Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Junction Black Steel in the Hour of Chaos - SO/TME Junction of Ma'ar Shaddam & Pzob


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Ma’ar Shaddam

An ancient and rocky world, one renowned for the quality of its ore and the smiths that work it, has come under the ever-growing gaze of the Sith Order, and in turn the Enclave. Where one sees conquest, another sees reclamation. While remote, the planet serves as one of the greatest sources of Beskar and Beskar Smithing outside the reaches of the now crypt-world Mandalore and its surrounding systems.​
Master weapons and armorsmiths make good use of the high-quality ores and history of illegal weapon trading, keeping the world a source of interest for those with enough credits to purchase one of their master-crafted and famous products. It has become the epicentre of a dozen smuggling operations, criminal syndicates, and Mandalorian ultra-nationalists arming themselves to the teeth to face down every foreign legion and threat that comes planetside.​
A portion of the Emperor’s Legion has entered the system, a task force of three Star Destroyers guided by a Khan Battlecruiser creep towards the world as alarms in every home and outpost begin to wail at their dark approach. In turn, Mandalorian sleeper cells and special forces in deep cover have begun to move on their objectives knowing their time for preparation is over.​
Ma’ar Shaddam will be the testing ground for the weapons of old and the warriors of new.​

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Objective 1: Forges of Shadow
The home of the Mandalorian Ultra-Nationalists, Te’Yaim, chants as Enclave agents prepare their operations planetwide with a Legion of the finest soldiers ever trained to kill. In short order, the troops of Te’Yaim don their beskar’gam and weaponry for various operations. Chief among them is the looming mass evacuation, and kidnapping, of beskar smith’s across the world.​
Yet they are caught unawares. Most have operated under the assumption the cave-bound bunker was unnoticed and undefiled - but within there were Sith assets waiting to betray their brethren. The power surges, lockdowns initiated, and a beacon of distress is blasted across the system - We are here, it said, and the Sith saw.​
Now a Star Destroyer preparing for siege has broken off, and the landing craft race for the bunker, it has become a test of time. Do the Sith surround and cut off the bunker before the Mandalorians can escape? Can they do nothing else but run?​
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Objective 2: New Talent
Not all of the smiths on the world have become angered by the Sith’s arrival, some have seen the opportunity to work with the Sith Order and leapt at it. A gathering of some influential groups of smiths has been assembled at one of their grand forges, their works of art in the forms of weapons and armour on full display as ambassadors and guild members peruse.​
As Sith forces begin to touch down, the Enclave too begin to reveal themselves to the traitors amidst them. Some require persuasion, some intimidation, but the Smiths of Ma’ar must prostrate themselves before their brethren far away, or the Sith before them. Neutrality is no longer an option.​
Both groups begin to spread out amongst the gathering, seeking the best smiths, and gaining their loyalty with lucrative contracts or righteous threats. It’s only a matter of time before the two parties realize what the other is doing - and only a small gap before violence will no doubt begin to take place.​
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Objective 3: Real Steel
Ma’ar Shaddam was once home to armorers who served the infamous bounty hunter Boba Fett and their ancient stockpiles of Beskar as well as the forges used to shape it still exist to this day. Ripe for the taking. As one of the largest remnants of Beskar left in the Galaxy not yet destroyed by the Sith war machine - the world is considered vastly holy to Mandalorian Culture, if not a great reason to bloody the nose of the Sith.​
The largest cache in the world lies in a vault of a large syndicate - sealed and prepared for transport at a moment's notice. With inbuilt hover and jet scrams, all it takes is a guide to force eighty tons of Beskar back to a waiting ship. The only issue, both parties have just landed at the facility.​
Sith Legionnaires and Mandalorian Supercommandos begin their assaults from separate landing wings, racing towards the Beskar stash within the facility. All they need to do is break into the vault, tow the hover freight back to their ship, and take off before the other parties have a chance to steal it back.​

 
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Breaker of Chains
Codex Judge

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Objective: New Talent
Equipment: Lightsaber, Sword, Dagger, Robes
Tags: Open!

There was a certain appreciation for the talent of smithing and the masters of its art that the masked man held, having dabbled in said art extensively before. Despite that he'd still consider himself an amateur, in dire need of proper smiths that could perform better work for both himself and his cult. So it was only natural that he volunteered to be part of the ambassadorial party sent to Ma'ar Shaddam, eager to assist in gaining the loyalty of the famous metalworkers there. Both for the Sith Order as a whole and for his own uses of course.

Darth Strosius stepped out of his landing shuttle and spared a few quick glances around to survey the area. The local smiths eager to accept new work and contracts had set up quite the display for the Sith to peruse. Of course there some guild members sprinkled throughout the part of ambassadors as well, mostly some sniveling corporate bureaucrats that salivated at the idea of getting master smiths on they payroll.

As usual he didn't bother bringing any sort of guard or force with him, they were better deployed on other areas across the planet that were in conflict already, so he was free to examine and barter without interruption. He set off for one of the nearby displays and idly began recalling his credit budget for recruiting some of the smiths today. Hopefully their prices were far less grand than their work.

 
sɪɴɴᴇʀs ʙʏ ᴅᴇᴇᴅ ʙᴜᴛ ʀɪɢʜᴛᴇᴏᴜs sᴛɪʟʟ



Alarms blared and shouting erupted all around the dimly lit room, yet Aloy Vizsla remained seated. 'We've lost power' one man shouted, 'Sith Warfleet' and 'Surrounded' called another. It was clear that the enemy had caught her people unprepared, as she had time and time again. 'It never ends' she thought.

Well, she opted to break the cycle this time around.

Where there was chaos, there was also opportunity. She had come to this meeting to make friends after all, and what better way to make friends than to shed blood together?


"Go" she said at last, pushing away from the table. "Call your ships, call your allies and regroup elsewhere. We will cover your escape, break through the line if we have to"


Her bodyguards looked to one another, but no one argued.

"Get me a line to Viper, tell them I want all squads to rally on the gate and to dig in. We have guests to welcome."

She didn't know how long it would take, or if help was coming, but if even a handful of these people lived today because of her warriors, she knew that word of their efforts would travel, and more would flock to The Black Fleet's cause.

And so, she marched her forces right up to the front door, hastily stacking crates to create barricades and Machine gun emplacements, the heaviest
of which was aimed directly at thee door. Aloy had ordered many such barricades to be built about a dozen meters apart from one another, allowing them to fall back little by little whenever one was overrun. Ideally, this would allow them and their allies to retreat once the final Te'yaim warriors had been evacuated from whatever secondary exit the bunker may have. When the time was right, they could bring their own stealth ship and vanish before the knew they had even left.

It wasn't a perfect plan, but on such short notice, it would have to do.

 
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Location: Ma'ar Shaddam
Objective: OBJ 2 - Deals with mando smiths
Tags: Hilal Vizsla Hilal Vizsla
Gear: in bio

Wearing: this but with her hat

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Annika didn't really get Mandos, they were a pretty strange culture, obsessed with their armour and this otherwise fairly unassuming metal. But she knew enough to know how important this was and she was ensuring that her low regard for their culture did not come across as she flirted with a young smith by the name of Barrack Viszla. Her pheremones and her manipulative energies swirled in the air as they chatted to each other. She wanted a beskar knife, but she didn't want to pay for it, that was her challenge to herself, the wider challenge was simply to manipulate the man into working for the Sith.

"There you go, see that swirl, we call that a damas'kar fold, makes the metal super hard but let's it keep just enough flexibility that it doesn't shatter if you hit armour with it." He said proudly to her as he wiped the acid off of the almost finished blade. Annika placed her hand on his sweating craftsman's deltoid and her hand went to the blade, parting the remaining acid with the force.

"Its so beautiful, would this be the kind of metal you armed our soldiers with? Do you think you could pull off this quality on a larger scale?" she asked, she began to stroke his pride with her emotional powers.

He grinned with a look of near boastfulness "As many as you want, you are looking at one of the best metalworkers in my clan!" this might be rubbish, but he clearly was talented, and now he had something to prove. The seeds were planted for her to work him into his planned position of servitude, and if hmshe did this right, he would be grateful for the oppurtunity.

She leaned in a little closer, "I am very impressed, now I want you to show me how you would dress that dagger, we need to make sure protect that hardened tang... don't we?" he smiled, he was putty in her hands.

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Location: Syndicate Vault - Ma’ar Shaddam
Objective: 3 - Real Steel
Dialogue Legend: <<Technopathy Link>> │ “Verbal”
Direct Engagement: Valerian Calore Valerian Calore

Lucia was among the very first to enter the vault proper after having disembarked from the shuttle alongside a squad of legionnaires. The gynoid did not waste any time in sending out her probe droid to map the terrain, its feed connected directly to her awareness as she set herself upon the syndicate thugs who had been tasked with defending the vault. The pair of heavy pistols in her hands spat out slugs with quick, staccato cracks, the projectiles accelerating from the barrels at supersonic velocities before proceeding to paint a nearby wall with the blood and brain matter of two hapless thugs. All the while, the gynoid didn’t break her running stride, her slugs blasting open the skulls of two more gangsters who had thought to attack the synthetic assassin from her flanks.

Some distance behind her the squad of legionnaires began to push forward. However, Lucia had no intention of lingering to help the soldiers directly. They had a different objective. Instead, her mission was to intercept the Mandalorians and hopefully, prevent them from reaching the beskar.

In essence, she had been tasked with disrupting the efforts of the enemy.

Accordingly, Lucia quickly moved ahead of her allies, before squeezing off a salvo of slugs at the heads of three gangsters who had thought to pursue her as she raced past their defense lines. Each of the thugs collapsed to the ground one after the other like severed marionettes as their skulls were blown open by the surgically-placed projectiles. Then, moments later, Lucia slipped off into a nearby alleyway, her form fading into the darkness as she made her way towards the Mandalorian landing wing.


 
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Proclaim this among the nations: Prepare for war! Rouse the Warriors! Let all the fighting men draw near and attack.

Tags: Aloy Vizsla Aloy Vizsla and any Mandalorian scum at the bunker

There came a terrible noise, the loudest noise any man has ever heard and it not kill him. It was the sound of the atmosphere being ripped open by the force of millions of tons of material suddenly being rammed into it uncaring for its opinion. A blistering gale-like wind ripped from the west and lashed at the doors of the bunker like a slaver's whip.

The dropships came into sight as they fell from the clouds. Ugly brutish things, uglier were their occupants who were now practically clawing at the walls of their landers as they sensed themselves arrive closer and closer to the surface. The ships came in droning like plagues of crop-devouring insects before touching down barely a klick and a half away from the bunker entrance.

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The hatch of the landers dropped open in unison and the Chaos Pact hurled themselves into the open, revealing their faces to the foe for the first time. They bore hideous visages, scowling iron masks of sneering and grotesque faces that seemed trapped somewhere between suffering and ecstasy, all while wrapping themselves in gauze-like robes that reeked of affliction. They bore obscene black banners, their flagtails fluttering in the bitter wind, and others blasted raucous notes on huge brass trumpets that curled around their bodies.

These were the Redeemers, Pact Troopers who had failed in their oath to Khaos, and the Warmaster or simple civilians conscripted off the Pact's conquered world whose minds had been utterly broken. Some wielded cheap kinetic rifles while the more privileged former troopers had been gifted blaster carbines. Most brandished vibro-pikes, halberds, or trench axes; others lugged heavy flamethrowers with long, stave lances.

They began screaming, shrieking, and bellowing through the gaps in their masks and clothes as they threw themselves forward. A few fell on the ramps of their landers but were quickly trampled by their uncaring comrades, desperate to reach enemy lines and achieve their redemption.

Their charge made the ground tremble as if the war-smiths of Ma'ar Shaddam were hammering away at their anvils of war.

The Chaos Pact had come.
 
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Location: The battlefield
Objective: Defend
Tag: Alora Vizsla Alora Vizsla Festerruman Sachiel Festerruman Sachiel
Equipment: In bio
Leading:
  • a hundred or so Mandalorian commandos
  • Several hundred defense levy personnel
  • Assorted tanks, APCs and self propelled artillery units

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Celt watched as the opposing dropships descended through the sky towards their lines, anti-aircraft missiles took their toll but enough got through to give the rallymaster pause. "Targets in sector four, engage at discretion." Celt gave the order and a battery of three ranged in MRLS vehicles opened fire, launching high explosive ordnance into the onrushing horde. Celt hoped to win this battle with overwhelming firepower and before even the fireballs from the MRLS cleared, tube artillery began to rain down further volleys of five inch shells. It would be hell on the receiving end of her opening salvo and would send a message about what defences that the foe was charging into. Would they heed the warning? That would be a blessing.

"Squads two through six, get airborne, I want our left flank closed down hard." twenty five mandalorians took off behind her and immediately peeled left to secure their flank. The other flank was hard against the terrain. The opposing forces had the numbers so she couldn't let them encircle her, but she could make them wait in a queue for a Kelbabe Kiss from her front line. Celt watched the holographic representation of the battlefield, she shook her head. She had chemical weapons in reserve, but using them was always a risk, she would have to make that decision as needed.

 

Ziggst Aruetii

Guest
Z


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The Sith Empire.....

The sinister grip of the Sith Religion had ensnared the World of Ma'ar Shaddam, corrupting it in their relentless pursuit of what was not rightfully theirs. Beskar, the revered metal of the Mandalorian Culture, had lost its sanctity as it fell into the hands of every scoundrel and wanderer across the galaxy. But they would pay dearly for their sacrilege when the time of reckoning arrived.

Disturbing reports emerged from the settlement enclaves, revealing that some armorers had chosen to align themselves with the new masters, eagerly seeking to immerse themselves in their powerful ranks for the sake of materialistic gains. Such treachery could only be met with a punishment of excruciating deaths, where limbs would be torn apart and their insides displayed as a gruesome warning to anyone who dared to entertain the idea of siding with their ancient foes.

If it weren't for a crucial mission to retrieve a valuable shipment of Beskar from the clutches of the Local Crime Syndicate, he would have eagerly gathered his forces to confront these armorers. The precious metal was securely stored in an impenetrable vault, making it a top priority.

The initial reports from his clan scouts revealed that the Sith Onslaught had already commenced, with their relentless advance through the corridors, eliminating the murderers and gangsters who guarded the coveted treasure. On the opposite side of the facility, Mandalorian Supercommandos from various clans had already arrived, ready to lend their support.

With a sudden cessation of the powerful Rocket Pack's blast, Alor Sodd-Soll of Clan Ha'rangir gracefully landed alongside his loyal warriors. The radiant Golden Beskar'am Shock Armor shimmered under the sun's rays, illuminating the entire facility.

The Mandalorian Supercommandos, each entrusted with specific tasks, advanced with determination. Some swiftly cleared the hallways, while others strategically placed blast charges to impede the Sith's progress. Alor Ha'rangir swiftly maneuvered through the corridors, his movements a blur of purpose and agility.

An audacious pirate dared to shout, "Perish, Mandalorian scum!" However, his blaster round had little effect on the resilient Beskar'am Shock Armor. With an icy grip, the Mandalorian tightened his hand around the pirate's throat, squeezing relentlessly. As the pirate's life slowly faded before him, his last breath was extinguished, crushed by the Mandalorian's unyielding grip.

As the body hit the ground, the only words uttered from behind the visored helmet were "Di'kutla etyc."

 
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Gloved fingertips tapped rhythmically against the smooth, marbled armrest, creating a repetitive beat audible only to the seat's sole occupant. The chair's repulsorlifts emitted a low warble as it passed through the ruined halls, the walls pocked with innumerable carbon scoring. A cadre of four red-robed Crownguard, their helmets tufted with plumes of black feathers, walked alongside the mobile throne; keeping perfect pace, avoiding the fallen bodies which lay strewn around them.

Small creatures, barely taller than children, stalked among the bodies. Vicious Graut, armed with billhooks and rock-picks, were busily prying open the armor of fallen Mandalorians. They'd press their instruments between the gaps in the armor plating, peeling them aside and often mangling the body in the process. They'd toss the pieces of Beskar armor aside, each piece quickly retrieved by other Graut waiting just behind them. Then they scampered away with their prize, back to the landing platform where it was being stockpiled and airlifted away into space.

Darth Carnifex, Dark Lord of the Kainate, found the creatures to be distasteful, but their uses had been proven many times over. His Graug in the Dark Legion commanded trillions of the diminutive creatures, using them in everything from manual labor to cannon fodder. They obeyed every order without question, whether that was strapping bombs to themselves and throwing themselves headlong at an enemy just to die ignominiously in a violent explosion, or jumping into the den of a warghest just because a Graug wanted to watch them get eaten.

Any that strayed too close to the mobile throne was immediately killed, speared through by one of the Crownguard's pikes or thrown aside with enough force to break every bone in their body. They were endlessly replaceable, so any loss in the amount of Graut was ultimately inconsequential. They lived only to serve and die whenever their Masters demanded it.

So, the throne floated forward, deeper into the facility. The sounds of battle were again beginning to pick up as they neared the epicenter of the conflict, but the Dark Lord would not yet intervene. His eyes watched with frigid detachment as Sith, Imperial, and Mandalorian all fought and died before Him. Without taking His eyes off the fighting, He pressed a button on the armrest's control panel. This sent a signal to a ship waiting back at the landing platform, which unfurled it's boarding ramp.

From within, two lines of
metallic warriors began to march forward out of the darkness. Their eyes glowed an unnatural pale green, an unintelligible stream of Mando'a spilling forth from their vocabulators. Some moved in total silence, their vocabulators having been disabled once their babble had transitioned into endless screams. Their beskar-alloy chassis bore various identification marks, some so faded that they were no longer legible. In infrequent bouts of free will, some of the Golems had carved deep grooves in the metal just below their photoreceptors, giving them the appearance of crying.

Yet in unison they marched.

Implacably forward.

To blood and death.


 

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Sodd-Sol Ha'rangir
OBJECTIVE 3



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This Nightsister as a youthful learner, lived by a personal moral code, unhindered by the biases of outsiders. She tottered uncommitted a path neither good nor the worst of evil. Across the galaxy she studied how people engage in civilized society, and delved in all aspects of Magick and extremes of the Force available to her for mastery. Intentionally donning many masks, her teachers were always an autarch, both of the Jedi and among the Sith. Despite her acceptance by them, she lived openly a devout Misandrist, a feminist vigilante, profiting from her skill in Magick, weaponizing the average woman against an abusive male. From time to time her plight landed her in trouble with authorities of societies she didn't care for anyhow; but what about the Nightsisters true or imagined, was ever thought socially acceptable by an outsider?


It was one aspect of Pom's self-exploration which led her down a path to become ensnared by, and equally obsessed with the roiling dark passions of Darth Carnifex Darth Carnifex . She could not poison him, and that earned her utmost respect and fulfilled a personal prophesy. She dove deep into the Darkness he shared, died for him and he resurrected her.

She did not often inquire too deeply about what is happening within the galaxy. Such things are meant for men with ambition for conquest, and of no interest to her. Men will be men regardless of advice given them. Personally empowering women is her only true concern. Pomstychtivé formed her opinion of the clans based off personal engagement. Her introduction to the Mandalorian has been less than amicable on his part. Her coven sister had been abducted by the Alor of a Clan with the sole intention to aggravate the young woman's father, a Nightbrother. Nothing about that situation was respectable!



Aside from all the death about to play out here, the Matriarch does arrive with her own intentions. Her thoughts ever focused on perfected potion production, the Beskar here has properties that would surely amplify certain aspects of alchemy and amalgamation. She left the Dark Lord's side as soon as the Sith arrived on planet, certain his glorious dark presence will be felt throughout this land.

With her Coven the Wanica 13 Pomstychtivé studied the armory.
"How shall we find it?"
"I don't know." From the height of shadows Pom whispered in reply to their questions.
"Check your bag for the Talisman of Finding!"
"We have everything in there."
"Some not in there."
"Of course. Not all."

Thirteen witches, transformed into ravens all sought out a high space to perch upon, where they would watch the impending storm unfold below them. Softly crooning their incantation, their first Spell is to locate the ancient Baskar of impeccable quality.

"What is that down there in the light? How is it—?"
"Its pointing to that man?"
"That can't be right!"
"Oh no. Those techie-clan men again."
"Let's ask them! Do you think they brought puppies this time too?! I love puppies!" Number three was so excited at the prospect that she will see Rancors again that she fell off her perch, and had to center herself amidst the coven once again.
"'Where is it?!' you ask. Its just this entire building!" the Matriarch griped.

"Wait. Whose side are they on? Look! They are shooting people down there."
"Oh. Mandalorians with slug throwers? That is genius." A thought hit Pomsty, "Look, we don't need to locate it. Of course the Sith know how to blast their way through these walls to get to it. That's what Star Destroyers do. We just have to make sure somebody does break in there. Then we strike, to make sure the Beskar goes to our side. Easy."
"Boring."
"Right. Either way, I just came for puppies."

 
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Location: Ma’ar Shaddam
Objective: 1 - Forges of Shadow
Dialogue Legend: <<Ghoul-Speak>> │ “Galactic Basic” │ <”ur-Kittât”>
Allies: SO ( Festerruman Sachiel Festerruman Sachiel )
Enemies: ME ( Aloy Vizsla Aloy Vizsla Celt Saxon Celt Saxon Alora Vizsla Alora Vizsla )
Direct Engagement: Alora Vizsla Alora Vizsla

Gazing through the lens of her pulse cannon’s scope, UX-0626 watched the landings with a narrowed, contemptuous gaze as the savage troops of the Chaos Pact disembarked from their dropships and commenced their assault on the Mandalorian lines. By some manner of deal struck behind the scenes, Warmaster Festerruman Sachiel and the wretched fiends that he called soldiers—little better than Mawites, in her mind—had aligned themselves with the Sith. While it was not a matter that she should have concerned herself with, UX-0626 felt little comfort in fighting alongside them—even less than she did when working with Eternalists. Regardless, whether or not their goals truly aligned with the ideals of the Sith, they were useful tools in the continuing exterminations of the Mandalorian animal. Their usefulness in that regard was enough for UX-0626 to tolerate their presence, along with the fact that they made for a good distraction as she initiated her own attack, unleashing a salvo of fusion plasma bolts into the Mandalorian ranks from almost a kilometer away.

In that, the bolts downed the sniper’s first, second, and third targets in quick, unerring sequence, each struck with a precise bolt to the skull that quickly burned through their helmets, before incinerating the skull and brain matter contained within. Each of the Mandalorians had been carefully selected targets—heavy gunners wielding high-capacity, casualty-producing weapons. It would spare the Pact troopers some casualties, but their tactics were such that the strand-cast was under no impression that it would truly make a meaningful difference in their survival rates.

Regardless, UX-0626 allowed her pulse cannon to cool, searching for more targets as she did. Moments later, she drew her sight in on another set of targets, then she squeezed the trigger twice in quick succession, discharging a pair of fusion plasma bolts one after the other. On cue, a pair of Mandalorians were cut down within her scope, a shot to the neck decapitating one, while the other one was struck straight in the chest, incinerating most of his vital organs.

UX-0626 didn’t linger for a moment longer. She quickly picked up her pulse cannon and dropped down from her elevated position, her armor’s repulsors slowing her descent in the process.

It was time for her to move.


 


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A room, coated in black and dimly lit from above, held a lone rectangular table with two chairs at the opposite ends. Two people occupied these chairs: SIFIA Agent Kimora Min and Agent Aemma Nellis, her handler. Agent Nellis scrolled through a datapad, reading through several reports on the situation regarding Ma'ar Shaddam. The threat of the Mandalorian Enclave was present and the empire was on the offensive.

"Agent Min, is your assignment clear?" Agent Nellis asked.

"Yes, Agent Nellis. I am to sway as many of the Ma'ar Shaddam smiths and artisans to the Empire as possible." Kimora responded.

"Incorrect. You are to sway them all. Any smith that is acquired by the Enclave will be seen as a failure. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am. I will not fail."

Kimora stood up from the table, pushing the chair back in before leaving the room. As she traversed the halls of the agency's headquarters, she went over the potential variables in her head. This was a congregation of civilians, artists nonetheless. It was almost guaranteed that the Enclave would not engage in open combat, but it would be asinine to not prepare for it. Once in her barracks room, she put on her exosuit and grabbed her rifle before leaving for the hangar bay. She boarded the first transport to Ma'ar Shaddam she could. She looked over the dossier once more during the trip. Something new caught her eye this time. She did not notice it before but there was an attachment on the dossier. It gave information on a Lady Astrid Pentoghast. A Sith. She would be accompanying Agent Min on the mission as part of a new program within the SIFIA. Kimora thought nothing of it and continued on. She had just hoped the Lady Pentoghast would stay clear of Kimora's mission.

Arrival to the planet was quick and the meeting facility was quicker. Kimora stepped inside the building and searched for the Sith Lady.


 
sɪɴɴᴇʀs ʙʏ ᴅᴇᴇᴅ ʙᴜᴛ ʀɪɢʜᴛᴇᴏᴜs sᴛɪʟʟ


The Black Hand was still barricading the bunker when the rumbling outside broke rhythm. The feint vibrations were briefly drowned out by something bigger, louder and closer.

"Enemy artillery?" A soldier asked with concern.

"Impact sounds too far to be enemy" Aloy suddenly shot up from her position, marching down the corridor as the lights flickered in and out.

She stopped by the gate controls, waiting for another spike in power.

"This world is too valuable for the Enclave not to hide assets nearby. We'll link up with whoever's topside and go from there"


The
M-39 emplacement remained to cover their exit while the rest of her forces began stacking up on either side of the door. As soon as the lights began flickering on again, Aloy opened the gate before slamming her cybernetic fist into the box to ensure that no one could close it on them ever again.

The Black Hand sallied forth onto the battlefield, greeted by the backs of Saxon warriors who were focused on killing the enemy. She didn't know who they were exactly, but they were Mandalorian and that was good enough for Aloy to join the line, and seeing that a small number had peeled away to reinforce the left flank, She and the majority of her forces followed to do the same.


They stopped only briefly to open communications and to instruct the M-39 to open fire, unleashing a torrent of explosive Particle beams upon the horde. Meanwhile, the rest continued on to dig in with the left flank, making use of rocky terrain and berms for cover as they engaged the enemy with blaster fire, saving their explosives for later when the enemy might come close.

Aloy herself stood stunned in the snow, watching the horde continue pouring out from a thousand ships. Nothing she had seen could compare to this, not since The Graug Horde was cleansed from Mandalore.


"Someone get me a line to The Recluse and explain this, tell them to warn whoever this is on the open channel before firing on that rabble!"


Regrettably, she didn't have time to go chase down the friendly commander for a name, only time to focus on her men and killing the enemy.

The Recluse however, had the luxury.


The Modified Corvette suddenly revealed itself, decloaking several clicks away behind the friendly line while the ship's peculiar Acting Commander broadcasted to all present:

::Recluse to all nearby Mandalorians- Friendly missile inbound, repeat, missile strike inbound- clear impact area, coordinates to follow:: The robotic voice warned.

Moments later, The Recluse launched a cruise missile into the horde, calculated to arrive just as the finished crossing into the blast zone.


::Recluse standing by for additional fire mission, Over::

 
Character: Valerian Calore Valerian Calore
Objective 3

The planet Mar'Shaadam rushed forth as Valerian sat inside of the cockpit of the Basilisk War Droid, heart racing as his descent into the planets atmosphere was eventually slowed by the engines of the metallic creature. Anti-aircraft fire toward him had been minimal, no doubt their systems struggled to make sense of the fast moving object, or they simply didn't see the lone droid among the mass of transports that raced toward the surface. Other transports with the Calore sigil surrounded him, flanking his left and right as they dove toward their objective; hundreds of his Mando'ade eager for a fight, no doubt barely restrained by their ruus'alor.

His ears popped as they broke through the cloud layer, and Valerian counted the seconds as he watched the ground race toward him with worrying speed. "Haran, puhoi daab." His mount responded by letting out a feral howl, but hit the ground with considerably less force than he would've had the Mandalorian let him keep his desired pace. The droid slid forth a few feet, leaving deep scratches in the metal where it's claws made contact. Valerian was quick to dismount, pulling his weapons from the storage compartment and moving around to the head of the great beskar beast.

"Taylir bal aranar." He gave his companion a affectionate pat on it's green head. "Ke'pare par ner naumiit." The beast bayed in response, a terrible noise between a howl and a scream. "Elek, elek." He waved his had dismissively and waited the minute it took for the rest of the warriors to land and disembark. He gave the first group a nod as they rushed out of the transport, and said nothing as they paid him little mind save for their own curt greetings. They each knew the plan and were well aware of their objective. Securing the facility and the beskar was their only concern, and to achieve that goal they were all prepared to die. It wouldn't take long for the blasterfire to start and the clamor of combat to overtake the city, soon it'd be set alight with the fires of war, and a new crucible would form.

Valerian took a lone through the chaos, old rifle in his hand and blood cool as he stepped away from the landing pad and into the facility. Heavy metal feet clanged against the floor as he moved through the corridors, finding a surprising lack of resistance from those that were meant to oppose him. He'd seen nary a Sith nor gangster, and for a moment, he wondered if he'd come too early to the party.

Oh if it could be that simple.

Lucia Naberrie Lucia Naberrie
 

Ziggst Aruetii

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The infiltration of the Crime Syndicate Vault by the Mandalorian Offensive proved to be quite uneventful. The facility was heavily fortified with an array of traps and defensive measures in every corridor and sub-corridor.

Nevertheless, the technological obsolescence of these countermeasures allowed the Mandalorian Clans to swiftly outmaneuver them, surpassing even the mighty legions of the Sith Empire. The Mandalorians' innate creativity and teamwork skills, honed from an early age, proved to be their greatest advantage in this regard.


The Clans had gained valuable experience over the centuries of galactic conflicts, and they understood the importance of relying on their assigned teams to achieve their objectives. With precise coordination from their Alor and Rally Masters, they systematically cleared each obstacle within the rooms, leaving no stone unturned in their pursuit of the Sacred Beskar located deep within.

Firefights were a common sight, but gradually they began to dwindle as the syndicate's forces were divided between the Mandalorians advancing from the west and the Sith Empire closing in from the east. It became clear that repelling both forces with precision was nearly impossible, unless they had a brilliant strategist guiding them.

In this situation, it made sense for the syndicate to divide their forces and wear down both fronts, although it would leave them susceptible to counterattacks. It was an unlikely strategy, but in war, one should never underestimate their opponent, even if they seemed inferior.

The Mandalorian-style electro hammer crashed into the houk pirate's abdomen, sending them reeling from the sheer force of the blow. "We need to clear this level of the Fortress," the Alor's voice echoed with determination.

"Once we do, we can establish a forward command post. The syndicate will undoubtedly reinforce their vault security, so our focus should be on preventing the Sith Empire from advancing through their tunnels." Sodd-Soll, gripping the electro hammer tightly with both hands, raised it high and brought it down mercilessly on the enemy below, causing blood to splatter across the floor.

A Small Team of
Mandalorian Scouts would advance forward in pairs of two; to cover more ground and scout the areas ahead.
 
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"Instructions unclear!" a chipper voice crowed in response to the warning of ordinance in use [ Aloy Vizsla Aloy Vizsla ].

A ship that had failed to register on sensors suddenly sailed by the Modified Corvette in the wake of the "friendly" missile strike. Alora spent good credits building all kinds of passive scattering and sink methods into the Gambit's structure. It had made her good credits slipping in or out of where she wasn't wanted.

Alora popped her helmet on as she strode up to the open airlock in the belly of the ship as it shot through the sky. As one of the Enclave's earliest Si'kayha, Alora Vizsla was quite capable of rounding up a few good warriors for a scrap with the Sith. A group of whom occupied the mechanics bay where the ventral airlock lay open. "We keep our own safe. We destroy anyone that stands in our way. Any questions?" They'd already gone over terrain and friendly encampments before even entering atmo.

Gam changed the dim lighting to an equally dark green to give them all the signal to drop. Alora was the first out of the ship, disruptors in hand.

Her heads-up display indicated where Celt Saxon Celt Saxon was supplying artillery for the rescue-assault in motion. Like any good fight, the place was already a chaotic mess. Meanwhile, her booster pack guided the falling figure through skyway explosions and over the heads of a few clashing groups. One disruptor pistol knifed off to the side for warriors to take up a defensive position to begin carving a path for the smiths when the time came.

The sharp plink of disruptor fire sounded as her feet neared the ground.

At the same time streaks off to one side drew the slit of her helmet.

Plasma cartidge for a pulse cannon, Gam chimed in as the ship banked away from the drop site.

Not a steady firing pattern either. Alora shot off in the direction of the possible sniper [ UX-0626 UX-0626 ]. Looked like someone needed some up-close-and-personal time with one of the friendliest soldiers in the fight.
 

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Location: Ma’ar Shaddam
Objective: 1 - Forges of Shadow
Dialogue Legend: <<Ghoul-Speak>> │ “Galactic Basic” │ <”ur-Kittât”>
Allies: SO ( Festerruman Sachiel Festerruman Sachiel )
Enemies: ME ( Aloy Vizsla Aloy Vizsla Celt Saxon Celt Saxon Alora Vizsla Alora Vizsla )
Direct Engagement: Alora Vizsla Alora Vizsla

UX-0626 sprinted over the rocky terrain with all due haste. However, before the sniper could get too far away from her previous shooting position, her armor’s sensors came alight, feeding an impulse into her awareness that served to warn her of an incoming contact—a heat signature moving towards her location at a blistering pace. On cue, the sniper planted her feet and came to a halt, before pivoting around to face the direction of the rapidly approaching signature. In the process, she adjusted her helmet’s optics with a few mental commands, before zooming in until her cybernetic eyes drew in on the source of the signature—A lone Mandalorian aerial trooper, clad in a unique pattern of armor.

They were coming after her.

UX-0626 didn’t waste a second. She leveled her pulse cannon skyward, suspending her breath as she did. Given the high speed and altitude of her target, it would be a difficult shot, but by no means an impossible one. In that, UX-0626 quickly set her sights on the airborne Mandalorian as the targeting systems in her scope fed her the predicted impact point. She snapped her crosshairs right in the center of the corresponding marker, before compressing the trigger.

On cue, a single bolt of fusion plasma surged out from the cannon, set on a trajectory that threatened to strike the Mandalorian in her upper chest from a little more than 500 meters away, if left unaccounted for.


 
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Location: Syndicate Vault - Ma’ar Shaddam
Objective: 3 - Real Steel
Dialogue Legend: <<Technopathy Link>> │ “Verbal”
Direct Engagement: Valerian Calore Valerian Calore

The darkness swallowed Lucia’s camouflaged form until she was naught but a shadow, but her synthetic gaze pierced it in unerring resolution, allowing the gynoid to navigate the tight maintenance passageway with relative ease. For a time, it was just her and the passageway. She fell into a silent rhythm, stepping over obstacles and around obstructions, before ducking under a series of large pipes. However, before long, her sonic sensors caught the distinct, pounding register of armored footsteps—Mandalorians. On cue, the gynoid holstered her pistols on her thighs, exchanging them for the massive scattergun placed over her back. While her pistols were powerful weapons in their own right, the scattergun would better assure effectiveness against the Mandalorian's beskar. Previous engagements against Mandalorians had taught her not to shirk on firepower. The mistakes that she had made then would not be repeated.

Moments later, Lucia activated her concealment system, shrouding her form (and her equipment) within a technological miasma of invisibility and silence. Her sensors told her that she was close. On cue, Lucia turned the corner, at which point she saw the point where the tight passageway terminated to lead out into the main corridor, a little more than 13 meters ahead of her. After a quick scan of her surroundings, Lucia continued ahead, sensors primed for traps as approached the termination point.

That was when she picked up the sound signature. A lone Mandalorian. Footsteps less than 30 meters away.

Lucia quickly moved down the remaining length of the alley. Then, as soon as she reached the junction leading out into the main corridor, her quarry came into view. Immediately, the gynoid brought up her scattergun and leveled it towards the Mandalorian’s upper back from 20 meters away.

Then, she squeezed the trigger.

In an instant, a single 4-gauge armor piercing incendiary slug exploded out from her scattergun’s barrel, set on a trajectory that would see it strike the Mandalorian in his upper back if left unimpeded. A heartbeat later, Lucia racked the pump with inhuman strength, ready to fire the weapon again, if necessary.


 
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ALLIES: Enclave
ENEMIES: Sith Order
ENGAGING: Darth Carnifex Darth Carnifex
GEAR: In Bio
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CUT YOU DOWN

War.

It was neverending.

Vren felt the weariness deep in his bones. His fighting days were quickly drawing to a close. Time to hang up the gunbelt was drawing down hard on him.

Tawnita Wren Tawnita Wren leaving in the dead of night again twenty years ago, after promising him all those years ago on Roon that it wouldn't happen again, had broken something in him. He hadn't been the same man since. Couple that with the sudden appearance of Veshok Rook Veshok Rook out of nowhere - the son he never knew about and who didn't want anything to do with him - and Vren's world pretty much shattered. How he was still driving a war he wasn't interested in, was beyond him.

But when reports came in that the Sith showed interest in the Enclave's brethren on Ma'ar Shaddam, the veteran didn't hesitate to rally a task force. This was one war that he couldn't let go of, tired as he was.

When it came to the Sith, it was personal...

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://: How deep in the facility are you? ://:

There was something about Nag's question - the basilisk wasn't usually one to ask such things lightly.

Vren frowned from where he was in a little alcove, away from the brunt of the fighting for a minute.
<Main chamber. Why?> he asked her.
://: I'll find a way in. ://: was the answer.
<Girl, what's got your gears in a knot?>
://: He's here. ://: she merely stated.

She didn't have to elaborate. Vren knew very well who she meant.
"Didn't Tython teach him to not keep messing with us?" he grumbled before glancing around the corner.
Sure enough, the Dark Lord hovered into the chamber, well guarded by various creatures and warriors. Vren watched as small monsters stripped fallen Mando'ade of their armour.

The Guildmaster's jaw clenched behind his visor. He had to do something.
://: There are reinforcements on the way. Droids from their readings but....not fully inorganic. ://: Nag interrupted him before he did something foolish.
Vren sighed. He could use her help, but reinforcements would just make things all that much harder.
<Send them to Haran, Girl.> he told her.
://: Please tell me you're not gonna face him on your own? ://: she queried in alarm.
<I'll try and stay alive until you're done, promise.> he quipped.
://: VREN! ://: came her protest, but got no answer. Instead, he shot into the air - as much as the roof allowed - drawing his pistols as he did so.

Before anyone registered, he was hovering over the throne.
"Too cowardly to get your hands dirty, that it, Traitor?" Vren called down to Carnifex. Then he let loose with both pistols. Golden bolts rained down at the Dark Lord while Vren kept moving in the air, not keeping still for a second. He knew better than to think that a few particle bolts would have this man down on all fours. But if he could keep the Sith Lord occupied, then the Mando'ade would stand a chance at securing what beskar they could.

Besides, he had a personal score to settle.


 
Objective 3: Real Steel

Darth Malum allowed the corpse of the Moridizinid to fall upon the floor with an ugly clank, the sound of beskar plate finally finding their final place of rest, the newly made corpse rapidly growing cold, as no doubt the life of the man underneath the mask, drained out of their eyes. He was assuredly not the last kill of the day and had certainly not been the first, all the bloody corpses of smuggler, pirate, and criminal alike that surrounded the metal hulk of a man was a clear attestation of that fact, their blood pooling around his feet, as the shikkar blades had done their work.

They had not been worthy enough of his lightsabre.

Yet as his blade hissed as it was extinguished, he could say with some confidence, that the Moridinizid had been.

Though he fought with the ferocity of a wild animal, he had certainly not been that intelligent, smart, capable, an enemy with honour, and the cauterised hole through his chest would mark that forevermore.

He was here alone, well not entirely, but he was here with those who did not owe him fealty, the Tsis'Kaar embedded here were causing chaos as was their won't, while the Guard had been deployed with the main force, from the view of all outsiders, Darth Malum was here doing his duty, in service to the Empire and the Emperor, in reality, he was here for his own purpose.

If any wished to claim the valuable cache of Beskar, they would have a hard time with an assassin's blade by their neck.

It was to be his, by right of conquest.

And if any wished to question that right.

They would die.

"Acolytes, it would seem the Moridinizids are close, a true test of your capabilities comes soon," The replica mask of the great Darth Marr loomed, glancing back towards them, a figure in armour that did not belong to him, but did belong to part of him, stood awaiting for their advance.

It seemed the climax of this little heist approached.

Darth Dekaltis Darth Dekaltis Marcus Dinn Marcus Dinn
 

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