Part 1- The Storm
Cyrus was in a panic. He was watching his clan, his family, get cut down by vicious laser fire from the Saxon Clan, a powerful clan that betrayed the planet to The Storm Empire. The Storm Empire was an empire that was made only to make the galaxy suffer. The Storm Empire, or called The Storm, forced planets and their species under their rule, and if anybody spoke their opinion about it, they would be charged for treason and executed even if they were peaceful protesters, and now The Storm was trying to take Cyrus’s home planet, Mandalore. Mandalore was a planet that was inhabited by the galaxy’s most fearful warriors, the Mandalorians. They wore armor and fierce helmets that covered the entire head and face that was made of one of the hardest metals in the galaxy, Beskar. Beskar was almost invincible, deflecting even laser blasts from powerful snipers. Though only Mandalorians knew each other’s weak spots in armor, and both sides were exploiting them. There was laserfire everywhere, and Cyrus at the time was just a Foundling, a young Mandalorian. His clan, Clan Kylo, was badly outnumbered. He watched friends fall, over and over again, and eventually his father. Cyrus was about to pick up a fallen 6E-24 blaster pistol when his mother said her final words that Cyrus would remember forever. “Go! Run!” those were her last words as she was also cut down, but not my laserfire. Behind her, as she fell, he saw a horrible being with a double-bladed lightsaber, the color of blood. The creature had a red face with black tattoos across his face, with horns sticking from his head. He almost ran to his mother’s body, but he knew he couldn’t. He ran. And ran, and ran. He saw more of his clan being shot and killed by the multiple weapons that a Mandalorian kept hidden in their armor, ready to surprise any enemies foolish enough to challenge a Mandalorian. Cyrus was shot at many times, and if it wasn’t for his helmet and a small necklace made out of shaped Uranium that was rid of the radiation, but still had a lot of power inside, he would be dead already.As he ran, a stray shot from a sniper slammed into his helmet, decorated with black and red, the colors of Clan Kylo, and with a yelp, he was thrown to the ground and his helmet slid off his head and dropped into a crater from a mortar blast. “No.” he whispered to himself as he tried to get up and retrieve his helmet. But as he did, a powerful explosion rocked the crater and again Cyrus was on the ground. He picked himself up and looked in the crater. Nothing. Just blast marks and a bit of shattered metal. He would have questioned how the Beskar helmet could have broken, but he never had the chance to. Laserfire tore at the ground around him. Using his instincts and his training, he rolled on the ground and quickly got up to face his attacker. It was another Saxon Mandalorian, using dual blaster pistols to try to kill him, though the Saxon Clan traitor was making a deadly mistake. He was charging him. Cyrus pretended to be knocked to the ground and then used the traitor’s momentum to launch him backwards into the pit with his legs, making him drop one of his pistols. He knew that he didn’t die, but only had been delayed, so he picked up the fallen pistol and ran for a secret covert only Clan Kylo knew about. This is insane. He thought with sadness. Never had he thought that the mighty Clan Kylo would be destroyed. He held back the tears as he sprinted into the covert. The covert was a long hallway underground with few provisions and water. This was true because this covert was never used because never have Clan Kylo thought they would be wiped out. He sat down on a dusty bench and wept for his mother and father, his brothers and sisters, who were his Clan. He only mourned them for a small time because of his training to never hang on to attachments too much, for when the time comes, it will break you. He sat there, listening to the blasters and explosions as the Battle for the Capital raged on.