Dominion Dark Thoughts of Late | Mandalorian Enclave Dominion of Mon Gazza

[Alora Vizsla]

OVERSOUL

PART I​

WHAT WAS, WHAT IS, WHAT MIGHT NEVER BE…


There was an ill voice on the wind. It swept over the lands. Carried over the mountains. Ripped from the skies and shot into the void.


It's dark counsel touched much, but never enough to draw attention to itself. As time passed, its touch lingered and soon set in motion thoughts it did not convey. It began with those Force Sensitive -- with the Mandokarla. Shamans strong in the Manda (Force) felt it more keenly at first, but had the experience to stave off the worst of the effect; while the young more readily showed symptoms as they lashed out at one another. Irritability, bitterness, and aggressiveness grew by the day. Soon the signs began to rise even in those not able to call upon the Manda. By then, it was already too late...


It was noon in Tor Valum on Kestri. The sun was bright though the winds were still unreasonably cold. An ordinary day. One where children played, craftsmen toiled, and warriors trained, when a far off rumble drew many to look to the heavens. A black tempest erupted into existence over the city; a churning mass of red, violet, and black that roared into being with a bright, green core that seemed to scorch the sky. Magick streamed down from the maelstrom and plunged into the planet's crust. Soon bodies of the dead rose from their place of slumber, and ghastly images sent people racing through the streets.


Many of the strongest Shamans of the Mandokarla had been in Tor Valum that day. Led by Runi Kuryida they marched toward the storm. Weaving Light and Dark energies together, the Circle cast a net over the torment inflicted upon the Mandalorian people. Battle raged in the surroundings as the foul risen sought to end the siege on what had given them new life. Though hard won, the breach between worlds began to dwindle until it was little more than a fine web of cracks perceptible only to those with certain Sight. With the source of their being cut off, the dead were forced back to their eternal rest, and the city was once again the land of the living.


For now.


The Mandokarla calls upon every Mandalorian able to wield arms to join them in venturing into the Netherworld to hunt that which threatens all in this life and the next. Will you heed their call, or do you question what even your own eyes have seen?

Objective I

Strike Team Atce | Jaquenta, Netherworld


Many have been called dar'manda, but few know it as reality. The souls of the vod that have gone before you have become lost in the Jaquenta, or Narrow Roads, of the Netherworld. Guide the lost dead through the foggy maze of the Roads, and beware the Nether beasts that prowl above, below, and somewhere in between. Have a care for these poor souls, for yours may find itself trapped among them, if the cause cannot be found.

Objective II

Strike Team Cayalah | Field of Blades, Netherworld


Souls of the ancestors not lost in the Jaquenta have become mired in an endless war with the souls of Sith and their ilk. Enveloped in a struggle to survive and not go mad from the ceaseless conflict, will you rush to their aid and forge a path out of the Field of Blades? Take care you aren't consumed by the insatiable bloodlust and join in the eternal conflict never to return home.

Objective III

BYOO


Any additional story you want to write.​

 

[Runi Kuryida]

// Location: Tor Valum, Kestri

Runi Kuryida, Shaman, Speaker of the Mandokarla, and Mandalorian stood in the open square with her hazel eyes turned up toward where the deathly storm had brewed only minutes ago. Those that had accompanied her to plug the conduit between the Dead and Living had since scattered in search of able warriors willing to brave the undying lands. Some even tended to the wounded or fallen as a result of the dead come back to life, albeit briefly. Meanwhile, Runi studied the weapon of the Mandalorian peoples' latest foe. If it thought to breach the veil and find easy prey, it would be disappointed.

More importantly, however, was the need for them to respond to the storm of souls. It wasn't enough to plug the breach. The foul essence behind it would try again, and again. Time was on its side. No, the Mandalorians needed to venture into the enemy's territory, find them, and then crush them. It might concern spiritual matters, but Runi expected most now understood such things weren't merely philosophizing in the privacy of one's barracks. For them to secure the life they knew, they would need to test their mettle among the dead.

As people were guided to the open area, Runi stepped up along side a statue to overlook those assembled.

"Warriors. Hunters. Soldiers. Vod. Today's enemy has set foot on our soul to test our strength and our resolve. As Children of the Manda it believes us weak against its unhallow methods. Despite its ghastly nature, however, it is just another opponent. Another creature to be hunted. Another bounty collected before we return to our homes, drink, and sing of our triumphs and of one another. I call upon all those that would strike back against this enemy to join the Mandokarla in entering the Netherworld. To find them. And destroy them."

"Your weapons and equipment will work in the Nether. We will ensure this is so before you cross over. Whatever beasts we find there will fall before you as they do here when you hunt game or destroy your foes. Those able and willing should follow us to the Port, where a vessel will take us to the Hypergate in the Kamino system. Prepare your gear, and the Mandokarla will make room for you aboard ship."

"The Manda is with us."

Runi, herself, lingered for a bit in case there were questions -- or doubts -- while the rest would once more take up the task of corralling those willing to depart.

Once the ships were ready on Kestri, they would make for the Hypergate at best possible speed. Ships from other worlds, other systems would join them on the way with any willing to venture in the Netherworld to return the favor of being invaded.

// Location: The Netherworld

The vessels would find purchase on barren ground on the other side of the Hypergate. Room enough for Mandalorians to disembark and be directed in one of two directions -- toward the Jaquenta or the Field of Blades. Two regions that had a sense of the Adversary they sought in the Netherworld. Places that would provide much needed guideposts, and as it would turn out reveal grave symptoms in need of correction for those that'd already left the mortal coil.

// Location: The Narrow Roads, The Netherworld

Runi, herself, would lead those that would enter the Jaquenta. "The Narrow Roads are twisted and the way is often filled with a dense fog that can easily seperate members of a group spread out too far. Foul beasts may strike from pockets of the densest fog. Stay on your guard," the Shaman advised those that followed in that direction. One could never truly tell people how to prepare to deal with the Nether. It was something a person had to experience for themselves to understand. Nevertheless, it was just another battlefield with danger around every corner... familiar territory for a Mandalorian.

Tag: Open​

 

[Corbin Vasher]

TAGS: Runi Kuryida Alora Vizsla​

Spoiler: Equipment

STARSHIP: Tra'tena SPEEDER: Burbr ARMOR: Gar'Katya
WEAPONS: Ravenfire - Burbr'sacitr - Burbr'sacitayr - Nuhaatyc'bedtr​

​

Corbin had come to Kestri to do a little metalworking. He had some things he wanted to work on that had nothing to do with his company back on Susevfi. He also figured he'd check in with the Mandokarla, see how things were, and get some lessons in. And maybe he would meet some more Mando'ade he hadn't yet. His first impression so far had been rather mixed... But he soon realized that he'd been raised on romanticized tales of old Mandalorian lore. These were real people, who were far from perfect. And they didn't really care about impressions anyway, especially since most still didn't know he even existed. But no, he wouldn't let that earlier display color his perception of his vode. It was a difficult time, and nobody was above having a few flared emotions.
He was taking a visit to the Nuna'a Memorial, like he always did when he visited Tor Valum, when he felt a strange presence in the Force. It felt wrong. The intensity of it left him on his knees gasping for breath. Negative emotions bombarded him, severing his connection to the Force. Fear. Anguish. Despair. Rage. It made him want to roll into a ball and weep. But no, he would fight it! He pushed back, fighting to reconnect to his precious Manda. He felt nothing. He climbed to his feet, still struggling against the dark emotions. He looked up to the sky, tears streaming from his eyes. It was then that the Tempest erupted forth, blinding Corbin and knocking him back to the ground. His head reeled, and his vision swam. Even with his connection cut off, he still felt the power come streaming down to slam into the ground. He heard strange noises but still couldn't see. He climbed back to his feet, shaking his head so he could at least get a clear sight with his normal eyes. The sight that met him was something he had heard of but never actually encountered before. The dead were up and walking. Corbin was startled, and the negative emotions still swirled around his mind. A complete panic had started all around. He may not have been able to feel the Power of the Manda, but Corbin could still fight...

---

Corbin was still reeling afterward. He was physically and emotionally exhausted. His connection never had yet returned. The ordeal was over, but there were still cracks in the sky where the Storm of Magick had come through. He wondered if anyone else could see it. He stood from he had been leaning with his forehead against a wall. There were things to do. He had medical supplies in his ship. He could help the wounded at least...

---

People gathered in the Manda Square. Runi Kuryida stepped up beside one of the statues and gave her speech.

"Warriors. Hunters. Soldiers. Vode. Today's enemy has set foot on our soul to test our strength and our resolve. As Children of the Manda it believes us weak against its unhallow methods. Despite its ghastly nature, however, it is just another opponent. Another creature to be hunted. Another bounty collected before we return to our homes, drink, and sing of our triumphs and of one another. I call upon all those that would strike back against this enemy to join the Mandokarla in entering the Netherworld. To find them. And destroy them."

"Your weapons and equipment will work in the Nether. We will ensure this is so before you cross over. Whatever beasts we find there will fall before you as they do here when you hunt game or destroy your foes. Those able and willing should follow us to the Port, where a vessel will take us to the Hypergate in the Kamino system. Prepare your gear, and the Mandokarla will make room for you aboard ship."

"The Manda is with us."

The Speaker's words helped to drive away the gloom Corbin had been feeling. He sighed as a tiny trickle of the Manda came through. That was all he needed. He seized on that stream and used Inspire on himself. The stream turned into a river as positive emotions drove out the negative. He then used Inspire on the crowd itself to bolster his brethren.
He gave a salute to the Speaker and went to prepare for departure.

 

[Aela Wren]

I R O N S T A R
IN TIME OF WAR
JAQUENTA | NETHERWORLD
TAG: Todblaz Graker | Runi Kuryida | Preliat Mantis

PLANET ZERO​

The call was made.

Shel's personal feelings about the governance of the Enclave aside, the spirituality of the Mando'ade was at stake. It affected all of them - just like the Fireflash virus had. The Beroya's own people was in danger once again.

It was her duty to protect them.

With Clan Beroya's own spiritual leader, Mith Awaud, in tow, the main squad of the Clan met up with the rest of the Enclave Mando'ade and their Mandokarla to do the unthinkable for the living.

Enter into the Netherworld.

The Narglatch settled in the spiritual world alongside the rest.
"I don't like this, Shel. This whole place is wrong." said Kel in a low voice as he kept close to the Nautolan.
"Neither do I, which is why Mith is with us. But we have to do this - for our own rest one day. We're all getting out of this. I promise you. Today is not the day we die." Shel told him before squaring her shoulders as they met up with Runi Kuryida and the rest.

"The Narrow Roads are twisted and the way is often filled with a dense fog that can easily seperate members of a group spread out too far. Foul beasts may strike from pockets of the densest fog. Stay on your guard,"

"You would do well to listen to her, Shel-child." whispered the gristled Mith. "This is no playground for the living. You linger, then you stay." The old woman then looked at Runi. "We best hurry this along, Jorhaar'ir." she told her.
Silently, the entire squad drew their weapons and Shel shook back her beskar-clad head tails in determination, despite the strangeness of where they stood.

"We are ready, Jorhaar'ir."

 

[Todblaz Graker]

Outfit | Ranger Armor
Equipment | H1 Sniper Rifle | Cortosis Gloves | HX-Revolver
Tag | Shel Beroya Runi Kuryida Preliat Mantis

Religion is a touchy subject. Some people treat it as a path to salvation and others as a coping mechanism for fear of death. Todd found it fine to have beliefs, as he had some himself, though what they were he kept to himself. One thing that a lot of religions had in common was a place of salvation and a place of torment.

Being ushered into a group of people Todd was curious what he signed up for. All he heard from this is that they may need a medic and he was glad that they turned to him, though probably wasn't their first choice. Someone caught his attention by standing in an elevated position, overlooking the crowd. The figure that stood and spoke over the group,

"Warriors. Hunters. Soldiers. Vod. Today's enemy has set foot on our soul to test our strength and our resolve. As Children of the Manda it believes us weak against its unhallow methods. Despite its ghastly nature, however, it is just another opponent. Another creature to be hunted. Another bounty collected before we return to our homes, drink, and sing of our triumphs and of one another. I call upon all those that would strike back against this enemy to join the Mandokarla in entering the Netherworld. To find them. And destroy them."

Though after he was directed to a ship to travel with the crowd. He sat their listening to a conversation about the Narrow Roads, explaining their beliefs.

He knew nothing of the Netherworld's land, animals, or significance to the people of the Universe. Considering that the Mandos were doing something brought for the educated assumption there would be fighting, just seemed part of their culture to start brawls. This felt different then a normal stroll in a foreign location however, the Narrow Roads felt a little eerie in appearance.

The rocks looked dull to Todd. Grey and lifeless, seeming representation of death. Though he had never been here, on the flight over he was told of how wandering souls got trapped in here, walking around the maze and seeking a way out. What they were looking to escape to he didn't know, but he assumed the idea of salvation.

Stopping for a second he cocked his head at the entrance, a person behind him slowing to step around him. It was only momentary and he was back with the group's pace, whatever it was.

 

[Preliat Mantis]

The realms of the living are seperated not by rock or distance, miles or parsecs, but simply a veil. A veil that could be lifted, could be moved, could be seen through.

And could be lifted.

But the veil was always there.

And the Mandalorians had crossed it. He appeared as a spectre- an amalgamation of how he appeared in life, deep in the fog. The Narrow Roads were treacherous, a heinous cruelty by an indifferent universe inflicted on the damned.

Like him.

He stood in the dense fog, appearing before Runi Kuryida and company.

"Why do you come?"

He spoke in a chorus of his own voice, shifting as with his appearance. A young man spoke, the old man spoke. He was yelling, whispering, shouting and speaking all at once, all together. He spoke to them, and to the living- it was as if he was in their head, in their ears, next to them and far away- nothing made sense to the living in the realm of the dead.

He faded to ash, cinders in the dense fog. The fire that consumed him, the rage and hate he carried for so many years, held on, even in death. He would burn for eternity for his sins. But his soul was still him-

And he would forever be a Mandalorian.

Such was it all. It after all-

Was the way.

 

[Runi Kuryida]

Runi looked back at those accompanying her. Mith and Shel in particular as they affirmed their readiness for whatever lay ahead. The Speaker nodded her head slightly as she lifted her avian-like helmet into place on her head. It didn't matter if the Nether was the Land of the Dead -- so long as the Living stood there as they might any planet, the Dead were real. Tangible. Lethal. They had collective set foot onto a battlefield where the mind and heart held sway. It was only fitting to be so armed.

An ivory spear slowly extended into existence out either side of her grasp.

"Stand ready." A nondescript form appeared ahead in the fog. Runi's knees bent and the tip of the spear was held ready to strike. The Mandokarla trained in use of the Manda, but that did not dull their skills as hunters. If anything, their knowledge demanded they know how to defend themselves in all circumstances better than most.

As they moved, the hazy form began to take shape. First as a humanoid. Then as something wearing armor. Only as the distance closed within twenty feet did the distinctive features of a Mandalorian become clear as the walls of the canyon loomed around them.

"Ena'yida kak," "Identify yourself," Runi called out to the spirit that held a Mandalorian's visage.

The helm of the figure turned slowly in their direction. "Verke Negalaar. Ena'yida kak."

"Jorhaar'ir Kuryida. Tion'jor narir gar sruhralyioa, vode?" "Speaker Kuryida. Why do you linger, Brother/Sister?"

Their helm turned to gaze at and then up the side of the canyon. "Ni va subay juha na... Vaii cuyir ibic? Vaii... cuyir Ni kovid?" "I cannot recall... Where is this? Where... was I headed?" Their hand clenched into a fist before it relaxed once more.

Before they could press further to advance, another appeared. One whose spiritual presence was both stronger -- more defined -- and yet of many facets. The beak of Runi's helmet turned toward the voice that addressed her and those with her. Could they be tied to the cause? Would telling them too much undermine their objective? They were Mandalorian. It was worth chancing. "I am Runi Kuryida. We come because a great evil plunged this realm into that of the Living; and the price for their breach must be paid. Why do you linger?" She would ask them the same question she had asked the other. Why were they here? Should they not be with the Manda?

Tag: Corbin Vasher | Shel Beroya | Todblaz Graker | Preliat Mantis

 

[Kyrrek Jal Shemal]

NETHER | FIELD OF BLADES
TAGS: Open
EQUIPMENT: Armour (appearance) | Beskad | Rifle | Pistol | Cycler rifle

---

Yellow eyes looked on in shock at the sight of the enormous war raging in the harsh desert. The Field of Blades, it was called... at least, that was what he remembered. No matter what it was called, it was eerily similar to some areas back home. Even with the spirits of Mandalorians and Sith long dead, it looked like two clans got fed up with one another.

He would know. It was part of the reason he was wearing Mandalorian armour.

The Kaleesh leaned down and took aim through the sight of his cycler rifle and squeezed the trigger. The snap of the weapon's shot echoed through the desert as a crimson bolt raced forward and smashed into the armour of a Sith warrior. The crimson-skinned warrior recoiled off his feet and into the ground from the impact, drawing the attention of many of those around him. From the look of it all, he was a commander of some sort.

:: So... ve just kill ze sith? :: His young, yet ragged, voice muttered into his commlink, just wanting to make sure of what he was supposed to do. It felt way too simple. It worked for him, though. The complex plans and tactics were the responsibility of the older warriors, he simply did as he was told. The Kaleesh dropped the leaver of his rifle, letting the durasteel block lower and the casing blow out the back of the weapon. Four digits hurriedly slid a new slug into the chamber before Kyrrek smacked the lever back up and the block slid up again, locking the weapon up for the next round. His fingers curled around the crude grip and stock as he took aim at the next target.

Except the bolt came right back at him after he fired, forcing him to duck down. "Wery funny..." He grumbled to himself with a huff as he took aim once more.

 

[Aela Wren]

I R O N S T A R
IN TIME OF WAR
JAQUENTA | NETHERWORLD
TAG: Todblaz Graker | Runi Kuryida | Preliat Mantis | Corbin Vasher

PLANET ZERO​

Be strong for them...

It ran like a mantra through Shel's mind as they moved through the Nether. It took all her resolve not to turn her Clan around and go back home and hope for the best, despite Mith and Runi's efforts.

Everything felt wrong in here.

But she stuck to it, true to the Mando'ade. Though it was easier just to die in battle than it was walking into the limbo that is the Nether, knowing that you can end up lingering as well. If she knew this was going to happen, she would have allowed Rohak to crush her helmet in space and be done with it.

Before long, their group encountered some spirits that lingered. When that helm turned their way, Shel nearly put a bolt through it. She had never been one for the supernatural, after all. But their confusion stayed her pistol as Runi spoke to them. And then they faded away.

Brilliant.

But just then, Mith flung out her arm to stop the Beroyas.
"Another comes." she whispered.
"I'd imagine so, Mith. This is the spirit realm, after all." Shel quipped.
The older woman's helm bored into hers then as the Clan Shaman gripped her shoulder. "Jest not about this, Shel-child. If we don't resolve this, we'll all end up here." Mith growled in a low voice. And then another appeared - more sentient.

More Mando'ade than the other troubled souls.

"Why do you come?"

His voice haunted the recesses of her mind. It was more and less at the same time. But the fact remained - in her heart, Shel knew, this soul was once one of great importance.

Runi attempted the Shaman way. But the Nautolan felt herself stepping forward. Before the Mando'ad faded, her voice found the air and she spoke to Preliat Mantis past Runi.

"We have heeded the Damned's call. Why'd you call, Vod?"

 

[Corbin Vasher]

Spoiler: Equipment

ARMOR: Gar'Katya
WEAPONS: Ravenfire - Burbr'sacitr - Burbr'sacitayr - Nuhaatyc'bedtr​

TAGS: OPEN Runi Kuryida Shel Beroya Todblaz Graker Preliat Mantis​

Corbin had never been to the Netherworld before and had not known what to expect. He definitely did not anticipate the strange surge of energy upon entering. He felt oddly amped up, like he had been drinking a lot of caf. That in itself was odd. Corbin didn't drink caf, unless it was decaffeinated. But now he was feeling jittery. It wasn't from nerves or excitement. It seemed like the very air of the place was charged with a peculiar but familiar energy. When he stepped out of the ship, he felt it even stronger. Some of the Mandalorians already there (shaman, specifically) jumped back, turning blasters toward him. Corbin cocked his head to the side. Then he noticed it. His Force presence he had kept hidden every day for nearly 15 years was no longer hidden. It wasn't so much that he couldn't hide it, more like it didn't seem to want to be hidden. How odd.

Runi Kuryida hadn't even flinched. She just looked at him quizzically. Corbin just shrugged. The Speaker had been the only one present who had known he was a Force-user. That was most certainly no longer the case. "Wasn't intentional. Guess the metaphorical Loth-cat is out of the bag. This place is strange yet oddly familiar..." Familiar like the violet glow of Force Aura that he saw when he looked at himself. He'd been told both by his mother and his former Jensaarai master that his presence seemed different. It felt like neither the Light nor the Dark side, yet had qualities both like and unlike both. He held up his hands to look at them. Sparks of violet electricity would occasionally leap between his gauntleted fingers. Even his Alchemized armor seemed supercharged. The scholar in Corbin wanted to study this and find out what was going on and why he was affected this way, when many of the others seemed to be quaking in their beskar'gam. (Odd to see Mando'ade actually afraid, he thought.) But the rest of him just wanted to experience the moment. This was something new, and he rather enjoyed the raw, chaotic power.

Corbin grabbed Burbr'sacitr from its holster on his right hip and extended the stock. With the custom carbine in grip, he nodded. "Ready to go."

---

Corbin could feel the spirits before they appeared, though he wasn't quite sure how. something to look into later. But not now. Now, he wanted to move, run, fly. He wanted to spar, anything. He fought the urge and stayed with the group. He watched with amusement the exchange between the Speaker, Shel Beroya, and the Mandalorian ghost. He didn't say anything though. It was taking a lot of willpower to restrain the energy that wanted unleashed.

 

[Preliat Mantis]

BURN
​

Preliat's form flickered, then vanished into embers, burning as he did for all eternity.

The one who spoke got it the worst- though all of them were suddenly victim to it. Wrathful and rage inducing as he was in death as in life, the Mandalorians- but the Shaman especially, could feel it. It was though his hands, burning and white-hot, wrapped themselves around their mind, forcing them to look at something.

The Shaman, more connected than the rest, could see it fully. The rest could only see parts of it. Preliat Mantis, the scourge of many, and the Wolf of Mandalore. The man who helped burn a planet, scourge an Empire, and slayer of his brothers.

Her eyes could see as he did, his actions during the reign of the Infernal, his daughter. The ruin he brought to the Mandalorian people. His sins laid bare. The lives he took. The Mandalorians he killed.

The death of Jasper Ordo.

His suicide.

His voice was speaking to their souls, cleaving into their minds. A demon in all things but name, Preliat lingered.

"This is why I linger. I burn for all of time for my sins. My actions. I will never join the Manda. I will never know peace."

His form faded, before settling back in front of Runi again.

"I will guide you. You do not belong amidst the damned. Do not stay."

His hand outstretched- and just like the crystal paths that guided Koda Fett on Shogun, illuminated reds and oranges, the fiery path blew forth, the Mandalorians given a path of fire, each side blazing with red-and-orange fire, flickering even amidst the fog.

"Do not stray from the path and keep close."

Runi Kuryida l Corbin Vasher l Shel Beroya

 

[Runi Kuryida]

// A few minutes ago...

Runi looked back at Corbin for a moment as he emerged. "This realm is not for the Living," and yet there they were, "it does not abide strict rules of what can and cannot be. It is part of the beginning and the end. Life is somewhere in between. Take care of your thoughts and emotions as you wander these roads; remember your own identity else something long gone yet famished to return may take you for its own."

It was dangerous having Corbin there, but their movements had been swift and time for deliberation short. Runi would keep an eye on the man to ensure his power was not more of a threat to himself than a boon here.

// Now

Shel seemed intrigued by the spirit that had come. Perhaps... impatient. The Speaker had no sharp words for the woman, however. Insistence was not a sin.

Nor had there been opportunity even if there'd been will. Preliat seemed keen on showing rather than telling -- a far easier thing to do in the Nether -- of his past life that held him in that place. The ivory spear in the Speaker's hand spun briefly until the butt struck the ground at her feet. A fine, shimmering line of white drew itself on the broken realm until it enclosed the group with Runi. It did nothing to erase the vision the spirit wished to show them; merely a safeguard if what the spirit wished to convey would prove hazardous. Visions here, after all, could hold more power than an idle daydream among the Living.

Echoy'la? There was no denying the actions displayed were quite a litany of crimes against the Mandalorian people. And himself. It troubled the Speaker, but for the moment she would not refute his claim.

"Where will you guide us?" Runi would begin to follow so the spirit did not feel ignored nor distrusted from the onset. Though his introduction by crimes committed did not instill a sense of trust, nor the damnation they clung to. Judgment at face value would be premature, but she hoped the others would remain on guard. "To what end?" Perhaps they could learn more of the one that had yet to name their self.

Spoiler: OOC

Feel free to create other spirit NPCs or beasts along the way to interact with~

Preliat Mantis | Corbin Vasher | Shel Beroya | Open​

 

[Todblaz Graker]

Outfit | Ranger Armor
Equipment | H1 Sniper Rifle | Cortosis Gloves | HX-Revolver
Tag | Shel Beroya Runi Kuryida Preliat Mantis Corbin Vasher Kyrrek Jal Shemal

The idea of spirits were confusing to Todd. His assumption was that death was the final frontier, the Great Equalizer. Even though some live for hundreds of years, death will lift his vail eventually. The helmed figure confused Todd, he seemed alert and orientated, but his character seemed 'mystical'. Though even with the odd occurrence, Todd thought they just happened upon someone, the idea of a world after death still couldn't work in his head.

Todd stood there in silence his head cocked trying to assess what was happening, but was pushed back to alertness when a question came out from Shel. This man may be the reason the Mandalorians have come to this location, but Todd wasn't fully sure if that's what she meant.

Looking at the walls again, his head moved slowly, scanning the rocks. If that is a soul, how many souls are trapped in this world of rock and stone? From wars of distance past, and who will end up in these walls, could we be next?

These thoughts of dread creeped up Todd's spine like a spider, though they were quietly shoved away as such thinking helps no one. Though Todd still knew in his head that souls cannot exist without a body, but he was slowly having his doubts.

"This is why I linger. I burn for all of time for my sins. My actions. I will never join the Manda. I will never know peace."

Todd's eyes returned again to the conversation, hitting his helmet and shaking his head. He wasn't here to determine who is dead and who is a spirit, he's here to prevent those with him from joining the dead.

"How absolutely curious." He muttered to himself.

 

[Bhalmor Sharratt]

Bhalmor Sharratt was, by no means, a lithe figure. No, he stood nearly two and a half heads taller than most men and was just as many times wider; so large was he that, with each step he took, a heavier print was in the sand. He did not armour himself so barbarically as his traditional kinsmen, as other Kaleesh did. He was far too big a target, and far too stubborn to wear anything but armour so dense, so heavy, that it would simply crush a a smaller warrior.

The stock of his halberd thudded into the sand as he drew near to the Kaleesh sniper, unphased even as the deflected blaster bolt breezed not a few feet left of his head. The thin, angular, golden slits which were the nigh-demonic warlord's eyes flashing down to the sniper as he neared, a closer inspection revealing him to be nothing buy a nearly-matured boy.

"We are Mandalorians, boy. We do not kill the Sith- we merely cleanse the galaxy of their filth." He rumbled out, merely standing and observing for a second as the youngblood worked- watched as his inadept fingers very nearly fumbled the shell into the chamber. Lifting his piercing gaze back to the battlefield, the legendary Field of Blades, the Sharratt Warlord could not help but feel the ancient glory call to him... call to his blade.

Drawing a deep breath, the Warlord raised the massive halberd, holding it in ready in his hand as though it were nothing more than a lumberjack's tool. Already, Bhalmor was lining up his path of attack- not that it would matter much, the Sith cared as little for their commanders as the karabbac cared for the fly that buzzed around its ass. "Aim around them, or aim for their hilt. Their tricks have rules, they can not sense what is not aimed for them, and they can not block if their weapon is destroyed." He commented plainly, a statement rather than a critique or instruction.

Simple advice, in Bhalmor's experience, was the best kind. He was a warrior, not a teacher, after all. Raising his head, he inhaled the rich smell of battle and death; the only truly natural thing to him in the twisted hellscape they found themselves in. Regarding the young sniper once more, the seasoned monster gave a more standard regard, delivered in the native tongue of Kalee, their homeworld; "May you claim as many deaths as you do enemies, warrior."

Descending down from the high ground, the Sharratt Warlord readied his axe; charging into the fray at a mere march. His elongated tusks, the bone-mask, and the long, black hair that fell around his head like a mane were more than enough to terrify most- but to see such a face mounted atop his towering frame, wrapped in a ragged, black cloak... the towering Warlord appeared more as a demon than a true enemy. To all who opposed him, he was transformed from a man, to a monster.

From a real, mortal enemy to an inconceivable demon, a nightmare constructed of shadows and death.

It did not take long for a rather large group of Sith vermin to take to his challenge, breaking from the main horde. Bhalmor had, until that moment, been slowly advancing on them; his halberd held to the side, spear-tip trailing along through the sand. As the vermin began to circle him, one raised it's crimson blade, leveling a taunt at the Warlord.

"We aren't scared of demons, boneface- We are Sith. We will crush you."

Had the shabuir been of any worth, its comment might have drawn a cruel chuckle from Bhalmor. Perhaps he might have even bit back with an insult of his own. But the rat was of no worth to him.

"I am no demon. I am your wickedness made of flesh."

He did not permit them the time to consider his threat before lunging towards the nearest Sith vermin, his halberd swinging for it's neck.

- - -

Kyrrek Jal Shemal ​

 

[Kyrrek Jal Shemal]

NETHER | FIELD OF BLADES
TAGS: Bhalmor Sharratt | OPEN
EQUIPMENT: Armour (appearance) | Beskad | Rifle | Pistol | Cycler rifle

---

The Kaleesh's focus was temporarily drawn away by movement behind him. He immediately dropped his rifle and drew his pistol, taking aim at what he suspected was a Sith warrior. To his surprise, however, the young warrior's gaze drifted up to the golden eyes and mask... of another Mandalorian. Kin as well, of all things.

"We are Mandalorians, boy. We do not kill the Sith- we merely cleanse the galaxy of their filth."

Kyrrek stared at him for a moment in awe until he managed to gather his wits. "I'm not a boy, old man, I earned my mask." He countered with a scowl as he holstered his weapon and picked up his rifle. He paused, however, as a thought popped up that had him rather concerned. "Vait... are you alive or dead?" He asked him with a skeptical look as he fiddled with the lever of his rifle.

"Aim around them, or aim for their hilt. Their tricks have rules, they can not sense what is not aimed for them, and they can not block if their weapon is destroyed."

"May you claim as many deaths as you do enemies, warrior."

The advice alone was rather helpful, Kyrrek had to admit that he had never encountered force users, let alone Sith, in his short life before. But to also hear his people's tongue again after a good many years, had him pause and look up at the warrior again. Before he could say anything in return, the man was over the ledge and into the fray with his weapon at the ready.

Kyrrek took aim through his cycler rifle's scope and followed the man's advice, aiming for their weapons as he approached them. The moment he noticed a Sith warrior raise his crimson laser sword, he squeezed the trigger and watched as the warrior recoiled. His weapon fell to the ground and he gripped his hand in pained surprise. "Heh, need a hand..." He muttered to himself as he dropped the lever and expelled the slugthrower's shell from the chamber. Another cartridge was inserted and he took aim at the next one, once again aiming for their hands. It was a very difficult target for the Kaleesh to hit, but he kept a steady breath and waited for the opportune moment to fire once again.

Anything that would make it easier for his kin in the fight.

 

[Alora Vizsla]

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Alora slowly strode across the parched waste of the Nether wearing her full suit and helmet. Sensors showed the place had air -- which didn't really make a lot of sense to her, but these were supposedly dead people in the flesh, so to speak, so not a lot made sense here. Didn't trust the air there even so. Too freakish. Not that she technically required it. Gam's work hadn't been slipshod, however, so everything a young woman should have Alora did. Including a good sense of danger. Not enough of one to stay out of the realm of the Dead, obviously.

Her steps drew her closer to someone that held a rifle and had taken a potshot at those out on the Field. Slugthrower from the way they ejected a spent cartridge. Were those more or less effective against spirits? Alora really didn't like this place. It was far too weird. Not to mention it made her think of questions Alora rather not.

"Heya," Alora's synthesized cheer sounded. Not too loud -- as if anyone could hear from within the horde of Dead below -- but loud enough. "Vizsla. Alora Vizsla, here. Are you alive?" She drew up off to one side and planted her hands atop her hips; the twin disruptors securely holstered nearby. The glowing line of her visor looked out over those on the Field. "Looks like a right mess down there. So, like every fight between Mandalorians and Sith, right?"

Kyrrek Jal Shemal

 

[Bhalmor Sharratt]

HEAD OF THE SNAKE
Kyrrek Jal Shemal
- - - - -

The Sith raised his wicked blade defensively, trying desperately to block the sudden advance of the Kaleesh monster. The blade never even touched the warlord's halberd, however, dropping to the ground as the man gripped the stump where his hand had been. Bhalmor did not give him time to scream, however, as his halberd bit deep into the exposed flesh of the vermin's neck.

As the body slammed into the ground, Bhalmor dug his heel into the corpse's abdomen, wrenching his halberd free. Bringing it up, he blocked the overhead flash of an approaching Sith. Locking the crimson blade into the axe head, he held the warrior in place as his offhand pulled a scattergun from his belt, pressing the cold barrel into the spirit's gut and opening his abdominal cavity.

The body fell back from the force of the blast, two more warriors coming at Balgresh from his sides. Raising his halberd, he turned his body, catching both blades on the staff as he twisted them around. Striking one of the vermin with the pommel of his staff, he waited for his overwatch to hit his next shot.

When the blade fell from the other warrior's hand, he quickly struck. Jabbing the spear-tip of his halberd through his neck, he dragged the man's body around quickly as he sidestepped, blocking a third warrior with the body, letting the crimson blade slice through it before retracting the polearm and stabbing it into the man's chest, the blade slipping between his ribs and piercing his lung.

He shoved the warrior onto his back as the Togruta spirit grabbed at the blade, trying to wrench it free. The Warlord wasted no time, the other Sith having recovered from his being winded, his blood-red blade glancing off the Warlord's shoulder-pad. Grabbing the Sith's wrist, he drove his heel into the man's knee, shattering the patella as he stepped aside and threw him forward, letting go of his wrist.

The man screamed in agony as he stumbled forward, managing to sustain his balance while the Warlord dug his halberd through the downed spirit's ribcage, finishing him off and pulling the halberd out. The Sith stumble-lunged towards him, blade swinging wildly as the monster simply danced out of it's trajectory, striking him with the length of his halberd straight across the gut, doubling him over. Spinning the polearm around, he buried the axe-head in the man's back and sent him to the dirt.

Freeing the halberd from the spiritual cadaver, the group of Sith that had surrounded him now dispatched, the Warlord cast his gaze to the young Kaleesh sniper's perch, raising his offhand in a gesture of thanks.​

​

 

[Kyrrek Jal Shemal]

NETHER | FIELD OF BLADES
TAGS: Bhalmor Sharratt | Alora Vizsla
EQUIPMENT: Armour (appearance) | Beskad | Rifle | Pistol | Cycler rifle

---

Once again the young Kaleesh was taken by surprise as someone else emerged from behind. Kyrrek rolled over and levelled his slugthrower with the new arrival's head, but managed to stop himself from pulling the trigger as he saw her armour. He blinked at the curious question and cleared his throat. "Yes, I am alive. Vhat kind of question is that?" He spoke up as he watched her for a moment. In the distance, his kin was tearing the Sith apart.

The stranger introduced herself, sounding far too happy to be in a place like this. He was starting to think that she wasn't exactly alive. "I should ask you the same thing. You are far too happy for a place like dis." He rolled over again and took aim, firing once more at the Sith down below. Naturally the Vizsla continued to chat away, causing Kyrrek to pause his reloading. "I vouldn't know, I vas only adopted a few months ago into the Mandalorians. But Sith I know vell enough." He spoke as he slid another round in and fired at the warriors below.

"How are vhe supposed to save souls in dis place? Vhe shoot ze sith... then vhat?" He asked Alora as he glance over to her. Looking back to the field, Bhalmor gave a wave which he reciprocated as the Sith retreated for the moment. "Do you think vhe should help out down zere?" He continued, setting down his rifle as he leaned back.

 

[Alora Vizsla]

"What kind of question is 'are you alive' when you're in the Afterlife?" Alora asked as though it were the most obvious thing in the universe. "Well, more like the Afterlife's waiting room, I guess." The whole 'where does the Nether fit astrologically' thing wasn't really her forte. Didn't really matter either. Like, if it was the place you went after you died then it really didn't matter until she died. Then maybe the politics or mystical voodoo would be of particular concern. Probably good to ensure its health so it wasn't an utter disaster on arrival, right?

How did you do preventative maintenance on the Nether again?

Oh, and the whole 'totally pointing a death stick at you' thing? Alora hadn't made a move in response. Guy could have shot her. He didn't. Probably for the best. Beskar helmet would keep her head intact, but he totally would not like to see how she'd respond. Just because you lived through being shot didn't mean you enjoyed being shot. There was the whole ringing or vibration filling the helmet aspect that made it a serious pain.

"Why shouldn't I be happy? I'm not dead. Even if I was -- look at all those Mando-souls down there. I doubt they're terribly upset almost every one of them is dead. Might not know it. A battle's a battle, right? Long as you can lift a weapon you fight until whatever end." Though this being the Afterlife's Waiting Room was a tad creepy. Land of the Dead? Like, what else was prowling about? How long did things linger? Could there be dead things from millions of years ago just lurking? They could not be sane after all that time. Could a spirit go insane? Woman, Alora hated the Nether. Philosophically speaking.

"Oh." A few months? Well that explained everything. Well, some things. "I'll admit, literally saving souls isn't my strong suit. Nor that of... pretty much any Mandalorian. Still," Alora drew one of her disruptors and gave it a spin around her finger, "that doesn't mean we don't even try. Mandalorians never run from a fight. We don't run around starting them, but if someone wants to cause trouble we'll put them down."

Alora peered out over the mess below. "If I had to guess... the Mandalorians and Sith below are already dead. So they can't die, right? I mean, looks like they do, but I think I see the same face just appear somewhere else again later. That means they're stuck. And despite what I said about us Mandos liking a good fight, an endless fight where no one ever actually proves they've grown stronger is probably our version of damnation. Sooo... we got to clear a path for the Mando-souls to fight their way through the field and to... wherever souls go." Alora gave a slight shrug as her visor turned to look down at the sniper beside her. "You up for it?"

Kyrrek Jal Shemal | Bhalmor Sharratt

 

[Soloman Priest]

This time of night, the bar always smelt like poodoo. Like clockwork, just after midnight - when the lights were turned up a touch too high, and the casual drinkers started to move on to greener pastures, all that was left was the downtrodden and black wearing fools who'd lived a little too long, a little too hard. Soloman was among them, sucking down a laced cigarello as he buried his head in his hand.​

​

The beer in his other had long warmed up, a disgusting mash mix that tasted just about as good as he felt. The galaxy never did like to give a Mandalorian a break, but it seemed to really enjoy messing with him - but at least the scars, cuts, and broken bones he'd gotten over the years had healed. Just left the therapy.​

​

Feth therapy - he'd just keep killing and capturing until the reaper called his name. Didn't need to worry about it, his next stash of creds would come with the times. For now, he just had to enjoy his beer. Or at the very least, a new beer.​

​

His gaze drifted back up to the bartender, dark bags under his eyes. The eye contact spoke volumes, and the alien in a wife beater gave him another beer - cold as they came. Soloman let the warm one slide across the bar to a small gathering of others, looking more like a bowling alley with how many he'd let get warm.​

​

He took one sip, and then let his chin rest in his hand, turning his attention to the shockboxing show on besberra. Good gladiator pits those.​

​

Runi Kuryida​