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A cacophony of excited cries echoed throughout the humid jungle as the convoy inched through the undergrowth. The vegetation seemed almost vengeful, thick roots and thorny vines wore away at their machetes; they were already on their third and they still weren't even there yet. Sweat dripped down Marrick's face, it was far too hot for helmets; how did the neo-crusaders of old cope with this?
Eventually, the dense leaf cover parted and the looming grey bulk of the abandoned bunker became visible. It couldn't have been too soon, and the tired convoy felt collectively rejuvenated as their destination slowly edged closer. The pace picked up, the crew hauled the reclaimed beskar crates and supplies with seemingly inhuman strength, and Marrick hacked and slashed relentlessly. Finally they had made it. The Automatic door of the metallic behemoth groaned as it welcomed the first Mandalorian visitors in Thousands of years... One of the previous residents was even waiting there to meet them, how polite!