Gerris Hashthrak sat quietly on the balcony and watched as the ship made a hasty departure. He tired of such a obsolete post. He had to get off this rock . . . Gerris got up from the platform he was seated on and walked over to the edge of the balcony and stared blankly into the forest. Then he whirled on his heel and knelt by the platform, retrieving his rifle and making towards the door. Inputting the codes he hastily sealed the door and jumped down the staircase.
Then he walked to the armory. His armor was heavily customized, akin to perhaps the armor donned by Boba Fett of future generations. Though many of the functions were still obsolete, as he had only begun to make the attunements. If only he could be on Sullust, perching on a cliff and unloading energy concentrations upon the Republic's lines.
He longed for battle but knew such a thing was far off for him. He went to the small makeshift arena outside the compound, designed by some bored Mandalorian soldiers. He seated himself on a fallen log and watched the battle with semi-interest. The warrior in Red was obviously the champion, as he easily batted away the unco-ordinated punches of his opponent. The warrior in Green brought his boot to the champions chest and pushed forward with surprising strength.
Once again the Red proved superior, bringing forward his hand to catch the leg. Then he brought him upwards and swung him in a circle, twice. Upon releasing his grip the Red took a step back whilst the Green hurtled forward, smashing into a tree trunk. His helmet fell to the ground, to reveal fresh wounds running down his face. This warrior obviously was a rookie, but he had Mandalorian courage no doubt. Gerris placed his rifle on the ground and walked onto the small patch of turf marking the arena.
He clicked his knuckles and then bent his knees, going into a defensive stance. The Red took bait and charged, unleashing a flurry of punches upon his foe. Gerris waited for the right moment and then caught both fists at once. Pushing them upward and leaving the Red wide open. He then brought his knee swiftly to the Reds face. If the helmet was meant to afford protection under these circumstances then this must be the craftwork of a fool.
The helmet dented in, straight into the Reds jaw. The Red made a final attempt at salvation and swung for Gerris' legs. Gerris was no master of melee, he was a Mandalorian. The swipe caught him in the left knee and brought him to the floor. The Red slowly rose to his feet and brought his fists down upon Gerris' helmet.
Purely out of self-preservation Gerris fell left, tripping the Red into a nearby tree. Gerris knew most of these guards were straight from boot, the Red probaly earned his colors with little effort. But he knew against any Mandalorian with real skill, he would be in for a tough fight. He was no epic hero of the tales told unto each generation. He was a soldier with purpose and thats all there was to it.
Whilst in his contemplations Gerris gave the Red a opening. Fortunately for him the Red was far too inexperienced to take it, instead opting for a full on charge. Gerris rose and clutched the back of the Mandalorians helmet with his left hand, pulling him back. Then in a blur of motion he brought his fist into the Mandalorians chest, winding him. Then he once again put his knee to his face, grabbed the Reds back and flung him to the floor.
The other warrior, clearly exhausted and battered, conceded to Gerris, earning him the title of Champion.
The crowd roared in approval but Gerris simply helped the Red up, drew his pistol and shot it in the air to get the onlookers to shut up.
He chucked the pistol to the Red who clumsily fumbled in the air for his blaster as it fell to the ground. He reapproached the facility and entered via a side entrance. Then he saw the Warden go past.
He quickly turned and jogged to catch up to him.
"Sir, I request a transfer."
The warden sighed, this wasn't the first time they'd had the conversation. "Denied, Gerris just give it up. Your not going anywhere." Gerris stopped as the Warden proceded down a flight of stairs. He absently kicked the ground and walked back to his quarters.
As soon as he arrived he removed his armor and put it back on its figure-hold. Then, walking over to his training area, he deposited his rifle in the nearby rack and then turned to the holo-computer. "Activate training module 111195."
Suddenly a small disk at the far side of the room whirred to life as the image of a Mandalorian sparring officer appeared. "Input user ID."
Gerris then put his palm on a small pad next to the computer. "Access granted. Initializing training program 111195." The hologram suddenly took on color and features, almost becoming real. Almost . . .
The hologram charged and Gerris raised his fist to deflect the first blow of many. He would endure, he would prevail. He was Mandalorian.
Grand Admiral of the Imperial Remnant.
"This one is constantly thinking, analyzing, strategizing. He showed no fear, but was curious, studying me in turn."
"All thoughts are worth listening to, whether later judged to be of value or not."
"I have no qualms about accepting a useful idea merely because it wasn't my own."
"But… it was so artistically done."
―Thrawn's last words