Whispers spread around the docks as a youth in turquoise armor matching that of known mandalorian Mart Webber steps off the docks. The helmet pans left and right as he eyes around noting that in actuality, very little has changed recently. He stepped out and made his way through the streets, tossing a few credits to a beggar seeking their next meal as he walked through, his head kept up though guarded, his hand never truly too far from his pistol. War was everywhere and one would never know when the next strike would come. Prepared but not paranoid. This was the way. Nodding to the gate guards he walked out looking over to Khos workshop, a content sigh escaping him under the helmet in relief that these were still here, that they hadn’t been destroyed or moved. Looking to Marts residence he stepped forward as he walked the distance though found himself first drawn to the fire. Why he wasn’t sure, but there was something peaceful about coming home once more, and seeing the gathering place they had spent so many nights around, the only sound to escape the covered Mandalorian was lost to the winds, yet to the wandering kath hound nearby, the words of “I’m home father” were all too clear.
