Civil War: Counter Strike | Mandalorians

[Riggs]

Location: Sundari Throne Room
Allies: Death Watch, [member="Ra Vizsla"] , [member="Kaden Farr"] , [member="Yasha Mantis"] , [member="Narir Tracyn"]
Enemies: [member="Mia Monroe"] , dar'manda


The figure sat in the corner, his Verpine sniper rifle laying across his thighs. Fingers lightly tapped the barrel and butt of the rifle with the respective hands as he watched the vanguard through a relay of holovids. Switching the view he watched a wider panorama scene of the dome. More mando'ade prepared for the assault by the false Mand'alor, the Slayer of his people, the murderer of millions.

A swallow bobbed his Adam's Apple in his throat as a deep set anger threatened to wash over him and drown him in emotions of the tragic day. But he wouldn't release himself to feel. If he did he would be useless, and he had promised himself by the manda that he would never be helpless again. Not again.

Looking around the throne room he saw many strong and powerful mandalorians. But none stood like Ra the Undying. The very picture of a mando'ad. He wore good anger as a righteous cloak that billowed upon the evening breeze. Like a Titan of raw undeniable force of nature the Mand'alor would not be cowed nor would his will be subverted. Gar idolized the man who would never stop in his goal of bringing justice to the Slayer. And for that alone he would follow the gurlanin to the gates of hell and wage war on a demonic realm. For Ra could not be conquered. Not even by Death.

Standing he swing the rifle over his shoulder and looked to his new companions. He had heard the others if Death Watch home about the tot squad, the little wolves, the ankle biters, the small death. But even though they were called a multitude of things there was an underlying sense of pride in the youth. They had taken part of the first assault, tasted blood, fight with Death Watch, and proven they were mando'ade despite diminutive size and age. Yasha was a demon wolf, her blades were her classes and teeth with which she had tore into the enemy with as if a berserker. Kaden had lashed out with an innate skill born of natural ability. The guns seemed a part of him as he pointed and, like a miniature vengeful God, dropped his foes upon the ground in death. Narir was the shadow of death, silent and unboastful yet carrying a presence that echoed with his terrible gift that presented his enemy's demise.

The three had accepted him without question and he had a sort of new aliit.

His armor was a mismatched amalgamation of armor plates scavenged from the dead, from those who sought to plunder Manda'yaim in her helplessness, caused by Mia. Those he killed never heard the shot, their lifeless bodies falling to the ground. And so he survived day by day. But with Ra's return a new day had dawned. A day that would see the mando'ade rise up once more. A day that heralded the Death of their enemy. And he, along with the other four, were on the watch.

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

https://soundcloud.com/dukeandhisbadda/one-way?in=justin-jeffries-1/sets/muse

Location: Headed Towards Sundari Dome
Enemies: [member="Quell Rook"] [member="Aryn Spar"] & Death Watch
Allies: [member="Mia Monroe"]'s Mandalorians

It was hot. Really hot. It had been nearly a decade since he himself had even visited Sundari and he had forgotten just how hot the White Sand Deserts of Mandalore were. Ravaged by years of conflict and a final assault from the Republic there was more than one of these massive expanses of white hot sand. The wind howled around him as his companion flew him across the white wasteland. Old leather creaked as his grip tightened on the controls. All around him new and old war droids flew around him in a cloud of death that was headed for the domed city. They might not have been the Namadi of old, but the Skirata clan had been riding the Iron Beasts of Mandalore for thousands of years.

The city came into view over the edge of the canyon he was flying over. Gil reached up and flipped his antenna forward, activating the acrobinoculars in his helmet. It was quite the battle. Fighters flew circles around each other, their lasers light up the early morning sky.

"Alright vode, city's within sight, let's go show those Namadi who really owns these skies!" A resounding OYA! came from the cloud of war droids as they screamed towards battle.

 

[Lok Xiangu]

Location: Near [member="Aryn Spar"]
Allies: Death Watch
Enemies: Fake Mandos

His adopted father and mother were busy in the city of Sundari doing whatever duties they were assigned to them. His siblings were back on Concord Dawn in the Munin stronghold, being protected by elite warriors of the clan yet they were also capable of fighting and defending themselves. Lok found the situations of the Mandalorians at this time very appealing. He was a weird, odd type of Mandalorian. He had done a lot of wrong acts in his past against others all of which he wasn't ashamed of, but the only people he wouldn't step on was his family and clan.

Anyone else outside of that circle was free game for him, and a Mandalorian Civil War treated his ears. The Outlaw would find it fun shooting down another Mandalorian. Which was why he was here under the subordination of a Togorian Mandalorian Warrior.

"I'm ready," the Munin said confidently as he took a puff of his joint of spice before flicking it off of the cliffside in which he and others stood on.

 

[Darren Onyx]

Location: The Dome, Sundari City en-route to Sundari Palace
Enemies: Loyalists, [member="Kaden Farr"], [member="Ra Vizsla"]
Allies: Rebels, [member="Talise Skirata"], [member="Gilamar Skirata"]

Nearing the damaged dome that housed the great city of Sundari, Onyx watched as bomber squadrons and various war droids began to form below him. He smirked, he'd probably cause some serious damage to rebels and loyalists while making his entrance into the city. It was for the greater good though, right? Everyone here knew it could be their last fight, but they'd die for their cause and the hope that, in the end, their cause would succeed.​

​

He didn't have time to consider all the different outcomes. The damaged dome was fast approaching. Grinning, Onyx reached for the various panels around him and hovered his finger over a small switch. His freighter wasn't equipped with weapons, however it was equipped with a powerful sensor jammer. Primarily used for blocking communication, it would cause just enough disorganization among the enemy to give him a safe entry point. However, it was an older jammer and it would hurt him, it could only disrupt so much that at least one or two lines of communication would, most likely, remain open and unaffected.​

​

However all he needed was a few brief seconds. It was time. As he neared the mass of ships, as well as the damaged dome, he flipped the switch. With that, nearly every communication channel around Onyx's ship went dead. It would effect both rebels and loyalists, though the chaos would be worth it in the end. Of that, Onyx was convinced.​

 

[Subject 37]

Location: Sundari Outer Reaches
Allies: Death Watch | [member="Lok Munin"] | [member="Narir Tracyn"] | [member="Atiniir Starrider"]
Enemies: Insurgents | [member="Gilamar Skirata"] | [member="Talise Skirata"]

Aryn watched them in silence, his eye flicking from metallic beast to metallic beast. There were dozens of them, far beyond the counting. His lips pulled up in a slight snarl, his gaze falling on their path as they headed closer and closer to the dome of Sundari.

The Togorian shifted one last time, then motioned towards those who followed him. "Go."

His voice was low, though the comm in his helmet would be more than enough to transmit his orders. His armor shifted slightly as the jetpack on his back burst into it's first sign of life. The massive device had been specifically created for someone of it's size, the bulk of it made it difficult to take him seriously, but that wasn't really a concern to him. Mandalorians were nothing without their jetpacks, a lesson that most learned at a very young age. The jets on the back kicked into life.

"Keep them from the dome." Aryn growled as he rose into the air. "Sunder their droids."

Dozens of jetpacks flared into life around him. "Rip them from the skies."

A sudden burst of speed in the form of two massive jet trails bloomed into life and Aryn shot into the skies. He rushed forward as fast as the jetpack would take him, shooting after the Basilisk war droids and quickly catching up to them. Jetpacks had shorter fuel spans than most ships, but pushed to their limits they could keep up with even TIE fights.

Aryn and his allies would tear into the enemy from behind.

 

[Atin Kandossii]

Location: above Sundari, high high high
Allies: the Rough Riders, [member="Talise Skirata"] [member="Rekali the Hutt"] [member="Alkesh"] [member="Kal Ordo"] [member="Darren Onyx"] [member="Mia Monroe"]
Enemies: Suicide Squad, err, I mean, Death Watch, [member="Ra Vizsla"] [member="Aryn Spar"] [member="Atiniir Starrider"] [member="Strider Garon"] [member="Narir Tracyn"] [member="Yasha Mantis"] [member="Kade Kelborn"] [member="Vilaz Munin"] [member="Silas Mantis"] [member="Marev Priest"] [member="Kad Tor"] [member="Briika Tor"] [member="Kaden Farr"]


The winds buffeted the war Droids as they hurtled through the atmosphere. A thousand riders upon a thousand steeds crossed the skies, outlined upon the rolling clouds not typical of the desert region. Storms were a rarity here, perhaps as rare as a war of mando'ade clashing together in an Extinction level event that would affect the history of their people for generations. But where whether satellites could negates the gathering storm, if they had any working that is, there was nothing that could alter the tidal wave of mando blood that would stain the White sands this day. Manda'yaim would be watered with the blood of her children, and maybe that was needed for their rebirth.

The reverie of the moment passed as the time for contemplation and musing expired. Battle looked on the horizon as the great dome came into view. Shifting in his seat he gave the command through his actions. From pressure applied from his knees the massive droid rose up, high into the sky. The wind rocked his body and he leaned forward diminishing his profile. Behind him the legion of mando'ade followed suit.

The atmosphere thinned of oxygen and he rechecked the integrity of his suit's seal. Everything was in the green. Up they climbed until the dome dwindled to a speck. The bes'uliik floated for a moment as it's trajectory changed, gravity slowing their climb. Then they dropped.

The gutrenching feeling of your stomach thing to rise in your throat made the mando'ad swallow. The high boost engines kicked in and they began a fervored dive. Behind him the legion reciprocated his maneuver.

The battle for middle earth, I mean, Sundari was about to begin.

 

[Atiniir Starrider]

Location: Outer Sundari Reaches
Allies: Death Watch | [member="Aryn Spar"] [member="Narir Tracyn"]
Enemies: Insurgents | [member="Gilamar Skirata"] [member="Mia Monroe"]

Atiniir watched as his fellow Death Watch kicked off and soared into the sky. Atiniir turned to his own men, who had recently been equipped with jetpacks frolm the Death Watch stores.

"Go," Atiniir said, trying to act the leader even though he was younger than pretty much all of his men, "Follow Spar. Do your duty for Mand'alor and for Death Watch." There was a chorus of "OYA!" and his squad of twelve launched themselves into the air. Atiniir, though, did not join them; at least, not yet. First, he turned and looked down at Narir. The young warrior had no jetpack, no way of achieving flight. Atiniir could not carry him and fight at the same time. Narir would have to fight on his own. Strangely enough, Atiniir did not fear for the little ad'ik. Narir had proved himself once already with an assault on a Monroe convoy, and even before that when he had saved Atiniir's life. Narir was young, but he was clever and fearless, a warrior born and Mando'ade to the core.

"You remember what we talked about?" Atiniir said, "Get to the sewers. Find Yasha and Kaden and Garon. Bring the pain, adiik." With those words Atiniir activated his jetpack and launched himself into the air. He readied the set of Mandalorian vambraces he had acquired in Sundari following the assault, and prepared himself to face the onslaught.

 

[Narir Tracyn]

Location: Outer Sundari Reaches
Allies: Death Watch | [member="Atiniir Starrider"] [member="Aryn Spar"] | Echoy'la Soluse | [member="Yasha Mantis"] [member="Garon Priest"] [member="Kaden Farr"]
Enemies: Insurgents | [member="Kal Ordo"]

Narir listened to Atiniir's words in silence. Narir had known that this was the plan; it was true, he had no jetpack. Though a fierce and dedicated warrior, he was still too young for a few things. He gripped his flame carbine and watched as his ori'vod took off and joined the assault. As he flew, Narir felt a little bit of fear for Atiniir's safety. Narir and Atiniir had not known each other for very long, but the bond between them had grown amazingly strong in such a short time. Narir had saved Atiniir's life, Atiniir had given Narir a chance to be himself again. Together, they would bring justice to [member="Mia Monroe"].

But now, Narir had another bond to draw upon. Once Atiniir and the other Death Watch forces were completely away, Narir took off at a jog to Sundari proper. It took him but a few minutes to find the outer entrance to the sewers. He had no comlink, but he knew the way to the palace. He would find Yasha and Kaden and Garon, and while their buire fought Death Watch in the skies, the Echoy'la Soluse would strike from below. After all, what was the best way to stop a charging gundark?

Shoot his legs out from under him.

 

[Arla Ordo]

Location: Pushing through the streets headed for what remained of an old building
Allies: Mandalorians
Enemies: DW

This was a terrible twist of fate wasn't it. She looked around what more damage could they do today. They warred upon one another friends were suddenly enemies and it was a little hard to tell who was the enemy. She didn't have faith in herself today could she look down the barrel of her rifle and shoot a Vod. She just didn't know.

She jogged through the streets she knew many of the others were at the docks, there was movement in the skies above that didn't bode well either and then there was rumor of them in the sewers too. She reached the street that they had scouted earlier and headed that way, she would be about the middle of the city doing what she could, with what she had all the while praying that this was a bad dream and she would wake up soon.

 

[RC 212]

The Sewers
Allies: True Mandos
Enemies: Deathwatch
Gear: Katarn Armor, Jet Pack, DC-17m, Disruptor Carbine, Verpine Shatter gun, Lots of explosives, a surprise item.

It was funny how he was on the opposite side of history now. RC and his band of Raiders had once all been Madalorian Pirates, then Deathwatch. After that freelancers, SF for the Lord of the Fringe and now back to this. Killing the ones whom hunted him.

"Spread out and keep a close eye on the entrances as we pass. Seal them."

"Roger that."

"Once we deal with Ra then we find Strider, and rub his face in it."

"Sounds like a plan. And then?" Torol asked, his loyal lieutenant till the last.

"Then we give the Silvers payback, once the Dreadstar III is finished."

"That'll be a sight."


They moved through the muck and the mire, with only infrared helmet cams to show where they were going. He was old, damaged and not in his prime any more. But he could still put up a good fight, and he was about to do what he did best. Blow stuff up. Farther back in between the columns of black armored troopers two of them carried a box, that banged a bit on their legs as they walked.

RC's special.

"Keep that thing out of the muck."

They pressed on...

 

[Ra Vizsla]

Location: Sundari Palace Throne Room
Allies: Death Watch, [member="Yasha Mantis"], [member="Garon Priest"], [member="Kaden Farr"]
Enemies: [member="Mia Monroe"], [member="Kal Ordo"], @Insurrectionists, @Nukes

Ra was watching several holoscreens, in a separate room behind the throne.

"Yasha," he roared. His ward, the young Mantis girl. "Gar. Kaden." His other two Vod. Many of the children had been brought here with Ra - currently still wounded - with whom they thought was the safest place.

The Undying was beginning to think otherwise. He knelt to speak directly to his ward, taking off his helmet.

"It is no longer safe here. You must lead the others, hurry now." he said, speaking to Yasha. "Take them to the Barracks, near the Docks. Stay low, and if you have to fight...

​

Bring your Mand'alor a trophy."​

​

As the children began to muster up near the front of the palace to leave, Ra put his hand on Gar's shoulder.​

​

"Look after them. Protect my family, Vod.​

​

I entrust this task to you."​

​

​

Ra grasped the Ysalamiri nutrient frame that was sitting near the throne on a table and equipped it on the back of his armor.​

​

He slid his helmet back over his graying hairs.​

​

The visor went red, brimmed with the golden cropping of the Undying.​

​

​

​

And Mand'alor walked into the backroom, continuing to watch [member="Briika Tor"]'s holoscreen.​

 

[Kix Tal'Verda]

Location: Sundari Outskirts
Objective: Infiltrate the city, kill the tyrant.
Allies: [member="Mia Monroe"] | The Insurgents
Enemies: [member="Ra Vizsla"] | The Loyalists

They had come from the northern hinterlands of Mandalore. A clan that had regrouped, rebuilt, and restocked under the sundered ruins of their world. They now stalked slowly over the wastes with their armor camouflaged. Three teams of ten warriors, radiation sealed, packing high-grade precision thermal explosives to open their way into the city. They took what cover they could get, otherwise, they moved slow and steady like ghosts stalking prey.

Kix lead them, having returned home with the sundering of his world, he lead them to dig deep and avoid the radiation. He and his people stubbornly refused to cease their existence, choosing to live out their lives as mercenaries under the crust of a ruined world. But today a tyrant had lured them from their warrens. Small in number, they planned to leverage their rage and training in the arts of a commando to find the city's weakspots. Irony pulled a wide grin across Kix's lips; they were here to fight for the woman that had ruined them. Yet, even then, they couldn't stomach Ra. With him in command, they'd never be able to rebuild. Sensing the moment to attack was on hand, Kix opened his in-helmet commlink and broadcast to his warriors.

"Brothers, sisters.​

Today we stand on the cusp of history. Before us lie the halls and glittering dome of a traitor, a tyrant, a man who would fashion himself in position to rule over us.
He would tell us who our brothers would be, who our aliit could be. He would tell us who we fight and why. He claims to be a Mandalore when I never remember the clans choosing him.
We get to chose our family, we get to chose our Mandalore, we get to chose our fate. Just like Isley Verd, just like the Protectorate, just like the Republic that enslaved Galaar and Calico, this demigolka stands before us.
What do we say to that?"
​

"OYA!"​

​

The cry made Kix shiver as his warriors bellowed their consent to war, to his leadership, to once more protect their freedom and their way. Abandoning stealth, their boots carried them forward at a breakneck pace. Grappling hooks were flung forward, pulling them to metal dais which held the great dome city.

"Find the maintenance ducts, breach into them!"

Scanners were used, the ventilation, mechanical, and other such ducts were located. Charges were placed and the hiss of thermal detonations filled the air. Kix knew they had security sensors, he knew that they'd be on them, and he knew speed was his only ally.

"Go! Go! Go!" The clone yelled and slipped behind his brother into the cold of a maintenance corridor, sprinting for the other side of the metal wall as quick as possible.

 

[Magnus Deshra]

Rekali-Class Space Superiority Fighters - 3 Squadrons
XS-115 Mandalorian Missile Boats - 2 Squadrons
Allies: The Mandalorians | [member="Gilamar Skirata"] [member="Talise Skirata"]
Enemies: Death Watch | [member="Quell Rook"] [member="Atiniir Starrider"] [member="Aryn Spar"]

Magnus, leading one squadron while the other two were on his flanks, stared downwards towards the battle as the Rekali-Class fighters screeched downwards. This wasn't supposed to be his fight, but he forced his own hand. Monroe didn't matter; she could be tried by better Mandalorians than him later. Vizsla was what changed things. He could admit to himself that he was hardly the ideal Mandalorian, but he'd always tried to live by the principles and tenents that mattered; a Mandalorian emperor with a demigod-like persona would only lead more Mandalorians to die on battlefields they didn't need to be on, and another stain on their people. He couldn't fault the Death Watch for believing in him; he was capable, firm and charismatic. Magnus however, didn't see a bright future for him.

"Squadron 1, stay on me. Squadron 2, escort Hammer 1, Squadron 3 you're on Hammer 2. Get them to hit where they need." As the squadrons fanned out, Magnus' own headed downwards, toward the war droids that flew towards Sundari. He spotted jet streams headed from behind them, no doubt trained and hardened Mandalorian sabotuers and warrirors. They could cripple this charge, and that was the last thing they needed. The Rekali-Class fighters swooped down and then straighted, flying straight towards the side of the Mandalorians using jetpacks. "Open fire, power to thrusters." As red lasers suddenly came screaming towards the Mandalorians, so did the fighters at a breakneck speed- the plan wasn't foolproof, but those that weren't hit by lasers would hopefully be struck by the spacecraft rocketing towards them. Hope wouldn't change a thing, though. Some would no doubt reach their destination anyway, dodge, maybe even land on a fighter.

Meanwhile, Missile Boats converged with a squadron escort on each side of the charge at the docks. Clone pilots closed in, with concussion missile barrages fired downwards, hoping to strike right into the heart of the charge of the Death Watch's reserve. It wouldn't strike at the vanguard or those at the front line, but would hopefully damage the numbers of those meeting in the field. Magnus knew this wouldn't go perfectly; no doubt some of his pilots would be shot down, if not most by the time of this battle's end, win or lose. Some would even, no doubt, be shot down as they attempted this strafing run on the Death Watch that sallied forth to meet Monroe, if the strafing run even went to plan. There were too many variables here; too many good fighters, for any plan to go perfectly.

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

Enemies: [member="Atiniir Starrider"] [member="Aryn Spar"]
Allies: [member="Magnus Deshra"]

Atin's sensors picked up the jetpack strapped Mandalorians before the old man could hear them over the roar of the Bes'uliiks' engines. His droid lurched suddenly as it flipped on its back to face its foes. All around him Mandalorian bodies exploded in a display of red mist and red plasma. It was difficult to sneak up on a single bes'uliik, let alone a flock of them. Gil's ears rumbled as all around him the sound of beskar shredding beskar. The sonic scream of shockwave generator rods plowed through the cloud of Death Watch.

Did this commander think a few pups wearing jetpacks would stop a flock of these majestic beasts? To these metal monsters in a group they were no more of an annoyance than a strill would be to a Shriek-Hawk. Handheld blasters glanced off the Mk3's laser-reflective coating and the Mk2's simply tanked the blows with their majority Beskar construction. A Death Watch Mandalorian managed to land on Atin's front. Upside-down combat wasn't the best way to fight a master of aerial combat. Before he could strike with a charged shoulder mounted disrupter blew the youngling away into the blustering wind.

Atin flipped back around with a mechanical sound eerily similar to Gilamar's signature grunt as it led the pack past the ambush.

 

[Revenchent]

Location: Sundari, at the palace gates
Allies: [member="Kix Tal'Verda"] (sorta)
Enemies: Logical Thought, Moral Decision Making
Nearby: [member="Ra Vizsla"], [member="Kaden Farr"], [member="Yasha Mantis"], [member="Garon Priest"]


A tide of death rumbled toward Sundari; a tide in which Calico had chosen specifically not to join.

[member="Kix Tal'Verda"] had gone his own way. Cal had only seen his nephew once since the sundering, and the younger warrior had turned to fire and blood as a means of coping. He deigned the Vizsla a tyrant, which was most certainly correct in every aspect of the term. That being said, this whole situation was a hell of a lot more complicated than those involved were making out to be. Ra meant a future of conflict, one in which Calico suspected the Mandalore thought would cure the Mandalorians of their impurities.

It'll make them worse. They'll become more prevalent. We'll start killing one another again - we already have.

Monroe was no better. She was a force sensitive to being with, something that usually meant friendship or puppetry with the Sith when it emerged in a Mandalore. They never seemed to make nice with the Jedi; choosing to instead crusade against their would be allies because the often simplistic, savage, and ignorant nature of the Sith was easy to understand. Good people were often complex, and it seemed that his people's culture had come to despise complexity along with a number of other moral niceties that served as the hallmarks of advanced civilizations. Then there was the personal vendetta against Monroe that drove him, one that Cal suspected most men and women standing with Ra carried.

But Calico walked through the domed city alone. The sounds of the coming conflict rang out above the dome's surface, and echoed throughout the city's halls like a banshee's ghostly whisper. Cal did his best to put the battle that would soon breach the city's walls out of his mind. He wasn't here to fight someone else's war.

He was here to meet the man they called Mandalore, and learn how he had returned from the Manda. The warrior needed answers before he chose which camp he was going to be dying for.

"We always stayed out of the other clans' business. They forced us into this," he mumbled to himself. The soldier drew closer to the palace, and the fox crest upon his shoulder warded away most curious soldiers. Tal'verda had been known for two things: its capacity for intergalactic conquest, and the desire of its denizens to be left alone by the other Mando'ade lest they were needed. Though the clan had waned, its reputation had not. The fact that the Tal'verda had not openly declared for one side, and had strong diplomatic ties with the Vizslas older leader likely helped.

The warrior drew his trench coat tighter around the plates of his armor as he came to a halt near the palace's entrance. The guards gave him suspicious glares, but they did not act. Not yet.

"Kix," Cal's voice transmitted over a one way comm relay. Hopefully the message would get through before it could be intercepted or jammed by the combatants. "I've gone to see the Vizsla man for myself. I doubt that he will, but he may kill me if he dislikes my way of thinking. That's the way with these sort of things," a quiet sigh fell from his lips. "I love you and your brothers Kix. You're my bright stars, and everything I do is to give you lot the opportunity for a life that Galaar and I never had. I want you to have a family, and if you have a son, I want you to name him Corrin for his late cousin."

Another pause. "You know the scientists found out my age too? My actual age I mean; I'm thirty-four tomorrow. It's crazy isn't it?" Calico rumbled with quiet laughter, which seemed to draw the ire of the guards. They all looked at him as if he'd declared his intentions for the Mandalore's death at the top of his lungs. Cal regarded them with an amused stare.

"Goodbye Kix. If all goes well, we'll be seeing one another again shortly." The comm message cut out, though no silence followed. "I'm here to see Ra Vizsla. My name is Calico Tal'verda, last elder of my clan. He may not know of me, but our clans were close allies before our home was sundered."

The guards regarded him wish something akin to disdain, but they moved to relay the message to [member="Ra Vizsla"] anyway. Now was perhaps not the most inopportune time to meet the man, but then what time truly was? It seemed all his time was taken up with blood, and all his business involved the creation of corpses.

Not my usual type, but this is about survival.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the men as Calico awaited Ra's response.

 

[H3xle]

OBJECTIVE: Defiantly Destroying Domes
(Appropriating Part of Talise Skirata's force to keep from NPC overload)
EQUIPMENT: KANDOSII BOMBER
ALLIES: Mandalorians | [member="mia monroe"] | [member="Atin Kandossii"] | [member="talise skirata"]
ENEMIES: Death Watch | [member="ra vizsla"] | [member="Aryn Spar"]

It had been a long time since Vila had been behind the stick on anything besides her aging patrol ship, but she had been trained to use what weapons came to her, and this bomber was what was needed for this battle.

"All squadrons." She said calmly, another day at work, "attack formation."

Vila remained silent as she checked her positioning against those in the leading edge with her. She adjusted her facing by a degree, and angled her nose down slightly. A quick scan over the other instruments showed all of her weapons in the green. With a quick tap from a gauntleted finger she initiated a final scan on the hardpoint release systems and torpedo launching systems. In a moment, they came back with the same readout as the primary system check.

SYSTEM NOMINAL: READY FOR DEPLOYMENT

She nodded to herself and blinked a short command to her helmet's systems, indicating her readiness.

She didn't have long to wait.

"Watch for up drafts." She said as they passed over desert, "Watch your spacing, no mistakes. Begin first attack run now."

Since the planets latest cataclysm, mapping out the updrafts in any area had been next to useless. The skies remained overcast for the most part, and subterranean fires often caused issues with the local climate to the point that places that should have been smooth flying sometimes turned into a nervous fliers worst nightmare.

Vila checked her scans on a panel to her left, noted that the dome was warmer than the surrounding air. That meant that the airspace above it should push her up relative to her flight path. She made a mental note of it, and grinned to herself.

Her sensors blared for a moment as plumes from jet packs erupted behind them, Vila didn't take the time to count them. Bombers were meant to take damage and deploy their payload anyway, damage from fighters with weapons much bigger than the type troops tended to use. Her shields were set, and her nose canted down slightly at her urging once again.

The dome approached, closer and closer. Vila took a deep breath in, her left hand slipping from the controls to arm the proton bombs attached to her hard points.

Click.

ARMED.

Click.

ARMED.

She pulled the nose of her bomber up, up to mirror the incline of the dome itself as she neared it. Her hand hovered over the first release.

The leading edge of the dome passed beneath her, and she took a single, slow breath.

Click.

Barely anything was felt as the first proton bomb released from beneath her bomber. She took one more slow breath.

Click.

Her proton bombs were away, falling towards the dome from just south of the center line.

She pulled on the stick, drawing the bomber into a climb while keeping her speed as constant as possible. Her eyes strayed to her sensor panel, waiting for the explosions that would determine how much damage she had done. She knew her squadron leader, Talise Skirata, would see the release of her bombs. She still had torpedoes, and the fight was just beginning.

 

[Muad Dib]

Location: Sundari city streets
Allies: his little group
Enemies: any one who got in his way

"Vod, the attack is coming. We're heading to the sewers to aid the Akaan Vilaz. What of you? Death Watch has risen!"

The young man's bubbling excitement was echoed among the other three brethren who shared the fervent excitement of the moment. The Mandalorian before them unhooked the buy'ce and slid it off, there glowing blue eyes glaring in righteous fury as if a primordial god had entered their midst.

"That's not my name."

[youtube]https://youtu.be/v1c2OfAzDTI[/youtube]

Leaping forward he wrenched the speaking mando'ad forward, his arms snaking around his helm and gripping the buy'ce, yanking sharply and snapping the neck. The other three attacked and Muad raised his hands to release the repulsor blast from his gauntlets to send them crashing against the wall. Striding forward he lashed out, his armored boot feeling a second with a force strengthened kick to the head. The third tried to rise, but the crush gaunt to the throat greeted and squeezed ensuring he would never rise again. Mounting the last Death Watch soldier Muad pulled his kal from his sheath and held the tip at the woman's throat as she whispered," Dar'manda scum."

"That's not my name."

Ramming the blade home through the armor weave he felt the death rattle from the boost and slowly stood to wipe the blade clean on the kama he wore. Sliding the clean blade back into it's sheath he retrieved the buy'ce and slipped the death watch helmet back into his head. Dragging the bodies deeper into the alley he turned and moved to the mouth of the alley to look across the streets. The palace stood not to far from his location. A snarl crossed his face as he considered going there, but it was not his mission. His goal was to free the prisoners in the prison and cause as much damage as possible.

Opening the frequency to his ally he tapped out a message and coordinate location for the prison. Incognito is the name of the game. See you there ner vod. His small group would be dressed as Death Watch to cloak their identity and to blend in with the soldiers while also providing armor and weapons. Glancing over his shoulder he eyed his comrades and nodded lightly. He trusted them. They were capable. And they were focused. The other that was incoming was a different story. He had met him a few times but had never had the pleasure of seeing him work. The reputation that he had however was frightening. Even Muad, who felt no fear, had a tingle run up his spine at the thought of the other man in action.

Turning his communicator on he spoke on the personal , short range, frequency to his comrades.

"We are here to free the prisoners. I don't want unnecessary blood shed on my hands, but if they get between us we kill them. Same for the liberators who are attacking. If Ra Vizsla or Mia Monroe show up, get the feth out. I have unfinished business with Ra. And Mia ... she still has a reckoning coming for her. Watch each other's backs, hide your identity, be smart, and we will get our objective and make it out alive."

Grasping the shoulder of the man next to him he deactivated the comm and activated the external speakers. The other man and he were recent acquaintances, but he trusted him and thoroughly enjoyed the other man's company. Shaking him lightly he chuckled.

"Reminds me of Onderon."

Releasing his grip he moved into the streets, the rifle sliding into his hands seemingly benign. Liberation of the prisoners and their families was the objective. Disrupting the fascist organization was the mission. Bringing pure hell was the bonus.

 

[Kix Tal'Verda]

Location: Sewers
Objectives: Link up with friendlies, kill the tyrant.
Allies: [member="Kal Ordo"] | The Sewer Group | Insurgents | [member="Calico Tal'verda"]
Enemies: [member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Briika Tor"] | Loyalists

Sewers. Of course the entry points had dropped them into a collective of sewers. Kix hated sewers. Even through the filters of his retrofitted katarn helmet he could smell the acrid and decaying scent that was left by the city above. It almost made his stomach roil. The various ducts and entries that dropped them within the stinking edifice to imperialism-beneath-imperialism had scattered the clone and his men. Opening a commlink, trying to enforce some sort of order, he spoke: "Vod. Scatter into teams of four and break for the surface, cause as much as damage as you can, hit-and run. I'd prefer you not to sell your lives." With that he pressed forward, alone in the dark.

It was as he pushed through this collective of tunnels and corridors did his father's message reach him. Left grainy and quite by the amount of concrete between he and Calico, the words still meant just as much as they ever would. Pausing in mid-stride, the words felt like a wire wrapping around his chest. His throat became fogged with emotion. Calico rarely left that much bare, even to his favored sons. To prevent a breakdown down on the battlefield, the only response Calico would receive was three clicks of the affirmative rune on his HUD. Kix had heard the message. With a deep breathe, he resumed his odyssey.

Little did Kix know the next corner he took would land him right in front of a familar armored figure, [member="Kal Ordo"]. On reaction, the ancient DC-17m was pulled into a more aggressive position. The barrel lined up with his compatriot's sternum, his voice cut through his mic. "Monroe or Vizsla?"

 

[Daral Tal'Verda]

Location: Sewers
Allies: [member="Briika Tor"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"]
Enemies: Dar'manda Insurgents, and family, regrettably. [member="Kal Ordo"] | [member="Kix Tal'Verda"] | [member="RC 212"]

Among Vilaz' troops was a soldier much like some of those entering the sewers, a Tal'Verda. Shotgun ready in his arm the clone kept his head on a swivel in the confines of the damp underground tunnels. The people had chosen Ra, when Mia tried to claim the title many outright tried to kill her for her crimes. Ra had never given away his title, and the man leading him now, Munin, was more than happy to welcome his return. Mia's claim was worthless anyway, she had no right to the title, on the right to challenge Ra for it, and why anyone would follow the monster who burned their home was far beyond him.

[member="Calico Tal'verda"] might've been on his way to parlay with Viszla, but Daral had already made his choice. He'd fight and die before he suffered the rule of Mand'alor the Coward, his allegiance was to the Undying to his last breath.

"Clear here." The clone called out to the Akaan of his Mand'alor, keeping his weapon raised despite his area being insurgent free. Druckenwell taught him to keep his guard up at all times, more so than any training or deployment ever had, and for that he was thankful. At least the hellhole had been good for something other than traumatizing him for life.

He had heard rumors he didn't want to believe, ones he wanted to ignore. Supposedly some of Tal'Verda had sided with Monroe for whatever reason. He'd never been one for politics, and the idea of Viszla's authoritarian rule bothered him none, all he cared about was seeing Monroe destroyed, and Mandalore restored. Still, the idea of being against his own aliit made his stomach churn, partially at the mere notion, partially at the fact he knew he'd pull the trigger. How could they have sided with her after what she'd done? What was prejudice, and imperialism to genocide of ones own people? Under Viszla Mandalore had been strong, no planet-wide devastation required, they had been feared and rightly so.

The clone attempted to keep his mind on the mission at hand, not on the possibilities of fratricide. So many in his clan had spent their lives together, from birth they had been bonded as brothers, they shared a face but each was their own being, and yet with that came the potential situation he now found himself in. It truly was a Civil War on Mandalore, it wasn't just countryman against countryman, or friend against friend, it was brother against brother. All because of her, all because of Monroe.

 

[Sol Damerin]

Location: Sundari City Streets
Allies: [member="Muad Dib"] and his group
Enemies: No one really but hey he has to do this to get Muad to marry a bear

"If you do what you did on Onderon, I am going to shoot you now and leave." Sol says as Muad drops a hand on his shoulder. Seriously, if Muad held back a solution that would solve all their immediate problems in favour of running around like idiots again... Well, Sol would have to think of a more suitable payback than what he'd already come up with. When Muad had given him a call and told him the job Sol was reluctant. Everything he'd heard about The Death Watch suggested they were bad news for him. So he'd set the most ridiculous and degrading price he could think of for the job and Muad agreed... sigh.

Which lead to him standing there in a stolen suit of Mandolarian Death Watch armour. Most mercs would be thrilled to have a suit of this stuff, the beskar armour was legendary for its toughness. Plus it came with a jetpack and rockets, what's not to love. Sol just felt uncomfortable. It was heavy and restrictive and he felt cut off from the world in it. Still, if the rumours he'd heard were true then it was probably good he had a suit of armour just in case he wasn't able to use his battle precognition. It also made him rather glad he didn't make a habit of relying on any force power but that when he fought most of the time, meant he'd be less helpless should things get messy.

Anyway, that leads to now and Sol rolls his neck as he puts the helmet back on. By The Force, he hated helmets they always felt stuffy and cut off his peripheral vision. "Just so we are clear. If I die on this I am taking you with me." He says as he starts a gear check. His usual blaster pistol on his left hip, the protector on his right, his vibroblades on his back the hilts sticking up just above his shoulders. He was good to go, he just wished he'd gotten more than five minutes to practice with the jetpack. "Just on principal, I am sure you understand." He concludes his voice slightly distorted by the helmet.