The screen cuts to a scene of a small room with no visible windows lit only by a small fixture in the center of the room. The meager light illuminates counters stacked with communications equipment surrounding a small table, over which three individuals in Mandalorian armor are hunched. The camera shakes slightly before settling.

A husky voice behind the camera sounds out, "Ver'alor..."

One of the number at the table glances at the camera before standing and removing his helmet, resting it on his hip underneath his arm. He is human, or something like it, his face dirty and beaded with sweat. He addresses someone behind the camera, "May I...?" After a short pause, his eyes shift to the camera. "Su'cuy beings of the galaxy. Ni gai Anto be aliit Bajur. I speak today for the Mando'ade, and what the Mando'ade have to say today is, 'Mhi cuyi parjie.'"

Following his cue, the tall Mandalorian steps forward. His onyx and cadmium red colored armor bears the scars of battles past and is spotted with the dried blood of his enemies. His large hands remove his helmet and reveal a man with skin the color of crimson that frames a set of dark eyes which stare at the camera with a silent intensity.

When he speaks his voice booms with a rich baritone that serves to frame the words as they come forward. "Ni gai Dragan be aliit Ora'Jair," he begins in greeting.  "As a people it is a part of our culture to seek out conflict. We do not seek it out just to sate some carnal lust for battle, but because we believe only through conflict can we grow as individuals. With each increasing challenge come increasing rewards.

The feed cuts to a battle being waged upon an icy tundra.  "Upon the glaciers of the planet Karedda we sought out that challenge. With tactical precision we executed our invasion plan of the Mandalore held territory. A planet of slaves left neglected amongst the cosmos were more than willing to join our side against their government, and against the imperial puppet that lays false claim to the title Mand'alor.

"Within hours all that was left to do was to provide housing for the neglected masses amongst the cold wastes. Generosity gained their loyalty faster than what a blaster could have achieved, and it wasn't long before the citizens of this planet gave us complete control."

The feed cuts back to the dark room, Dragan still standing in the center of the camera.  "My only hope was that the battle could have lasted longer, but it would seem that the inevitability of our victory broke the spirit of Mandalore," he says in closing. He then nods slowly signaling his completion.

The final Mandalorian at the table stands up and steps forward, the camera centering to focus its attention on him. He is clad in dark armor, which appears to be darkened by battle more than by design, with flashes of deep grey showing from beneath a thick layer of dirt and other substances. As he moves closer and steps from the shadows, the clan sigils worn proudly on his shoulder guards and the Kaminoan skull which dangles helplessly from his belt become more clear.

"Some thought I'd left. Some thought I'd went looking for death itself... While I may have left the reaches of known space, I did not leave the Mandalorians. I searched for what it was I needed; looking for what it was my soul, my Manda, craved."

The blank stare of his T-visor helmet worn reflects the light of the recording device as he clears his throat.  The feed cuts again to prerecorded video.

"What I and several other of my Mandalorian brethren faced in the fiery depths of the planet we named Haran, was the test of battle for a Mandalorian warrior. It allowed us to feel the true essence of our destroyer God, Kad Ha'rangir, as we fought those that had mutilated themselves to appear as war itself. Such events renewed the faith we had in ourselves and how we could guide our vode, to strike against the teachings of Arasuum, the God of stagnation, which has seemed to engulf the very culture that we Mandalorians live for. We shall stand tall against those who stand before us and we will continue to honor the Resol'nare as the true Mandalorians we are."

The feed returns to the room a final time. Anto steps forward and the camera turns its attention to him. He begins to speak once more, "Questionable strategic decisions by those calling themselves "Mandalore" have resulted in an empire that has found itself overextended and unable to effectively defend its territory. The puppet DeMeer has proven that he is not an effective leader for the Mando'ade. All the toys provided by his Imperial masters were no match for the determination and tenacity of those following the true Mand'alor.  Kote bal ijaat par te veman Mand'alor."