Into the Fold at Last [Mandalorians Dominion of Alderaan]

[Amelia von Sorenn]

Objective: House Syrush Rises
Location: King's Pass; Alderaan
Allies: | Alderaanians | Mandalorians | Royal House of Alderaan | [member="Draco Vereen"] |
Enemies: | The Environment | Death Watch |
Post: 3 / 35


A cold wind swept down from the peaks of the pass, cutting through the soldiers and workers gathered at the foothills. The trees creaked softly as the wind cut through them, wavering slightly though remaining tall and proud. Their cores fortified against the wind, the camp beneath their canopies abuzz with the life and movement of those gathered. The woman standing quietly over the large table within her tent, her eyes piercing as they fell upon the map that lain out before her as a heavy sigh slipped from her lips. Leaning forward she braced herself against the table, her hands upon the crafted wood before one lift and ran a slender finger along the map.

The Death Watch were still fighting, and it seemed that House Rist was floundering; though there were other Houses that stepped forward to take upon the bulk of the fighting. Her own forces though remained in the pass, they were still too little in numbers and even the small force from the Order that she sent to aide the Alderaanian Houses could easily be lost. Another heavy sigh escaped her lips as she kept her eyes upon the map, narrowing them slightly as she pointed out a choke point to herself. She could hardly afford to lose numbers and she wanted to ensure that casualties were at a minimal.

"There."

She spoke to herself while once more straightening herself up, shifting upon her back foot for a moment before slipping around the table. A messenger standing quietly in the corner as she approached. A soft nod of her head before she motioned to the map, once more pointing out the exact spot. A soft double tap with her finger as an emphasis upon what would come next.

"Move the Order Forces here and have them secure that choke point. We should be able to cover our allies flanks, and prevent the enemy from out maneuvering any of the currently deployed forces."

A silent nod was all that was needed for her as she stepped away from the table, returning to the information about the site at the foothills. Slipping down into a large chair, she rest her brow upon her fingers for a moment as she leaned back. The progress of rebuilding was taking longer than she liked, though she understood that she couldn't expect House Syrush to burst from the dust and ash of its old foundations. The memories of this place continued to flood into her mind, of those days she spent here enjoying her life; then of those days when the House was torn from where it had once stood.

 

[Kur-gal Kwaad]

The spikes along his back stood on end and his jaw flared as the Intendant so openly mocked their ways. Centuries of tradition and [SIZE=14.6667px]faith,[/SIZE] bent and broken because of the demands of spineless, sniveling human overlords. Kur-gal very nearly sneered at the aloof man, but [member="Khallesh"] at his side interjected before he could muster the voice to speak.

Blue veins stood out against the ashen pallor of his skin as he clenched his fists to channel the rage bubbling in his chest. The razor-sharp talons Shaped onto him when he was still an infant dug deep into the flesh of his palms, cutting through his thick armored hide like a knife through butter. Viscous black blood oozed out between his whitened knuckles, slow and corrupted like the decline of his people.

“Yes,” he forced out, tight-lipped lest he [SIZE=14.6667px]reveal[/SIZE] the rows of gritted teeth. “Food would be good.”

Ystill[SIZE=14.6667px] nodded with politeness so fake that even the Slayer noticed, and they led the Yun’Do delegation deeper into the network of their homes. Just a few strides [/SIZE]in and Kur-gal could already smell the delectable aroma of fresh meat. His stomach tightened painfully, reminding him just how pitiful the state of affairs was in the fleet.

They needed that seed, pride [SIZE=14.6667px]be[/SIZE] damned.

The [SIZE=14.6667px]Alderaani[/SIZE] Yuuzhan Vong took them to the farthest corner of the large mess hall, seating them away from prying eyes and questioning glances. Not that the Dragon noticed any of that; he was far too shocked to look at anything else but the mixed castes that milled about the spacious chamber. Warriors and Priests, Intendants and Shapers, all talking freely to each other as they enjoyed their meals at the tables.

Enjoying their meals.

It was [SIZE=14.6667px]Kur-gal’s[/SIZE] turn to pick his jaw off the floor.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

The rest of the group lay dead, and his haymaker, as he pulled it to examine it, had unfortunately been overloaded and ruined. Tossing aside the smoking mess with a shake of his head in disgust, he stabbed rather viciously at the corpse, growling a bit in dissatisfaction. With that, he rolled the corpse and checked, replacing his flash-bang and breach charge with another flash-bang and an incendiary grenade. Standing straight, he clipped the explosives to his harness, not quite satisfied with their make, but realizing something is better than nothing. And then he reached out with the Force as he descended the stairs as he heard the noise echo from down there. Pace quickened as he felt pain roiling off of Draco, worried for the worst.

Sighting Draco, sitting up, Ijaat ran over and knelt next to his friend. Sending his senses into the body of the one in front of him, he quietly let his ability roam over the body of his friend. The computer and the Force agreed. While he wasn't dead, Draco wasn't exactly happy. Art of the Small could supposedly work to heal, but he had never tried it for such a purpose before really. Internal bleeding was likely beyond him to fix, but he might be able to slow it, make it lessen so they could get out. The ideal would be to get him to the palace and to get a med-team stat.

"Damn't Draco, I'm a blacksmith, not a doctor.... Internal damage, really?"

Pulling power to himself through the Force, he readied training he had received on Voss, to try to fix things.

"I may be able to slow the blood loss or stop it... But it's not something i've done before... Do you have any stims or meds? Then to the palace for fixing, we just need stabilization now."

[member="Draco Vereen"]

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Location: New Aldera
[member="Ijaat Mereel"]
[Post 26]

"There are easier ways to fix it. Its Force overload, Ijaat. I've called upon more power than I should have and my body is reacting negatively." Draco pulled a medikit from his belt, bacta shots inside.

"When you call on the Force more than normal, it hurts, your body can degrade in some instances." Draco shrugged, sitting up, jabbing himself with a shot of bacta in the arm and letting the medicinal fluid flow into his veins. Some minor bleeding wasn't as bad as it could have been. There was a neat hole in the wall of the palace, smoke and dust swirling through where the explosives had been. The man who had tried to blow the place to the heavens was dead, dead from the pressure of the explosives being locked in with him.

The warrior turned his focus inward, and could tell what injuries he needed to heal from. "Here give me your hand. I can pull your Force power and heal myself fine." The injuries he had suffered weren't as terrible as Ijaat may have thought, what was left of his Force power turning to keeping himself alive and healing his injuries, however slowly it worked.

With just a touch from Ijaat he could direct the Force to heal himself and get back moving. His fingers crackled with a touch of red lightning, circling his finger tips. It would hurt, like a knife being jabbed into Ijaat's arm and twisted, but it wouldn't do much damage. Draco was skilled enough at draining individuals that he would only take what little he needed and no more, just enough to ward away the worst of the Force overload.

 

[Vilaz Munin]

Location: Some tavern (where real men get their drinks)
Allies: This beer
Enemies: TBD
Objective: Drink and relax
Post count: [1/25]

Once again, the Field Marshal was on Alderaan and not in some mountain trying to rescue princess Faith Organa. This time he was on the sidelines and acted as one of the Mandalorian guards that patrolled the capital of Alderaan while the others went out and fought against the terrorists of the Death Watch. Did Vilaz wanted to go out there and not get drunk in this tavern full of patrons? Yes, but someone had to manage and supervise the Mandalorian guard since they couldn't be just go running around the town and enforce the laws of Alderaan on its subjects. The Alderaanian forces and the Mandalorians had to cooperate since they were going to coexist with each other.

"Another Concordian Beer, please," he asked the bartender. He looked over to his datapad and saw the reports coming from New Aldera. The morale and the numbers of the terrorist were decreasing ever since Draco and Ijaat jumped in on the action. "Well, that'll teach those asshats not to screw around with the cavalry. All drinks are on me!"

One planet at a time the Death Watch was losing and becoming a laughable threat.

 

[Faith Organa]

There had been no response from [member="Jonathan Baliss"] this concerned her greatly, Faiths transport moved quickly for ground transport. She would have preferred to ride but the physical stress on her body would put her at risk.

If she did that Draco would have a fit, She couldn't blame him. Then word came that there was movement at the mine in the mountains. She looked at the information, "have a company meet us here" her stylus tapped the location. "We will engage them, see to our wounded and put this to rest"

Something then swept over her mind Draco was hurt. She turned looking towards New Aldera she wanted to go. But. She couldn't. She had to get to the wounded and take care of this last small group.

"Make sure one of the medical teams meet us" this would end soon. Just a couple more.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

"Overload.... Burnt the metal then... Too much heat, not enough control on the power of the blow... "

Despite the injury, Ijaat cuffed his once student on the side of the head on his helmet, likely causing a rather strong ringing in his ears as a result of it. The move wasn't malignant or particularly vicious, but it carried a sort of loving rebuke almost. An elder brother or uncle to a younger sibling or nephew. It carried concern along the Force, a ripple of worry and not a small bit of reproach came from the smith. A measure of power surged through their bond as Ijaat drew all he could, gripping Draco's hand with a death claw of a grasp, and nodded in consent. Whether it would hurt or not, or damage him... They had and would save each other time and again in ways more than combat, this was just another instance.

"Do as you must, and lets get you up and running"

[member="Draco Vereen"]

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Location: New Aldera
[member="Ijaat Mereel"]
[Post 27]

Draco gripped the man's hand and red lightning surged up Ijaat's arm, drawing and tearing at his life force itself. But only for a momentary shock. Just as soon as it started it was over and Draco was heaving himself off the ground. "Sorry, it hurt, but it wasn't much. I just needed to wet the bucket, not fill it up." the Mandalorian said with a soft smile, shaking the ringing out of his ears Ijaat had saw fit to curse him with.

"I needed to make sure none of the explosives got set off, and its a lot harder to lock in an explosive that keep one locked out." Plus he hadn't used it since he had come back from having the Force temporarilyu severed from him. At least not more than just seeing if he could, but not practicing the skill against anything.

He groaned as he stood off the ground and walked over to the dead man in the floor, putting three blaster bolts into the back of his head. Just a single clean hole cut in the palace wall. Not much, just a little over a meter wide circle. Pieces of the circle lay inside the palace, blown across the sub-basement of the building. "This is going to be murder explaining to Faith's mom. She hates me as it is." And now she would have better reason to, other than he had stolen her daughter's heart.

The Mandalorian walked through the rubble and looked around the darkness, stopping only a single beam of light piercing the smallest hole in the ceiling. Probably an observation hole the terrorist drilled. But it shown on a piece of rubble and something in the back of his mind pushed him towards that rubble, following the light.

When he placed his hand on the stone to lift, it was lighter than he thought it would be, and when he turned it in his hand, a slot was taken out of the rock.

A leather bound tome slid out of the slot when he turned it upside down, and fell into his hand. "Huh?"

 

[Lok Xiangu]

Location: Some alley
Allies: Mandos
Enemies: Rich kids
Post: [2/25]

Freaking rich, white kids.

There are two types of rich folks that are young and white. One type were the humble ones and gave respect to everyone despite of their status in society and their background; and then there were elitist ones that had their nose up in the skies, thinking the whole Galaxy revolved around them. Right now Lok and his group of Mando youngsters were dealing with a group of preppy rich, white kids who had the smart mind on insulting Lok and his friends.

Which is how the two groups ended up in this nice alleyway and became a street fight. An embarrassing fight for the rich kids.

A left uppercut from the Munin went up to the chin of a fethed up boy that couldn't even get a single hit on the Mandalorian. "You wanna repeat what you were saying, huh?! Tough guy," the youngster said as he ten pinned the kid onto the floor and wasn't distracted by the other fights occurring. Neadless to say someone called law enforcement, and a coalition force of Alderaanian and Mandalorian patrollers and were on their way to stop and arrest the participants of the fight. Was Lok going to run? Hell, no. He was going to continue beat the heck out of his opponent before the authorities came.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Location: New Aldera
[member="Faith Organa"]
[Post 28]

Draco stood in the rubble with a number of Organa House bannermen, having responded to the disturbance. A short conversation of bringing them up to date on the situation, and things began to settle down. The small hole, large enough to walk through, small enough that a man like Draco had to duck would be sealed in due time, but for now they were assessing the damage that had already occurred and ensure that the palace structure was safe. The Rhydonium had already been confiscated and sent to a secure facility to be re-purposed or used by the House's military if they had a use for such a volatile explosive.

"Could you make sure Faith gets a message telling her I'm okay and the Palace is fine. I know she's worried about that." She would be, but for now, everything seemed to be calming down. The Death Watch didn't get to set of the Rhydonium and send a couple city blocks into the next world, they didn't get to place it in the sub-basement of the Royal Palace like they had wanted, and he had one member in custody in the palace dungeon, currently still very compliant.

"Yes, my lord." The soldier said, turning to tap a subordinate to carry out the request quickly while Draco took a few steps out of the darkness of the sub-basement.

The heavy leather bound tome had no words on the outside, just the House Organa symbol and the spine had the New Jedi Order Symbol and New Republic insignia stamped on the top and bottom respectively. It was an interesting thing, and the inside intrigued him. The first page was a small paragraph, hand written, by the author explaining what it was. Faith would be tickled to death to hear about it for certain, but he was intrigued, drawn to it oddly enough, though he had no known connection to it.

 

[Khallesh]

[member="Kur-gal Kwaad"]


Khallesh took her seat, feeling deeply uncomfortable will the whole situation. Why hadn't the damned Shaper come? This was a job for her tongue, not the Huntress. Khallesh had been brought up in a traditional Domain. Despite all of Jun’s attempts to change her, she still struggled to adapt to being thrust into communities so far removed from what she was brought up in. Seeing isolated Yuuzhan Vong going native was one thing, seeing a whole community change to live under the humans was quite another.

“Their intendants have a stronger will than our own,” Khallesh observed. The difference between Ystrill and Welk was stark. “The fight couldn't be won, so they stepped up and survived. But still…if it came to this…backs together and fight to the last for me.”

She could have some respect for the way they had survived through political means, but that did not mean it was a path she could tread herself. Did they let Yuuzhan vong move between castes? Willard had said the flexibility of the infidels corporate world was their strength. Occupations died off when they weren't required, individuals took on the tasks they were best suited to. It wasn't something Khallesh could ever completely comprehend. Her kind had been shaped for a role. Thousands of generations of selective breeding, genetic manipulation, and then those changes made after birth. Surely it was more effective to be designed for a path and then follow it?

“Hmm. I often mock the infidels for their hedonistic attitude towards food. But after months of nutrition paste…I am quite looking forward to this.”

 

[Kur-gal Kwaad]

The only civil response he could scrape together was a grunt. Certainly, he would never debase himself to this level. It was either pride or death, no in-betweens. His nostrils flared as he stabbed Ystrill and Welk with scorching stares over the table. A few moments later, and he would have defaced the underside with his talons, but then a Shamed One brought food, and his ire was forgotten with the powerful clench of a ravenous stomach.

The Dragon dove right into his steaming plate – plate, how human – stuffing his face with the dripping chunks of meat. No propriety, no culture. Nothing but hunger left.

And by Yun’O, was it good.

Fat dripped down his chin as his bifurcated jaws made short work of the rare steak, tearing it into shredded little pieces before he gorged on the remains. He didn’t recognize the foreign flavor blossoming on his tongue, but the game here on Alderaan was alien and strange, like most beasts of this Galaxy. Though a bit wiry and prone to sticking between the teeth, the meat wasn’t too chewy, and the spice blend worked very well.

In short, it tasted like chicken.

[member="Khallesh"]