Looking up old threads I ran across a post I did as Mandalore before the reset, explaining really well, I think, what the status of the Mandalorians on Onderon was. It is still valid, I think, though now of course LD is Mandalore and they have an uneasy peace with Iziz.

Death. That is what this place was, above all things. Onderon was death. Whether it was the death of another or your own, death was a constant facet of life, ironically.

It had been millennia since the Great Defeat. Never before had the Mandalorians tasted such bitter wine. Never again, either. With defeat came eternal consequence. Banishment. The last vestiges of Mandalore's followers had their ranks broken by the guardians of the Jedi Order...and they were thrown to circumstance on the planet of beasts. Onderon was the quintessential Tantalus nightmare. To the zenith of the night sky came the beasts of the Demon Moon. Every night for thousands of years, the followers of Mandalore fought pitched battles against the beastly hordes. Every night, they endured. On the surface and to the north, the walled city of Iziz taunted the followers of Mandalore, like an apple perched on a high branch, beyond the grasp of a starving man. Eternally, it seemed the Mandalorians were doomed to be tormented. Yet, so often history is changed by slow and inexorable things.

Aexar stood alone, in the darkness...away from his brothers-in-arms.

Now, he was more than Aexar. He was now Mandalore. It had happened all too suddenly. On the eve of their greatest victory in recent memory, Aexar and the former Mandalore had reached an impasse over strategy. Mandalore had risen to the crest of the wave of blood by brute strength. Aexar, Mandalore's General, was perhaps lesser in steel, but far greater in wit. Indeed, he had long decided that the old Mandalore's successes against the barbarians of Iziz was due entirely to his cunning alone. Mandalore had ascended to the apex by the tip of a sword, but so often such warriors die by such a sword.

Aexar...Mandalore smiled. He did not hate his dead master. He was simply weaker, and in the end, fate had shown his fate to all. There was no quarrel made upon the old Mandalore's death. In the end, it was the way things had been since memory could serve him. Only the hardest iron survived the forge...and the fire was most fierce at the tip of the spear. No doubt there were many amongst the Mandalorians who eyed him even now, awaiting the day to best him and claim leadership.

But that day would not be today, and his leadership was paramount.

In the darkness, the new Mandalore contemplated his decisions. Soon, his ranks would be prepared for yet another assault against the walls of Iziz, as they had done for hundreds of years. Though the walls remained steadfast, the Mandalorians did not relent. Indeed, each cadre of warriors seemed poised to stand upon the shoulders of their ancestors, and eclipse the very concept of greatness. Though he never turned his back on any of them, Mandalore trusted their skills inherently. Perhaps Jedi steel was harder than Mandalorian 4000 years ago. Now...it seemed absurd to think of such things.

As Mandalore contemplated such things, a bright light in the sky caught his eye, streaking down from the heavens.

Offworlders.

Mandalore scowled. They were fodder. If the beasts did not devour them, if his brothers did not destroy them...then perhaps they were sturdy enough stock to become slaves. Maybe in generations, their progeny could even don the armor of a Mandalore, though this was an utmost rarity. In the end, every offworlder that Mandalore had seen...had perished.

The warrior donned his helmet, turned away from the spectacle, and blasted off across the sky, his rocket pack creating a trail of afterglow as he accelerated toward his brothers' camp.