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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Sodd-Soll Ha'rangir



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"Hmm," Pomsty curiously observed the exchange between father and son. Her own heritage values family, and their members don't suck so bad that anyone ever needs to be excommunicated from the family.

"Look." The Nightsisters watched the pathetic scene unfold where the Mandalorian expelled his own father. "Sad."


"What a sleemo."

"Yeah."

"Does he think this is just a parlor trick?!"

"Come join us then, pained one," Pomstychtivé beckoned. "Let thy son know that the existence of the Manda is naught but lies," she seethed through gritted teeth, as she called the spirit of Krogg Ha'rangir to her own private entourage through Sorcery, only one of her many skills. In her youth she had walked hand in hand with the Fanged God only to find him lacking, unworthy of worship. She led her Coven past the limits of her elders. She had met with the goddess of the Empyrean…and forgotten her name apparently; no surprise. Seen life begin through Shatter Point, and also pinched the chin of Braxus to witness what lies at the end of eternity. She stirred darkness and managed to form new life out of love. She mapped the Netherworld and learned to manipulate her path through it to venture across the actual galaxy…but nowhere did she ever meet with any creature in all existence that called itself The Manda.


"Witch! I know you are here amongst the living.

Stop hiding behind illusions and deceptions,"


the Mandalorian had chided.

"Witch?" she repeated. "How belittling!" But the Nightsister cares not about any request made by just any man, nor to change who and what she is just to fight like one. She growled and had the coven double down their welding of Necromancy. There are plenty to keep the enemy busy while the Sith hone in on the access to the treasure!

Those citizens who recently met their demise at the hands of the Mandalorians returned to life for an encore performance, no longer ignorant of the presence of their murderers!

The sound of guttural groaning and exasperated screaming fit into the melody of their Incantation like music to their well practiced ears.

 
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Ziggst Aruetii

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The chamber fell into a momentary hush as the opponent before the Mandalorian Alor disregarded and even ridiculed the Declaration of Challenge. It didn't take long for Alor to realize why his opponent refused to engage in a personal battle within the now vacant room.

Their interests lay more in the enigmatic realm of the force rather than the physical aspects. They knew they couldn't match Alor's prowess in such a confrontation, so they resorted to concealing themselves behind masks of deceit and casting dubious spells.

With his armored helmet, his eyes scanned the room, shifting towards the rafters. His opponent was no longer just one person; they had summoned the spirit of Krogg Ha'rangir, a man without a face or identity. The desecration of the deceased would have infuriated him, but his father's name had been wiped clean from the records of Mandalorian History.

There was no excitement in facing someone who relied on cowardice and sorcery, using the souls of innocent civilians to obstruct his pursuit of the Beskar Shipment.


"If the Existence of an Afterlife is in doubt; Witch. Then you disprove your own existence as well; merely a shade sent to test me" Without an afterlife as she had professed, her mere existence in this realm seemed akin to a phantom haunting him.

In their galaxy, ghosts were nonexistent, rendering this apparition insignificant in the Mandalorian's eyes. The guttural groaning and screaming
emanating around him was like a drum; each sound bouncing in and around his helmet as cold eyes scanned the foe in front of him.

"I have entertained your phantoms enough, for I advance." The Alor exclaimed; moving forward in a brisk
Gant towards the citizens blocking him from leaving the room. Clutching the Modern Metal Mythosaur Axe in one hand while the other was firmly on the handle of the Mandalorian Style Electorhammer, as each stroke and strike of the dual weapons carved through the animated spirits like butter. There was no fear behind his eyes only determination to battle.
 




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Thirteen pairs of yellow shimmering eyes gazed back down upon the Mandalorian. They followed him as he walked the corridor, likely in search of the vault entrance door. The shimmering spirit of the damned lifted up and trailed straight to their perch, and finally disappearing within the Nightsister's amulet.


"Does he really not see us?"
"How blind."
"For real?"
"I thought they were better skilled than that."
"This one is jumpy. Maybe that was just the other one whom we had met on numerous occasions."
"He lived by a moral code. We liked him."
"He probably never knew it though."
"That's ok."

As he advanced along the path, the ravens wings suddenly fluttered all, as they leapt off their perch, vanishing into the same vortex her demons had been freed from a moment ago. She didn't have a thirst for victims. She didn't control unwilling spirits; at least not any longer. Carnifex himself reformed her from doing so as she once used to. They are untrustworthy, those without loyalty. Demons, yes, because they would possess the living without remorse at all.

She alone, stepped out of the vortex again elsewhere, her form dark as the forces which gravitate around her of thick black smoke. The twelve remained vigilant behind the veil, as they always do. Pomsty quietly tottered at a distance behind the one who caught her interest. She studied him. She wondered if he comprehends that he himself is also damned. In that case they shall certainly meet again! Damnation doesn't seem to hand out merit badges, but it really isn't a finite placement either. Aspects of her own journey proved that.


 
I Want to Punch Your Throat


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Allies (maybe): Allyson Locke Allyson Locke
Enemies: Darth Dekaltis Darth Dekaltis , Darth Malum of House Marr Darth Malum of House Marr , Marcus Dinn Marcus Dinn
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As Athena's squad rushed through the facility to reinforce the commandos inside, sounds echoed from a room nearby. Gripping the short vibrobladed Adtr'i'dadr in one hand and a blaster carbine in the other, the Mando apprentice turned aside to investigate. The ex-Aruetii soldier skidded to a halt the moment she entered. Inside the large hall were a lot of dead armored bodies... and three figures standing among them. Dark figures.

A flash of assessment, aided by her visor's HUD, revealed that two of them, males (and one of them hulking) conversed. But what seized Athena's immediate attention was the small red-and-white maned, heavily tattooed woman racing towards her with a creepy look of glee in her eyes. She was unarmed but undoubtedly charging to attack. And... what did she say?

"What the feth?! Not today you little f..." A blaster bolt streaked by her from an oblique angle to the charging Sith freak. A snap of the beskad's humming blade caught the next few bolts, deflecting them away. A quick targeting of her visor with the linked carbine and the markswoman squeezed off a shot that blew the blaster to pieces.

A breath later Athena was blinded by a searing white light and flung backwards against a wall. After a few blinks her vision cleared long enough to see the sizzle of electrical arcs snapping between the joints of her armor. Her eyes darted to the woman. Oddly enough, Athena saw similar dancing jolts run along a cybernetic arm of her attacker. She had to move, fast. The HUD of her helment was glitching, but the armor absorbed the lightning and kept her form serious harm. Adrenaline blinded her to any minor pain or injury inflicted. Vaulting to her feet, Athena had no time to assess the damage to her armor.

Athena heard the big redhead yell. The Saxon apprentice Juked to one side. She inteded to use he left vambrace to spew the flamethrower at the woman, and her right to follow up a split second later by the sonic repulsor to push her foe away. The flamethrower sputtered and failed, but the repulsor shot out a blast of sonic force at the freakish Sith.

 
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Location: The battlefield
Objective: Defend
Tag: Alora Vizsla Alora Vizsla Aloy Vizsla Aloy 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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How do you fight a man who doesn't care if he dies?

You put a bullet right between his brain and take the decision out of his hands.

The Saxon Mandalorians fought hard, a few of the berserkers did meet her lines, but their energy was spent and the superior training of the Mandalorian made any other outcome than a breaking wave almost impossible. There were of course places where wait of numbers were enough and a few Mandalorian casualties were unavoidable, but then the waves began to recede and cheers went up amongst Celt's lines. Celt on the other hand was not ready to accept victory, this had been too simple for that, and her suspicions were very quickly confirmed.

Counter battery fire rained in towards her forces, her artillery had been busy in the minutes before so their positions were mostly lit up like lifeday trees, fortunately Celt prioritized mobility and her doctrine encouraged her units for fire and regularly reposition even when on the defence, but fully two thirds of her artillery were obliterated by the returning barrage. <<Be prepared, this might be their main assault!>> she called into her comm as she briefly went airborne herself in order to pick a more forward position. While elevated, she could see the advancing soldiers, they outnumbered her and now they included armour. They moved differently too, advancing whilst covering each other. You could tell a soldier's quality faster by how they moved than how they fought. Celt painted a few firing solutions for her soldiers before dipping back down just as her suit's sensors starting picking up missile locks.

<<How are your forces holding up?>> she asked of both Aloy Vizsla Aloy Vizsla and Alora Vizsla Alora Vizsla . She didnt know who she was speaking to, only that they were allies, were Vizsla and they were bravely fighting along side her, for which she was grateful.

Her remaining artillery opened up again, this time targeting the armoured support that was pounding her lines and making the defensive positions she had established much less tenable as they blew apart emplacements and vod alike. She quickly linked into her forces targetting to try and find a solution. <<Team eight, link up with me, I want to tray push back these vehicles - specialist forces, please deploy chemical artillery at my authorisation.>> The next rockets to strike the oncoming enemy were something special. They would explode and their fragmentation warheads would shower a wide area with small sharpened pieces of shrapnel, a nicked hose hear, a cracked visor torn undersuits, only minor damage to all but the closest foes. But then the secondary warhead would release nerve gas and those small chinks in the armour would suddenly become a death sentence as the gas penetrated skin and started causing neuropathic shock on its foes. "Lets do this" she said to the team of five commandos that had joined her postion as she moved to intercept the heavy tanks.

 

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As Lady Pentoghast walked up, Kimora let out a soft sigh. "Nothing from me, Lady Pentoghast. Shall we proceed?"

Kimora walked up to a door and pressed a button adjacent to it. The door slid open, revealing a room with several of the artisans of the planet. Kimora walked in, hoping the Lady Pentoghast would follow. Kimora looked through the group as they were conversing amongst themselves with drinks in hand. It was an odd grouping. Species of all kind were among the smiths there.

"Greetings, master craftsmen. My name is Kim. With me is Lady Pentoghast. I would like to thank you all for coming. You were all selected because of your predisposition towards The Empire and it certainly appreciates your loyalty. I would like to discuss ways of convincing your brethren the same. You all have your own power and influence and the Empire will gladly facilitate your growth in the best way we see fit. Now, if you all would follow me. I will guide you to the transport that will take you all to the new site for the Imperial Artisan's Guild of Jutrand."

This was only the intial group that SIFIA was able to gather. The next objective was the nearby gathering.


 
Valerian was alone for a long time, longer than he'd expected to be, far longer than he'd wanted to be. Minutes it may have been but in a battle a few minutes could make the difference between victory and defeat, life and death; these were minutes that he couldn't spare, not stalking through corridors, hunting for a vault like a thief in the night. Truth be told he'd have rather been with his brothers and sisters on the front lines, where it was all straightforward, simple as can be, besides, an alor's place was with his clan, leading them, ensuring that they were in good hands. But this was just too important, far beyond what he could've entrusted to one of his alor'aads, he needed the beskar found, and many of his fellow mando'ade lacked the finesse required for a mission such as this.

The sounds of battle grew more intense, and again he wished that things would be far easier than this. But easy made for soft men, and Mando'ade were not permitted to be soft.

His pace increased as the grip on his blaster tightened, and the man's anxiety spiked as a feeling of unease settled over him. There was naught but him in this corridor, and for some reason that set him on edge. There should've been someone, anyone here to meet him, offer some resistance before he got close to the prize that resided on Maar'Shaddam; but here he was, alone with only an eerie silence to keep him company. Normally he would've kept going, ignoring the cautions that filled his mind, but something keep nagging at him, eating away at his nerves.

Eventually the Mandalorian gave in, stopping and sweeping the space with all the manner of spectrum vision offered by his HUD. It came away nothing, and Valerian sighed as he cursed himself for his needless paranoia, wondering if the stakes had gotten to him, set his nerves alight with fear and dread. Then he felt a sharp tug in his gut, familiar almost, like when he utilized the Force; but it was different, urgent almost, and the anxiety he'd been feeling spiked until adrenaline flooded his body, and the Mandalorian turned around in time to catch a glimpse of something speed past his helmet with a fwip. He'd narrowly avoided it by throwing himself back against a wall, hitting the barrier with a hard thud. He heard an impact somewhere behind him, but ignored it, turning his attention to the nothing that had seemingly attacked him out of no where.

"Karkin'-" His scanners read nothing, telling him that he was alone with only the Maker for company, but Valerian could feel the immense danger that he wa in, and frantically waved his blaster around as he stepped backward, searching for a target, and finding none instead offered several bursts of yellow plasma in the general direction of wherever he thought the shot had come from. It took far too long for his mind to register that a cloaking system was in effect, and the man silently cursed himself as he pointed his gauntlet and launched a smoke grenade, hoping to use the concealment to buy time to regain his footing.

Lucia Naberrie Lucia Naberrie
 
Heart Breaker and Life Taker
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"Homelander" Mythosaur Heavy Armor

"Shut up Sith!" Hilal stepped over her unconscious clanmate. "You won't be able to tempt me! I've undertaken mental training to deal with your trickery." And the trickery of the stinking Jedi as well, Hilal had a lot of success being able to resist the mind tricks of Force users though she wasn't sure if she could handle more advanced illusions.

Just then, alarms started to blare in Hilal's suit. Her HUD showed a black smoke of an unknown substance attempted to infiltrate her armor. "What is this?!" Hilal gritted taking a step back and pointing her twin wrist projectile cannons at the Sith.

"Close off all seals!" Hilal shouted before she unleashed a flurry of blaster bolts towards the Sith Lord. "YOU'RE NOT GOING TO CONTROL ME!" She roared at the warrior.

Annika Starfire Annika Starfire
 

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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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The dark smoke would continue to coil, reaching into the seam between Hilal's chest and head armour, trying to constrict like a rope before abruptly dissipating as the rounds distracted the witch and she ducked behind the forge. The thick metal caused sparks as the rounds hit against it.

"Control you? A mando is basically a droid with extra steps, where would be the fun that?"

Before Hilal Vizsla Hilal Vizsla rounded the corner, Annika stepped backwards through an inky portal that she had opened, stepping out into the opposite side of the room and returning fire with her own Heartstriker pistol a burst of three shots in particle beam mode right toward the back of the unsuspecting mandalorian, if they hit the explosive force would be a concern even for the armoured warrior, but if they missed the forge might be at risk, but Annika had no reason to care about rupturing the forge, she had her gift from the adorable forger.

"Oooh, I like this gun!" she would have to send her regards to the customised that put it together for her. But perhaps after she had dealt with the mindless automaton in front of her.


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Allies: Darth Malum of House Marr Darth Malum of House Marr Marcus Dinn Marcus Dinn
Enemies: Allyson Locke Allyson Locke Athena Saxon Athena Saxon

"Dekaltis, they're trying to sabotage your cybernetics!"

Everything happened so fast. First the sonic blast, then she felt her arm...glitch. She had to fight it. She had to fight them. She had to fight everyone...

A grin grew on her face. A grin of wicked intention. A grin of psychotic glee.

She pushed back against the intruding technomancer. Her arm reset, the photographic memory of the strange girl reconfiguring the arm as she deftly backflip cartwheeled, the cybernetics in her ears simply canceling out the noise by shutting off. What she didn't see was where the technomancer was, and now her arm wasn't responding the way she wanted it to. "Master Malma! There's someone out there trying to BULLY ME!" She called to her friends, her tone never breaking that demented, yet aloof tone. This was just a video game, after all....right?

Right. She needed to retaliate. Hurt the poor Morinidizid that was trying to hurt her. Twin sabers shot from her side, the girl never touching them, instead them just floating and igniting, before connecting into a saber staff. The saber twirled in a vivid display, before Dekaltis finally grabbed it, and threw it at Athena Saxon Athena Saxon with a twirl, the whole saberstaff spinning incredibly fast as it slashed up the ground under it as it went in Athena's direction.
 
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Tag: Kimora Min Kimora Min

"We shall agent min ill let you take the lead" Astrid stated as she followed agent min in to the room. As she looked over the smith's who wanted to join the collection of them all from different races who wanted to join the sith or wanted safe passage given the attack the sith was performing on the planet and dealing with nearby problems. As she let Kimora speak her mind Astrid nodded as she walked stood there silently for the moment watching and waiting for something to happen be she bowed. As she was introduced to the group Astrid discreetly read their Minds as Kimora spoke figuring out ways to gain the trust of those artisans who weren't here for the empire but also for her own benefit.

Just one of the artisans here could teach others the ways of their craft and would be of great benefit to any group but she was getting ahead of herself "if you would follow us we can get underway and don't be afraid to come to us if you have any information that would be useful to gaining the support of your Colleagues" she said as she followed Kimora's lead to the shuttle.
 

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"If I may speak, Lady Pentoghast. I think this is going well."

The elevator that took Kimora, Astrid, and the Sith-aligned smiths had reached the spaceport. The doors opened and Kimora stepped out, followed by the smiths. "Communications are going off on the other present situations. Things are looking bloody. I'm glad I'm on this side of the fighting."

They approached the luxury transport ship that awaited the smiths and they all boarded. Kimora turned back to Astrid before they continued on. "Lady Pentoghast. Do you have any suggestions on how we proceed? I am eager to see your point of view in all of this."

 
I Want to Punch Your Throat


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Allies (maybe): Allyson Locke Allyson Locke
Enemies: Darth Dekaltis Darth Dekaltis , Darth Malum of House Marr Darth Malum of House Marr , Marcus Dinn Marcus Dinn
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Athena watched in frustration as the agile, strange little Sith woman practically danced away with her creepy grin. The Korun huffed in frustration under her helmet. Two of Athena's allies arrived behind her. One moved left and the other right, opening fire on the Sith trio before them. Athena too raised the blaster in her left hand, but held her fire as she watched the two floating lighsabers before the tattooed sith ignite and then unite into a double ended staff. It began to twirl rapidly and the Mandalorian apprentice knew she was in trouble.

"Feth!" Athena gasped at the terrifying sight. She instantly crouched slightly adn raised the beskad blade. Then the whirling blades spun towards her with horrifying speed. Athena raised the beskar vibroblade to block the weapons as she ducked and rolled. While her weapon deflected what would have been a decapitationg blow, the light blade slid along her right vambrace, damage the gauntlet. She could feel the heat through the blackened durasteel. Both of her vambrace and the weapons therein were most likely compromised.

At the end of her roll Athena was on her feet, crouching deeply, the carbine in her off hand firing a barrage of blaster bolts at her Sith nemesis. The armored warrior's left gauntlet raised in hopes it was not totally destroyed. A grenade successfully fired from the mini-launcher towards the freakish darksider. Her head swung around, looking for that damned spinning Sith weapon.

 
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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 )
Direct Engagement: Alora Vizsla Alora Vizsla

UX-0626’s skyward maneuver had allowed her to evade the wrath of the Mandalorian’s disruptor bolts. Unfortunately, it had unwittingly exposed the strand-cast to another danger—missiles. Right on cue, lock-threat alerts prodded at her awareness through the neural interface, warning her that she was being scanned in an effort to acquire a lock. Her first thought was whistling birds or a wrist rocket, but that line of thinking was quickly dispelled when she registered that the signals weren’t coming from the Mandalorian, but from high above.

A starship, then. It meant that a starship-grade missile was likely headed straight for her. A missile intended to kill starfighters committed towards a target that was many, many times smaller and thus, significantly weaker. The possibility of being struck by such a weapon was an unsurvivable circumstance for any soldier, no matter how heavy, robust, or advanced their armor.

In spite of the imminent danger, UX-0626 didn’t immediately shift her focus away from the Mandalorian. With snappy, surgical precision, she leveled her heavy pistol towards the jet trooper’s helmet-clad skull and squeezed down on the trigger. Immediately, a single 12.7mm armor piercing slug exploded out from the barrel, subsequently followed by another that was fired less than a half-second after the first. Both were delivered as headshots, each fired roughly 20 meters away from their intended target. It was well within her weapon’s effective range, but the strand-cast was prepared for the possibility that they wouldn’t outright kill. In that case, she hoped that they would at least serve to daze and concuss the woman under the armor.

As soon as the slugs were fired, UX-0626 roused her armor’s stealth systems from their inactive state with a quick neural command. In particular, the dedicated energy receptor projector was called into operation, the system acting quickly to block and absorb the incoming sensor pings. However, the strand-cast wasn’t satisfied with that measure alone. At the same time, she pulled a flash grenade from her belt, flicked the pin, and heaved it skyward, in the rough direction of the incoming pings. A makeshift flare intended to confuse the missile and possibly draw its attention.

With that, she could only pray that her efforts would be enough to save her life.


 
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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 didn’t hesitate. The gynoid was prepared to fire a second time, having already racked the pump of her shotgun after her first shot. However, before she could do so again she was compelled to take cover behind the wall after seeing the Mandalorian level his blaster towards her general direction. Not wanting to risk being struck, Lucia swiftly fell back, doing so just as a salvo of angry yellow bolts raced by her head.

Just after the bolts fell silent, Lucia stalked out from behind cover and into the main corridor proper while still shrouded within the miasma of her concealment system, shotgun leveled up against her cheek as she did. At the same time, smoke began to consume the area, at which point the gynoid switched her photoreceptors to thermal mode, allowing her hyperacute, synthetic gaze to cut through the haze.

That was when she attacked again.

The synthetic assassin locked onto the Mandalorian with nothing short of lethal intent as she squeezed the trigger of her shotgun. With it, another 4-gauge armor piercing incendiary slug blasted out from the barrel, aimed to strike her target’s upper chest from 20 meters away.

Immediately after firing, Lucia dropped her technological shroud before suddenly emerging back into visibility (though the smoke likely still concealed her from view), revealing a short-statured, bodysuit-clad form that seemed far too small to be capable of hefting such a massive weapon. In that, beneath the unreadable mask of her face-obscuring sensor goggles, a ruthless gaze was honed in on the Mandalorian with nothing short of murderous intent.


 
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Tag: Kimora Min Kimora Min

Astrid walked with kimora "That's what worries me agent min things are going well" Astrid said cautiously standing there in the elevator her senses where on alert incase of a danger that may never come.

As Kimora notified her about the other battlefields astrid thought about it her talents would have been more useful out there not here escorting smiths. But that was what she was assigned so she did it even unwillingly.

As they approached the luxury ship Astrid turned to kimora "after these people are loaded onto the ship we go talk to their compatriots and get them to join aswell unless you have something else in mind" she asked
 

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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 , Celt Saxon Celt Saxon , UX-0626 UX-0626 , Alora Vizsla Alora Vizsla


The Chaos Pact was no stranger to a good old-fashioned artillery duel. Herodor’s surface was forever scarred by shell craters and ruined bastions. Yet they never expected the speed of the incoming cruise missile that caught them in the middle of hitching up their gun pieces to their transports. Screening troops carrying MANPADs in anticipation of a Mandalorian raid made a noble if futile attempt to shoot down the incoming missile.

The cruise missile directly struck a speeder truck packed with shells. The resulting detonation atomized nearly seventy artillerymen instantly. Flaming metal fell from the sky like burning petals. But it wasn’t the death of the artillerymen that bit the hardest for they were replaceable. What wasn’t was the captured Carreras G51 communications array that the battery had been using to hone in on their fire. Until a replacement could be brought in they would just be firing blind.



"Come on you dogs!" The Astdevim Company Commander hollered to his men as blaster bolts whizzed barely inches past him, "Your Warmaster needs you, troopers forward!"

The blaster fire they were facing was absurd. Even with bounding and covering fire, the riflemen of the 82nd were still enduring heavy casualties but endure they would. Some men hauled up the bodies of their dead and dying comrades to use as literal meat shields as they advanced, muttering prayers of thanks. Every step into that torrent felt like they were clambering up a steep hill.

Direct strikes from the heavy repeaters sent men flying as if an invisible rope around their waist had turned taunt. Men were there one moment and ceased to exist in any form but ash the next thanks to disruptor fire.

The Mors Ferro Heavy Battle tanks moved closer to both provide physical cover to the infantry that had fallen behind and get a better shot on the Mandalorian battle positions. Inside the steel beasts, it was chaos, the auto-loaders screamed as they slammed 200-kilogram shells into the smoking breech and commanders shrieked at the top of their lungs new targets for the gunners. Celt Saxon Celt Saxon 's artillery barely made a difference in noise levels as shells now began to bracket the breakthrough tanks. Infantry that had been taking cover next to them scattered or died.

Inch by inch, meter by meter, death by death, they got closer. Close enough for the Pioneers to come forward. As specialized engineering assault troops, they wore much heavier armor than their compatriots, enough to deflect most blaster fire but not thermal detonators and grav-charges of Aloy Vizsla Aloy Vizsla . Body parts and burning metal chunks were sent sky-high. Yet they endured with several dozen getting close enough to lob demolition packs and bundle grenades before perishing. Flamethrowers spewed napalm and choking black smoke in an attempt to create a smoke and heat screen for advancing troops.

A resounding bellow came from the Pact lines at the sight of this and the entire frontline surged forward. Soldiers placed away their rifles for wire-wrapped clubs, curved sabers, and humming vibro-scythes. They came forth to finally crush the Mandalorians like a tidal wave smashing a sand castle but at the last possible moment were thrown back as if they had struck a lagoon wall.

Fragmentation warheads detonated over their heads in a spray of miniature steel. Many stumbled but quickly righted themselves, laughing at the pathetic Mandalorian attempt to stop them. Then the nerve gas came in. It didn’t matter, chemical warfare had been the norm during their planet’s brutal unification, until they realized that their gas masks and fume hoods had all been punctured.

Then they began screaming. At least until their throats swelled shut until their lungs were filled with their own acid bile, until their spines shattered as they collapsed into seizures. In mere seconds the line had been shattered as ground officers that had somehow survived ordered a retreat. They were not the raving and expendable Redeemers, to continue onward would be pointless and wasteful.

The Mors Ferro battle tanks accelerated forward to try to cover the withdrawal but in doing so suddenly found themselves overextended and without infantry support, leaving them vulnerable to the Celt Saxon Celt Saxon striking team.

“Sir, they’ve taken heavy losses,” Sephuneuth said, “Reports indicate up to four hundred casualties.”

“They’ve done their purpose.” Commander Enoch squinted. “They’ve bought us the time we needed. Reinforce them with five companies. I want them to regroup and resume the attack in the next half hour. Leave the wounded behind if need be”



About a kilometer to the west, the right of the Pact line, there was a line of ridges and mountains that could serve as an overwatch position for several platoons against the defenses near the Mandalorian bunker. But the approach was so treacherous, made up of wind-swept razor-jagged rocks and sheer cliffs, that it was far more than reasonable that no significant force could be brought up to that ridgeline.

Unless of course, your enemy had voidborne capabilities. About thirty AAL-1971/9.1 Troop Transport braved missiles and flak fire as they hugged the ground as close as possible and fanatical pilots made insane evasive maneuvers. Yet despite this, they suffered horrific losses. Some melted like falling snowflakes in sudden sunlight and some blew out in noisy, brittle flashes and pelted the mountains with metal hail. Some fell into the white snow banks, trailing plaintive smoke, or buried themselves like tracer rounds in the sheer rockfaces.

Four hundred Pact troopers died without ever seeing their enemy.

Lives were valuable to the Chaos Pact but with their value came acceptance for their expenditure.

But some twelve-odd landers managed to make it to the ridgeline. Nearly every single transport they brought up was heavily damaged and had to make emergency crash landings. Rushing from dropped ramps or hastily pried exit holes, Two hundred Pact troopers quickly rushed out to set up heavy weapons and deploy sniper teams. At once they began pouring down shoulder-launched missiles, heavy repeater fire, and light mountain guns sending high-explosive shells right on the Mandalorian positions.

However, their position overall was isolated even if dolling out withering fire and well dug in against counter-battery fire, practically begging for a Mandalorian counter-attack to slaughter them.

And that was the purpose because a single transport, a heavily armored Katarn-class shuttle, had survived the flak intact and deployed slightly behind the other transports. Locked into the crash cages, the fifteen figures sat unmoving despite the barrage that their transport had endured. There were only fifteen because that was what was left of the Wolfpack, worn down after uncountable battles to leave only these few. But that was the way it was supposed to be for none could replace the lost. Nobody could ever replace their brothers and sisters.

They were clad in near-black Wolfsbane armor with silver finishes on the edges. Armor plates were strapped onto the front forearms and legs. Drapes of ammo belts and munition pouches secured on black nylon webbing across their chest. The chest plates themselves were thick, and weighty, with the Holy Emblem of Chaos etched upon their pectorals in dulled-down gold. Most notable of all were their iron grotesque masks, carved expertly by the most elite masons of the Pact. They all bore the very same hooked nose, steel tears dripping down unmoving cheeks, and a wide sneer that seemed to stretch from ear to ear. Their empty eyes glowed a fierce crimson, the color of blood.

The ramp opened and wordlessly the fifteen unlocked their cages and stepped out into the winter wastes. Whirring and clanking noises emitted from them as servos in their limbs assisted them in managing the heavy weight of their gear.

<<We will die here>> one of them spoke, voicebox squawking a garish genderless tone. <<I can feel it in my bones. This planet will be our grave.>>

<<Then let us make this our Mount Etna.>>


They took up positions just out of sight of the main force on the ridgeline. They made last-minute checks on their heavy weapons before powering down their Wolfsbane Heavy Armor to hide their signature from the Mandalorians.

The Death Brigadiers waited for their prey to make the first move.



The Chaos Pact had the numbers and Enoch would not waste his men in mere frontal attacks. As the frontal attack on the bunker began in earnest and enfilading fire rained down from the ridgeline, he deployed his left hook. It was vast open ground with only a few snow banks breaking up the approach to the left flank of the bunker.

But Pathfinders deployed several hours beforehand that the snow was packed, thick enough to support medium armor.

Forty TT-37 Landspeeder Transports raced as fast as they could over the open. The land speeders had been stripped down to the bare minimum for speed and to accommodate the two squads of mounted infantry that each carried. It was a treacherous job as soldiers had to hold onto the railings lest a single bump send them flying off. Not to mention the lack of any cover at all. Those already killed by incoming fire had their corpses shifted to the front to be used as shields for the rest.

Escorting the land speeders were four repulsor kill teams, each composed of a pair of T2-B Repulsor Tanks, that tried to suppress the Mandalorian positions with their quad light blaster cannons. But their gun stabilizers had been eroded over decades of continuous use and lack of spare parts so while the fire was withering, it was largely inaccurate. However, the volume has an accuracy of its own.

The speeders aimed to practically ram into the Mandalorian lines to negate the power of their chemical artillery and render their firepower moot unless they were suicidal to fire on their troops. And if they had the will, Enoch was far more than willing to pay the price. Ten of his Pact troopers for the corpse of the Mandalorian was an acceptable trade in his eyes



Enoch knew the next few moments would be decisive. Would his frontal attack have distracted the Mandalorians long enough for his flanking attack to breach their lines? Would their commandos bite on the bait he had put on the ridgeline? If everything he had bet on failed, he would be forced into a long-term attritional battle. Nothing he was a stranger to but he was on a timetable. The Warmaster had selected him personally to rapidly seize the bunker complex…

He would not fail.



The frontal assault is broken and forced to retreat and regroup. However, in the retreat, the Mors Ferro Heavy Battle tanks have left themselves overextended and with minimal infantry support. A landing force is planted on a ridgeline that has a firing arc on the Mandalorian positions however this ridgeline is very vulnerable to Mandalorian counter-attack, however, Fifteen Elite Death Brigadiers have hidden themselves and prepared an ambush. At the same line, a flanking attack of nearly 800 men is made with fast speeders and repluso-tanks to breach the Mandalorian lines.
 
I thought so,” he said with a nod.​

Did he? In his experience, most who asked genuine questions did not know the answer themselves. Such was the point of asking the question after all, and it certainly had not been rhetorical.

Still, he let it pass, there would be nothing to gain from calling him out for attempting to be perceived as more knowledgeable than he was, Bogan knew he had been the same. Yet, he knew someway, he would need to break the Dinn from the habit, the only way to truly learn was to know that you knew little, and be willing to take instruction from one who knew more.

But that could come in time, and Marcus had already proved himself one that knew when to listen, and when to learn.

Perhaps more importantly, his gaze flicked to the emergence of further Moridinizids.


"Of course Master Malma!" She spoke as sweet as sugar, and yet there was a sharpness to her voice, as she ran straight ahead towards the target.

"HEY! MORIDINIZID! WILL YOU PLEASE DIE FOR ME?!"

...He could only blink, as his gaze for a moment flicked towards his advancing apprentice.

Yes, to call her eccentric would certainly be accurate. A new nickname he would need to get used to then, for denying her it, might be far more effort than it was worth.

Or perhaps that would be a discussion to have at a later date when the threats to their lives were eliminated.

Even if he for some reason that he could not place, found the nickname... strangely endearing.

Well, that was at least one apprentice sorted, so now, as his eyes shifted towards the other, what would Marcus Dinn do?


Dekaltis, they're trying to sabotage your cybernetics!”​

He might have been proud. Well, he undeniably was, but he might have expressed that pride if his attention, did not follow where Dinn had directed. If, with the declaration, his mind shifted rapidly to where it arguably should have been at the very beginning, a mind, ready for battle.

Unfortunately, as best as he could tell, the Moridinizids had nothing to do with his apprentice's suddenly flickering cybernetics.

And that flickering, reminded him of someone quite peculiar.

A Mechu-Deruist of enough skill and calibre, to be able to affect Dekaltis, whose abilities he had seen firsthand so many times, and which he knew was far greater than most.

He willed the Force to his form, concentrating, bending the energy about him, darkness coursing through his veins, as inky invisible tendrils suddenly shouted out of him, Consume Essence, coursed through the entire building, picking up the life's battling across the structure, picking up his acolytes in the room, and the Moridinizids entering.

And something empty.

Something which the Force could not touch.

Something whose emptiness held a vague familiarity.

...

Directly above them.

He coalesced the darkside energies around them, their make chaotic, their form unclear, but within seconds, three spears of midnight black were formed, and only moments later.

They were loosed.

As an orange glimmer appeared over his eyes, an unconscious excitement battling with a grim determination, over who this might be.

Allyson Locke Allyson Locke Marcus Dinn Marcus Dinn Darth Dekaltis Darth Dekaltis Athena Saxon Athena Saxon
 
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