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    1. The Whacko 10 yrs ago

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Harkin couldn’t help but grin as he watched his boys setting work, readying equipment and engaging at banter like any good warrior. His fellow Mandalorians among the sergeants tended to dismiss the standard clones, seeing them as closer to the organic droids the Kaminoans preferred in their work. To their way of thinking, only the ARCs and commandos were real people. Harkin had seen all the evidence to the contrary. He was going to enjoy collecting his winning purse.

Rawl was officially a standard infantry squad, but they’d kitted themselves out like a heavy support unit. Harkin had approved of their thinking immediately. The E-WHB had raised some eyebrows among the other sergeants, but they couldn’t argue with the results. The Corellians had just laughed and drank to Rawl all night. Harkin was really staring to like the Corellians.

“Alright, people, you all know the Citadel. I want that tower taken in under four minutes!” He paused a moment then, as if he were just remembering something. “Oh, that reminds me. Seems that 99 was back-logged on data work last night. Didn’t have time to charge those power packs of yours to full. Figure you got maybe half charge. Better make those shots count!”
Harkin Jendri was on edge, to say the least. The last few days had seen more genuine excitement Kamino in the space of a few hours than the last five years. Not since those Kyr’tsad savages had been caught trying to establish a Battle Circle among the clones. The Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi, discovering the facility, the firefight on the landing pad, and now Jango was gone, Boba too. No explanation.

That had only been the beginning. Now the Kaminoans were having the armor prepped, ships fueled, and all equipment combat ready. That could only mean one thing to the Mandalorian instructor; It was finally time for the army to make the first strike against the Separatists. His boys would seeing real battle at long last. He was proud, of course; They’d been trained to be the finest infantrymen the galaxy had ever seen. Warriors that any Mandalore would have been proud to call his own. That Jaster would have gladly called his sons. With that pride came dread too. Real combat was a different beast to any training program they could dream up. No matter how many times they pitted the clones against the surplus battle droids they’d been supplied with, no matter how many times he and the rest of the Cuy’val Dar guided them in the ways of the warrior, the second that they hit the battlefield, all of that training would be put to the ultimate stress test. Even his kind weren’t invincible.

Harkin shook his head, looking back up at the squad training course. Rawl squadron were his boys. His vode, more Mandalorian than any of the cowards hiding under the skirt of Duchess Kryze, and certainly more than any of the honorless savages that had taken all he’d grown up with from him. Rawl Squad was the best in the battalion. They were Khi’mandoade indeed.

“Alright, we’re running through basic drills today! We got plenty of B1s lined up for you, even some of those new B2s! I want to see top scores today! Skirata says that his ARCs put the standard models to shame. I want him to eat those words!” He barked out, grinning as he held up the pocket chrono that served as the only reminder of his biological father. “To the starting line! Double-time!”


Apologies for posting in the character section. Spazzed out and forgot to switch tabs.
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I mean I love The Clone Wars, and I can understand most of the changes, but yeah, I am nostalgic for the old school Mando lore.
@Jb

Eh, there’s always the option to enlist in the GAR properly. Didn’t stop Skirata or Walon Vau if I recall.
Hmm. Might there be an opening for a Mandalorian drill sergeant?
“You wish he could be here to see this.” Thucydides nodded, that big, square-jawed face set in a stoic, if somewhat solemn expression. Yes, he’d know losing family, more than most. He returned her salute almost mechanically. “We’ll do right by old Raymond, swear that by God.”

He let his expression soften a bit again, the smile returning.

“It’s good to meet you at last. See you got that journal. Nice pictures, but I prefer a good western, myself.”
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