#b’arin apma

[tinky-dinky]

The Cuy’val Dar

Following on from my Jango post, I want to talk about the Cuy’val Dar.

The same warning as that post applies. This is largely my speculations based on canon, but not actually canon.

A note about Legends canon: Unless it is directly contradicted by the current canon, I choose to include Legends canon as canon.

So, the Cuy’val Dar (Mando’a meaning those who are lost) are the trainers Jango recruited to train the clones on Kamino. There were one hundred of these trainers, and seventy five of those one hundred were Mandalorians. The other twenty five were probably bounty hunters and general mercenaries.

Of the seventy five Mandos, we only know the names of 12 of them. Two, Isabet Reau and Dred Priest, were Death Watch sympathizers if not full on members. The other 10 have no stated allegiance but it’s my speculation that at least some of them were True Mandalorians under Jaster and Jango.

There are two whom I am almost certain were True Mandalorians. Kal Skirata is said to have known Jango for years, so he was obviously at least affiliated with the True Mandalorians. He was found by his adopted father, Munin Skirata, when Munin was on a mission with a group of mercenaries. My guess is those mercenaries were Jaster’s people, and possibly even included Jaster himself.

Rav Bralor was a close friend and comrade in arms of Kal Skirata’s long before Kamino, so obviously if he is a True Mandalorian, it stands to reason that she must have been one too.

There are two others who are potentially True Mandalorians. Llats Ward isn’t stated to have any particular affiliation but his chest plate has a whacking great mythosaur skull on it, which is the sigil of the True Mandalorians. Of course, it’s also just a generally important symbol in Mando culture, so Llats could have it on his armour for entirely different reasons.

Miij Gilmar, the trainer of the clone medics, wasn’t born a Mando but became one after he married a Mandalorian woman. She was murdered, unfortunately and he vowed revenge. It’s noted that he had a deep hatred for the death watch allied Dred Priest and Isabet Reau. My speculation is that his wife was killed by Death Watch and he may have joined (or already have been part of) the True Mandos to avenge her.

There is one more trainer I want to discuss in detail. His name is Cort Davin, and he was a Journeyman Protector on Concord Dawn. Obviously this is the same profession as Jaster and Fett Sr, so this suggests he may have been a colleague of theirs. It does seem that he stayed in the Journeyman Protectors until he was recruited into the Cuy’val Dar, so I don’t think he was a proper member of the True Mandos, but he could have been their ally.

We know virtually nothing of the remaining five named Mandos of the Cuy’val Dar, B’arin Apma, Swart Swifto, Wad’e Tayhaai, Vhonte Tervho and Walon Vau. I have no idea if any of these people were True Mandalorians. It’s possible.

A side tangent about Wad’e Tay’haai: one of the few things I could find about him is that his preferred weapons were a traditional Mando spear and a bes’bav. A bes’bav is a Mandalorian flute that doubles as a stabbing weapon. Of course the Mandos have a musical instrument that is also a weapon. Of course they do. It makes me wonder how many other musical weapons exist in Mando culture. And how many other things Mandos have made into weapons. Many, many things probably.

Anyways, this brings me onto the point of this post: why would any True Mandalorians would agree to train the clones despite it going against their well established code of protection over children? And how did Jango feel about these people that were once his?

It’s my personal speculation that any True Mandalorians that joined the Cuy’val Dar on Kamino did so for a number of reasons. The New Mandalorian pacifists were in charge on Mandalore, so anyone wishing to keep their culture couldn’t stay there. I can’t imagine that Mandalorians are welcomed in many places in the galaxy, so it’s possible some of them joined because it guaranteed a place to live and a source of income and food.

Some might have joined out of loyalty to Jango. Perhaps they thought he wouldn’t allow the clones to be treated badly and by the time it became apparent that he would, they couldn’t back out. Perhaps they wanted to help him and therefore help the clones.

I doubt any of them were actually told what they were being recruited for. It was a secret, after all, and I don’t think telling a bunch of Mandalorians ‘there’s a facility where they’re cloning children to be trained as child soldiers for a war in which they’re likely to die’ would go well.

Honestly, I just find the Cuy’val Dar quite interesting. Who are these people? Why did they agree to come to Kamino? What did they feel about the clones?

#the cuy’val dar #mandalorians #jango fett #walon vau #kal skirata #llats ward #vhonte tervho #swart swifto #isabet reau #dred priest #miij gilamar #cort davin #rav bralor #b’arin apma #jaster mereel #true mandalorians #the clones #kamino

[luminousbeansarewe]

wandering stars

ch 18: what’s taken away

pairings: none || rating: teen || characters: original characters, original clone trooper characters, b’arin apma, shaak ti

tags: um, combat? i guess?

chapter list

tagged: @yourbitchystudentartist​ @vultures-and-scavengers​ @tupdidtherightthing​ (message me or reply if you’d like to be tagged!)

*************************************************

Kamino, Tipoca City, Clone Military Education Complex, 21BBY

    Behind her helmet, Sol Tannor’s eyes flickered between points of data on the heads-up display on her visor. Live rounds whizzed overhead, a strange precipitation she’d grown nearly desensitized to. Crouching behind cover, she and Grip surveyed the data they had. 

    “I think that turret’s mobile,” the clone said, his voice crisp through the commlink in her ears. The full kit for commandos was new, shiny, and much more enjoyable to drill in than the old practice suits they’d had up until very recently. “The blasts are coming in at shifting angles.”

    “You’d think,” came Twofer’s voice from where he, Swift, and Stone were all crouched behind more cover nearby, “they’d give us a few mortars for the final kriffing test, seeing as we’ll have them in the field.”

    “You just like blowing shit up,” Sol muttered, and it would normally have been in better humor. But something just wasn’t right— and hadn’t been for a while. She felt like her awareness was dulled ever since she’d accepted the chip that Nala Se and the Kaminoans had made; while it had cut her pain down a great deal, which was a relief so profound she couldn’t describe it… something else was off. She felt a little outside her own body, and her sense of incoming fire had all but vanished. Her muscles always felt a little slow. And sometimes, even her emotions seemed blunted. Not bottled up, which was a default state she had finally begun to let go of. Just as though there wasn’t as much of them as before. That should’ve been a relief, too, maybe. But it wasn’t. 

    “I think we should use a V-form, but two of us can split off and come at them from both sides,” Swift suggested. “Let’s not overcomplicate things.”

    “There’s an air turret, too, though,” Sol reminded him. “Can we get two head on, two flanking, and one for cover? Swift, can you take it out?” 

    A helmeted head popped up over a crate nearby, then vanished just before a targeted plasma blast could hit it. “Yeah, I think so. Can’t waste a second, though. Might pop up just behind everyone else, if you’re willing to draw its fire.” 

    “These things are too fast. It’s kind of ridiculous that we don’t have any ordnance,” Twofer said. “I mean, really. Nothing but Deeces? And vibroblades— lot of kriffing good they’ll do.” 

    “We’ve got what we’ve got,” Sol said, “and we’ve got each other. Let’s nail this, boys.” 

    For all her feeling very strange lately, Sol had managed to step into her own in a way that the clones had noticed. And, given the success they’d seen in spite of increasingly difficult training, they respected it. On Swift’s call, they sprang up and dodged blaster fire, forming exactly as they’d discussed. Swift’s first shot sent the high turret sputtering. 

    “Atta boy Swift!” Grip called as he fired at one of the moving ground turrets.

    “On your six, Cronos,” Swift replied, following his teammates as they pushed forward. At that moment, as a trail of fire followed close on Towfer’s heels, Stone suddenly crashed into the moving turret from behind, crushing its top portion with his bodyweight and just shy of thirty kilos of armor. 

    “Shit, Stone! You really got it!” Swift laughed. 

    “I noticed they seem to respond to weapons fire before movement,” the larger clone said, chuckling. In this way, the commandos-in-training managed to dodge and weave their way through the Citadel program, outsmarting every gun and droid they came across, hot-wiring a doorway under fire, and finally reaching the last room where the blinking rod that was their final goalpost was up atop a little terraced pyramid… with a mess of airborne blaster droids between them and it. 

    “Stealth part’s over, squad!” Sol shouted. “Time to bum-rush them and take cover!”

    “Seriously? No grenades for this?” Twofer was beyond just complaining now, as their fire battered into the floating droids before they ducked beneath nearby crates. “That seems rigged, somehow. On top of no way to do rapid entry back at that doorway, which ruined our time—”

    “Can it, Twofer!” Swift was beyond worrying about it, though he would’ve agreed that the sheer risk level and lack of standard equipment going in was starting to feel a little suspect. “Now we know what to do if we ever run out!” 

    “Always looking on the bright side, vod,” Stone murmured before he sprang up, took out a droid, and ducked again. 

    “Twofer wouldn’t let us run out if he could help it,” Sol added, eliciting a chuckle from more than one comm. If she wasn’t quite feeling the usual flush of joy at their camaraderie, she could at least help them feel it. “I’m pushing the line up. Anybody wanna ride with?” 

    “Hell yeah!” As she ducked forward around the crate, firing at the hanging droids, Grip and Swift joined her in a dash up to the next nearest stack. 

    “Hey, wait for us!” Twofer and Stone came next. They both managed to take out a droid. Sol held in her distant worry that she’d barely managed half the targets she usually dropped. And her knee was, inexplicably, starting to hurt. A sharp, stabbing pain shot up from it in flashes with every step.

    Suddenly, she looked up and realized a half-second too late that one of the droids had come around behind them with an almost baffling amount of stealth and was taking a shot at Swift. Before she could shout, the blast seared into his shoulder, and he let out a strangled yelp before he pointed his blaster at it and dropped it then and there. 

    “Swift!” she shouted, cursing her reaction time, cursing everything. It was like her bones were made of lead. 

    “I’m okay,” he growled, clutching his shoulder. “I still got a left arm.”

    “You’re our cover fire now, unless we’re really screwed later,” she informed him. “Keep that sniper arm working, verd.” 

    “Got it.” Sometimes he still pushed back on her, stubborn as he was, but thankfully this was not one of those times. “You should push up, we’re halfway there.” 

    “Are they supposed to do that?” Grip murmured, eyeing the sputtering, toasted droid on the floor.

    “Most droids aren’t that smart,” Twofer replied, an edge creeping into his tone. “And something in our HUDs should’ve spotted it if we didn’t. I don’t like it.” 

    “We’re commandos,” Stone said. “We’re meant to be pushed hard. Joke’s on them, right?” 

    “Yeah.” Grip’s grin was back, she could hear it. “Let’s waste ‘em and clear this thing. Wanna rush ‘em all the way home?” 

    “Quick ‘n dirty will get you shot, Grip. You in a hurry?” Sol wasn’t feeling like watching any more of her teammates get wounded that day. 

    “There’s only three left,” Twofer pointed out. “With Swift covering, we might just get them all in one go.” 

    Sol didn’t like it. These droids were fast. Faster than she could remember them ever being. If she was honest, the fact that the boys were starting to suspect just how unusually disadvantaged they were came as a relief. She hadn’t been sure it wasn’t just in her head, along with everything else that felt different. 

    “Humor me and only push up halfway, please,” she said. “Let’s take them in two, and double our chances.” 

    “Fair enough. On three.” Grip’s fingers counted, and all but Swift leapt out to rush up to the line of cover that was more or less halfway to the pyramid.

    One droid hit the ground. Twofer groaned, clearly disappointed. “I hate this. This is reg stuff, not commando stuff. We’re supposed to sabotage things, not tackle lines.” 

    “Surely at some point we’ll have to do both,” Stone said, eternally practical. “Let’s not waste time.”

    “On three again.” Once more, Grip counted. The last two droids dropped, but not before one managed to singe Twofer’s boot. 

    “Kriff!” he barked, jumping and then holding the injured foot up off the ground. “Somebody get that kriffing blinker!” 

    Sol took that as a sign that he’d be just fine, and turned to sprint up the pyramid steps. Needless to say, more little turrets slid out of the structure itself, pinging laser cannon at the cadets. 

    “Osi'kyr!” she exclaimed, managing to step hard on one of the barrels just as it emerged beneath her foot. The laser it had meant to shoot got stuck behind the bent metal, and a little explosion rattled its insides. “Now, this is getting on my nerves.”

    “Just now?” Twofer asked dryly. But she was at the top, taking two huge strides towards the little control panel to slap the button and turn the whole exercise off. A buzzer rang, muffled by the noise suppression sensor inside her helmet, and she caught her breath as the turrets below retracted. 

    “Yeah!” came shouts below as the boys raised their rifles and fists. “Well done, Sol!” Beneath her helmet, she smiled hugely. 

    “Yes, very well done.” The voice was behind her— and before she could turn, something slammed into her back and knocked her forward onto the blinker pole and its control panel, pushing the wind from her lungs. She clattered to the side and rolled onto her back, gasping for air. 

    Above her stood B’arin Apma, holding a WESTAR-35 blaster pistol so she could see down the barrel. Instinct and adrenaline kicking in like they never had in any battle sim, she jerked her head to the side to avoid the first shot and swung her leg around to swipe at his. She was almost shocked that it worked, and Apma clattered to the floor in a percussion of armor. 

    A commotion had arisen below, shouts of dismay and disbelief. 

    “Sarge! What are you doing?” screamed Swift as he moved forward from his position. 

    “Sol, he can’t hear me, I’m on the squad channel,” Grip said. The helmets were soundproofed, so the external speakers could be turned off to let the soldiers speak between themselves. She was hauling herself upright, pain pulsing out from somewhere deep inside her chest with every inhale. “What the hell is going on? Is this supposed to be a joke?”

    “That’s it!” Apma was laughing, scrambling up almost in unison with her. “There’s that Mando spark!” 

    “Are you out of your mind?” Sol was baffled, horrified— though, maybe after his little attempt at a pep talk a month ago, she shouldn’t have been. 

    “Go right so I can take a clear shot at him!” Swift’s voice came through the comm in her ear. She blinked several times, letting the HUD slip her into the private channel. 

    “No, Swift, his armor’s beskar. It’s blast resistant. Don’t bother.”

    “What the kriff are you gonna do, then?” 

    As if in answer, she took a nearly point-blank shot at the sergeant’s pistol hand with a flick of her wrist. Finally, she thought, her reflexes were starting to make sense again— for how long, though? The WESTAR jerked out of Apma’s grip to the floor, tumbling down the pyramid steps and throwing sparks like rain around it as it went. But as soon as it was gone, he’d jerked his other one— of course he had two, she thought— from its left-side holster and aimed it at her. They both stood still, barrels trained on one another.

    “I challenge you to best me, Sol Tannor. No weapons. Hand-to-hand only.” His voice, even from under his T-visor helmet, was almost maniacal. “This is the way.”

    Suddenly, it made sense. Apma was here to prove something to her, something about her Mandalorian blood, as though he could inspire loyalty in her by making her fight the traditional duel of their— his people. 

    Her father’s belief that such an ideology rendered them all fools in the end rang in her ears.

    “Fine,” she said, blinking her speakers back on, voice surprisingly even. “But no harm will be done to these men. Just you and me.”

    “Of course. But they cannot help you, either.”

    “That’s fine, too.”

    “Now, wait just a minute—”

    “Stand down,” she cut Twofer off. Blinking her way into the squad channel again, she added, “Wait for my signal.” 

    She wasn’t a Mandalorian, after all. 

    Holding up her hands, she placed her Deece on the ground. Apma followed suit, and they descended the pyramid to a relatively open space below. 

    “I’m gonna try and get a signal out somehow,” Grip said. “There’s gotta be a way to get security in here. No kriffing way this is protocol.”

    “Be careful,” she urged him as she and Apma crouched and began to circle one another. Never more than now had she felt the sense of drag on her movements, though her anger was starting to bubble up, finally. And every step, every breath was painful. But that, even at such intense levels, was easier to cope with than the feeling that she was moving underwater. 

    Apma sprang first, which she’d anticipated. She ducked away from him, resuming their stand-off. When he lunged again, she feinted and rammed her shoulder plate into his and pushed him aside, sending them both spinning. But the man was a seasoned Mando, and he was barely shaken by the spin, rounding on her with all his strength and knocking her onto her back with his palms against her chest plate. He was trying to come down on top of her and get her into a hold. Even as she grit her teeth and felt a new pain stabbing her lungs next to the other one, she kicked upward with her plastoid boots and sent him flying over and behind her. 

    “Ouch,” came the low voice of Twofer over the comm. “That had to hurt.” 

    By the time she was on her feet again, Apma had managed the same. He was matching her at least, but with the strange disadvantage she’d so recently acquired she knew she’d flag sooner than later. They danced around each other, each dodging the other’s strikes. It was wildly hard to accomplish anything through his armor, and she knew she was better off wearing him out than anything else. On the next lunge, he landed a kick to her stomach plate with his armored knee, knocking the wind out of her again despite not knocking her off her feet. 

    “Okay, that’s enough!” Swift had finally lost his patience, and took all of one step before Grip lunged out to grab his shoulder and stop him— and a sudden burst of plasma caught Grip right in his solar plexus. Sol’s eyes flew wide open, his gurgling howl ringing in her ears as she spotted yet another blaster in Apma’s hand. 

    “Hut’tuun!” she snarled, hauling with all the fury and strength she had left into the Mandalorian’s torso. This time, the blood-red eruption of her anger seemed to propel her forward. Another shot rang out, but it flew harmlessly towards the ceiling as she knocked him over and strained her pained knee into the gap between his left cuisse and his crotch plate. Her right arm was braced across his chest, and the hidden vibroblade sprang from her left gauntlet to sizzle less than an inch away from his neck beneath his helmet. She almost didn’t hear the boys shouting, or Stone come up behind her to slam his foot onto Apma’s knee with a grisly crunch and point a blaster at his head. Finally an alarm was sounding, blaring through the room and the halls beyond it. Distant shouts rang out, and the doors of the training hall slid open. 

    “You’re lucky I didn’t kill you,” she hissed to Apma. “If Grip dies, I will kill you. Promise.” 

    “You broke the code,” he breathed, straining back fruitlessly from the blade that was so close it was warming his skin. She could hear the blackened fury, the burn of his defeat in his voice. 

    “Shabuir,” she spat, “I told you already. I’m not one of you. You should have listened.”

    “A great pity, Sol Tannor. You now have powerful enemies.” 

    Her golden eyes might’ve borne holes in his helmet, had a cluster of clone sentinels and Shaak Ti herself not arrived at that moment. 

    “What happened here?” the Jedi demanded. 

    “Oh, Sarge just got it into his head to attack Cadet Sol at the end of our run,” Stone told her evenly. “But you’ll have to ask him about that.” White armor moved around them, troopers taking hold of the man’s arms and tugging as though to signal that they had it from here. Retracting her blade, Sol slid off Apma and onto the floor, power draining fast from her body. Stone hung near her. 

    “Let’s get you all to medical before we do anything else,” Shaak said as she watched them drag the Mandalorian away, cuffing him in spite of his clearly broken leg. “And I’m sorry, cadets. This has never happened before.”

    “S’alright,” Sol murmured, reaching shaking hands up to tug her helmet off her head and suck in cool air. “Is Grip okay?” 

    “Your teammate is already on his way to the med bay,” Shaak assured her. Nodding, Sol made to stand up. She was nearly on the ground again when Stone’s large hands caught her under her arms.

    “Easy there, little’un,” he said gently. “You need a ride?” 

    “Don’t pick me up,” Sol told him between gasps, voice straining against the pain in her chest. She knew at least three of her ribs were dislocated or broken or both, and folding her torso might slip one right into her lungs. Which was the last thing she needed, after today. “Help me walk.” 

    Swift was on her other side in seconds, supporting her with his unwounded arm. By the time they made it to medical, Sol’s vision was starting to blur. 

    “Hang on,” Stone warned her. “Up y’go.” And she was lifted up and laid ever so carefully down onto a bed. Finally, she saw the pinched face and massive eyes of a Kaminoan doctor.

    “Get Nala Se,” Sol rasped out between labored breaths.

    “Excuse me?” asked the doctor, as if she misunderstood. 

    “Get Nala Se and tell her I want this thing in my neck out by the time I wake up. I won’t last a day in the field like this.” 

    “Oh, my—!” 

    Before she caught the rest of the Kaminoan’s surprised reply, a curtain of darkness fell and swallowed her. 

#star wars fanfic #swtcw #the clone wars fanfic #clone trooper ocs #b'arin apma #my fic #my ocs #cronos squad

[mneiai]

Cuy’kaysh Dar - Cuy’val Dar Character Reference

I’m putting together a collection of info for Cuy’kaysh Dar and this is my draft of the Cuy’val Dar members

These were 100 people recruited by Jango to train the clones on Kamino, 75 who were Mandalorians. They disappeared from public life and many were presumed dead.

Some of what is here are headcanons or only specific for this fic. As of posting this, I have only used canonical members, but that may change and updates will specify if someone is an OC.

B’arin Apma 

Mandalorian (True Mandalorian)

Trainer: Marksmanship and sniping

Relationships: Friends with Obi-Wan and various other trainers, has a husband back home who gets sent the money from the contract

Other: Severely lacking in self-preservation

(Chaske Spencer)

Ben Cerasin

Force User from Coruscant

Trainer: Force techniques and working with Jedi

Relationships: Friends with various trainers, though closest to Mij, everyone assumes he’s been sleeping with Jango since at least the 4th year there, he trains and babysits Boba often and other than Jango is the only one to directly interact with Tyranus

Other: Former Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi, he Fell to kill a Sith Lord and had to go on the run, maiming (and seemingly killing) multiple Jedi before being spotted by Jango and recruited.

(Ewan McGregor)

Cort Davin -

Former Journeyman Protector from Concord Dawn

Trainer: ARC and commander 

Relationships: A friend of Jango’s and sometimes-trainer of Boba’s, he’s controlled enough to also often deal with the Kaminoans directly

Other: Knew of Jaster Mereel from his Journeyman Protector days and had thought of becoming a Mandalorian and following his code for a long time

(Manu Bennett)

Dred Priest 

Mandalorian (Death Watch member)

Trainer: Hand-to-hand combat instructor

Relationships: In a very on-again-off-again relationship with Reau, doesn’t get along with many people, is actively hated by some other Cuy’val Dar

Other: Created an underground fight club of cadets called Battle Circle with Reau, that got some of the cadets severely injured and even killed. His clan split between the New Mandalorians and Death Watch after Jaster Mereel was made Mand’alor.

(Joel Kinnaman)

Isabet Reau

Mandalorian (Death Watch member) 

Trainer: Field Medicine

Relationships: In a very on-again-off-again relationship with Priest, doesn’t get along with many people

Other: Created an underground fight club of cadets called Battle Circle with Priest, fanatical about Mandalorian traditions, from an old Mandalorian clan almost wiped out by the New Mandalorian movement

(Hindi Zahra)

Kal Skirata

Mandalorian

Trainer: Null-class trainer, special forces

Relationships: Worked often with Vau before being recruited, friends with Rav, knew Jango though they didn’t necessarily get along, he adopts his cadets, has a good working relationship with Obi-Wan

Others: His birth name was Falin Mattran, he was born on Kuat where his father was a Kuat Drive Yards engineer, he was orphaned at six and eventually found and adopted by the Mandalorian Munin Skirata. He married a non-Mandalorian who divorced him and took their three sons because she disagreed with Mandalorian upbringings.

(Gil Birmingham)

Llats Ward

Mandalorian (True Mandalorian)

Trainer: Strategy and tactics

Relationships: Friends with Obi-Wan, has known Jango since they were kids (knew Jaster), sometimes teaches Boba

Other: A history buff, he’s studied and memorized as many of the major battles in Mandalorian history as possible, he often gets stuck with Obi-Wan’s grading because he sucks at gambling

(Toby Kebbell)

Mij Gilamar

Mandalorian

Trainer: Medical

Relationships: Best friends with Obi-Wan, good friends with many of the cadets, especially Alpha-02 (Spar), even the ones not training to be medics

Other: He is an actual doctor. He became Mandalorian after falling in love with a Mandalorian woman, Tani Gilamar, but she was murdered and he’s been on a quest for vengeance since. Clan Gilamar was aligned with the True Mandalorians, which is how he knew Jango.

(Peter Mensah)

Rav Bralor

Mandalorian

Trainer: Melee combat

Relationships: Close friends with Skirata from before recruitment, has taken some of the cadets under her wing

Other: Hates the Kaminoans and is not a fan of Jango, has a lot of family back on Mandalore, extremely competent and hates delays

(Olivia Chen)

Vhonte Tervho

Mandalorian (True Mandalorian)

Trainer: Tracking and blasters

Relationships: Knew Jango from before when she was working as a mercenary, isn’t super social but no one actively hates her, helps to train Boba

Other: An expert hunter, well-known for her use of dual blasters, she has family and property back on Mandalore that she misses a lot

(Helly Luv)

Wa’de Tay’haai

Mandalorian (True Mandalorian)

Trainer: Covert Ops and melee fighting

Relationships: Generally friendly, close to many of the cadets

Other: He uses a traditional spear (called a bevii'ragir) and a bes’bev (an instrument that can also be a weapon), he teaches many cadets to read music and play instruments along with a few of the other musically inclined trainers

(Pua Magasiva)

Walon Vau

Mandalorian (True Mandalorian)

Trainer: Delta Squad trainer, melee combat and tracking

Relationships: Knew Jango and had worked with Skirata before Kamino

Other: Extremely violent towards the clones, has a pet strill named Lord Mirdalan

(Brian J Smith)

#cuy'kaysh dar #cuy'val dar #my stuff

[luminousbeansarewe]

wandering stars

ch 4: the valley

pairings: none || rating: teen || characters: original characters, original clone trooper characters, B’arin Apma (an actual legends Mando trainer for commandos innit)

tags: bullying again

chapter list

*************************************************

Kamino, Tipoca City, Clone Military Education Complex, 22BBY

“Grip!” shouted CT-2222 from inside his helmet. “We need a cable!” 

The clones were bunched at the base of a tall cliff that had materialized out of the network of holoemitters that lined the training room. Above them in the observation deck, B’arin Apma was watching from under his Mandalorian helmet with his arms crossed. The Jedi Shaak Ti, a beautiful and serene Togruta, stood beside him; despite her lack of helmet, she was even more inscrutable than her companion. Sol had given up glancing at them an hour ago. She knew her team was fragile as a flower, barely completing each phase of the grueling terrain drill. But not for lack of skill.

Fumbling momentarily, Grip fished his cable gun out of its holster and shot it up towards the lip of the cliff. It landed, and he gave it a strong tug. 

“S’good,” he assured them, and without delay he started to scamper up the wall with the woven durasteel steel rope in his gloved hands. Swift was on his heels, then Twofer. Sol converged with CT-3031 where the gun dangled, jerking oddly with the movements above. She looked through her visor up at the man; he was taller than the others by half a foot, and broader too. 

“You should go first,” he said to her. They must’ve had the same doubts about the cable bearing his weight, she thought.

“But Stone, what if you fall?”

“If I do, you can’t catch me anyway, little’un.” It was almost a jab, but not quite. Because he was right. 

“Shouldn’t you have talked to your vode about that?” she asked, a little incensed that in their haste the others had left the most vulnerable of their group even moreso. They were distracted, and it showed. Stone only shrugged. “Fine,” she muttered, and seized the cable. One foot in front of the other, she thought as she went. One hand over the other. Three helmets watched her from the top, though she heard Swift saying something about the upcoming terrain. She tried not to glance back down at Stone; if the lifeline broke, it would likely give no warning. Watching would not help. 

“Finally,” came Twofer’s voice as Sol hauled herself over the cliff’s edge. Stone was not very far behind her, and when his hand appeared she felt relief. 

“There’s a valley next,” Swift informed them as Grip helped tow his brother up to standing and began gathering his cable. “They’ll be firing at us —”

The sound of a blaster turret firing cut him off, the air above their heads sizzling with the passage of a bolt of plasma. 

“Cover!” called Twofer, pointing to a cluster of boulders near the head of the valley. As they crouched to scuttle behind it, Swift cursed under his breath.

“We should split up, take out the machines from multiple directions,” Sol said, the image of the valley below in her mind. “There’s spotty cover until about halfway down—”

“First one’s too close,” Swift cut her off. “We should take it out  from here.”

“But there’s too many rocks in the way—”

“I can cover you,” Twofer said, and she felt his searing glance even from under the helmet. “If you want to draw its fire.” The young woman did not miss the implication that she was to be the bait. 

“Swift needs to cover whoever goes, he’s the best shot,” Grip interjected. “She’s right, the terrain makes it hard to spot from here.” 

“Fine,” Swift said. “Who’s going?” 

“I am.” Stone was already easing towards the side of the rocks, peeking out around it. “I can take a shot better than the rest of you. Once we’ve cleared it, we should split up and make our way to the next ones.” 

“Since when are you on her side?” Swift growled.

“We are all on the same side, vod,” Stone replied, and his low voice had a solemn edge in it. “Cover me.” And he ducked out into the open, turning his blasters towards his target. 

“Kriff,” Swift hissed under his breath, spinning around to point his rifle over the rock. Stone had dodged two shots already, moving with more speed than his size belied towards a boulder that was just barely too small to offer the larger clone the cover he really needed. But it was nearest, and the turret’s line of fire was catching up too quickly for him to make it anywhere else. 

“Haar’chak!” Swift swore. “I can’t get a clear shot!” Twofer growled at him.

“But you said—”

Before the confusion that had been the hallmark of the entire run could grate itself against her dwindling patience, Sol spun away from the cover they were under in the opposite direction of Stone, sending a volley of plasma towards the turret. It spun and took a shot at her, missing by a hair’s breadth. She hurdled towards another boulder as Swift’s shots continued to miss. She was right, of course. The landscape was not in his favor, no matter how good of a shot he was. 

“Hey! What are you doing?” he shouted after her, and suddenly it was a scramble. Grip seemed to realize that the point of splitting up was to draw the turret’s fire in multiple directions, and he ducked out from the boulders to dash towards Stone and take more shots. His larger vod had already begun the descent to another boulder, this one much larger. Twofer and Swift were calling from behind before they finally joined the fray, barely dodging shot after shot. 

It was Sol who took the turret down, and had already begun to move towards the second one when Swift started shouting at her. 

“GET BACK HERE, WE HAVE TO REGROUP AND STRIKE!” 

“WHY?” she hollered back, stopping mid-run. “The same strategy should work all the way down! We’re wasting time!” 

“It might work for this one, but the last two fire together!” 

“If we fan out we can still—”

“I’m not taking orders from you, aruetii!” His voice grated from behind its layer of comm static. “Now get the hell back here!” 

Sol stared at him for a moment, the word like an arrow in her heart. These men knew nothing about her except that she was here on the Jedi’s orders, and she was meant to lead them one day. But the word that meant outsider in her first tongue also meant traitor, and drew fury from her heart faster than any sardonic nickname ever could. A word that had haunted her father in spite of his adamant renunciation of his heritage. 

Instead of replying, she turned and took off for yet another outcropping of rock, following her own instinct whether they liked it or not. 

-----

The helmet that covered B’arin Apma’s face did nothing to ease the scald of his voice at the end of the drill. 

“Cronos Squad,” he began, his ire evident but still subdued. “You have failed spectacularly. You did not work as a team once during this exercise. What do you think bickering on the battlefield will cost you?” 

The silence from the cadets who stood at attention in front of him was heavy, anchored in shame. 

“CT-3031, do you know what it will cost?” the Mando asked again, leveling his visor at Stone.

“Lives, sir.” 

“That’s right. Lives. You will be dead, or your brothers will.” He paused as he turned towards the only one of them with no brothers in the room. “Sol Tannor. You led the disarray today. The valley portion of the drill is the most dangerous section, yet you did not coordinate with your squad. And these are to be your men one day. Because of your obstinance, your descent was sloppy. Ammunitions were wasted—”

“But we didn’t sustain one injury, sir!” she protested, the words leaping out of her throat before she could stop them. At last, her tolerance had worn too thin to keep its failing grip on her temper. That word— aruetii— kept pounding against her head. “And all of the targets were neutralized!” 

“I don’t give a damn if you prevented injury or neutralized the targets this time, cadet!” Apma barked. “If you can’t work cohesively as a team, it’s only a matter of time before you will fail at both. Your first loyalty is to your squad, to your team, to your men. I don’t care if you’re a clone or not. While you’re training under me, this is your responsibility. And if you are granted command,” he added in an acid tone, “then it will continue to be so long after me.”

“Yes, sir,” Sol said in a voice that barely contained the shuddering indignation inside her. Nevermind that these men hated her. The tear that slid down her cheek was mercifully hidden by her helmet— the first tear she’d shed in years. 

“The rest of you weren’t any better,” Apma said, rounding on the other cadets. “You at no point facilitated cooperation. You forgot your duty, and bickered amongst yourselves instead of working as a team. If you fail the test a second time, I’m recommending you be put on sanitation duty. Dismissed.” 

As they filed out of the training hall, Sol felt her cheeks burn beneath her helmet. She kept her breathing steady and deep, barely hiding the tremor in her hands. She thanked whatever gods were left to this place for the grace of a private shower. Before any member of her squad could level a scalding remark her way, she marched directly there to wither under the hot water. 

When she returned to her bunk, all the men were scowling at her. Even Stone, usually so nonplussed, looked darkly at her before glancing away. Swift’s glare was the sharpest of all, and the silence was worse than any jab. She retreated into the wall as quickly as possible, pushing away the fear that this army was yet another path that would perish beneath her feet; that she had no home anywhere, after all. 

#star wars fanfic #swtcw #swtcw fanfic #star wars fanfiction #clone trooper ocs #my fic #my ocs #cronos squad

[luminousbeansarewe]

wandering stars

ch 14: legacy lost

pairings: none || rating: teen || characters: original characters, original clone trooper characters, b’arin apma

tags: apma acting like clones are less than people >:(

chapter list

tagged: @yourbitchystudentartist​ @lordimperius​ (message me or reply if you’d like to be tagged!)

*************************************************

Kamino, Tipoca City, Clone Military Education Complex, 22BBY

    In his usual impassive way, Sergeant B’arin Apma regarded the commandos as they lined up before him, at attention in their new Katarn-class commando armor with helmets under their left arms. It always amused him somewhat that this group had ended up with one clone who was much taller than the others, and the Jedi’s ward, who was visibly shorter than them. It made the team look a little ragtag, perhaps, but he didn’t mind. Training such a unique squad was one for his resume, assuming he ever needed a resume again. 

    Sol Tannor was certainly a unique cadet, and he suspected that was more true than she let on.

    “Cronos Squad,” he said, “you’ve done remarkably well today. In fact, you’ve improved significantly in the past five months. While you all came into your final year of training with powerful skillsets, you lacked the teamwork you needed to become true commandos.” He eyed them from under his visor. He made them remove their helmets during these little assessments, because watching their faces was ever helpful in spotting problems before they arose. “But it appears you’ve taken my lesson of brotherhood to heart. I urge you to continue to do so, for that will serve you on the battlefield in ways no fighting skill can. You will be called upon to do impossible things, because you are the last of the Alpha-class ARC troopers. Your predecessors already have done them.”

    Their faces were gazing dead ahead, but he could see the barest flush of pride in their cheeks. Perhaps the ordinary clones would have been dissuaded from developing such an emotion, but Mandalorians took pride in their skill, and their heritage. He knew that was what made them formidable. So, he gave the commandos a heritage of their own. 

    “Kandosii, troopers. Dismissed.” Their shoulders all fell lax, and they turned almost as one towards the exit to the training hall. “Tannor,” Apma added quickly, stopping the young woman in her tracks. Curiously, the clones stopped with her. “Remain here for a moment.” 

    They all looked at each other, but Tannor nodded to her teammates and turned back towards the Sergeant. The others shuffled out, the door sliding shut behind them. 

    “Sir,” she said as she approached, standing at attention once more. He noticed that she looked him in the eye, or did her best to with his helmet obscuring them. Clones were trained not to do so, even commandos, at least not to their training sergeants. 

    “You were brought here by the Jedi, correct?” Apma asked. Confusion flickered over her face, but she remained composed. 

    “Yes, sir.” 

    “And they trained you as well?” 

    “Yes sir.” 

    “How long were you with them on Coruscant?” 

    “Two years, sir.”

    “Did they train you for battle?”

    “No, sir. They trained me to become a member of the Temple Guard.” She couldn’t see him raise an eyebrow under his helmet. 

    “Oh? And you rejected that assignment?”

    “No, sir. I was not offered it at the end of my training.” 

    Now that was curious. “Why?”

    “I don’t think I was well-suited to the job, sir. I’ve utilized my training much better here.” 

    “And did they teach you their Jetii magic?” he asked, and watched her golden eyes narrow slightly. 

    “I am not adept with that skillset, sir,” she replied rather crisply.

    “You didn’t answer my question.” 

    She was beginning to bristle, but it was not a cowardly withdrawal. “They taught me to manage the few abilities I have regarding the Force.” 

    The lack of ‘sir’ may have been intentional, or it may not have. Either way, he was too delighted to feign offense as an officer usually would. “A Force-sensitive Mandalorian, training with a batch of clone commandos. Will wonders never cease?”

    “Excuse me?” Now she was frowning, and her posture had fallen far from its obligatory stance. The subtle forward jut of her torso and slightly wider plant of her feet were hallmarks of a predatory nature, one that was taught to fight from birth. 

    “Let’s not lie to one another, verd’ika,” Apma said coolly. “I’ve suspected your lineage for some time. How did the Jetiise get ahold of a Mandalorian child?”

    “I’m not a Mandalorian,” she said, and there was a sharpened end to her words accompanied by a fierce scowl. 

    “Now, don’t—”

    “Moreover, none of my past is relevant to my training here,” she added, cutting him off. 

    “Only a Mando would show his teeth to his pack leader,” the sergeant said. “You have all the tells of a warrior. And don’t think I’ve missed your knowledge of Mando’a, either.”

    “Why are you so concerned about me?”

    “Because, Tannor,” he began, “You aren’t a clone. You aren’t a copy of a Mandalorian, watered down and bred out of its true ferocity. Even these commandos, who were bred without dulling their independence, are still crafted to be less powerful than their template. I’d almost forgotten what it was like to be with my fellow warriors, to watch them in combat. The clones follow you because you are their natural leader. They have finally accepted this.” He paused, watched her face just barely shift uneasily. “Which begs the question of why you are here at all. Have the Jetiise subdued you, tricked you into swearing loyalty to their cause?” 

    “I haven’t been tricked into anything,” she nearly snarled.

    “Then you chose to come here? To be treated as lesser than you are? To serve the Republic without question?” For the first time since their conversation had begun, she hesitated. But then her eyes narrowed, golden gaze going razor-sharp. 

    “You’re here training these soldiers, Sergeant Apma,” she said, her voice steadying. “Are you not loyal to the Republic? Because it sounds like you’re asking me to question my own loyalty.” 

    “I serve the Republic because they pay me,” he replied. “I serve the true Mandalore because that is the way of my people. I am simply asking if you do the same.” 

    Her expression fell to one of hardness and something akin to disappointment. “I am dar’manda, like my father before me. After Clan Vizsla murdered my mother and assumed control of the Kyr’tsad, he renounced his heritage, destroyed his armor, and left Mandalorian space. I was five years old. So no,” she said in a venomous tone, “I do not serve the true Mandalore. Nor the false one, whatever that is. I serve the Republic, and I serve these men.”

    In the wake of such an unexpected truth, Apma found himself momentarily speechless. It had been countless years, as far as he knew, since any of his people had disavowed the entirety of their culture. Sure, there were factions among the Mando. He knew of the Kyr’tsad, the Death Watch, and some of his fellow Protectorate had joined their ranks years ago. But he was long divested in the squabbles between the systems of the Mandalorian sector. By passing on the teachings of his people via these troopers, he was doing far better work than picking fights with his neighbors. He, like Jango Fett and so many others who answered his call, was going rogue to honor the truth of his heritage.

    This girl, this child, was spitting on everything sacred to him with her words. He should have been furious. But he wasn’t, not yet at least.

    “I see,” he murmured, letting her story sink in. She only stood before him, every muscle tense as though she might jump at him at any moment. 

    “Are there any more inappropriately personal questions you intend to ask me, sir?” she said after a few moments. It seemed that a certain amount of anger was at her quick disposal, he thought. It was still in her voice, underlining precisely what she thought he needed to know. 

    “No,” he said. “No, I believe that will be all. You’re dismissed, cadet.” Almost instantly, she spun on her heel and marched out of the training hall through the sliding doors. B’arin Apma only stood quietly, turning over each thought in his mind. 

    Perhaps she deserved to be among lesser beings. But it also occurred to him that she might simply need to be pushed to her limit, in order to realize her true potential. 

#swtcw fanfic #star wars fanfic #mandalorian #clone trooper ocs #my ocs #cronos squad #b'arin apma