Mandalorian Training Facility ((Open))

[Axelpro]

It had been a while; definitely long enough for Kain to repair the broken communications array and bring up the base's functions to full capacity. While Kain reprogrammed the defense systems as to what they defined as "Friendlies and Hostiles" the rest of the crew had settled down at the base. Using the cities that the base covered in its jurisdiction to garner food and supplies from the willing Mandalorian people. Just after the Mandalorian takeover of the base had become public Mandalorians from the cities began to make their way towards the base in order to serve.

It wasn't really that the Republic treated the people like crud, while that was true, it wasn't such bad treatment that people would naturally flee to take up arms. Cay knew where his thanks lie to all this success. IT was the grandfathers and grandmothers who told the stories to their sons and their grandkids. It was the generation that dealt with "The Betrayer" that sparked the current generation into action and Cay had to give his thanks for that.

He walked past an outdoor facility where Mandalorians were in pairs and began grappling with one another. Hand-to-hand combat was important as Cay noted the dozens of other facilities like this one he passed that had Mandalorians doing all things ranging from rifle practice, to Duel Circles. Cay had about 350 Mandalorians and about 100 of those were passable. It would take time, but he knew what he was doing would come to fruition.

Cay reached the chair in the war Council where Kaina dn Felis were along with other Veteran Mandalorians, those who served during the Betrayer's time and those who kept up the Mandalorian heritage even after the Betrayer did his act.

We should strike the Republic now, show that we mean business to both our own people and to the Republic. We need to send the message.

Not something I'd expect from you Kain.

Well it doesn't matter, that is my proposal.

No, we can't do something like that yet. We just sent a boatload of their soldiers back to them via their own vessel. Let them become confused on how to deal with us. We have to continue biding our time because we aren't strong enough to take on the Republic yet. And the last thing I will have is another defeat at their hands.

Kain knew Mandalore was right, but he had gotten a little anxious after their easy sweep of the Republic base.

What I want is another base, somewhere where the Republic can't get their eyes on us. I want this place to be hidden so that couldn't get information on it unless I were to send someone inside. I'm thinking about Mykyr with a couple of Jammer Signals put up.

Then who would you have head up that base, and what men would to give to its train its soldiers?

Cay had to pause for a moment. He rubbed his brown beard gently as he mused over the question.

Durham, and save for the people sitting in this very room we will give him 25 of our very best along with the best Republic Ship. Tell Durham it will be his job to self run that facility. He will do his own recruiting and training. We will send bi weekly supplies in the way of armaments and ammunition.

Do you really think he is the most capable?

Out of the people I can spare, yes. I need Felis to head up the Brotherhood, at least until I can find a suitable second command here, and I need Kain for all the technology.

Felis nodded knowing that the decision was set in stone. Cay sighed sitting back in his seat looking at the small spec on the map. He realized that it was the base that they had taken over in comparison to the rest of Mandalore.

We have a lot of work ahead of us my brothers...

[projectsunfire]

Some Time Later.

Solus'ad stood on the battlement that overlooked the training facilities that his predecessor had comissionned and could not help but feel a sense that he was back on Dantooine, sitting on his Nana's shoulders. The Facility was made up of a large PT course, mach buildings made of durasteel, underground bunkers, and more. The surrounding countryside consisted of a wide variety of environmental obstacles.

Though he truly wished that this facility was on Dxun. He dreamed vividly of what he could do with the Mandalorians if they were all hardenned by the darkness of that moon. All manner of beasts were there. He wrapped that idea up in a little bundle and saved it for later.

He observed the barracks through his electro binoculars and observed a mixed unit marching in cadence. Likely they were headed out for PT. Not far off the loud noise of a pair of transports took off from a launching pad carrying troops on training excersizes to the underground training facility.

He lowered his binoculars with the strange sense that the Mandalorians were flexing their unified arm. Every day they grew stronger. New recruits arrived daily, and his mercenary units were beginning to come in ship by ship. Some men he could use. Others he could not. He made sure that the right men were in the right positions to weed out the bad Katarns from the good.

[Meira]

The women had separate bunkhouses and facilities from the men, but that was all. Everything else about this Mandalorian military stressed unison. Each unit, mixed of men and women, trained together. Though there were far more men than women, the female population was not small. And they were not dainty either. Trin lived among women who seemed to embody the balance between strength and beauty that Trin had tried to hard to achieve on Commenor. They were strong, fast, and cunning. And yet, at the same time they moved with grace and poise. Their features were both strong and soft at the same time, much like those of her mother's. And Trin realized that even though she didn't know her own heritage, she had sought the same balance on her own. It was as if somewhere inside, she always knew.

The first day was easy enough. She had found her bunkhouse and introduced herself to her bunkmates. Many of the women were older than her, and none of them knew her parents. But they welcomed her kindly, proud to know that a wayward child had found her way back to her people. They showed her around, and Trin was able to avoid the awkward search for a place to sit at chow time. She then reported to her psych evaluation, which went smoothly. It was deemed that she had a solid head on her shoulders, and the evaluator took particular interest in her leadership abilities. Interesting. He had said, after reviewing her score on a simulator. He entered something into a datapad, but had said little else. She was given the go ahead to return to her bunkhouse and prepare for training in the morning.

At the bunkhouse, she found that a standard uniform had been provided, along with approved personal supplies. All of these were stored in a footlocker at the end of her bunk. Though they weren't technically hers, Trin inwardly smiled at having possessions. She had left Commenor with the clothes on her back, a datapad, and a small amount of credits. This was an improvement.

In the morning, the growing ranks of the Mandalorian military were split into groups that Trin learned were called regiments. Each regiment was split into battalions, each battalion into companies, and each company into platoons. Trin was in third platoon of eighth company, second battalion, first regiment. It was a mouthful. Luckily, each platoon had it's own nickname of sorts, and so though she needed to remember her entire designation, off hand, it was only necessary to report with her platoon nickname. Thus, her response when addressed after reporting just about anywhere was:

Private Velos, Boar-wolf Platoon.

Her platoon was fifty strong and fairly diverse. This allowed them the ability to specialize within the platoon. Trin in particular, was being led down a specialist path. Because she was the smallest and least trained, she received a certain level of special attention. Sometimes this was good. Trin was motivated and helped by her platoon, especially during the more physical aspects of training, such as obstacle courses. Sometimes this was bad. She was often singled out as the weak link, something their drill instructors seemed to take delight in pointing out at each of her failures.

But as the days of training continued, and the initial pains that it brought subsided, Trin found herself becoming stronger and faster. She needed less and less assistance from her comrades, and the singling out became less common. Though she was still technically the weaker link in the chain, she was now becoming adequate.

She learned her way around a blaster. She didn't get excellent points in marksmanship, but she exceeded the standard. She was deadly accurate with grenades, however. Her hand to hand combat was slightly different than the average Mandalorian. Her size didn't give her the strength to face an enemy brow to brow, so instead, she was instructed in a technique that would channel the strength of her opponent to her advantage, effectively turning their initial advantages to weaknesses. She grappled with the grace of a dancer, redirecting blows rather than absorbing them and then striking back with quick, nimble, and precise strikes.

The one area where she shined above the rest was in infiltration. With the right equipment, there wasn't a single locked door or encrypted file that she could not open or retrieve. This skill was threatened at first, with the stress of combat simulation. But Trin learned to keep a level head, something that she in turn learned to reflect onto her platoon, helping them to maintain focus and control during even the most chaotic field runs. This had not gone unnoticed by her superiors, and Trin was soon promoted to Private First Class, with subtle hints that she was on her way to leadership roles.

Aside from combat, there were other lessons to be learned as well. They had classes on theory, strategy, combat history. Trin took special classes to learn Mando'a and Mandalorian culture and history.

When basic training had finished, the boar-wolves had the honor of marching first in the graduation parade. Their banner, orange and red with a rampant boar-wolf, led the procession, indicating their platoon as the highest ranking initiating unit. This was in thanks to their scores in the final field-run, which pit platoons against each other in a capture the flag scenario. Their platoon was not only undefeated, but could boast the new record retrieval time.

Trin had found a home and a family among her unit. They were given a day off after graduation. She spent it in the record halls, searching for information on her parents. She had found her father's military service records. He hadn't been outstanding, but he was a good soldier. Unfortunately, the records halls only kept information of his military career, and so after he left the service, there was nothing.

The next morning, Trin's platoon was given orders to report to psych for another evaluation. One by one they went in for their tests and came out with shrugs. It seemed like just another standard procedure before moving them all on to advanced training, the next step before order issues and active service.

[TJ]

e training grounds where like nothing Delmon had ever seen before. The precision, the order, it was enough to make a normal mans head spin. Soldiers marching in perfect unison and drill sergeants barking orders filled the air as he made his way to the designated bunker. His expectations grew every passing minute.

He was forced to hang up his armor for a time, having to replace it with the standard issue fatigues. Inside it burned him up, he had spent a good part of his life in that armor, and now they had made him replace it for what. Cloth? He soon pushed his feelings aside, deciding that it wasn’t a very important matter. His platoon had chosen the brash and unreasonable name of the Zakkeg platoon, a beast none of them would probably ever face and would never want to. It was accepted and so it stayed.

Delmon didn’t learn much that he already didn’t know about placement, rank, and order. He had learned all about it from his father when he was a child. Even though he knew his place, he still had an insubordinate feeling about listening and taking orders from people who tried to teach him things he already knew. Needless to say, he did alot of running around the complex and push ups early on.


In platoon and large group training he did fine, as well as any normal soldier would do. It was in the solo and squad training that he shined, scoring or reaching an objective much faster than anyone else. He had always liked going it alone or at least in a smaller group. Stealth training was also a strong point for Delmon, fighting and killing exotic beasts in several different climates gave him an edge in that field. It wasn’t easy to hide from any animal, large or small. Weapons training was a breeze, already a master of melee combat, Delmon got through that without arrogant or condescending remarks or tone. He was given high marks for his work in that field. Long range training was basically the same. At first he had a little trouble, having not used a rifle in such a long time; it took him a while to calibrate it to his needs. After that he was fine and also scored high. He was told by his commanding officers that, if he toned down his attitude and kept doing what he was doing, he would become a valuable asset to Mandalore's armies.

He was able to get to the rank of corporal, which made him extremely happy. Those around him had no idea how much he hated referring to himself as a private. He knew corporal wasn’t much higher, but he would wear the rank proudly. Those in his squad congradulated him, it made him loosen up a little.

On the final day his platoon marched like all the others, honors where bestowed and people got ready for the next step. Delmon was slightly numb about the whole thing. Before the training started he was never in one place at one time, being forced to make him realize it was no way to live. He regained his conversation skills and his heart softened to the interaction with others. The final step was psych evaluation, then on to wherever Mandalore told him to go.

[Lucilius Solo]

Beskar stood in the center of the Mandalorian Training Facility on Mandalore. He had never seen so many Mandalorians in one place at a single time before. This was far different from the society Beskar had grown up in here on Mandalore. The Mandalorians marched in perfect unison, their armor gleaming in the sun.

Beskar walked over to a man in golden armor, who appeared to be in charge. "I am Beskar Ordo. Where do I go?" the golden armored Mandalorian, turned to face Beskar and said "Clan Ordo huh? You are with the rest of the Ordos at Barrack MAND-34A. Over there." Beskar headed over to where he was pointed, and entered it.

Beskar was part of group MAND-34A or "Mandalore's Fist" as his group was called. It consisited of members of Clan Ordo, and were made up mainly of Mandalorians who had worked as muscle for the Hutts on Nar Shaddaa. Beskar only knew one of the members, a Mandalorian named Vex Ordo, who had worked with Beskar on Nar Shaddaa. Beskar felt glad to be among Mandalorians again, and especially those from Clan Ordo.

Beskar went to training just like every other Mandalorian, but really stood out when it came to solo missions and missions that required stealth or secrecy. Since Beskar was a Bounty Hunter, he was used to working alone and in secrecy. Weapons training was also a strong point of Beskar's and he got through it without any negative remark from any of the commanders.

Beskar eventually reached the rank of Corporal. He had always hated to refer to himself as "Private Beskar Ordo" it reminded Beskar of new Mandalorian soldiers who had yet to gain any honor. On his final day of training, Beskar was told he had recieved the highest marks in both Stealth and Weapons Training. All that was left was his Psych Evaluation. Then Beskar would be able to serve Mandalore.

[Hammy]

After making sure his ship Cuyan was still secure in the hanger a landing strip official had directed him to, Rollick headed towards the Mandalorian Training Facility. The well-worn brown bag slung over his shoulder held his meager possessions – an old holo-image of him still a wyrwulf and A’den, a carved rancor claw, and other various odds and ends. The place was as rough and tumble as the rest of Keldabe and the sheer number of T-shaped visors and beskar’gam-clad figures was certainly a sight to behold. A fellow in gold armor took a glance at the offered datapad Kernig had given Rollick and ‘humphed’ in a significant manner.

“A Fett, eh?” He eyed Rollick searchingly for a moment. “You know we don’t play favorites here.”

“Rest assured, that’s the last thing I expected, vod,” Rollick replied abashedly, holding his hands up in a gesture of peace. He was still in a small amount of bewilderment at the discovery. What were the odds? “I’m here to do my time to serve Mandalore, names aside.”

The man seemed to accept this and pointed him out onto the parade grounds and across them to 14-JAG barracks, home of the Bes’uliik platoon. The members were just a random assortment of humans of various ages and genders. Rollick was the only non-human apart from a red-crested Rodian, a Sorrusian, and an Elomin. This didn’t interfere with platoon interaction. In fact, the group barely seemed to care. It was something Rollick would come to appreciate about the Mandalorian culture – one was considered a Mandalorian first and foremost; species came secondary, if at all. His distant connection to the Fett clan was an object of a few ‘oohs and ahhs.' He even learned a bit about Cassus Fett and his particular place in Mandalorian history from a few of the older recruits.

The first few days of training were rigorous. Rollick spent the first two feeling mightily awkward for two reasons: the lack of armor left him feeling naked and his uniform hadn’t been made for an extra pair of arms and so needed some efficient but rough alterations done for him by the Rodian, named Squandro. But gradually, the newness wore off and he assimilated into the ranks of Mandalore.

The training itself just expounded on what A’den had taught him, but to a far greater degree. Physical fitness was an aspect he excelled in. Through training, his overall blaster aim improved and he learned how to better wield a rifle, though he still wasn’t a fan of it. Unsurprisingly, to him at least, close combat seemed to be his greatest strength, particularly hand-to-hand. The obvious advantage wasn’t left unnoticed by his peers and they prodded him for it. Rollick shrugged, took the casual punch on the shoulder, and moved on. However, he had been unable to completely fall into a team-based mind set, being used to fighting on his own. The commanding officer had cauterized him for it more than once and Rollick found himself getting frustrated. But, after being brow-beat enough times, the concept sank in for the most part and he completed the training course in the top half of the platoon.

Happily shedding the standard uniform, Rollick was glad to be back in his beskar’gam. It gave him a sense of identity that regular garb couldn’t. Not to mention, a far more natural skin. The corporal added to the front of his name was a plus, too. Gone was his new-kid-on-the-block image to be replaced by a professionally trained soldier with a bit of an over-confident step. Helmet tucked under one arm and bag slung over one shoulder, he stepped out of Bes’uliik barracks to head for the ‘final exam’ – psyche evaluation.