,”
he muttered, exhaling slowly,
“I’m glad I called you. Doubt I’d have made it out otherwise.”
His gaze flickered toward his armor,
his mind drifting into memory.
Even at his age, Murtog was sharp
quick to draw, quick to counter,
a veteran of countless fights.
But tonight, something had been different.
One moment, his enemy was there.
The next, she was in front of him
faster than thought,
faster than sight.
If she had used a jetpack,
it would have made sense.
But Veela of the Malsonike clan had not.
Her strength was beyond human limits,
beyond Mandalorian expectation.
If Kallina hadn’t been there,
he would be dead.
A simple truth.
And now,
he understood why the legends of the Malsonike were so ruthless.
Two Mandalorian clan leaders
warriors among warriors
had barely survived against a mere foot soldier of their ranks.
That was a terrifying realization.
Yet, despite the haze of battle,
despite the pain,
one thing was clear
they had won.
A deal had been made,
and that was what Murtog had fought for.
Now,
they had to go to N’orlannia.
There, they would find Jahelli’s brother
Kusla, clan leader of the Malsonike.
Kusla the Mad.
Murtog had heard stories,
tales of blood and carnage.
After tonight,
he was more inclined to believe them.
But N’orlannia…
that was a different kind of place.
A sanctuary of sorts.
A retreat for Mandalorians after long hunts,
where warriors could breathe,
drink, and forget
For a while.
He would know.
He adjusted the ship’s course slightly,
his fingers drumming against the console.
his mind drifting into memory.
Even at his age, Murtog was sharp
quick to draw, quick to counter,
a veteran of countless fights.
But tonight, something had been different.
One moment, his enemy was there.
The next, she was in front of him
faster than thought,
faster than sight.
If she had used a jetpack,
it would have made sense.
But Veela of the Malsonike clan had not.
Her strength was beyond human limits,
beyond Mandalorian expectation.
If Kallina hadn’t been there,
he would be dead.
A simple truth.
And now,
he understood why the legends of the Malsonike were so ruthless.
Two Mandalorian clan leaders
warriors among warriors
had barely survived against a mere foot soldier of their ranks.
That was a terrifying realization.
Yet, despite the haze of battle,
despite the pain,
one thing was clear
they had won.
A deal had been made,
and that was what Murtog had fought for.
Now,
they had to go to N’orlannia.
There, they would find Jahelli’s brother
Kusla, clan leader of the Malsonike.
Kusla the Mad.
Murtog had heard stories,
tales of blood and carnage.
After tonight,
he was more inclined to believe them.
But N’orlannia…
that was a different kind of place.
A sanctuary of sorts.
A retreat for Mandalorians after long hunts,
where warriors could breathe,
drink, and forget
For a while.
He would know.
He adjusted the ship’s course slightly,
his fingers drumming against the console.
“Well,
in a few hours,
we should reach the N’orlannia system,”
he said, not looking away from the viewport.
His grip tightened slightly on the controls, his voice lowering.
His grip tightened slightly on the controls, his voice lowering.
“Are we really doing this just the two of us?”
Murtog leaned back, exhaling through his nose.
“This could get rough.
Or not. N’orlannia is… strange.
A lot of fun to be had,
but rules are rules there.”
He smirked,
shaking his head slightly.
shaking his head slightly.
“Rules,”
he muttered.
“Yeah. That’s what I’m worried about.”@Kallina Rives