Let there be Mandalorians [Dominion of Wayland]

[Bhaltair Dhimani]

Objective: Kremlins
Post: 6/20

Later that night​

​

Bhaltair finished his concoction of protein puree and a particularly nasty poison proven to work on mammalian organics. When he used it on the test subject, the kremlin was all too eager to eat something, let alone his enticing concoction. The experiment was proven to be an unequivocal success when the Kremlin toppled over and went limp. Vital signs were nil, so it was safe to say that the creature was dead.

Now, to figure out a tool for mass dispersal. The flame thrower design immediately came to mind. It could provide a concentrated enough amount to a given area from a safe distance. Perhaps they could even do air drops, much like crop dusting except more like dumping water on forest fires. Before he would be able to proceed, he would need to get in touch with Mandalorian leadership to authorize the transferred use of enough flame throwers, soldiers, pilots and vehicles.

He put in a requisition order for all that he needed with an attached document containing a summary of his findings and goals. ([member="Draco Vereen"] Didn't know who else to mention for this part.)

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Objective: Kremlins
[4/20]

As the sun fell from the sky and plunged the valley into darkness, Draco began the feeling he was being followed, watched. It was a simple feeling, but unlike normal predatory sensations it was more malicious, more devious in nature. Beyond that there was a presence he could feel the hints of, but not detect. Not many options there, but he kept moving, quietly and quickly towards the cliffs that overlooked the valley where the Ion Cannons had been set up. The sound of chittering rodents and singing birds died, suddenly. One minute he had been in any jungle at night, the next there was silence.

Draco was experienced to know that utter silence was a very bad sign in a dense jungle, and thus began climbing the nearest tree. He had hoped to approach the anti-air cannons quietly without notice, but that was quickly looking like something that would not be happening anytime soon. His sensors picked up movement below, and he watched, seeing a deer-like creature run past the tree he was in, followed by a ball of fairly decent sized Kremlin, large enough to have been around longer than a couple of hours. The creatures tore into the deer and quickly moved on, but then more movement from a different direction, and then another, and another. It became very clear why the locals had put up ion cannons and the like above the valley to keep them isolated. Unless someone bombed the whole place with napalm and turbolaser fire, it had probably gotten too bad to be cleansed in any other way.

Now all that was left was to wait out the night and make it out of the valley populated by monstrous little buggers.

 

[Darth Banshee]

Objective: follow [member="Draco Vereen"]
4/20

She had been tracking him through out the day, he had caught up with her as she suspected he would. She kept up with him as best as possible after that, she watched him watch a kill. She wonder if he ever knew what is was like to prey, she was not hunting of course merely trying to ascertain what it was she felt on Roche emanating from him. She felt the darkside coming from him, she had felt it many times before. She was after all a former member of The One Sith, she had felt some the darkest minds known to the galaxy.

After awhile she realize she had a problem, draco was going to settle down for the night. She would not be able be keep this all night, and she need to keep an eye on him. She had other problems as well, like the need for a comfort brake. Also the amount predators and other stuff on the planet, she was going to need a plan. Though that comfort brake would come first.....

 

[Darth Metus]

Location: Mount Tantiss, Wayland
Objective: Cease the Madness
Affecting: [member="Vilaz Munin"], [member="Eirlys Verd"], [member="Marius"], [member="Dralos"]

After he had said his piece, the Mandalorian waited on baited breath. Attempting to sway a man who had sided with a radical movement was a dangerous gamble; one that could have seen him dead on the ground. However, fortune would have it that his words, verbal and otherwise, struck home. Isley watched as Vilaz carefully contemplated what to do next...and felt waves of relief as the Field Marshal deactivated the Darksaber. The weapon was then extended to Isley, who then received it into his grasp.

"You've made the right choice, brother. I'll be certain to return what is yours, of course. For now, let us focus on attempting to get our other kin to see the light."

His words were accompanied with a rare smile, obscured from view by his buy'ce. Now, while the moment was indeed sentimental; in addition to being a victory for the United Clans, there was still a battle raging all about. The True Mandalorians continued their assault upon the Mountain, both internally and externally. Both sides were out for blood...and it was leagues from being right. The people of Mandalore were warriors! They were born to strike fear into the Galaxy, born to conquer, born to thrive. Yet here they were, spilling the blood of one another.

All the while, their enemies were still out there. The Sith were still out there. Remnants of the Primeval were still out there. Beings that deserved their wrath...evaded consequence because of this civil war.

It was frustrating to think of. Infuriating, even. Having succeeded in his goal, Isley's attention was now placed upon the hell raging about him...and thus did his blood boil all the more. It drove him. It screamed through the Force. His offhand snapped into the air, unleashing a mighty torrent of lightning. The bolts crackled and hissed several meters skyward, casting azure light down upon the combatants below. It was more than enough to draw attention: more than enough to give him a moment speak. Yet he did not open his mouth to say a single word. Rather, he allowed the Force to be his mouthpiece.

Listen to me, all of you!

This battle...nay...this war. It is pointless.

Both sides believe they are in the right, yet what right is there in slaying one's own family? Both sides believe they are doing what's right for Mandalore...yet look at her borders. Look at her people. Here we stand upon the world lost to a glorified cult. Here we stand where our brothers and sisters died, defending their people and honor. Defending you. And what are you doing?

You are disgracing their memory. You stain the earth of Wayland with more Mandalorian blood.

No more, my brothers. No more, my sisters. We all want the same thing. We all want a strong and united Mandalore. We all want the cancer left behind by an incapable Sole Ruler to be cut away. Yet killing each other is not the answer. This is not what our fallen kin would have wanted...and deep down, I doubt this is what any of you wanted.

So I implore you all, stop this madness. Let us shelve the mantles of Death Watch and True Mandalorian and come together once more. Let us find a way to accomplish the goal that burns in all of our hearts. Only together can we heal Mandalore. Only together can we be truly strong.

Death Watch!

Come home. It's not too late to turn from this path.

Isley did not know what affect, if any, his telepathic words would have upon the hearts and minds of those within the Mountain. Perhaps they would just ignore him and continue shooting. Perhaps they would cease the violence and attempt some semblance of reconciliation. Personally, the Mandalorian hoped for the latter...

[6/20]

 

[Bhaltair Dhimani]

Objective: Kremlins
7/20

His requisition was filled and the first part he received was the flame throwers. He had made sure to ask for empty canisters and he had brought along a mechanic to help him figure out how to configure the pilot flames to be turned off...along with other things to figure out on this highly abnormal venture.

The pilot flames were extinguished and the large ammo canisters were filled with protein puree poison. After many tries, they had to come to grips with the fact that the range for these improvised weapons was not going to be as long as their original intent had. That meant that the soldiers would need to wear riot armor like he had a day or two ago. There were transports to schedule, disaster control ships to refit and more.

He would have to boot a lot of the leadership and organizing to more suited Mandos. He was, after all, a specialist foremost.

 

[Bhaltair Dhimani]

Objective: Kremlins
Post: 8/20

When the Mandos had first descended upon the planet, there were, of course, directives...objectives. One of these objectives, which was frankly the only one that appealed to him, was to take care of the Kremlin population. The way that the Battlemaster talked about them to the people he prepared for that undertaking made it sound like it was supposed to be some kind of desperate "spray and pray" suicide mission. Why? Bhaltair had no clue. Things would be a lot easier if people just used their brains instead of their brawn so much.

That was exactly as Bhaltair intended to do: use the brain he had been given and the knowledge he had worked for. The troops were standing ready and waiting to be mobilized very soon. The plan was for the troops to make a perimeter and advance on the jungle treeline of the infested area. They would handle the kremlins on the outskirts while disaster control ships flew overhead and dumped large loads of the toxic meat brew on top of their heads.

The order was passed along. Time to move.

 

[Bhaltair Dhimani]

Objective: Kremlins
Post: 9/20

The amount of poisoned protein puree was astounding. The smell was relatively nice at first, but it got old real quick and started to make one sick of smelling it. Bhaltair had a bird's eye view of the situation from the passenger seat of a scout ship hovering high in the air. He watched as the ships zoomed by his position and saw the dots, that were the soldiers, on the ground advancing slowly. The sight of many large figures converging in an orderly fashion on their territory was riling up the population. The soldiers would handle the bulk of the kremlins while the ships hopefully got any stragglers and/or breeders. This was going to be a tremendous mess after everything was said and done.

The men were soon reporting quill attacks, but no one had been afflicted by their nulling effect yet. The men stopped short of a couple feet less than their maximum range. The ships had already started dumping their load just as the soldiers opened...fire. Geysers of protein puree poured forth from the men and into the kremlin infested tree line. After a good amount of spraying took place, they then advanced on the tree line, still spraying. The line stopped very close to tree line and they kept spraying until they ran out. When the spraying stopped, they were given the signal to pull back and wait for either the call sign to reload or leave.

The jungle was an absolute mess.

 

[Levy Willamina]

Krelins

Levy kept going with more speed now as she was firing off the rifle into a small grouping of them and letting the sonic shot smack into one of the critters. His explosion of fur and bone embedding in a tree before she ducked down firing off a blast of heated plasma to melt its face. So far the test for the weapons upgraded systems was going well and [member="Bhaltair Dhimani"] was even getting his way before she was moving with a lot of her attention onf the different things. It gave the mando scout a purpose leaping while she went up into one of the trees hefting the rifle and aiming down the sights to watch and prepare for more of the little beasties.

 

[Kellyn Muir]

Objective: Undetermined
[1/20]

"Exiting hyperspace.", Kassius said as he entered Wayland's orbit. The Mandalorians were bringing the system into their control and were staging an operation to do so, peacefully or otherwise. Knowing Mandalorians, it'd likely be anything but peaceful.

"You comfortable back there, old man?", Kassius jested. In his co-pilot seat was an old family friend and seasoned veteran of the Mandalorian Armed Forces, Gael bar Ammon. Through the years, his body has aged but his reputation has done anything but erode.

R4-C5 beeped, notifying Kassius they were entering the atmosphere. "Inputting Field Marshal Betna's coordinates now. Takes us down lightly.", Kassius ordered of the droid. He made some last minute adjustments to his armor and made sure his weapons were charged and ready. The ship shook as they encountered some turbulence from entering orbit.

After a few moments, they found the landing site. Kassius didn't stay for long, as this was Gael's stop. Kassius had a rendezvous with one Callista Gseran, who had established and was running an aid and litter camp. Kassius would provide security for the wounded as well as lend a hand as needed in treating the casualties.

"Here's your stop, old man.", Kassius notified Gael as he hovered the ship above the land and opened the cockpit. When the old man exited, the ship rose again and the cockpit sealed and pressurized. Kassius was off to meet this Callista now.

"Take us to these coordinates, R4-C5.", Kassius ordered as he typed in the location he was given.

 

[Gael bar Ammon]

Objective: Undetermined
[2/20]

"Exiting hyperspace.", Kassius said as he entered Wayland's orbit. The Mandalorians were bringing the system into their control and were staging an operation to do so, peacefully or otherwise. Knowing Mandalorians, it'd likely be anything but peaceful.

"You comfortable back there, old man?", Kassius jested. In his co-pilot seat was an old family friend and seasoned veteran of the Mandalorian Armed Forces, Gael bar Ammon. Through the years, his body has aged but his reputation has done anything but erode.

"Aye, and you'll do good to remember who you're talking to.", Gael responded with a snarl. Usually a laid back man, Gael was difficult to upset but took offense to disrespect from friends and family. Respect was to be expected and was something Gael demanded of Kassius. He however, was not always the most subordinate in this regard.

The astromech droid beeped and the ship changed direction. Rendezvousing with Anija, no doubt.

After a few moments, they found the landing site. Kassius didn't stay for long, as this was Gael's stop.

"Here's your stop, old man.", Kassius notified Gael as he hovered the ship above the land and opened the cockpit. "Call me if you get scared.", Gael joked as he lifted himself out of his seat and stepped off the ship. After the jump, he regained his composure and looked around for [member="Anija Betna"], his contact he would be meeting. This would likely be his last combat mission, so the Field Marshal had invited him to accompany her, as a commemoration if anything, or at least that's what Gael had figured. He wasn't one to object though, especially not to his superiors. He had raised his hand to his earpiece to better hear any incoming audio as he walked out of the center of the clearing he was dropped in. Exposure wasn't smart in any scenario, and Gael new this. He'd wait for Anija one way or another.

 

[Bhaltair Dhimani]

[member="Draco Vereen"] | [member="Levy Willamina"]
Objective: Kremlins
Post: 10/20

Something terrible happened right as everything was going well. Ion cannon fire barreled through the sky at the dumping disaster relief ships. Someone hadn't gotten the memo that they were here to help. Either that or the Kremlins were much smarter than he had anticipated...actually, no. That's highly unlikely.

The ships veered off course and retreated. The pilot of their ship wasn't paying attention on this "milk run" and pulled back too late. They were hit and going down. Panic and terror gripped Bhaltair's normally calm heart as they spiraled down into the unknown. They should have stayed much, much farther away! Gravity lifted him in his seat and he yelled in fear as he felt his body try to slip out of the seat restraints.

There was a terrible crashing sound of gnashing and tearing; both of wood and metal. The cockpit windshield shattered and Bhaltair's eyes had closed shut in response to the moment before impact. When he opened his eyes, he gasped for air. He hadn't realized that he had been holding his breath in. He took stock of the situation. The pilot was dead. It was a sad way to pay for your mistake. There were branches and leaves EVERYWHERE. He was shaking in his seat. He tried to calm down as he unbuckled and disentangled himself.

 

[Vilaz Munin]

Location: Mount Tantiss
Objective: 2
Allies: [member="Isley Verd"], True Mandos
Enemies: Death Watch
Post Count: [7/20]

"Aye," was the only thing he could respond to the Verd when he took the ancient lightsaber and directed his attention on bringing Death Watch and True Mandalorians alike under one true, sole banner. Referring to the only weapons he had access to Vilaz drew both of his dual pistols and went into a state of cautiousness as they were in the heat of a battle between the two Mandalorian Factions. Of course, he wouldn't be a zealot and fire upon any rebellious Mandalorians, but he would try to persuade any Death Watch personnel to think of their actions and have them come back to the light; however, that didn't mean he wouldn't defend himself and would only attack if provoked. He hoped he wouldn't have to lethally neutralize a Death Watch Mandalorian, but if he had to...he had to then.

Suddenly, the fighting stopped all of a sudden as they looked around to see who was talking to them. Confused was Vilaz since nothing peculiar happened to him. Some were hitting their heads with a tap from their fists, as if something was happening to their brain and others shouted out words like: "Get out of my head!"

Moments later some Death Watch surrendered themselves which was took as a symbol of penance and regret; but others, unfortunately, were zealots much similar like the Death Watch Sole Ruler and were ignorant enough to open fire on the Death Watch traitors and True Mandalorians alike. It was like the Manda reached out to the rebellious ex-Death Watch Warriors and asked each and every one of them to take a moment of reflection and see what effect their actions were causing with an open mind. They seemed to have similar traits when Vilaz turned his back on the True Mandalorians: hopeless, fear of extinction, some resolution, an answer to be strong again, and many other psychological patterns that they all had in common during these times.

As he advanced into the depths of the mountain he provided suppressing fire on a group of Death Watch Warriors that were assaulting a squad of True Mandalorians that were extracting some reconciled Death Watch Mandalorians to a safe zone away from the skirmish down here in Mount Tantiss. The Death Watch were heavily outnumbered, but the defenses stationed in areas inside the mountain would save up their lost numbers and be a pest for the approaching True Mandalorians. It would take time and some casualties, but it would result in a major True Mandalorian victory.

 

[Darth Rixas]

Objective: TBD
[1/20]

Oron shifted in his seat as his small freighter descended upon Wayland, crossing the threshold into the planet's atmosphere. His astromech beeped and booped random bits of information, none of which interested Oron. Tempature, wind speed, potential hazards, hotspots - all useful bits of information to anyone whom hadn't been to the planet in the last few years. Wayland's had her share of moments, but they weren't times he wished to hear verbal reiteratoins of. He hated hearing stories twice.

"Quiet Droid."

"Zzz...beep."

Swiping his gloved palm across a senser pad on his ship's dash he overlooked the objectives once more. There seemed to be trouble in the mountains along with a Fort that needed liberation - and the rest of the area was covered with Kremlins, at lease according to his report. Furrowing his brows he considered his options before his astromech interrupted his train of thought of again.

"Beep, boop, boop?"

Oron replied with low, jumbled grunts and mumbles, obviously annoyed. He'd planned on listening to the frequencies to see where the most immediate attention was needed anyhow. Stupid droid.

"This is Oron Verd, currently airbound in Sector 3, ready to provide tactical support when need be." He paused, awaiting a response before continuing. "Anyone copy?"

 

[Anija Betna]

Wayland
Objective 3: Kremlin Nightmares; Possibly Objective 4 as well.
Allies: [member="Kassius Visceron"] [member="Gael bar Ammon"]
Gear: In sig or Bio
Post: [2/20]


It was as Anija was making her way towards the mine's entrance that ANNE notified her of an approaching craft. For a moment, she frowned deeply, But the tone of ANNE's voice inside her helmet didn't sound concerned. And what ANNE said next explained why perfectly. "Anija, there is a shuttle headed to our location. Transponder lists it as a Mandalorian craft, registered to one Kassius Visceron." She wasn't overly familiar with the name, but she had heard of the man. He was a recent recruit to the Mandalorians, and a skilled fighter.

And then she remembered. Amidst everything that went on surrounding the events of Roche, she'd met an older gentleman. His name was Gael, if she recalled correctly. Some days, she found it hard to remember small details, given with how much information passed through her hands on a daily basis. He'd approached her following Roche and asked some rather pointed questions regarding the Mandalorian political system. Ones which, at the time, she'd not been able to answer.

There was so much in flux these days, it was hard to get a definitive answer on much of anything. But, she'd told him she'd try. To that end, she'd invited him along to assist her with the clearing of the Kremlin the old-fashioned way. The same way they'd done so during the invasion by Primeval. Sure, having [member="Bhaltair Dhimani"] 's fancy little toxin would have been nice,. but she didn't have that luxury, unless he could somehow magically get some to her. Right now though, there were people to meet, and kremlins to kill.

 

[Callista Gseran]

Wayland
Objective 4: Medical relief efforts
Allies: [member="Kassius Visceron"] [member="Gael bar Ammon"]
Gear: In sig or Bio
Post: [3/20]

Well, she'd never expected to find herself deep in Mandalorian territories, or even on the edge of it. But, a call had gone out that the United Clans needed assistance in their efforts to take back Wayland. Sure, Callista had her own ties to the Mandalorian people... but they were not the ones found in this reality. Nor was she sure she could ever make such a connection here. But, that remained to be seen. For now, she busied herself with setting up a small field hospital, which was protected by a portable shield generator, She'd brought everything she could think of that they would possibly need.

And to be honest, she wasn't entirely sure what all that was. For now, she busied herself with the setup, along with assistance from a couple loading droids. it wasn't long before she has a temporary shelter erected inside the perimeter of the shield. This, she filled with a handful of cots, and then worked to set up a small triage and surgical area near the back in case it would be needed. She wasn't all that well-versed in all the local wildlife, but she'd tried to find what information she could. And the Kremlins were the entire reason for the unwieldy shield generator. Hopefully, she'd have some help soon.

 

[Darth Metus]

Objective: X
Location: Mount Tantiss
Allies: [member="Vilaz Munin"], [member="Marius"], [member="Eirlys Verd"], [member="Dralos"], [member="Oron Verd"]
Heading to: [member="Loxa Visl"]
[7/10]

As with all "divine intervention", the result was a mixed bag.

In the moments whilst the Mandalorian spoke through the Force, a large portion of the combat came to a standstill. The focus of the warring Death Watch and True Mandalorians was interrupted. Shattered, even, by the empassioned words of Isley Verd. As these things often go, the result caused a few to truly take a look inward. Some of the Death Watch went so far as to throw down their arms in an act of surrender, whilst others simply took their finger off the trigger. The most zealous, however, saw Isley's words as naught but a trick...and continued firing.

Fortunately enough, the Death Watch within the mountain was already a minority compared to the forces descending to meet them. Even better still was the fact that the now "redeemed" members of their midst were taking the steps to enter True Mandalorian custody. This was good, as it meant that the Mountain would soon be taken. It meant that Mandalorian blood would cease being spilled. Isley took a moment to breathe before putting a plan together. With some of the more zealous members of the Death Watch continuing to fight, the True Mandalorians would have difficulty discerning enemies from the recently surrendered. What's more, all of their forces were being pushed deeper into the Mountain.

That just would not do. As such, Isley quickly scoured his helm's database for a golden nugget he had procured years prior. It took some solid, targeted digging (which was made vastly difficult by blaster fire everywhere), but he eventually came upon one of the spoils of his first voyage to Mount Tantiss. T'was simply a map, gleaned from an old database alongside the former Mand'alor long ago. With this, those who surrendered would be able to filter out of the Mountain without being lumped in with the zealous bunch. With this, their paths to redemption could truly begin.

"Vilaz." said Isley, addressing the Redneck over the comm. "Take this and guide those who've surrendered out of a different entrance. From there, send your coordinates to the Sentinel, it'll provide means for you to get off this rock. Stay alive, brother."

With that said, Isley shot the map data over to the Field Marshal...before having his comm erupt.

"Sir, you've got to see this!"

"Getting shot at."

"R-right. Okay. Um. Scans have returned a large host holed up in a Temple of sorts. Primeval, most likely."

"On it."

"Oh, and sir? Oron has arrived."

Isley literally had to stop himself from yelling kark yes into the ear of his subordinate.

"Send him the coordinates and tell him to meet me there."

With said information in hand, it was time to move onto yet another fish. The Mountain, despite losses, would be a victory. A Mandalorian victory. Uttering a shrill whistle, Isley called over his Bes'uliik and leapt aboard. He then gave [member="Eirlys Verd"] the order to go with the Field Marshal and to oversee their entrance into Clan Verd custody. It wasn't that he doubted the sincerity of his, or the others', surrender...but he had to play it smart. From there, the cockpit was slid into place and Isley urged his beast skyward. It would take a wee bit more of explosive ordnance to get out, but once there it was smooth sailing.

As for those who awaited him at the Temple...they would feel his coming a mile away.

 

[Gray Raxis]

Objective: 1- Liberating Fort Monroe
Post: 1/20
Equipment: In bio

Gray was on his way to Wayland to aid his brothers and sisters in reclaiming the planet for the glory of the Mandalorian way. He hadn't been comfortable with his mando blood during the events of Roche to help them deal with that insane situation, but he was here for them now. He didn't just want to connect with them more, he needed to connect with them more. Mandalorians fought for each other. Mandalorians protected each other. Mandalorians conducted themselves with honor. Gray tried to live like that as it was, but he needed to do more for his own people than just flying around making pirates regret their life choices.

Gray sat in the pilot seat of his ship as his droid Key flew him to Wayland. He had heard about something that needed to be done on the planet and he figured he could take care of one of them. He heard about Fort Monroe being held by remnants of the Primeval still. He wanted to liberate the Lady Liberator of the pests that had caused her so much trouble. He wasn't sure what kind of resistance he was going to deal with or even if going in solo would be such a great idea, but its not like he hadn't done this kind of thing before. He tended to do things others would consider stupid or reckless, and somehow got away with it. He also had a habit of getting himself hurt, but that hopefully wouldn't happen this time around. The biggest problem he had was trying to figure out how to get into the fort if it was still well defended. A defensive structure was easier to take from the inside than the outside, and that was the approach he was likely going to take. He just needed to think on how to achieve that goal while he was on the way there.

 

[Darth Rixas]

Objective: X
Location: Heading to [member="Loxa Visl"]
Allies: [member="Isley Verd"] [member="Vilaz Munin"]
Post: 2/20

"Does anyone copy?"

Oron lifted his finger from the comm. Silence, save for the whirling of his astromech droid mounted in the rear of his ship. Inching his hands to his controls, he decided he'd land and scout the area but a voice sliced through the quietude, stirring the attention of both Oron and his assistant.

"Sir, Dexter here, do you read?"

"Yeah, report?"

"The Kremlins have yet to be finished off, although they are being exterminated by various means at the moment. Isley is with a party in the mountains, defusing the escalation with the Death Watch-"

"Isley?" Oron asked, inquisitively. He'd thought he could feel his brother's signature in the Force from up here, but second-guessed the sensation. It felt like a shift in the air - a slant of fractured light swept by a shadow. Or something softer in form and substance that could cause the particles and motes of dust to shudder gently, readjusting to the pronounced presence of another. Time apart had made the sensation unfamiliar but not uncomfortable. The duo had a few side-effects from a few of the rituals they'd performed together in the past. Oron was sure that when he'd see Isley it'd be like they never skipped a beat. Besides, he was never the warm-sentimental type, only hot or cold; shoveled like ash into a pit, one end to another on the spectrum of emotion. Knowing Isley was well was the best news he'd heard in months though, after being deployed to other parts of space for extended periods of time. Hearing the opposite would have earned a very unhealthy reaction from Oron.

"Status?" Oron asked as he halted his ship, rotating the nose of his craft to the peaks of Tantiss in the distance.

"Neutralized. Your brother has requested I send you the coordinates to a hotspot, apparently a temple. Our scanners returned data indicating a host. We're assuming It's the Primeval, sir."

"Understood. Send them over."

Once uploaded, Oron's droid immediately keyed the information into the system, sending them into the direction of the temple. His craft was too large to purchase safe landing in the trees so Oron pushed himself to his feet, realizing he'd have to be roped down. Wrapping his utility belt around himself he contemplated the probable antagonists. If Oron was told about them, then he had the green light. As an operative he pulled no punches and instead pulled the trigger. Every time. There were moments where he hesitated, out of fear or some random shard of morality or sympathy - but even those moments were fleeting, turned like a dying flower from a cold sun. When in the field operating for the sake of the Mandalorians, he knew no caution for life nor compassion for others. Only the exhausting drive to see all that he held dear protected and to see his enemies extinguished.

'HISSSSSS!'

A slot in the flooring of his craft slowly shifted and moved, revealing an emerald blur of tree-tops below.

"Beep beep."

"Then stop the ship. I don't want to give them a heads up that we're near." The droid swung a clip down to Oron, suggesting he use a safety harness, but he ignored the proposal. "I'll travel to the rendezvous point outside the temple on foot from here. Find a place to land, and await my signal for extraction.....We're low on gas."

And with that Oron wrapped a gloved hand around the rope and began his descent to the jungle floor.

 

[Blackthorne]

Wayland - Deep Jungles
The Temple of Yvarenthi

Spoiler

Many moons had passed since the last transmissions from the Primeval core faded. Left in the wake of the civil war tearing apart their territory, with no Host Lord to reign over the bloodshed they were doomed to shatter. Loxa's final act as a High Priestess had been to dismantle the ruling Warlord, Mandolorian Chief Balac Kotyc'ade for his crimes against the Divines of the Primeval and his attempts at interfering with their plans.

Success marked the host of witches calling themselves the Skarsovi within the jungles of Wayland. Balac and his followers had been subdued, their stronghold demolished and their lives forfeit to the insatiable whims of Eogorath, the giant Skarsovi Soultree. So when the shadow of Primeval interest dissipated, Sha'Matri and leader of the Skarsovi, Loxa Visl, took it as a sign that her fate, their fate, was far grander than they could have ever expected. No longer tied by the whims of a warring government that has lost its vision and purpose, she set to expanding and deeply rooting their powerbase here on the planet that was so plagued by dark powers already. It was only a matter of time before others came to call. Wayland was far too removed from what had once been the stranglehold influence of the Primeval to stay quiet for long.

When the Mandalorians came in force it was only expected by those in the jungles. Loxa sent word to her people - return to the villages and outposts, not to engage or become entangled in this battle that was not their own. Wayland was a large planet, after all, and it would take some time before those seeking to stake their claim came calling. When they did, she was ready.

[member="Oron Verd"] would have the distinct feeling of being watched where there were no eyes to be found watching. The very essence of the jungle seemed aware of his every move and indeed after so long Yvarenthi's roots had spread far and wide. As he drew nearer a path would make itself known - one well traveled and baring the marks of both land-transports, cloven hooves, and the footprints of the local witches.

~~~

"The last of the mountain caravan has returned, Sha'Matri, we have enough stone to finalize Eogorath's main chambers."

Loxa sat before a table of ornately formed wood--not carved, but grown into intricate knots and patterns to support a large, flat slab of semi-transluscent stone polished to a gleaming finish. Within the face symbols glowed, carved by hand and injected by the powers of the Primeval's divines, it served as a base for crafting smaller, more refined stone just like itself. Gleaming under the flicker of candelabras and waning natural daylight, Loxa caught a momentary glimpse of her reflection before a book settled beneath her gaze.

"Speak to this one the words," the Sha'Matri commanded quietly, closing her eyes.

"Akenatten writes: Seven tonnes of stone were the last extracted from the east mine. We have depleted the quartz. The south mine will be open before the next moon. Eogorath evolves by the day under the care of the attending Sovi. He has shed his leaves. We believe he will be ready to make the journey off Wayland before long and every night we pray for Korangar's coming."

It wouldn't be much longer now. Loxa placed a hand on the exceptionally round protrusion of her belly, feeling Korangar's heartbeat within her own. It was a strong, willful one.

"Go now," she said after a long moment of silence, "they are coming. Send Riyah to bring them forth."

[member="Orkamaat"], what do you know of these people?

[member="Khaleel Malvern"] was typically the one to know such things, but he was not present and, as Loxa had come to find since [member="Boethiah"]'s rebirth, Orkamaat's presence was strangely all-encompassing and never far from her daughter.

~~~

A large shadow appeared far down the pathway from Oron's position. A witch sitting astride a six-legged Selipa waited in the umbrage of the tangled canopy, tense and wary.

[member="Isley Verd"]

 

[Kellyn Muir]

Objective 4: Medical relief efforts
Allies: [member="Callista Gseran"]
Gear: Located in bio
Post: 3/20

As he exited his starfighter, he secured his gear and set forth for the medical camp that a Mandalorian-affiliated Jedi had set up. While Wayland had little organized opposition to the Mandalorian movement to establish control of the system, that did not make it a hostile-free zone. Kassius stopped to check his wrist com to verify he was heading in the right direction. He was. As he continued, he began to hear the moans of the wounded, coupled with the occasional shriek of pain. He exited the woodline to approach the shelters encompassed by a decent-sized shield. There was definitely enough space for him to have landed his starfighter right next to the camp, but that not only would have drawn unwanted attention, but also the potential for damage to his ship and the camp.

There was an audible whir as Kassius entered through the shield. He held his rifle in his right hand while his left unslung his assault pack, filled with gear that may be pertinent to the task at hand. He found a nook in the corner of some supply crates where he set his pack as he roamed the camp looking for one Callista, the Jedi leading the medical efforts. As he walked slowly, he brought his rifle over his shoulder as it retracted in size and magnetized to stick to his back. These custom modifications came in handy when not engaged in combat, as it didn't restrict movement in the slightest as traditional weapon slings might.

As he neared the center of the camp, he noticed a female who had appeared to be in charge of operations here. Kassius turned his attention to her, as he called out. "Callista Gseran?"
He walked toward her as he brought his hands up to his helmet seal and began to depressurize it before removing it altogether.