Dominion Broken Steel | Reclamation of Mandalore & Concordia | NIO

[Djonas Val]

CONCORDIA | OBJ 1
Hans Rennagen

With every speck of life that blinked out of existence with each passing moment, Djonas felt less and less. The loss of life of those that he had alive and well just minutes ago. The boy that had once been a Jedi still thought it felt surreal. But the Knight had become accustomed.

Concordia's battlefield was wrought with death, of both friend and foe. The frost had no effect on his plates of armour, but the flecks of snow that found their way onto his eyelashes, just to melt, gave a spectacle of glimmering light to his otherwise unenthusiastic features.

Stood upon a haphazard cluster of corpses, the Knight looked out ahead to the vanguard of shield-bearing Imperial Knights. A slow bob of of his head gradually transformed into a shake as the line of Knights marched ahead into the smog that crept along the battlefield. Stepping down from his heap of corpses, Djonas looked about to those around him.

The main bulk of the Knight's front was made up of fewer Knights, and more stormtroopers that hailed from the berth of the third battlegroup of Victrix with support from various legions. No strangers to the blood caked fields of battle, his gaze landed on one of the commanders of the siege camp.

It was then that pain sang its sorrowful song through the Force, and his gaze snapped back to the creeping fog. Across the empty battlefield, save for those Sith and Imperials that still yet clung to life, the sounds of battle once more reached his ears. And soon after, it was Hans Rennagen 's voice that sounded within his earpiece.

"Commander," the Knight said. "Fire HE shells on their last observed position." Squinting, he turned to eye the lines of dug in stormtroopers and the equipment behind them. "Do not stop until I return."

Assortments of vehicles and artillery were present, waiting for use. While the trek up the side of the mountain was certain to be filled with inevitable casualties, the open spaces were destined to be rendered unrecognizable by the raining artillery fire that'd light up the fog and the monstrous creatures that hid within.

Finding another Knight in his line of sight,

"Prepare the bikes."

 

[IVI]

TRIUMVIRATE
THE DIRECTOR
BYOO | CORUSCANT | SIA HEADQUARTERS
Aerarii Tithe
YOU WANT IT DARKER

“Out of?” M repeated, leaning back in her seat and reducing the pressure to either side of her head. Her expression of frustration had only been a fraction of an instant, before it was replaced once again by her cool, listless façade.

Only a brief twist of her lip line indicated she might have had a further thought, but nevertheless she made a few gestures over a holo keyboard, requesting analyst access and receiving it almost immediately. For the most part, Starbird clearance wasn’t necessary for flight logs in and out of Coruscant. They were largely public, save for privately marked vessels. On a galactic scale though, a little tighter security was required given the implications of having such information available at her fingertips. Agents even in the outer rim, doing menial maintenance jobs placed on random space stations, were still diligent.

Probably four, or five hundred ships travelled through the Daragon Trail in a given day. With a couple days on either side of the one-week mark, and that was maybe a thousand or so ins and outs. Most traffic at any ports would be local. Ships flown by prospectors of short-hop couriers.

Even still, that was a high number, so she passed in a request to cut the sample size into buckets: Local traffic, major factions, individual registrations and even further by hyperdrive size based on the registered ships. This took the numbers down by, conservatively, three quarters, and they were back into the initial range of a thousand suspect outbound flights.

Making a thoughtful sound at the roof of her mouth, she leaned into the data subset that was being refined through an analyst somewhere on the eight floor. Without making too much suggestion, she pulled the files and enlarged them on the shared screen that projected between herself and the Vice Chancellor. Columns of ship names, and their associated owner and origin of driveyard were categorized into neat columns. Major factions, individually owned, corporate, and unknown.

Amidst all of the individually marked ships, registrations of all sorts of domains, there were some Empire scouts snooping along the borders of Concordia and Zanbar. The Empire wasn’t relinquishing their hold on the vacuum.

“See anything that piques your interest here?”

---

---

​

 

[Rika Hiro]

D O _ H R D S _ D R E A M _ O F _ E L E C T R I C _ S H E E P
LADY_SILENCE_
COMPNOR

"Mr Harrsk."
​

A deceptively harmless but familiar voice rang out in the cold confines of the corridor outside. The only other noise the light pitter-patter of heels against durasteel flooring as the HRD drew ever closer, the same blank face drawn on the Atrisian as she entered the interrogation room and sat opposite Commissioner Harrsk. The pair had always had a history in the agency, going back to when her kind was first put out into active service as she was one of the first of the batch to be put out into the field. Of the original one hundred HRDs initially produced as a part of the first batch, only forty-three remained in active service for COMPNOR. The rest were either destroyed in the line of work or decommissioned when parts were deemed irreparable or their service to the state considered to be no longer required. She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at the test kit to Harrsks side; Asa watched silently as the Tetan male lit another cigarra up, those strong, scarred fingers gently cradling it. Smoke curled up slightly in small ways, obscuring the commissioners face ever so subtly.

"What is the intended purpose of this meeting."

Jaeger Harrsk ​

 

[Aerarii Tithe]

LOCATION: SIA Headquarters, Coruscant
OBJECTIVE: BYOO
ALLIES: IVI

The Vice Chancellor leaned forward in his seat to study the list of vessels produced by the SIA analysts. As was the case for all Aargauuns, pattern recognition had been a pillar of his education. His people knew the value of being able to see opportunities where others only saw realms of confusing numbers and data. While shipping data was a far cry from financial reporting, the approach was the same.

“May I?” Tithe leaned forward and typed out a request for additional analysis. He leaned back and waited for the results to come through.

Updated figures began to appear on the holoterminal. “Ah yes, now here we go.” Extra columns of figures were added to the list of vessels, outlining the amount of fuel vessels of that class normally held, the amount of fuel they’d requested at Mandalore, the distance of their next port of call, the amount of fuel they’d requested at the next port of call, and their cargo capacity. A simple equation calculated the likely weight of the ship's cargo based on their fuel burn between Mandalore and their next layover.

A few of the ships had burnt the right amount of fuel to be carrying to cargo hold full of beskar, but even if all these ships had been hauling the precious metal, it wouldn’t be enough to keep the market stable. Prices and demand should have been through the roof in light of the New Imperial Order’s occupation of the planet.

Maybe it was a question of demand rather than supply?

“Have the Mandalorian Clans responded to the NIO overtures?” he asked the enigmatic SIA director. “Capitulation is not a trait they are renowned for.”

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

I
GALIDRAANI FREE-STATE

Objective 3 - PACT TO KILL

MANDALORE SECTOR,
ABOARD THE NIV TREGESSAR

Key Speakers: Irveric Tavlar Willan Tal Halketh Enlil Caarlyle Rausgeber Onansi of Thyrsus
Dorin Nalju Julius Haskler

Captain Pencin was just making his way from the temporary Free-State living quarters to the Grand Assembly conference-hall, fixing the collar on his number-two officer's coat without a care in the world when Lord Erskine tried his best to walk past him by hiding in plain sight, something that would've been all too easy for the minor Northern-Galidraani aristocrat, ever known for his keen observational skills. A regular officer walking towards the escape-pods would've been seen as suspicious on the most innocuous of occasions, let alone in times of war and conquest, so the sight of the Lord-Protector's perennial warfighter immediately set proverbial alarm-bells ringing inside his skull like never before.

'Oh no you don't!', Pencin exclaimed as he began giving a brisk powerwalking pursuit, lashed into action like the old drillmaster was torturing him into competence all over again. Picking up to jogging pace, the Lord-Captain asked,'Now where the hell d'you think you're going without protective equipment? I know you're not dumb enough to try escaping to the surface, you've prepared nothing and mobilized no-one for your sudden urge to deploy on a planet you know nothing about!', whilst trying to grab a Brigadier-General who was notoriously-difficult to subdue and detain. In that moment, Pencin realized how difficult his task would be, and gave in to the idea of calling it in,'Pencin to Blue-Heart Bravo! Your bearded Woad's lost it, get down to the transport-bay entrance immediately!'

'KARK OFF, PENCIN!!! WHAT ARE YOU, MY NANNY?!?!?!?!'

Two Prefsbelt-Command guards were standing watch over the transport bay entrance, but when they'd spotted the approaching scene in the distance, all statuesque behaviours were dropped in an attempt to intercept the Galidraani officers who were sprinting by the time the guards bounded out to stop them. They were sadly unprepared for the kind of Woad they were trying to stop, as Barran would push them back towards the doorway, (even with Pencin and the two guards latching onto the Lord-Commander) kicking off attempts to trip him up as his unbridled anger alone sent all four of them careening into the towering doors to the transport-bay. Shouting out with irritation of his own, Pencin slammed his head into the Lord-Commander's own and exclaimed,'IF YOUR NANNY DID HER KARKING JOB, WE WOULDN'T BE IN THIS SITUATION!!!! BEHAVE YOURSELF, MAN!!!!'

'Pencin, you've gained my respect - but you're absolutely karked in the head if you think it stops me from dropping on Mandalore solo! NOW GET YER HANDS OFF ME!!!! I DO NOT WISH TO BE BORED TO DEATH - well, NOT LIKE THAT ANYWAY!!!', Erskine snapped back, as fiery as ever, but taking to a well-humoured attitude near the end. Though the Brigadier-General wasn't laughing, it was delivered well enough for his three,'Damned Hall-Monitors!', to notice and chortle at the ridiculousness of their situation. Barran would join the laughter eventually, but still resolute in his urge to get onto the surface of the Mandalorian warfront, and would continue laughing until the recognisably Tuath-sounding accent of his second-in-command rang out from down the hall.

'This isn't Sandhurst, or Faslane for that matter! BUT WE STILL BEHAVE OURSELVES HERE, MILORD!!!!'
​

​

 

[Seydou of Thyrsus]

Objective IV | BYOO | ON THE TRAIL OF Maynard Treicolt & Loske Treicolt

Bright2
​

Amon yanked his former comrade by the collar, pulling him half-way over the counter.

"You deserted on Ziost, you coward!"

"I did not!" Ulahn replied, his head slammed on the counter, "O-okay, I did but what's the damn difference, Vizsla?!" he freed himself from the Mandalorian's grasp and adjusted his shirt.

"What's the difference?! You never leave your brothers-in-arms in battle!" Amon growled, the itch to pull out the darksaber and plunge it through the former lieutenant's heart made his hand twitch. "And for what? To be a bartender in a ghost town?"

"What was I supposed to do? We was gettin' court martialed for disobeying the Chancellor's orders. It was either a caged piss hole or just...a piss hole."

"You don't kriffin abandon your comrades' back, you stand till the very end--"

"So why didn't Treicolt, huh?!"

The Mandalorian said nothing. The question sent him on the backfoot from all the virtue signalling.

"Exactly. And we followed that man to the bitter end, Vizsla. Through the jungles of Felucia to New Adasta. And for what? So he abandons us as we get court martialed and decommissioned? No one expected it."

A pause.

"Except me."

Amon's helmeted head slightly tilted.

"It's always been about her, Commander, open your damn eyes. The Loske Matson, jewel of the Alliance. We were merely resources for that man, expendable. Not any different to how those stick-in-the-ass karks at Senate view us."

Ulahn had planted the seed of discord within the Vizsla and before he could do anything about it, the doors of the near-empty establishment opened for an...was that an ISB uniform?

"We don't serve your kind here, Imp." Ulahn stated coarsely at the new arrival, he'd gained some of his spirit back, even if it reeked of moonshine. The man had always hated Imperials and had been occasionally vocal of Amon's past affiliations as part of the Sons of Mandalore, the Mandalorians which came under the fold of the New Imperial Order.

Amon turned fully to the new patron, a lady years senior to him in the all-too-familiar ISB outfit. He knew them well, they had been pivotal in the formation of Mandalorian-led stormtrooper expeditionary units during the Braxant Campaign against the Sith.

What in the galaxy was an ISB agent doing down here of all places?

 

[Hakon Fett]

OBJECTIVE I //: BROKEN STEEL
COMPNOR // OPEN
// TARGET >> SITH-IMPERIAL REMNANT | COL. KURTZEN //

​

Many would like you to believe that there is something dramatic about death, that there is something heroic. Many would lie through their teeth stories of myth and legends that speak of battles that changed the shape of the galaxy. The truth couldn't be further from that. Death is death. It is the lack of existence, pure and simple. There is no heroism behind it. Odes were made by people to cope with a loss.

In the end, Colonel Kurtzen would not even get that.

He merely lied on the ground, bleeding like the treacherous cur he had been turned to by the Sith. And what honors and ribbons he was once awarded would gather dust in a widow's house before the next generation threw them away with the trash as clutter.

Nothing that we do now echoes in eternity.

Nothing.

 

[Jaeger Harrsk]

D O _ H R D S _ D R E A M _ O F _ E L E C T R I C _ S H E E P
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
MANDALORE ORBIT, NIV 'Ishin-Il-Raz'
Rika Hiro

Unease is a strong word and so is disgust. Jaeger felt neither when he put his eyes on Asa, it was rather a cold feeling of wonder. How could someone so possibly look, act and behave as a human and at the same time be nothing like it. Especially in the case of Asa Yubari, who had the looks of a petite and attractive Atrisian noblewoman and yet the same time had been the one to carve open a jaw with her firsts on Dantooine.

She was, perhaps, the truest definition of a paradox he had ever witnessed.

"Well, the purpose's pretty straight forward - I ask questions, you answer, and then we find out if you're a human or not." he casually said, then adjusted in his seat to fiddle with the machine before gesturing for her to sit. "Have a seat."

When she settled on the chair, Jaeger would ask, "Someone gives you a calfskin wallet for your birthday. How do you react?"

a) I wouldn't accept it
b) Say, "Thank you for the wallet!"
c) I would appreciate it​

​

 

[IVI]

TRIUMVIRATE
THE DIRECTOR
BYOO | CORUSCANT | SIA HEADQUARTERS
Aerarii Tithe
YOU WANT IT DARKER

The additional columns suggested travel distances, which related to some sort of suspicion the Vice Chancellor seemed to have. How far could someone out of Mandalore make it before they had to stop. And would the stop be a full pause, or a refill?

“Have the Mandalorian Clans responded to the NIO overtures?”

"I would assume you, Vice Chancellor, are more privy to the Imperial Order's political advances than I am." Not..entirely true of course. She simpered in good humour, tilting her head with a mirthless chuckle "At least by a few seconds. "As far as I know, a bargain was struck between the Mandalorians and the Imperial Order long ago. A small subfaction that calls themselves the Sons of Mandalore have been working to help bring worlds into the Imperial's influence. I assume that this is Tavlar's attempt to adhere to his side of the deal."

But it was curious to have the second most powerful politician in the Triumvirate asking her her information on the movements of their allies. "They don't consult for matters like this? Broadening allegiances and all that?"

She paused, leaning back in her seat and looking through the numbered columns that glowed between them.

"What personal interests are you looking to have answered in those numbers, Mr. Tithe?"

---

---

​

 

[Rika Hiro]

D O _ H R D S _ D R E A M _ O F _ E L E C T R I C _ S H E E P
LADY_SILENCE_
COMPNOR

[PROCESSING]​

The HRD twitched its head ever so slightly before responding in its typical flat tone of voice. Eyes fixated ahead on the commissioner, never flinching or straying away from Harrsk.

"I would appreciate it."

She offered a fleeting sort of smile; her kind merely knew how to imitate, never to understand or grasp the complexities of emotion or reasoning behind it. Like a predator whose scales changed colour in tandem with the need to get closer and make the prey lower their guard, it served the same function to her and other models in service. On the flip side, however, her model was also enabled by the nature of their program to imitate emotion to those they served and worked alongside.

Jaeger Harrsk ​

 

[Izoshi]

D E M O N S
W I D O W M A K E R
"CORPORAL RAZSHI" - UNDERCOVER
// KILL THE POWER \\
Djorn Bline

Time had seen the undercover chiss dismissed from her station shortly after Bline's message had appeared across the lens placed over her eye for HUD transmissions. She had made quite the stir, churning up emotions she hadn't been in touch with for some time, in order to make a scene and earn her dismissal from post. Now, she was tasked with escorting the patients in the medical bays to the evacuation pad, a mission she alone had been given to undertake under the pretense of getting her head on straight; a perfect opportunity.​

ESTABLISHING CONNECTION: // user ('WIDOWMAKER')
input: // WITHIN PERIMETER //​

Hugging her command pad to her chest as she maintained her character, anxiously looking about and jolting with every thundering crash into the mountain, Corporal Razshi scurried down the lengthy, emergency lit corridors, moving for the centralized emergency stairwell. Once at the steely doors, she paused, connecting the feed cable from her pad's jack into the key port with a sleight of her hand and twist of her shoulder to shield it from the security camera on her left peering down the hall. She feigned call, lifting the entire device to her ear and chattering into it, following the flow of mimicked conversation until the softest beep resounded in the back of her skull and a chiming blip fluttered across the lens implanted in her eye. Now all she had to do was wait...

Wheels rolling down the hall towards her earned a turn of her head, the device still against her ear, and she bore witness to the VIP security team rolling their mobile armory down the corridor. She waited until they passed and the second they obscured the view from the camera to where she stood, she pushed backward and slipped into the unlocked door without a sound and was on her way. Down the squared spiral, she rushed, all but breaking into a sprint around each corner, she used the rail to launch herself down the next flight of stairs- taking them three at a time until she crossed the white-painted 'G' by the next red door.

Vermilion eyes flickered beyond the grated pane of transparisteel fixed central. No one was coming. Swiftly, she knelt into the corner of the room and pulled the ventilation grate loosened months ago for this purpose free and slithered within, fitting it back into place as soon as her form was clear. Izoshi proceeded forward through the tight shaft, counting her paces until she reached the narrow space where upward exhaust met the heavy grate barring access to the interior of the fortress and was funneled through to avoid fire. Her window was closing- soon the ships in the hangar high above would be launching and this chamber would be full of deadly heat and fumes. They would have to be fast.

The bolts securing the grate into place clattered to the floor of the vent and she grunted, striking the obstruction from her path, and sending it careening down the sheer drop of the rocky mountainside. Instantly, she was stunned by the cold as howling wind screamed down the opened shaft, but she would press on. Quickly, she found the path she had established months ago and secretly kept clean enough to traverse, and, steeling her courage, the chiss slid out of the hole and onto the deadly ledge, easing herself forward step by step.

Silence had settled between her and the man she was set to sneak into the fortress, though she had warned him long beforehand that he would only hear from her if she encountered any mission-hindering problems. By the time twenty minutes had elapsed, a very cold, very bothered looking chiss woman in a Sith Imperial uniform would sneak up the remainder of the mountainside, creeping along to the edge of the perimeter where they decided to meet, hugging her hands beneath her arms to trap what heat she could.

"Come on, we must be swift-" She said without greeting Djorn Bline , clenching her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering, "-they'll be evacuating the VIPs within the next thirty minutes and we won't be able to access the core through the vents." Izoshi jerked her head backward in indication and without waiting, started off back down the treacherous path she ascended with, fighting against the wind as she walked. "Security is busy with the frontal siege, we shouldn't run into any of them, but I've got their frequency tucked into my ear, just in case."​

​

 

[Julius Haskler]

M A N D A L O R E _ S E C T O R
OBJECTIVE III | PACT TO KILL
NEW IMPERIAL ASSEMBLY
Irveric Tavlar | Enlil | Onansi of Thyrsus | Caarlyle Rausgeber | Halketh | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Willan Tal | Dorin Nalju

The Tregessar was an austere ship if what Julius had seen was true. Walking quickly in the corridors to join the assembly, he remarked his TodHusars were not comfortable at all aboard Rausgeber's ship. It was a surprising matter, to be sure, and the diplomat had to interrogate them on that subject. Maybe they were unsettled because it was the first dreadnought they were aboard of.

To be fair, Julius was impressed by the Grand Admiral's show of force in orbit of Mandalore. How he had obtained to host the next diplomatic meeting remained a mystery, but it would strengthen the Tarkinists' position. While Rausgeber's alliance with the Hasklers was fragile, they had the obligation to present a united front against the rest of the council. The Anaxsi would not allow the fiasco of the next meeting to repeat itself, where he had been silenced by Erskine Barran and the Imperator itself.

For sure, the Galidraani's vigour was appreciated on the battlefield, and his motivation was flawless. Maybe the diplomat's vision was too severe and perhaps it was incomplete. But to see the Major-General deny the truth of division among the council was ashaming. He needed to show him the truth. And he also had to understand why his bodyguards were so uncomfortable aboard the Presfbelt command vessel.

"- What is it, soldiers? You seem unsettled to be aboard this battleship, Julius stated.
- During the battle over Serenno I accompanied Commodore Orcana. He led us to battle and we boarded this ship. We struggled to reach the bridge and get away when we were done. To come back so easily, without having to fight the Iron Empire remnant is... Surprising, one of the TodHusars explained. Now that he had voiced his concern, he seemed a bit more at ease.

Julius could read their stress and tension, more than anyone could have done, but he knew speaking of the boarding party over Serenno had allowed them to flush away some of the backlash syndromes they were experiencing.

Eventually, the three Imperial-Anaxsi reached the conference room. They were not late at all, but Rausgeber and Tavlar seemed to have arrived already. Julius ceremoniously saluted the Imperator, then glanced towards the Admiral, a quick burst of sympathy shining in the eyes. He would need the Admiral's support to defend the idea of the New Empire. The ambitious project could come to fruition really soon, should the treaty with the First Order contain the right terms.

On the other hand, the Pellaeonists could oppose the project, deciding to focus on "more important" matters. In that case, the support of the Felists would be necessary. Tavlar's support would be needed, of course, but if the Warlord of Thyrsus was supporting the project it would run smoothly. Needless to say, if the Vizier was convinced, no one would oppose the project.

The diplomat had watched with interest Enlil's blockade of Presfeblt. Even with the Anaxsi support, Julius doubted the Admiral's domain would last any longer. The Vizier's move had been bold and had infuriated the Anaxsi to the highest level. Now, he recognised the subtlety of the move. He appreciated it, even. But he could not condone discord among the Imperials. As the diplomat of the council, it would be his task to draw the first lines of conciliation between Presfebelt and Ketaris. Maybe Anaxes could get something of it all.

 

[Jerec Yularen]

C O N C O R D I A

OBJECTIVE I | OPERATION 'BROKEN STEEL'
OPPOSING | SITH REMNANTS
AREA OF OPERATION | FORTRESS IMPERIOUS
Trajan Fett | Hakon Fett | Hans Rennagen | Izoshi | Djorn Bline | Djonas Val | Nukth Kelga'an

The shuttles had left in high orbit. Now, the TodHusars were alone, flying in the cold air of yet another battle. Two companies of paratroopers had jumped. The "Banshees" were one of them, accompanied by Jerec's own company. When they would land, the Banshees would fight along their sides, ready to wreak havoc upon the Sith-Imperial.

Jerec had fought many times for Anaxes's influence. Over Serenno, he had counselled Gallius Orcana and led his men against the Iron Empire remnant, fighting to reach the bridge of the Tregessar. It had been a bloody fight for sure, but the fight on Csilla had been worse. Knee-deep in mud and snow, holding the hordes at bay, the TodHusars had lost good men on the ground but had claimed many skulls for Anaxes. His own bloodlust had been satiated.

But it was the first time really fighting the Sith Empire, be it a remnant or not. After droids and barbarians, it was time to add Sith Legionaries to the trophy board. As the fall continued, Fortress Imperious became bigger and bigger on the heads-up display. With a swift move, Jerec highlighted the landing zones he preferred and transferred them to his fellow Captain. They would convene of a three-pronged assault on the ground after the paratroopers had landed. Each commander would choose a location to land on, and the third would be reserved for heavy vehicles and gunships.

3...
2...
1...

With a burst, the jetpack roared to life. Heat filled Jerec's back, and he slowly regained control over his fall. The fortress was looking way bigger from that distance than from high orbit. Now, it was a titan, a monster born from the Sith's dark minds. Something Jerec ached to destroy at all costs. He would see the monument crumble and be reduced to ruins with great pleasure. Every gun would be needed for this mission. Every man.

Jerec's company flew towards a large terrace he had located before the jump, and he had chosen to be the landing zone. From high orbit, it seemed it was lightly defended, but now it appeared the Sith had reinforced the zone. Repeating blasters, machine gun fortifications, sandbags... It was heavily fortified.

The paratroopers landed in a rain of fire. A dozen meters away from the terrace, Jerec ordered a cover fire to help the landing. The assault rifles hissed and awoke, the blaster rifles began their loud symphony. The sonic weaponry covered all sound and craters appeared on the terrace. Everything would be pulverated.

Once the paratroopers touched the ground, the bloody melee began. While the special weapon teams rained fire and death towards the Sith Legionaries, most of the TodHusars took cover or engaged in sword-to-sword combat. Slowly overrunning the defences, the Anaxsi would soon gain the upper hand.

 

[Bright2]

.​

OBJECTIVE 4/ BYO​

​

She wasn't in the best mood today. Right now, she just wanted a drink. That was the plan as well, when she stepped into the cantina and was hit with probably the worst thing one could say to her. "We don't serve your kind here." This would be the right time to add, 'just kidding'. Unfortunately for the idiot who had spoken, she knew he had meant it. Her fist tightened, the faintest hint of a vein protruding on the side of her head, but she corrected herself, catching the faintest hint of an adrenaline surge as her strength implant nearly triggered. This really wasn't the day to try her patience. She straightened, glancing back to the door, then to the man who had spoken.

Without another word, she moved towards the bar, intent on ignoring the man, least she do something that would require an incident report. She thought it strange to see a fellow Mandalorian in here, and for a moment she wondered if she had interrupted something between the two. Though truthfully she didn't care for his reasons. Everyone had their own objectives, for all she knew he was guarding the damn cantina from hoodlums. She stared coldly into the man, her face tight, as she she simply pointed behind the bar, and spoke with a strained tone. "If you value your manhood, you'll pour me a drink now. And make it strong." She locked eyes with the Mandalorian, wanting to give the man a chance to spare his friend a rather violent happening, as she informed him just what she was about to do to his friend in flawless Mando'a. "Meh his projor words aren't elek ma'am, kaysh's going dayn te kurshok kov'nyn sol'yc." <If his next words aren't yes ma'am, he's going out the door head first.>

With that said, she waited, her head hanging low, as she let out a sigh. Her datapad beeped twice, but she didn't check it.

She had thought that she might celebrate this day with some very important people, yet here she stood alone. The datapad beeped once more.

She'd better be getting a damn drink soon.

Amon Vizsla

​

 

[Trajan Fett]

S U P E R C O M M A N D O
SONS OF MANDALORE
OPERATION BROKEN STEEL
THE OATHSWORN 6/6
Beskar'gam | Main Weapon | Side-Arm | Melee | Grenades | Cradle

PAIN

​

The recieving station of the tram side entrance to Fortress Imperious had been cleared, one last Sith militiaman crawling away with a wake of red ichor in its path. Clearly, not a man who'd signed up for any of this. Pressganged into service by the remnant Warlord currently being jumped on by Trajan's COMPFORCE counterpart, Abaddon.

"P-please....I did-"

The voice was cut off when a blaster bolt was dropped into his brainpan from Trajan's weapon, holstering the pistol before continuing forward with the characteristic rattle of his boots.

<"Doesn't feel like I thought it would..."> Volker Kurze remarked to Trajan as they willed open the next door with a metallic hiss, revealing a corridor of wavering, cold fluorescence. It was certainly a bit jarring for the younger Mandalorian who'd spent the majority of his youth preparing to venture back and retake the homeland with his lone kin, Trajan. Only for what was supposed to be a battle of legend being a small scale siege on a now seemingly backwater moon.

<"These aren't even S-IMPS..they're just thugs. This is who they let take our home."> Another Oathsworn remarked. Given their operational history against the Sith Empire, no doubt the Sons of Mandalore could recognize to and fro between them. The bitterness was seemingly directed toward the Union.

<"They gave up on the Creed. They were content to clutch pearls and isolate themselves...and in the end, they fell apart. It's not the way. The way of our forefathers."> Trajan remarked.

<"As the Preserver, rest his soul, said...it's far easier to raise your hand in defiance than it is to truly endure the pain. They lacked the discipline, the will that it truly took to uphold what we fight for.">

<"And we're better? Because siding with Imps worked out for us?"> The Oathsworn, Harrik Ordo spoke up to Kurze. Given the evident advantage they had toward the presently identified adversary, they continued with a relaxed approach, though still, well at the ready.

<"Looks like that so far."> The next door ahead had something behind it, the lifeform scanners certainly showed activity.

They stacked up on either side of the door, Trajan motioning with his off hand for Volker to set a breaching charge on the door. On a hand count to one from five, the metal giving out with a metallic maw of death, unfurling the Supercommandos on the other side. Immediately after, Trajan lobbed a flash grenade, a 'nine banger' as they called it which lit the room in a series of disruptive flashes.

Then they began to clear.

 

[Wilhuff Krieg]

L O R D _ P R O T E C T O R
SONS OF MANDALORE
SCORCHED EARTH
MANDALORIAN EXCLUSION ZONE

ANVIL​

<"We made an oath...on Vinsoth. The blood oath, to retake our home...you recall this I'm sure?"> He asked the way of the helmsman, his gaze shifting to take him into view.

<"Yes, Cabur.">

<"When I'd declared that oath...drawn my blood. I'd swore...the world we were fighting for was the home as I remember it. Manda'yaim in its truest glory...to see it as it is. It is pitiful that we ever let it get to this state. A shame on our people, our creed...all of it.">

<"We tried to stop them. We fought valiantly.">

<"But even all of that...hopeless. We carved a bloody path...just to lord over the cinder. Though there is no reason to forsake hope outright here. There are no 'problems'....there are only opportunities to find solutions, my friend."> Kestus said, displaying the first hint of optimism since they'd ever set their sights on jumping for Mandalore.

<"What can be done?"> The man asked before glancing out the viewport, glancing toward the bright flashes of light and fire that ignited on the tortured surface of Manda'yaim.

<"Worlds can heal...the Ithorians have shown this times over...perhaps we'd best make use of the technology available to us...or just...let our mother world, our home...rest."> Bralor contemplates aloud. He argued internally between conceding that they were too late and rebuilding anew or baring the fruits of what they'd spent so much blood to return to.

 

[Seydou of Thyrsus]

Objective IV | BYOO | ON THE TRAIL OF Maynard Treicolt & Loske Treicolt

Bright2
​

Behind the T-visor, Amon's gaze was dissecting the ISB lady; she walked with an air of authority, demanding obedience, something that was indoctrinated to Imperials, Amon had found. Yet, beyond that there was some shape of familiarity. He couldn't put it into words but she seemed less foreign than an Imperial agent normally would. The mystery was unraveled the moment she spoke to him in Mando'a.

Not fluent.

Native.

Amon was not a man that was easily surprised, nor was he one to show it when it occurred.

This time his head slightly tilted.

Before Ulahn could do anything stupid, driven by the sudden jolt of confidence from feeling victorious in his dialogue with his former commanding officer, Amon simply raised two fingers at the bartender without even throwing a glance at him. Whatever was going in Ulahn's mind abated and he complied. Two mugs of the infamous ne'tra gal. Not that he would drink more than a sip or two, Amon had sworn to abstinence - full sobriety. Strong mind, strong body. It was more an indication that he was willing to converse. Surprisingly, the agent had piqued his curiosity - a rare event.

Amon's helmet depressurized in a hiss of air and he set the buy'ce on the counter revealing the face of a warrior of a thousand and one battles. He was thirty or so of age, but the years of constant combat had toiled his features to look half a decade or more older. For as much as he disliked his father, Amon had ironically come to look like a near carbon copy of Ronan Vizsla.

"They'll always look down on a Mando who sheds her heritage for a white uniform." he remarked in Mando'a with a Concordian dialect. His face was stone-cold neutral as was his voice.

Mandalorians had suffered extremely after they were betrayed and exterminated by the Sith, to many a Sith or a New Empire couldn't be any different. Dar'manda.

 

[Bright2]

.​

OBJECTIVE 4/ BYO​

Leave it to her fellow Mandalorian to see what was about to go down. She gave a brief nod of thanks, and switched her datapad to silent, trying to spare herself of thoughts that would do her no good. They aren't going to find anything. The trail has been cold for years. She quietly told herself. Yet as a mother, she had to hope that there would be some sign that her children had survived. But what then? It would just be a long winded chase, and they more than likely had no reason to speak with her. Especially Tatiana. She pulled herself out of those thoughts as the Mandalorian say beside her, the 'pop' of his helmet lock caused her to raise an eyebrow, having expected him to remain clad in his armor. His helmet removed, she was able to see why. He was a younger man for certain, but not a young pup smashing his chest about battles he could never have fought in, earned glories he never bleed to obtain. This one was a fellow warrior, and someone she felt wouldn't need to have the basics of the Mandalorian way explained to them.

His voice spoke in the native tongue, though the words that he used irked her ever so slightly. She tensed for a moment, a flicker of anger for a half second, but she composed herself. Her plight was a difficult one, but she supposed to the younger caste it made sense. "My original armor was lost to me when the homeworld world burned. As was my family." She started, popping the collar of her uniform, and craning her neck to the side, as she'd reveal the reason she no longer work the steel. A wicked black bolt had been burned into her skin, a twitching piece of machinery shifted under the tortured skin, to which Azula placed the scar back into hiding. "Earned that one on my escape ticket, token from a Sith Lord, as well as several other marks. Fighting is a rare honor, one I don't get to partake in as often as I'd like. The injuries are....of an unnatural source, Bacta buys me time at this rate. This uniform is a tool, nothing more. Don't for a moment think I enjoy it." She said, a hint of shame to her voice.

Two mugs slammed onto the counter, earning a quick glance from the woman, though she had nothing to say to the upstart Ulahn. She took the mug, and tasted it, her face unflinching at the bitterness. Just the way she liked it. "Though that's how it works I suppose. The old either die off or kill themselves, and the young mouth off the moment we kneel over." She mused, raising her mug up in a half cheer, giving the faintest hint of a smile to the stranger. "Azula, of Clan Ordo. The years have not been kind to us, warrior." She remarked, taking a drink, and trying her damnest to not glance at her datapad for an update.​

​

Amon Vizsla​

​

​

 

[Willan Tal]

LORD PROTECTOR
GALIDRAANI FREE STATE
M A N D A L O R E _ S E C T O R
OBJECTIVE III | PACT TO KILL
NEW IMPERIAL ASSEMBLY
Irveric Tavlar DECEASED Erskine Barran Halketh Enlil Caarlyle Rausgeber Onansi of Thyrsus Dorin Nalju Julius Haskler

​

Rather than partake in the verbal jousting that often made up the majority of these assemblies, the lord protector of Galidraan opted to let the others talk and do their part in discussing the matters at hand. He had his grievances against Enlil. He had an increasing dislike for the Anaxians, who he saw as a potential liability and threat to the survivability of the Imperial state and his ambitions for Galidraans place in the ever reaching Imperial sun.

In truth, when it came to their Jedi neighbours, he was an indifferent sort to dealings with them. But these very same little altruistic cultists in robes had once supported the Sith against Tavlars legions. The very same Sith entity which had once seen it fit to fracture the silvers into a million pieces and send them packing across the galaxy as it overran its territory. They were just a mere husk of a corpse held together by the determination of its stringently few veterans even as the crabs closed in and on the diplomatic stage outshone by the more determined and ragtag New Jedi Order. Logic would dictate that one show a wounded beast mercy and put it down, but even a crippled dog still had its uses, and the silvers served the purpose of being a buffer against the crabs. So in all sense of the situation, he did not oppose the notion at all, although Willan wished to see concessions from the silvers in some form or another. One did not easily forget the sight of Jedi fighting alongside Sith.

​

 

[Jaeger Harrsk]

D O _ H R D S _ D R E A M _ O F _ E L E C T R I C _ S H E E P
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
MANDALORE ORBIT, NIV 'Ishin-Il-Raz'
Rika Hiro

What feelings the faux smile invoked did not scratch the Commissioner's surface. What defined a human? A philosophical question that has plagued the galaxy since forever. One that escaped his pragmatic mind. To Jaeger only one thing mattered - if Yubari and her ilk go rogue, was there any contingency to tackle such a scenario? And if there wasn't what would be best to happen to Project ERIS.

Double-edged swords were what he disliked most.

You never know which blade delivers the lethal wound.

He took a drag of his cigarette, then asked, "Your little boy shows you his butterfly collection, plus the killing jar. What do you say?"


a)"Oh, lovely!"
b)"That's nice, but why don't you keep the killing jar for yourself?"
c)Nothing. I take my boy to the doctor