Let there be Mandalorians [Dominion of Wayland]

[Zef Halo]

Objective: I. Liberating Fort Monroe
Post: 1/20
Allies: [member="Gray Raxis"]


Two men taking over a fort ? Isley would be jealous.

Zef Halo, having returned to the Mandalorian ranks after his disappearance two decades ago, was tasked with overtaking a whole Fort along with another Mandalorian - a young man going by the name of Gray Raxis. Having his own ship for repairs, Zef reluctantly had to be not piloting the ship. Something he never allowed. Yet, the ship was Gray's and Zef was its passenger.

The ex-smuggler played with his verpine shatter pistol in his hand while wandering on the name of the Fort they were going to liberate. Fort Monroe. Could it be ?
Two decades ago, along with Isley, Zef was part of a strike team on Taris with a Mandalorian female going by the name of Mia Monroe. Was it the same person or just a coincidence. If it was, apparently that woman had gained quite the reputation amongst the Mandalorians to have a whole fort named after her.

The ship's declining speed was what interrupted Zef's digging through his memories and made him focus on what was ahead. Standing up from the bed he was lying on, the armored Mandalorian proceeded to the cockpit where Gray was preparing the ship for landing. Two men, one quite older than the other, that had never known each other before had to cooperate on overtaking a whole fort. Just great.

"You better not be of the fanatical ones, throwing your life in danger at the first chance you get, kid." He spoke to the piloting Mandalorian while his helmet perceived all sorts of information. According to the trajectory they were taking, Gray was probably going to land at a secluded clearing not far away from the fort. Possibly very close to where possible enemy patrols might be. Or might not be.

 

[Orkamaat]

There was a period of time wherein the irritability of a person increased proportionally with their age. Orkamaat had long outlived that particular period – several hundred times over – and though he did give off a certain aura of… ripeness, the man hardly looked old. Mostly because it's fairly hard to place an individual's age when they spend half their days as a putrefying corpse, and the rest of them as a rather repulsive splicing of Vong growth and weathered flesh.

All of this boiled down to two things, in essence; firstly, that the High Priest was incredibly hard to agitate; and secondly, that he really didn't care for the rash, bloodthirsty conflicts of youth.

When clamor and war arrived to Wayland, then, with beasts of metal and fire in tow, Orkamaat was none too pleased. (Mostly because he'd been disturbed in the middle of his morning rituals, but also because the Mandalorians simply made a lot of noise.)

A displeased scowl crept onto his gaunt features as he abandoned the mass, fully aware of the danger that was so imperiously trampling the soil of the planet. And with beskar soles, to boot.

The scowl deepened.

That they're uncultured barbarians? Orkamaat responded with more venom that was strictly necessary, still rather upset over his interrupted routine. Nevertheless, the man kept moving, his thin frame reduced to but another green shadow in the thicket of vines and foliage that made up the majority of Wayland's surface. His feet seemed to glide a few breaths above the ground as he made haste for [member="Loxa Visl"], though not so much for the Sha'matri herself as he did for the precious cargo she carried in her belly.

If Korangar came to any harm, all their work, all their sweat and toil would be for naught, and the Priest would die before he allowed that to happen.

I… feel someone, he admitted at length, sounding farther away than before, as if his voice were traversing a great distance – or comparatively greater, anyway – to reach the mind of the Skarsovi matriarch. But they are foreign to me. Foreign and peculiar.

'Peculiar' coming from someone as worldly as Orkamaat was not to be dismissed. Whoever the approaching forces were, they were to be treated with utmost care.

[member="Isley Verd"] | [member="Oron Verd"]​

 

[Gray Raxis]

Objective: 1 Liberate Fort Monroe
Post: 2/20
Allies: [member="Zef Halo"]

Gray was not piloting his ship for several reasons. The first reason is because his ship was designed to be piloted by a droids instead of by humans, and the second was because he could not pilot ships. He had tried to pilot them in the past so many times, but it never ended well. He had a tendency to cause ships to crash when he did anything other than set nav coordinates or use the com system. He was sitting in his pilot seat though so that gave the illusion of him actually steering the ship.

Gray turned to the man on board his ship with him to handle the fort after he entered the cockpit and spoke. It was a single comment, but it was a good question if you asked Gray. There were a lot of people who got far too reckless when it came to fighting. Gray had at one time been like that during a dark time in his life, but not now. He knew how bad for not just him but everyone else that behavior could be. He smiled under his helmet and said, " How could I do that now? I don't own my life anymore. To kith, kin, and clan it belongs!" He chuckled for a moment before he added, " Don't worry about me throwing my life away in the heat of battle. I would rather be around to be with the people I care about for as long as possible. What about you? How do you normally handle yourself?"

Gray waited to hear what the veteran had to say. They were out of hyperspace by this point and heading to a clearing close to the fort. Gray turned to the man again and said, " So I forgot to do this earlier, but I am Gray Raxis. Sorry about that. Who might you be?" He waited for whatever response he would get and then added after, " Pleasure to met you. So I think we should plan out our course of action on taking the fort. I think it would be best to sneak inside of the place and then take it from within. Most defensive structures are designed to handle external assaults not internal threats. If we can get in and shut down the turrets we could call in ships to take it from safety. I'm thinking we smuggle our way in through their supply line. What do you think?"

 

[Zef Halo]

Objective: I. Liberating Fort Monroe
Post: 2/20
Allies: [member="Gray Raxis"]


Zef proceeded to observe the fort that could be seen in the distance. It was big and intimidating, if the forces remaining here were optimized both Mandalorians would be commiting a mission impossible. Earlier in the brief while in the Mandalorian fleet, they had been told that the remaining forces are not enough to maintain the whole fort operational. Hopefully that would be true, then they could find the gaps and exploit them otherwise Zef's return to Mandalorian service might be cut short.

To his question and in a way warning, the young Mandalorian responded that he valued his life quite highly. Zef thought how the Mandalorians had changed. The ex-smuggler's friend - Isley Verd - was a proof of that. Back when he had been young probably as much as Gray Raxis, Isley always seemed to jump straight at death's maw much to Zef's disapproval. Yet, the older Mandalorian could not generalize all due to the answer of the younger Mandalorian that sat on the pilot seat infront of him. Perhaps that man had already noticed how valuable life was.

"I stubbornly cheat death." Zef responded to Gray with a smirk behind his helmet to.

What followed was Gray's introduction to Zef. Apparently the young man had not been let known of Zef's name. Quite the opposite in the ex-smuggler's case where others had let him know at least the name of the Mandalorian he was supposed to go along with and take over a whole fort.

"Zef Halo." The scoundrel answered the Mandalorian and listened to the young man's plan before responding. "Sounds like a plan. The armors are a bit of a giveaway though, kid. Unless you'd like us to shadow them to the best of our abilities. The other option is knocking out a patrol party they might be having patrolling their perimeters, leave our armors here and don whatever their putting on. Risky, but an option." Zef paused and thought about it. "Your call, boy."

 

[Gray Raxis]

Objective: 1 Liberating Fort Monroe
Post: 3/20
Allies: [member="Zef Halo"]

Gray listened to the man's opinion and chuckled. He said after, " Well neither of those actually. I was thinking we hit up one of their supply trains. We knock out a few of them with stun bolts and kill the rest. We steal some of their crates to make it look like a raid on the supply line, then we hide in a crate that is big enough for us to fit inside of. Then they take us right into the heart of the fort themselves. From there we use stealth as much as possible to try and take their command center and disable as many of the defenses as possible before calling in reinforcements. That was my idea, do you see any problems with it that I'm not seeing? The more insight onto the plan the better right?" He smiled under his helmet when he finished speaking. He knew his plans were odd, but they worked more often then you would think.

Gray's droid Key found a good clearing to serve their needs and landed. As they landed in the spot, Gray stood up from his seat to get ready to go. As he did he said, " Key watch the ship and keep it safe. If anything happens and the ship is discovered or under attack take off. Contact us and let us know if you do, but be quiet about it. Please and thank you my wonderful little droid." Key beeped in confirmation of the orders in a friendly way. He patted the top of the droid with a smile under his helmet. He headed towards the hold so they could exit from the ramp when they had the plan completely figured out. It was always better to have things completely figured out and clear before you went into a mission. Bad things happened when the plan wasn't understood by those who were a part of it.

 

[Zef Halo]

Objective: I. Liberating Fort Monroe
Post: 3/20
Allies: [member="Gray Raxis"]


Gray's plan sounded just about good. It wouldn't be the first time Zef had to smuggle himself rather than be the smuggler. When you're working solo out there in the illegal matters such as the profession of smuggling, you had to be good being able to smuggle yourself too. Being sneaky, although quite contrasting the Mandalorian culture, was something the older Mandalorian excelled at. There was one gap in the plan that he had to address.

He awaited for the ship to land and for both Mandalorians to head towards the hold to disembark the ship and get on with their mission impossible. The younger Mandalorian instructed the droid on what it is supposed to do in any possible scenario and Zef followed Gray towards the exit of the ship while stating to him:

"One problem though. What's stopping those that we stun check the remaining crates since they might think it's a raid?" The scoundrel asked, he had agreed on the plan but was wondering what was Gray's backup plan. Zef did not bother himself with thinking what and how they were going to take over the front when - if they were able to enter the fort at all. He was a man who did not like thinking for situations out of his control. He lived in the now.

As both left the ship, Zef checked the verpine shatter pistol in his holster and the ammunitions he had with him. His eukgar'gam was quite different than the usual Mandalorian powerhouse. He preferred mobility and as such Mandalorian steel plates were only covering vital places, he did not have much arsenal on his scarce armor as typical mandalorians, keeping the weight down to fit his style of combat. His style would fit their current mission where they faced odds against them. The scoundrel proceeded with checking their surroundings using his helmet's sensors.

"Nothing around, let's head north towards Fort Monroe, the fearsome fort that two men have to take over." He sarcastically said to Gray and asked him. "Any information where these supply lines are situated ? "

 

[Julian Viles Priest]

Mount Tantiss Objetive
Post 1 of 20
Allies: Death Watch
Enemies: [member="Isley Verd"] [member="Vilaz Munin"] [member="Oron Verd"]

Something in his head clicked, and suddenly Julian was a Death Watch member, and no longer the Sith he was deep inside. Planted deep into his mind, the Sith had turned this young man into a sleeper agent, a spy, a Sith Assassin. His objective....what was his objective? Doubt still ran wild, along with confusion, and what he was meant to do. Regardless the mountain was to be his, and not the Mandalorians who wanted it so badly. He had to hold it, with everything he had. His blaster rifle scan for shots that could be taken, but it as ensured there were none. He knew he some targets, but the cover protected them.

"Fuck it."

The rifle hailed fire down the enemies path, peppering the ground and surrounding area with heated energy. When the energy cell was spent, he stopped, popped it out, and placed a new in just as quickly as the next professional soldier out there. Julian waited for the smoke and dust to clear, yelling out:

"We are king of the mountain, kings kings kings, we are crowned royal!!"

The edge of psychopathic tendency coming out nice, and apparent. Other Death Watch members just watched the boy yelling out random nonsense, wondering what the hell was wrong with his brain.

"Don't look at me like that, I might rip out your eyes from your sockets, made a necklace out of em. OH! I could sell em' on the black market. The blind leading the blind!"

 

[Callista Gseran]

Wayland
Objective 4: Medical relief efforts
Allies: [member="Kassius Visceron"]; True Mandalorians
Gear: In sig or Bio
Post: [4/20]

She'd known help was coming. But, it still startled her slightly. Perhaps it was the sheer abundance of Kremlin in the area, or perhaps it was the fact that the Mandalorians of this galaxy seemed very different from those in her own. Or maybe it was a little bit of both. She wasn't sure. Regardless, help was here now, and she felt some of the tension in her shoulders ease a bit as that fact sank in. She watched somewhat warily as he reached up to remove his helmet, and then sighed as he lowered it into his arms. "Aye, that's me..." she said firmly, as she tucked the datapad in her hand into a pocket on her long robes. I mean really.... Jedi robes with out pockets is just a crime!

A moment of hesitation, and she stepped forward to grip his arm firmly in the warrior's greeting that she'd learned so long ago. It felt like ages now. And it still was disconcerting to her to think about the fact that this galaxy was so vastly different than her own. Shaking her head at that line of thought, she tried to focus on the task at hand. "Marshal Betna told me someone would be coming to help. You must be Kassius?" She frowned slightly as she tried to organize her thoughts. "I've been able to stabilize the majority of the wounded and treat them, but the sheer amount of Kremlin out there is... concerning."

 

[Vilaz Munin]

Location: Mount Tantiss
Allies: True Mandalorians
Enemies: Death Watch, [member="Julian Viles Rekali"]
Objective: 2
Gear: First post excluding Orar'bev
Post count: [8/20]

"Gotcha, Isley, and likewise," the Mandalorian replied back to the Verd when he received the guide to escort the reconciled Mandalorians to a safety zone. As he continued to push forward the front lines with his fellow True Mandalorians, so he could escort the ex-Death Watch Mandalorians, he could hear the yelling of a psychopath that echoed throughout the corridors and hallways of the mountain. Just by hearing his words the Warrior profiled him as a zealot like Tralik. The only thing this Death Watch Mandalorian was to fight and scream war cries over the the battlefields and over their fallen enemies, and not have any qualities like a True Mandalorian. Much like a Vong who had no morals and only thought of war and killing.

Moving on with a group of True Mandalorians and some reconciled Death Watch members, that wished to go bring back the Mandalorians under a strong united banner, they encountered a group of hostiles with Julian among them, still shouting out comments that had no meaning at all.

"Stand down, vode, and none of y'all won't get hurt," the Redneck said as he demonstrated mercy to the Death Watch and offered a chance of leave the Death Watch ranks and come back to the real cause of the Mandalorians.

 

[Kytarra Hawk]

Objective: Build a witch encampment & meet with the Myneyrshi
[ 1/ 20 ]

A primitive, warlike species, the Myneyrshi were natives of Wayland that had returned to their homeland in the wake of the Gulag Plague. Much like the Witches of Dathomir, they lived an extremely ritualistic life, with rituals for everyday actions such as walking, eating, and sleeping. Myneyrshi were excellent hunters and trackers, and could move through forested areas without making a sound.

The past few months have been a series of visions for the Shaman of Singing Mountain Clan. One such vision led the witch with a scouting party off of Dathomir into the heart of Wayland.

There was purpose to their objective, one cast by the Twin Deities themselves.

"Clakcha," < Go > came the order towards Kadesh, a statuesque witch with long platinum hair. She came from Dreaming River Clan, a tribute towards the ongoing expansion and subjecting herself to become a Wind Talker.

Much training would come upon the young sister.

 

[Gray Raxis]

Objective: Liberating Fort Monroe
Post: 4/20
Allies: [member="Zef Halo"]

Gray listened to the older Mandalorian and had to agree with him about them checking the crates. He was too far ahead in his thinking of the plan it seemed, because he was too focused on when they got in and not enough on actually getting into the place. He thought it over for a bit as the man got a little sarcastic, which Gray could appreciate. Too many people were far too serious going into a fight, and it was better in his opinion to keep things light until the heavy moments arrived so you wouldn't be crushed under the weight of the situation. He said after he had thought things over enough for his own satisfaction, " You think two is too many people for this job? I agree, one Mandalorian is all it would take to claim the place. As far as the plan goes, I think we should do something I have done before to get into pirate ships without being noticed. We bury ourselves under the stuff in the crates so they cover us. If they do anything short of a live form check of the crates, which there is no reason they would do something like that, then we should be fine. If not then I guess we move onto plan B. Blasters blazing while bombs blow up."

They got close to the main road into the fort and Gray stopped crouching low behind a tree. He said as he looked along both sides of the road, " I got a little information on the supply lines, and it seems they are just using the main road to transport supplies from nearby settlements. They should be low on supplies as well with the Primeval having imploded the way they did. When we attack make a comment about us being in the Death Watch or something. They will assume it is a supply raid and not an infiltration attempt. A little deceitful but the object comes first here. Glory goes to the victor and all of that right?" He saw some figures approaching from the distance. He pointed towards it and said, " We have guests incoming. Lets hope it is our targets. You ready to get dangerous?"

Gray readied himself for what was about to come. Things were about to get heavy and he just hoped they didn't get crushed under the pressure. The figures came into view to reveal four troopers on speeders, one on each corner a transporter with crates of varying sizes on the back of it. They were moving quickly, but not too fast to be ambushed. It seemed they didn't want any chance of the cargo falling off, because they were not secured in any way like they normally would be. Gray drew out his pistol and switched it to stun mode. As the first speeder came into range, he began to open fire on it with his pistol until the driver fell off knocked out. He then switched to his rifle and began to open fire with it on the other trooper. The fight had begun and hopefully it went in their favor. This was going to be the easiest part after all.

 

[Julian Viles Priest]

Objective: Mount Tantiss
Enemies: [member="Vilaz Munin"] and True Mandolorians
Post 2 0f 20


When more of the so called True Mandalorians arrived at the battlefield, Julian felt a ping of excitement rise up inside his heart. This was what he wanted, war, blood shed, and an adrenaline rush from hell. Everything here was the perfect scene for Julian to be present at, history in the making? He didn't care about that, he didn't care who knew his name, or what he did. The very confused, and unaware teenager just wanted to fight anything, and everything. So when a Mando called out for a surrender, Julian couldn't help but smile some possessed grin behind his helmet.

"Oh man, this guy. Just gonna be all gusty, and try to get out of a good fight. THAT NOT THE MANDO WAY NOW IS IT!?"

He yelled the last part at the top of his lungs.

Julian found himself dropping from the cover he and a few other Death Watch members found themselves using, hit the ground in full run, and fire his little ol' blaster rifle towards this Mando named Vilaz. Nothing about Julian was truly that special from an outside few, his armor was pretty basic, his aim shitty, and everything about his actions screamed amateur.

"Be a man!! Let me run this blaster down your throat!!"

Nothing about him seemed special, but his crazed, blood thirsty words towards Vilaz.

 

[Darth Metus]

Isley.
In your darkest hour, remember.
Remember to whom you Crawl.

***​

How had he not felt this before?

As the roar of high-boost engines filled his ears, the Mandalorian was assaulted by a sudden awareness. It was an ambiance...the presence of something vast and alive. Perhaps it was due to the proximity of Mount Tantiss: being the Dark Side vault that it was. Or maybe it was his focus upon the battle at hand. Whichever the reason, Isley had turned a blind eye to something that had a rather uncanny effect upon him. On one hand, every instinct was screaming. Chills raced down his spine, moisture clung to his palms...the presence was one to be addressed with caution, no doubt. Yet at the same time, it felt familiar. Almost as if he were standing in the presence of his Mother.

But this was no Petra Cavataio.

This presence was but a remnant of what the Primeval was capable of. This ambiance was of the same ilk that robbed the United Clans of Wayland. Unlike the Death Watch that he had faced before, these lot were a far greater enemy. And to Isley, they were a foreign one. For victory to be had this day, the Mandalorian steeled himself for the worst. He might have to cross that line. Drawing a breath, Isley guided his mount over the coordinates of his sibling and made a tactical decision. It would be better to approach on the ground, where at least there was cover, than to get blown out of the sky. Frankly, he had no idea if the Remnant possessed anti-air weaponry...but he wasn't going to find out.

As such, Cin crashed down through the canopy and came to a tame, yet thunderous halt. From there, Isley dismounted and ordered his beast to hold position. He was only a stone's throw away from his sibling at this point and confirmed thus via his helm's Rangefinder. Swift, yet well-placed, footsteps guided the Mandalorian to the Knight (who would have undoubtedly felt his sibling's arrival) until he stood a few paces off.

"Oron." he said, unable to adequately decide how to greet his brother. Part of him wanted to embrace him; to make sure that no harm had come to him in their time apart. The sane part of him promptly drop-kicked that thought out of the metaphorical window; as they were waist deep in enemy territory. As such, Isley simply thumped his brother on the shoulder alongside a nod: they would have time to catch up later. Looking forward, the Mandalorian set his attention to the "road" before them. He crouched, setting his palm flat upon the uppermost layer of dirt and leaves before drawing the Force to his aide.

Footsteps. Animals. A "path" well traveled.

Psychometry wasn't the most utilized tool in the Mandalorian's utility belt, but for the purposes of getting some vibe of what laid ahead...it was second to none. Yet even that glimpse provided minimal information regarding the strength of their enemy. It confirmed the physical signs that laid before his gaze: prints, scratches upon trunks, etc. So at least he knew the Temple had quite a few bodies dwelling within it. Strength in numbers.

"There's going to be a horde of them." he breathed, rising to his feet. "With just the two of us...and the rest of the Clans worried about the Death Watch..." Isley exhaled, plotting their next move. "We'll see where their heads are. If they want blood, then we'll oblige. But if not, maybe we can play this smart."

Isley was definitely getting old. If this was two decades ago, he would have kicked in the front door and died shooting. Yet now? Using that muscle between his ears was a common thing. With the bare bones of a plan laid out, Isley stepped out onto the path. However, he only advanced a handful of steps before his helm's motion sensors picked up something at the far end. Subtle movement: a stationary presence. The two were being watched...and Isley wasn't remotely surprised. With all the noise the Clan was making, why wouldn't the Remnant be keeping an eye out? But more importantly, why weren't they attempting to oust the Mandalorians?

Were they waiting for the civil conflict to weaken the invasionary force? Were they planing a guerilla war? Where were their heads? Nevertheless...

"I see you. You see us. How's about being a gracious host and taking us to your leader?"

A touch cliche, granted, but it was better than starting off with a bolt to the head. Enemy numbers and all that joy.

[8/20]

[member="Oron Verd"] | [member="Loxa Visl"]

 

[Bhaltair Dhimani]

Location: It's Mirk-Mirk-Mirk-Mirk-Mirkwood...
Objective: Get out of Dodge and stay alive
Post: 11/20

He succeeded largely in calming himself down...until he got up and the ship started to shift and sway slightly. He became terrified once more. This was worse than trying to crawl through the shaky bridge on the playground of a McYoda's. You know! The one where you felt as though the supports were going to break loose any second and drop you to the ground where you would become a ketchup stain! At least, that's how he had felt as a kid.

He waited a while to make sure the shifting didn't continue. It had stopped, so he cautiously keyed for the hatch release. The windshield popped and then slid away. Bent branches now curled and poked their way inside of the interior. He stepped on top of the dash board and then quickly jumped out as the ship felt as though it were giving away. He desperately clung to a tree branch as the ship left him behind to crash into the ground below.

He was breathing heavily and scared once more; now more than ever. He hoped very much that his toxic trick had dealt with the population. If not, then he was going to be in even more trouble.

 

[Bhaltair Dhimani]

Location: It's Mirk-Mirk-Mirk-Mirk-Mirkwood...
Objective: Get out of Dodge and stay alive
Post: 12/20

He steadied himself on the branches in the tall tree and looked down...He shouldn't have looked down. He could barely see the ground through all of the foliage, but he could tell that he was far up off the ground. Adrenaline started pumping into his system at a steady rate as he undertook the task of climbing down. Normally, he wouldn't be at all adept at such a physical task. However, his fear and adrenaline lead him to clutch firmly onto the protruding limbs as he worked his way down. He had a couple of close calls, and he had to make one final drop to the ground. He didn't know quite how he was supposed to stick long landings, so his inexperienced legs collapsed from the unexpected shock and he ended up on his back. Ouch.

He got up and brushed himself off. While doing so, he heard the faint rustling of bushes nearby. At first, he didn't respond because his mind registered it as background noise. However, he heard it a second and final time and saw something move out of the corner of his eyes. He instantly looked up and perked his ears. He stood frozen as he tried to catch anything else...but nothing moved. In fact, only now did he realize that everything was so incredibly still and silent. Were there still more Kremlins about? This particular area seemed largely untouched by the poison puree attack. Dread and terror rose in his throat. He didn't want to be here anymore AT ALL.

 

[Bhaltair Dhimani]

Location: It's Mirk-Mirk-Mirk-Mirk-Mirkwood...
Objective: Get out of Dodge and stay alive
Post: 13/20

He turned around slowly and looked for the source of the disturbance. He didn't want to run off in a panic. If he did, he might make a rash decision and run right into more trouble...So, he waited and watched in the middle of the woods, doing his best to sense any and all protuberances in the natural surroundings. He could see the off-red coloring of the woods in the distance. That must mean that was the direction of the edge of the forest. It was useful info that he was probably going to need very soon...

Spoiler

EPIC FORESHADOWING

He turned his head a little bit more at the sight of something glowing out of the corner of his eyes...and he nearly jumped. There were red eyes staring at him from underneath the bush. His breathing quickened. Bhaltair hadn't experienced anything horrifying in his life save for late night holovids with dorm buddies. But...but this? This defied his reality. He had seen one of the little critters in his brightly lit lab. It looked far more adorable in a mean kind of way than anything else. Now, the glowing monster was looking like pure nightmare.

Without a second thought, he turned towards the orangey-red pasted area of the forest and ran desperately for his life. It sounded as though more than just one creature was giving chase behind him...

 

[Bhaltair Dhimani]

Location: It's Mirk-Mirk-Mirk-Mirk-Mirkwood...
Objective: Get out of Dodge and stay alive
Post: 14/20

Bhaltair ran like 2o12. His muscles and lungs began to burn not long after he started this sustained pace of running. Even the wind seemed to work against him. It all mounted to the terrifying feeling that his extreme efforts were becoming fruitless. He couldn't cope with that feeling. Even though he tried to deny it, his brother's competitive had rubbed off on Bhaltair, making him try to prove that, no matter how much hot air his brother blew, he KNEW that he, himself, would be the better one of the two. A deep anger within him bloomed from the deep. He scowled at the situation, at his seeming inability to conquer this problem, at the thought of his brother sitting on his throne and never having to deal with the real dangers of life.

Well, it had technically been Bhaltair's throne, as he was the eldest. However, he had chosen to let the chips fall where they may. Now, in the back of his mind, he wondered if that had been the wisest choice. He tripped and slid down a slippery, meat covered slope. He covered his mouth and face to do his best to avoid any oral contact with the puree poison. He soon became covered in meat puree, sticks, leaves and mud. He landed in a disgusting heap at the bottom of the hill and got the wind knocked out of him. He instinctively stopped to normalize himself, but he realized that he could hear them coming. They were too close. His body was exhausted. He couldn't keep going...

 

[Bhaltair Dhimani]

Location: It's Mirk-Mirk-Mirk-Mirk-Mirkwood...
Objective: Get out of Dodge and stay alive
Post: 15/20

He could hear them. He heard them slide down after him and land in a series of rhythmic thumpings around his camouflaged body. Few of them toddled off and others rolled away. The rest of the bodies...were still...unnervingly still. He didn't dare look up just yet, though. Who knew if they were dead from the puree or just waiting him out of hiding. His face was just turned enough away from the ground to provide air, but he breathed just enough to live. He was very uncomfortable. Finally, after what felt like forever, he lifted his head from the ground...

Dead. They were all dead. He slowly picked himself off of the ground and steadied his shaking frame. He stood over the bodies of a dozen or so Kremlins; all of them in various stages of growth. One looked like a bean bag whilst another looked like a Furby. He stepped around and over their bodies. He didn't want to risk waking any up in the event that they were simply unconscious. Before him stood a small cliff. It was just a few inches taller than him, but it too was covered in slippery puree. Try as he may, he had neither the energy nor ability to make it up and continue out of these horrible woods. He looked around and spotted a particularly large Kremlin. He walked over to it.

Apparently, this big sucker had entered rigor mortis while trying to get away. He almost felt sorry for...actually, no, he didn't. Screw the Kremlins. Nightmares needed to stay in the dream world or go back to Hell.

 

[Bhaltair Dhimani]

Location: It's Mirk-Mirk-Mirk-Mirk-Mirkwood...
Objective: Get out of Dodge and stay alive
Post: 16/20

He rolled "Big Sucker" up against the dirt cliff after poking it and proving that it was, indeed, dead. This gave him enough of a boost to heave himself up onto the upper landing of ground. He clawed and pulled and squirmed his way to safety. He lay there for a few seconds to appreciate what he'd done and relax. Then, he got up and walked in a casual, but tired manner to the edge of the forest.

After passing the edge of the jungle tree line, he turned around and paced backwards so that he could look at the messy jungle. They had righteously messed up this ecosystem. Albeit, the current ecosystem was corrupt and needed to be cleansed. However, the idea was to deal with the incumbent population so that proper animals could take up their place once more. It didn't seem like all of the Kremlins had been eradicated just like that. They were simply going to have to wait for the goo to stay and try to get as many of the buggers as possible.

However, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he would need to come up with a solution that would remove the possibility of making the environment toxic from the poison aspect of his mixture...

 

[Bhaltair Dhimani]

Location: It's Mirk-Mirk-Mirk-Mirk-Mirkwood...
Objective: Are we out of the woods yet, are we out of the woods yet, are we out of the woods yet, are we out of the woods...
Post: 17/20

He walked...and walked...and walked away from the jungle. That frelling jungle...He came upon a forward operating base and was greeted warmly before being questioned at gunpoint. It made sense, seeing as how Bhaltair looked like a nightmare himself. With a cold shower and a military meal later and he was already flying back to his labs. This time, he found that he was a lot more sensitive to the goings on inside the cockpit...

As soon as he got back, a proper nice, long and warm shower was in order. He even got some more of that goo out from where he hadn't found it before...The next day, he got up, stretched his aching muscles and got on with his day. The next order of business was to find a way to clean up his mess. Technically, the clean up solution SHOULD have been finished before the use of his Kremlin solution was put into action. However, the immediate need for a solution coupled with the time that the solution was going to have to be applied dropped the priority of a cleaner.

Now, it was time to work on that.