&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp Dace raised his hand as the bright flare lit up the eastern horizon of Mandalore, searing his eyes slightly from an unknown yet vaguely familiar energy source. Trying to peek from seams between his fingers, he momentarily lost track of the celestial body as it cruised in graceful stature around a formation of clouds, only to emerge again, yet, as if by some unknown divine powers sent from the Mandalorian Gods, the brilliance was transformed into an oddly shaped vessel of some sort.

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp In the Commerce Square of Kechoniltan, men and women, along with their young children peered in wonder and awe at the brilliant object moving parallel towards the east border of the town. Some pointed and speculated a messenger from the God’s, a hay bringer of doom and apocalypse, or deliverance and salvation. Others shouted omens of ancient Mandalorian prophecies, and ran to summon a qualified minister of the divine arts. Yet still, and oddly few number stood still with grim expression etched into a stony face. Frowns of some unknown yet worrisome fate betrayed their emotions, not that Dace’s keen yet ill tuned sagacity of the Force had not already sensed.

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp One of these men stood holding Dace’s hand, a vice grip clinging desperately onto the lad’s small appendage. Dace felt the fierceness and intensity of his father’s clutch grow upon making sight of the intruding object. He looked up at Jonas Archon, a Mandalorian Prefect at the age of 30, a vigilant, stalwart warrior with brimming jasper colored curls that accentuated a deep tanned skin tone which underlined the muscular fitness of a soldier’s athletic physique. Bearing no mustache or beard of any sort, Jonas stood tall and young at an intimidating 6 foot 4 inches, yet his blue eyes with their striking gold iris gave hint to a kind, compassionate demeanor.

His eyes showing great fear, they darted from young Adalric’s mane of shaggy dirty blonde locks to his wife’s beautiful colored, concerned filled eyes. Jaina Archon’s purple colored eyes with their unusually schemed gold irises bore into Jonas’ soul, asking, demanding for an explanation to her husband’s great anxiety. Her long strands of shiny blonde hair hung to the small of her back, held together in a modest appearing ribbon. Dressed in a casual yet seductive allure of costume, her clearly feminine stature beckoned a second glance from any man.

Locking her arm around Jonas’, she again looked across the skies for any sign of the mysterious body, yet only caught a glance as it made a final descent onto a plateau of valleys stretching east of Kechoniltan. Dace felt confused, even puzzled at the fixed emotions of his parents, and the crowds, and turned his gaze from his father back towards the skies, only to find disappointment at the disappearance of the object.

“Jonas!”

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp The call resounded in the taverns of the Commerce Square, and Jonas turned to face a desperate and anxious appearing citizen, fear and dread lurking in those eyes. The man stumbled into Jonas’ arms, stricken of breath, a smell of ozone and burnt flesh covering his dirty, ragged and torn loins. A casual glance from Dace reported a number of serious looking wounds across the man’s chest and pelvic area, where blood splotched clothing had been burned to a fine fizzle. Jonas laid the stranger across the brick stone base, gently cradling his head in his hands.

“Identify.”, he commanded the man. The foreigner gazed into Jonus’ eyes fervently, then nodded, gasping for air.

“Roland Drasier, infantry unit of the local garrison of Manapolitan under command of Prefect Almond Freedmondt.”

“Who sent you? What happened?”

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp His voice was growing hoarse and weak, and with each passing moment he struggled more and more for a luring breath.

“The city… the Dark Knight, the Lord Darth Vader… he’s returned!”

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp A murmur broke through the gathered crowds, as Jonas and several other military officials burst into dissident moans. Jonas beleaguered and terror stricken gaze shifted from Drasier to little Dace, then slowly, he again recollected composure and turned to Roland.

“Manapolitan, what happened at Manapolitan?”

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp The soldier staggered in his thoughts, his bodily function beginning to recede into oblivion.

“The Dark Knight… came. Soldiers… only twenty… wearing something… an armored exoskeleton… destroyed everything… killed everyone who wouldn’t cooperate.”

“Cooperate how? What did they want?”

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp Roland coughed, blood started to trickle from the corners of his lips.

“Looking for somebody… a son of a Prefect who was gifted in the Supernatural Arts… we knew no one… they thought we were lying…”

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp Drasier struggled in Jonas’ grasp, looked hopelessly into the Prefect’s eyes.

“We killed four of them sir. They were simply too much for us to handle so unexpectedly. They were on their way to Dalopalanitan afterwards, judging by their vector… a handful of us survived… we needed to warn others…”

“Hush… hush, brave comrade. Mandalore will look after you now.”

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp Jonas pulled Drasier into an embrace, and when he laid his stricken comrade upon the pavement, the soldier was dead. He arose, his teeth grit into iron, anger flushed a crimson hue to his face.

“Call an assemblage! What shall we do?”

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp A frightful gasp shook the throngs of denizens in the taverns into a state of slight panic and apprehension. Jonas recognized the danger, and leaped up onto a stonework bench of a blacksmith, shouting for the crowd’s attention. The confusion and noise were spreading beyond his bedraggled call, and pulling a blaster carbine from a hip holster, let a single shot ring out into the panicky mobs. The noise stopped, and all heads turned in Jonas direction. Dace too, seemed to be getting a bit frightening by all the commotion, ran to embrace his mother in an intense clinch.

“There shall be no assemblage. If the invaders have already struck the out lying towns and cities from Kechoniltan, then the other Prefects will be busy fighting their own battles to worry about organizing an assemblage. The invaders are already are their way here no doubt, we must prepare to fend off the assault.”

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp Some faces felt disturbed, on others, a dawning recognition of their impending deaths illuminated on their faces.

“I want all women and children home bound effective immediately. All warriors are being recalled into active service as of now, and I want each and every one of you to show up in full armor in front of the Government Center in less than two minutes.”

In an enormous expanse in the Archon family villa, or the social dwelling center, Jonas and Jaina removed a large chest of mahogany woodwork from under a pile of assorted belongings that couple had collected over the years. The chest was roughly the three quarters the size of Jonas himself, and gold framework laid over the mahogany made the chest even more of a burden. Sealed with molecular bonding lock, he traced a finger along the edge of mechanism, and it formed a deep green hue over the metal, and unsealed. Slowly and respectfully, he lifted the ornamental cover, setting two silver rods in place to hold the cover open.

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp Plummeting his hands into the scarlet carpeting interior, he gently extracted the contents within. A brilliantly painted piece of breastplate armor hit the open atmosphere and shone radiantly against the villa’s artificial lighting. Colored a vivid burgundy set against a pure golden background, the armor piece was as ancient a part of Mandalorian heritage as were the God’s who so sacredly founded it.

The ancient Mandalorian armor was the symbolic tone of the warrior who wielded it, representing and embodying the powerfully raw essence of the warrior’s honor and might. Handing the piece to Jaina, he cautiously extracted the rest of the armor pieces and set them across the marble flooring of the villa. Standing to his full height, he motioned to his companion.

“Come Jaina, help me suit up.”

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp Rising gracefully, she ceremoniously placed the armor pieces over his physique concluding with his techno mage helmetry, handing him the piece, with a quick gaze up and down Jonas’ body, smiled complacently.

“Let’s see.”

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp Pacing around the suited figure, she tipped a finger against her lip, a sly and seductive look spreading over her features.

“Last time your family wore this suit was two centuries ago, if I remember the Archon Legacy correctly. It was your great grandfather Allen Archon, during the clan battle of Meldenbrant.”

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp Chuckling slightly, she turned to face her husband, looping her arms across his neck, gazing longingly into his eyes, a frightful look hidden in her compassionate expression. Resting her head against the armored breastplate, she sighed slightly, a trickle of genuine tears streaming the corners of eyes.

“Come back to me, my love. I know I can’t ask you to be careful, so just… come back.”

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp Lifting Jaina’s head with his gloved armored hands, he favored her with a warm loving smile, and kissed her deeply, passionately on the lips, coming to rest his forehead against her mane of blonde locks.

“Don’t worry dear heart. I’ll come back with Mandalore’s spirit on my shoulders. Take care of Dace. He’s the last Force attuned of our rare heritage through my family line.”

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp Picking up her head he peered into her soul, a grim and sadness filling his eyes.

“If the fighting gets into the city, I want you and Dace to head to Sacetalikan, stay with tencho Mark and tencha Ari. They’ll look after the both of you.”

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp Nodding, she let his hands slip from hers, and he turned pacing out the villa’s balcony, leaving a trail of thermal emission emanating from the balcony’s crevice, a jet stream blazing in his wake. Wiping the tears running down her soft, tanned cheeks, she hurried to find the family’s recorder droid, requesting service for an immediate transmission record. Slipping a data crystal into the projector stream, she stood tall and proud, a determined yet paternal composure surrounding her.

“Begin recording, message to be sent to Dace Archon.”

Blaster fire and the smell of burn emanated all across Kechoniltan. Screams and common and growing moans of painful agony resounded through the city taverns, an occasional denizen running from the commotion and chaos with panicked fright, only to sag lifelessly to the ground as a single, or two, or sometimes three of the armored invaders stepped over the body, a seamless hole bearing in the victim’s back. The intruder stood taller than any man Jonas had ever encountered.

A menacingly 7 foot tall creature, with a pale black exoskeleton manufactured by some resourced alloy that Jonas had never before seen before, yet had proved all but impervious to only the most concentrated of blaster fire from his people. Rendering a lethal looking blaster carbine, the creature displayed no outward emotion as it savagely slaughtered all of Kechoniltan’s populace who came into view.

The beast moved in rigid stiff motions which cold have only been replicated by a complex network of servomotors and mandibles, not the fluid graceful nature that would have been common with any biological creature. Yet oddly enough, Jonas still felt the unmistakable presence of the Force radiating from the metallic dome, and though the eerie black eye panels displayed no form of life, there was obviously a soul in that terror-striking suit. But it was just that. <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> It’s a combat suit. They’re not machines, at least not completely machine.<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->

Watching the soldier move between the alleyways of Kechoniltan’s rural regions, he, and two other fully suited Mandalorian commandos stealthily paced the roof of one enormous villa, moving alongside the palisade in tandem with the assailant.

“Three more were sighted heading in squad two’s position, another four were reported splitting up in directions of Kechoniltan’s eastern and western flanks… probably trying to find an easy entrance into the city. Squads three and four just signaled an initial engagement. That makes this lone unit under our jurisdiction.”

“Sir.”, reported one of the flanking soldiers, motioning over the side of the palisade, Jonas took a brief casual glance at the abomination as it entered through a side gate to the villa’s courtyard. Jonas motioned immediately to one his men who took position behind the roof entrance hatch.

“Kasiden, cover that roof entrance, if he knows we’re tracking him, then he’ll make an attempt at a surprise assault. Arden, follow the palisade, comm me if he leaves the villa.”

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp He leapt off the roof’s edge, thumbed his thermal burners for a split second to cushion the fall, landing gracefully in the center of the courtyard. Raising his blaster carbine and dropping into a crouch, he quickly scanned the vicinity, slowly rising up and saunter towards an ajar glass paned sliding door. Moving along the edge of the wall parallel to the sliding doors, he peered into the villa’s interior, noting a marble staircase leading up the structure’s rooftop.

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp A sudden snap behind him caught his attention. Slyly, he panned around his camera helmet on his rear flank from his neural interface, keeping his position fixed on the villa’s staircase.

“Jonas, this is Arden… there’s something moving behind you. I can’t distinguish it, but whatever it is, it’s got a cloak. I’ve got a lock on its position.”

“Wait for my signal.”

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp Focusing the fine lens of the camera’s adjustment circuitry, the silhouette slowly came into view. Jonas immediately recognized the outlined shape as one of the invaders; and he then came to understand the trap he had walked into. The soldier had intentionally left the courtyard’s sliding doors ajar to fool him into thinking the intruder had made his way inside the villa. Then switching into a cloaked stealth, returned to the courtyard and hid in ambush for Jonas to follow. <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> He knew we were tracking him the whole time. Son of a @#%$!<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->

“Arden, one controlled burst, light him up for me!”

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp A single blaster shot razed the air and struck its target square in the left shoulder. The machine reared back, absorbing most of the blow, the black matte of metal appearing into view from behind the cloaking shroud. Jonas tumbled backwards and twisted sideways, coming back into a crouching position leveling his blaster carbine with the invader, as several shots whizzed left of his head, striking the villa’s wall exactly where he had just been.

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp He pumped the trigger three times, putting two bolts into the assailant’s abdomen, one shot whined in protest as it scored a surgical hit in between the machine’s knee joint mandible. The creature sagged on the broken mandible, its upper body weight crushing the damaged servomotors. The enemy counteracted with a bolt that struck Jonas blaster from his hands, squeezing off two more shots aimed for his helmet.

Jonas reacted with lightning precision, tumbling forward of his assailant as the blaster bolts soared over his head, removing a 9 inch vibro blade from his boot holster and rearing into a crouching position left of his assailant, driving the blade in between a crevice of servomotors from its upper and lower body structure. Running past the assailant from his tumble, he thumbed his thermal burners, rocketing off the villa courtyard in a torrent of smoke.

The trooper stood on his good leg looking obliviously at the knife hilt protruding from his stomach.

From overhead of the villa, Jonas dialed an activation number on his wrist dial pad. A small explosion lit up the courtyard, spreading a catalyst of detonite material over the vicinity that was stocked in the knife’s hilt. A small, 1 square foot whole protruded from the knife’s blast, as the decaying cluck of debris fell backwards to the ground. Gliding back towards the roof’s palisade, his other compatriots were leaning over the edge staring marginally at the remains. Jonas set foot on the roof gracefully, as Kasiden and Arden both turned and took a head to toe glance at him. Jonas smiled inside his helmetry.

“They’re clever. Very clever. He would have bested me on a one on one confrontation. Thanks for the assist Kasiden.”, he said, nodding towards the commando.

“No problem sir. You should know, Arden just received a report from squads three and four. The invaders have broken through the town’s defensive perimeter and are moving towards the urban regions.”

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp Disbelief and horror broke through Jonas’ complacent and satisfied disposition.

“Sir.”, spoke Arden, a sorrowful and sympathetic tone in his voice.

“They’ve also apparently called for reinforcements. Squad two reported sighting ten more soldiers moving in armored escorts… the Dark Lord is with them."