gore warning
also non-canon entities and mechanics

╭━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━╮
妖怪
(yōkai)
the Yōkai Clan was the
descendant of the Peace Corps
of Mandalore. The Yōkai Clan
is notable due to its nature
as a government sanctioned
quasi-military force and that it
operated as a Clan, while being
entirely comprised of foundlings.
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Sometimes it seemed that the Mandalorians were only destined to be slaughtered like animals.

It was what happened on Mandalore, before the aerial barrage leveled the cities back into the sand and dust from whence they rose.

They wiped out the Yokaī clan first. It could've been political, wiping out the traditional guardians of the old regent of Mandalore. It could've been strategic, wiping out the only large-scale quasi-military training facility.
Neither reason changed what happened.

The Empire attacked early in the morning, after the graveyard shift had ended, but in the small break before first shift began. The clan fought desperately, but the fighting-age Mandalorians had been wiped out first, and the rest were old, or children.
The not-yet red mandalorian had been a child when it had all come crashing down.

Her class was dead. Those older and wiser and stronger than her had fought so hard, so desperately.
She was the only one that remained.
Grabbing ceremonial blades from their place on the wall, she made her way behind the door and waited.
Her comrades had always told her that she was ghostly silent, like a wraith from the Coruscanta stories, the phantoms of lower levels. Her comrades had told her she hardly seemed to breathe.

The beskadse trembled in her grasp, nearly slipping from her sweaty palms. A radio crackled from the hall. The footsteps accelerated. Several troopers stepped through the door.

She supposed she found it off that these troopers had black armor as opposed to the typical white. She supposed she didn't care. All the troopers bled the same.
What did the instructors tell her? She was small, so small she could be easily overpowered. Her best hope was ambushing the enemy.

Three stormtroopers remained in the room to confirm that the clan members were dead. The not-yet red mandalorian's gaze blurred for a moment and she blinked it away.
Something across the room clattered and two of the stormtroopers turned, moving towards the sound. She stepped out, stepping on the fleshy outside edges of her feet, ignoring the shrapnel and debris that dug into her feet.
She impaled the closest one with one blade and slit his throat with the other, cutting his pained cry short with a wet gurgle.
The others had heard. The whipped around and gave a quick shout. The not-yet red mandalorian pushed the body towards one, the stormtrooper falling to the ground with his comrade's corpse on top of him. The other fired off a shot and she swung her beskadse in a wide arc, the air singing and humming beneath the weight of it.
The stormtrooper's helmet rolled off his shoulders, head still inside, as he slumped to the ground.
Her side stung. She raised a hand to her side and felt something wet.
She was hit.
The crackle of a radio disrupted her thoughts. The one in the floor. He was calling for help. She drove the blade through his helmet and the radio went unanswered. She needed to leave.

They needed to leave. The sewers were full, drowning in darkness. She could barely breathe.
She lost him. She lost someone else. She was useless.

Cara glanced at her, brows furrowing. The ex-rebel shock trooper placed a hand on her shoulder.

Footsteps echoed behind them.
Greef and Cara drew their blasters, aiming at the approaching footsteps.

Mikata rounded the corner.

━━✶━━

His head still pounded, but he was alive. Each breath made his vision pulse with bright light, making his head throb, but he was alive.

A figure rushed to him. "I got you." Ut was Cara. The droid eased him off his shoulder, letting Din lean on Cara. The pair hobbled towards the rest.

"Do you know which way to go?"

The voice sounded too loud, too sharp in his ears. Din took a moment to respond. "No, I don't know these tunnels." A sharp throb shot through his head and he groaned.

"If we catch the smell of sulfur and follow it, it'll lead us the the plains where the river flows."

"The Imps will catch us before we make it to the ship. We need the Mandalorians." Greef paused, glancing at Cara, then Din's partner, before letting out a sigh. Din blinked, blurriness fading from his eyes.

"Ok," he said, and the group spurred into motion, striding through the halls as quickly as they could.

"These sewers are a maze."

"I can stand." Din stood up, shaking the fog from his head. He pressed the side of his helmet, his NODS softly whirring to life. Little drawings littered the hall, gleaming and pointing a path towards safety. "We're close."
There was a final arrow at the end of the hall. There was a rising surge of excitement in him. He would finally, if only briefly, be with his people again.
"Turn here," he said as he rounded the corner.

He froze.

It seemed the Mandalorians were only destined to be slaughtered like animals.