In the hands of a master alchemist rested a disruptor rifle. With keen, Sith-tainted eyes, he studied the weapon, checking it over for signs of wear and tear.
"Tell me where you got this," he commanded.
Mirus Hi'ija, descendant of Petra Cavataio, considered the options laid out before him. he had come here to sow discord in the name of science, to distract the planet's leadership and then unleash hell on a fractured world already practically bent on rebellion. Unfortunately, those damn pesky Mandalorians had shown up. Now, the funny thing was, the Witches of Dathomir were aligned with the Mandalorians - now, however, he was not a representative of his homeworld, but as a Sith. He was, true to form, a Sith in its darkest nature, a twisted monster bent on testing out his new creations here on this world. He could have easily just left the planet and tried something else, but no.
One of his acolytes, the one who had snuck through the Mandalorian camp - black-cloak, red trim. The usual. "We acquired it from their stores, Master. They are woefully under-prepared for an assault."
Darth Kurloz nodded his head, knowing that it was time to begin the second phase of his plan. His people were here, their supplies ready, their ship unloaded.
"Send in the droids. Test them."
On the plus side, we know where Rena's missing gun went.
At the camp of Ka-Dur-Lor, there was a slow whine in the distance that grew suddenly very loud, very quickly. It was a loud whine of repulsorlifts, heralding the arrival of something that they did not know about on this planet. For those who were veterans in the war against the Sith Empire, the sleep, raked-back shape of the approaching transport would be familiar to them - an old Hovering Armored Droid Carrier, on course for the camp itself.
Then it stopped dead in its tracks, completely silent - before its ramps opened and stopped. Like an endless tide, from its insides, spilled - group by group - about fifty total battle droids, waves of five or six or so.
They were little more than scrap - old T1 battle droids
, armed with little more than aging blaster rifles, but they'd get the job done. As they disembarked their transport, they began to march on the encampment, firing wildly through the gates, hoping to cut something or someone down with their random blasts. Their twin red photoreceptors cast a fearsome sight, an uncaring pair of vertical eyes stacked, searching through the new dust-storm that kicked up in their wake.
The Mandalorians would find themselves needing to defend their encampment from the incoming unknown raiders.