Location: City of Keldade (Her Remains)
His steps crunched over the debris, his hands shielding his eyes as well as removing his white bangs from his view of the brilliant sunny landscape. Turning around he continued to walk back towards the main streets, careful to dodge a construction droid moving large amounts of debris and assuring that the remaining building’s structure would not cause concern of harm for those nearby. Rhan’s eyes targeted to the cleared out lot several meters in front of him, already prepared for new foundations as a familiar foreman organized several droids and a few other workers into setting the beams. Rhan had wondered if Keldade would ever return to her formal beauty, before the missile attack.
Perhaps it was arrogance, pride or pure ignorance (Rhan personally thought all three had played part) but Mandalore suffered greatly that day and had continued to suffer ever since. He stuffed his hands into his pant’s pockets as he continued to walk and observe the construction and slow repair as he continued on his walk. Rhan felt that Mandalore was dying, something had told him that there was some sickness even before he had been adopted, that something within Mandalore was whittling and become weak. Perhaps it was Rhan’s own arrogance, or rather his ignorance that he simply never believed nor thought that Mandalore would ever share her fate with the Taung that had existed before Mandalorians that the galaxy today know.
Sighing he quickly moved deeper into the destruction, the closer towards the center of this city he ventured even more to fully witness and comprehend the total destruction and despair. His mind ventured back to his younger days, his childhood, sneaking past crime scenes of gruesome gang wars, simply bloody and littered with blaster torn corpses. Rhan closed his eyes, his fingers rubbing them as he opened them to once more take in the debris of this once great city of Mandalore. This was different, back then he saw at least a tangible memories of dead citizens, here there was utterly nothing but blackened and charred steel with shattered concrete. His boots crunched on the debris before stopping short of the road block stopping any traffic venturing deeper towards the impact site itself. Hand reaching out he followed it with his gaze as he sighed deeply and turned back around. The construction crew would make their way towards the inner city soon enough, but so much was destroyed and so much needed to be rebuilt, even Rhan wondered if the sheer size of this endeavour would be completed in his lifetime.
Moving back towards the more vibrant section Rhan quickly walked towards one of the base camps set up for the local populace to gather themselves and rest. Thousands had lost their lives, and thousands more lost their livelihoods and thousands more lost more than their own lives. His gloved fingers lingering on his mask, a small assurance to himself, he made his way through a few people. Some glanced his direction with some interests while others could have cared less about another wandering soul among them. Eyes settling on a few rather muscular group of men, each showing much more life than the rest at the camp. Emotion of rage, anger and somewhat resentment of the entire situation they found themselves in, Rhan felt their raw energy, visually they were agitated and he could not really blame them but their words were foolish. Talks of vengeance and even distaste of off world construction workers. Slightly annoyed since Rhan himself was paying for the Construction Foreman and their droids. Much of the populace died upon the impact of the missile and many more died later in the aftermath, refusing foreign aid was beyond arrogance, it was bordering idiocy.
His gaze lingered on the group for a few more moments before averting back to the several construction zones. Gliding through several clumps of people he managed to escape and move towards the outskirts of the city and finding some solace among the untouched forest of Mandalore. Perhaps it was just as so that Mandalore’s Nature survived her people’s troublesome predicament. Rhan chuckled as he sat down in front of one of the rivers. The water moving quickly, not foaming white with the sheer speed further down the river, but certainly he did not fancy a swim. His fingers swiping away the locks of white hair, grooming himself with his right hand for a mere moment before relaxing his arms. “The nature of the Warrior, how poetic that many go out, burning bright to only quickly snuff out of existence and simply be forgotten,” Rhan murmured loudly, “And what am I? The Shadow, just a flitting shadow,” he added as he sighed deeply.
Mandalore, what did his home need? The question few asked and even fewer could answer and even thus fewer could ever provide. No such hope of a grand speech could possibly sway the masses, nor some call to arms or even a call to rebuild would be enough to once more see Mandalore rise to some semblance of its once former glory. Perhaps, Rhan mused, that Mandalore should perish, nothing but a footnote of this Galaxy’s history and a bad memory for others. Just to let Mandalore fade away into oblivion, to be forgotten and left to die on its own.
“Ha, ha, ha, ha. . . “ Rhan laughed slowly, his body slowly turned to lift himself back up on his feet, “Even Shadows exist where there is light, and like wise, Mandalore is too prideful and arrogant to simply fade away when there are still battles left to be fought and won,” Rhan told himself, walking back to the remains of the city.
A small smirk formed on his lips, beneath his mask as he continued to walk.