The Mandalorian way

Duchess

  Walking through the abandoned site, Tristan marked down notes on his wrist comm. "An excess of massive electrical burns. The ground burned black. Several pieces of large machinery melted down. All personnel, as far as I know, killed. Several personnel seems to have been crushed to death while in the air then dropped onto the ground. Others have had their necks snapped a complete one hundred and eighty degrees. These findings are interesting and alarming. I'll be following the trail, hoping to further decern the source of the destruction."

Looking out across the field, the former battlefield at his back, Tristan lowered his range finder. "Mhm, more smoke. They've got to have a speeder of some kind. That's well over a hundred miles from here." Suddenly, a thought struck him. "That's a lot of smoke,  definitely some kind of weapon. One without honor." Raising the range finder he turned, remounted his speeder, and made way for the smoke. "Who remade the Duchess? Wouldn't be the empire. Wouldn't be anyone from the rebelling clans. Maybe some Saxton's, they already lack honor. Or maybe the Gerrera guy Sabine told me about. But why would he be here?"

Slowing down when the massive smoke cloud was about a half-mile away he lowered the range finder. "Mhm, they're still fighting. But who are they fighting?" Before he could move closer and investigate the situation further he got a call. "Report." After a moment of static, the captain spoke up. "Lord Tristan, it's the imperials. They've brought in tie bombers and  AT-ST's." Sighing he raised the range finder. "Alright, I'll be there in about, an hour and a half. Just keep the shield generators up and use the heavy cannons to run the empirals down."

Alrich sat at the table cleaning his armor. He pondered the life his daughter was now destined to live. Alone, with child plus having to lead the clan as the eldest of his children. "Fear not, my daughter. I will bring honor to his memory."

Ursa watched him silently from the doorway. "Alrich, you know you can't fight anymore. Your back can't take the pressure." He shook his head, not turning to look at her. "I do not care. He deserved a better death, one of glory, one that would please his ancestors." She moved closer, putting her hand on his shoulder. "You can't fight, your back can't have another surgery." He shrugged her handoff. "That may be true. But it doesn't mean I can't headhunt as I did in our younger days." She smiled, wanting to see her man in action again, doing what he did best. "You were always the better shot." He nodded, focusing on his armor.

Tristan knew he needed to get back to the outpost. But more smoke was rising from the horizon. Shaking his head, he turns towards the smoke. "Forward outpost, this is Tristan. I can't provide support, I leave command to Captain Ander."

An hour passed as he made his way to the newest smoke column.  Stopping he looked through the range finder. "Mand'a, the fire's raging. That's got to be a fuel shipment burning." His eyes narrowed as bright red blaster bolts whizzed around the area. "Still fighting." Starting the speeder he floored it towards the battle.

Jumping off the speeder he rushed into the fight only to find it already over. "Damn it!" He yelled, aggravated at missing the mystery weapon and users again. Hearing a ship flying low he looks around, range finder dropped. Hoping to find the ship.

"Damn, can't see it." Walking around the now-empty battlefield he saw more of the same, mutilated stormtroopers, melted machinery, and massive burn marks on the ground. Hearing steps on the brittle soil he whipped around only to find a man in black.

"Hello there, Mandalorian. You wouldn't happen to know what happened here do you?" The inquisitor motioned at the wanton destruction. Tristan shook his head. "I can't say I do."

Tristan couldn't see his eyes but he felt them narrow at him. "Really?" He spoke quietly, lengthening the single word, suspicion emanating from him. "Ezra has killed most of you already inquisitor. If I were you I wouldn't want to raise his ire." The two began circling each other as the inquisitor cocked his head to the side.

"Ezra Bridger. The only child of Mira and Ephraim Bridger. Also known as Spector Six of the recently obliterated Ghost crew of the also obliterated Phenix squadron of the rebel alliance. Padawan of the padawan Kanan Jarrus, formerly known as Caleb Dume. I find it interesting you would bring up a man who died nearly a month ago."

Tristan drew his blasters as the inquisitor kept thinking aloud. "But, one of the sisters came here, died, but survived long enough to mark a possible Jedi as killed. I find it interesting." The inquisitor pulled his lightsaber from his back. "That you, Tristan Wren, second to the throne of your family. Would seem to have more recent information than myself." He struck his starting pose and ignited his saber. "I would love to know why."