Let us all bleed Red! [Mandalorians and Leaguers]

[Lina Ovmar]

Mia did not ignore Lord Daemos, anger flashed through her. "Usen'ye, Daemos. You are no mandalorian and I will hear nothing you have to say." She slid into the pilots seat as Ember left her and opened a channel to [member="Captain Larraq"] "Rally Master, I need interdictors here, now. Point everything we have at that ship. Scan it and find me a weakness, quickly."

If this went south she would give twenty thousand credits to whoever brought her Daemos head.

 

[Matreya]

Daemos did not raise a hand for attack, instead retorted with, "Mandalorians are supposed to uphold family. I have defended those here of my own will, now you seek to shoot me out of the skies? How exactly did you ever reach Mandalore?" He retorted to the one he recognized as Mia as she replied. The Force continued murmuring of all the dangers at hand, number one being the Ex Mandalore herself. She got an entire song and dance from the living energy, it told of her intent to destroy him.

"I am going to continue along my trajectory. If I get shot down, it simply will show to the rest of our people, how little a Vod means to you." Damien concluded, on a public frequency. If she shot him down, all of their people would see that she held no honor, "I have been threatened by you twice now, but attempt no attack. Why? Honor. Your Vod, a sister to my cause.

"If the way I was raised is enough to cause my death...so be it." Damien concluded before shutting down his com. Because of the places he was forced to endure, the hardships that made him who he is, she was to kill him. He wouldnt fight his destiny however.

[member="Mia Monroe"]

 

[Captain Larraq]

Alarms flared and junior officers scurried about the bridge of the Skira as the Sith ship materialized above Dromund Kaas. The crew of the Dem'adas and Hyperion Security fleet didn't need to receive orders from their commander before they took action. Each and every one of them had been trained for Naval combat for nearly as long as their Mandalorian bodies had been trained for combat. For Larraq's part, he was too busy gawking at the Battlesphere in the holodisplay when [member="Mia Monroe"] contacted him. The blasted thing was about as big as the Mythosaur.

Crew and officers initiated scanned of the vessel and began plotting firing solutions. No weapon would fire, charge itself, or aim at the ship until orders to do so were provided, but the crews made themselves as ready as possible for when the order finally came. The first order to come from Rygel Larraq's mouth was one that was, for once, in full agreement with the orders of the Field Marshal. "Order the Nexus to launch Interdiction Spheres. Full spread on a wide salvo. Don't let that thing mistake it for weapons fire."

Leaning forward and gripping the railing at his station, Larraq wondered for a moment if he had brought enough ships. "Prep all launch craft. Including the Drop Pods. If that thing opes fire, I want us prepared for a engage it with everything we've got." Larraq said as the leather of his gloves were wrung over the smooth metal of the safety railing. "And send a secure transmission to the Recon Fighters. I want them to get behind that thing and look for possible targets or vulnerable spots."

On the holographic display, Larraq watched his fleet spread out along one side of the sphere. Interdiction bubbles were now in effect at six locations along each major axis of the sphere, at a range that should keep such a large craft from ever successfully making a run for it. The Skira positioned itself slight above and in front of the Nexus cruiser. A pair of Nynir frigates flanked the Skira and a pair of support frigates and a pair of corvettes flanked the smaller cruiser below it. To the left and right of this formation, slowly spreading further and further from what was becoming the core of a crescent formation, two pair of Haran'uliik light frigates took up positions along the flanks of the battlesphere.

Suggested instructions were sent to the Clan [member="Ordo"] controlled Kandosii-type Dreadnought via secure LOS communications from the Skira. Larraq was asking the larger ship to maneuver behind the massive warsphere so that their combined might could box in the craft, utilizing starfighters to secure the dorsal and ventral corners of the 'box' around the warsphere should it become hostile.

 

[Darth Voracitos]

[member="Ember Rekali"], [member="Mia Monroe"]

A battlemoon indeed, but a battlemoon alone. It did not set the tone of weakness very well, but he would make them understand, that they had fleets of warships equal and exceeding the length of his, in a supply that dwarfed anything he could hope of commanding these days. His ship was alarming, but it was so vast merely due to the fact it had been fitted with two sets of shields, and hundreds of fighters, and a plethora of support systems to keep it automated and self-sufficient. On it, they would find not a single cannon, not a single blaster. It's hull was Quadanium or whatever it was, merely to protect the mass. In this age of ruthless sith who merely sought to destroy, and built technologies simply to do so, one might even admire Voracitos's intentional defensive design. If nothing else could prove it, this might.

He was not allowed to board the tiny Mandalorian Ship, they instead would board his. He was okay with this, but they would not enter his heart. They would not find his holocron now. It's presence was masked but the true spirit of Voracitos, dispersing it merely over the weak and hobbled form of the thing that called itself Voracitos. He watched, as the Mandalorians entered the singular entrance and exit of the ship, the mobile hangar tram that one might use to bring themselves to the center of the ship. That would not be done today however, not so long as he manifested this ship. He -obviously- allowed the interdictors to interdict, though little did they know that this ship alone held 100 tractor beams of its own. If things went sour, he would make sure no other Mandalorians would have a clear report appropriately.

Again, not perhaps, the best way to display weakness, but it showed the resolve that even despite his words he was not going to roll over and die... again.

"An Emperor I am no longer. I, in contradiction to my proclamation so long ago, have renounced such a title. I prefer Warlord now, though titles will be meaningless if the spite in your heart does what it wishes and punishes me further before I enter Chaos, finally. I know and sense the apprehension in you all. You want blood, but yet many are also curious, while some take inventory on their enemy. All are valid, but you must understand... The Empire is dead, I am dead, and those I have persuaded to my side merely have the vision of conquest. A vision, I am lead to believe, that to a certain degree... you and I share. But we will never know conquering, if we are not conquered ourselves. I do not suggest that we ever be 'friends' by any extent," He scoffed with with the sunken aged face. If nothing else showed weakness, Voracitos appeared an old man. The Mandalorians though were too wise to trust appearance, as after all, they did not trust him any more than now when he was considerably... planetary in size. Especially this Ember person, he would feel the overbearing presence of his spirit in this fleshy vessel, he would not be fooled... yet.

"But I have the wish to grant those bonded to my servitude to know the service of some of the most stubborn warriors in all of history, and indeed, the galaxy. If my own bondage, and theirs too, is the price. It will be paid, and more. All that I say is no deception, I have no advantage in it, there is so great a risk here... you after all hold all the cards. Mine and my companions survival rest upon your sole consideration." He tossed a hand in Ember's direction. "We of course, would fight, but in the end we are but dogs. Even I... have truthfully... in these days... felt... rather.... well, useless." Everything showed the honest pain in Voracitos, that, above all, held no degree of any deception by any account.

"Though in this kindness you may or may not show to this deadened soul, in taking this favor of mine, I will tell you that I am willing to further that uselessness, if it means those I claim under me may have the option of serving your Mandalore in some way... for a time. I believe... that it would bring me, closer to solace. Perhaps it would make the transition to Chaos less painful." He shrugged, honestly not knowing the answer.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Darth Voracitos"]

Ember glanced back through the hangar fields, to the place where Mia waited in the floating Niathal shuttle. Beyond the shuttle, [member="Captain Larraq"]'s warships took up their stations, tiny flecks of silver in the dull sky of the Gordian Reach.

The only Mandalorian on the Girth of Gluttony turned back to Voracitos. "Too many words. Witness."

He stalked past the 'old man,' making for the interior of the battlemoon.

 

[Darth Voracitos]

[member="Ember Rekali"]

"You will find it difficult to make it anywhere within this station without my consent, and I apologize if I misjudged you as something other than a brute. Words are powerful Mandalorian, and your Mia Monroe should be realizing that now." He said without turning, literally feeling to frail or too lazy to bother following the other man. This was a tram system, the only way in, the only way out, and it only moved when he told it to. Otherwise, you'll walk off the edge and fall into endless chasms of tram ways only droids the size of a man's torso could fit through. Thus one can imagine a klick trek through these chasms on a live tram system was rather unreasonable. They would remain here, until the Mandalorian granted his assent to his Leagues enslavement, or his disapproval, to which would be quite angering for the Dark Lord.

"But I understand where you come from, after all, words have been associated as the silver tongue and manipulative weapon of countless lords before me. Then, allow me to demonstrate the sincerity of my words, through action." From the thin robe that flowed over the frail impoverished body of this flesh thing calling itself Voracitos, he pulled out a circular device. He opened it up, revealing the dozen needles laced with a very specific compound.

"Do you know what this is?" He grinned a knowing grin.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Darth Voracitos"]

Ember examined the mechanism and the endless fall; he kept his thoughts to himself. Leaning against the doorframe, he turned back to Voracitos.

"Yeah. I know what that is."

He tossed Voracitos a pair of TerentAttack cuffs.

"Put those on, snick the lock just right."

 

[Darth Voracitos]

[member="Ember Rekali"]

Voracitos stood there unammused, and made no attempt at catching the cuffs. In fact, when they hit him he stumbled back and nearly fell, in an angry little dance to maintain fragile balance. When the clanged to the floor, he chuckled softly.

"I'm not sure what you're playing at, but even with these on, your minds are all vulnerable. I can safely say that I am no brute, and such brutish cuffs are not befitting of one who really ought to be drugged. I will wear them regardless, perhaps you intend to make me struggle through them, and writhe under your watch. Thus, I would take it you accept us? Are we now, enslaved to the servitude of Mandalore? What identity do we now take under you?" He said, he face looked up to the Mandalorian with squinted eyes and a hunched posture. He still held the collar, and it was poised and prepared to latch upon his scrawny neck. It was indeed, very real.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Darth Voracitos"]

Action through inaction. Old Jedi principle.

Ember did nothing.

 

[Hunter Yagami]

Hunter moved along the Tram holding the collar in his hand that his Master gave to him. He contemplated his next choices in his head as the tram began to slow to a halt a mere 5 rooms away where it would drop him off. He tried his best to clear his mind as his Master ordered, but could do nothing but think of what would happen if any of the Mandalorians knew of his face and of his past. So he wen't back to his choices...Fight...or give in for his Master...The choice was not easy to make, but in the end as the sliding doors allowed him to enter the Hanger to join his Master he had decided.

He slowly took off his weapons belt, and any old Mandolorian armor he had stolen on his journey and tossed it aside as he went to his Master's side. He clicked the collar into place and stared at the group before him. No words spoken, only the look of a man admitting defeat...He knew that talking to them would prove nothing but finding a roadblock.

He looked to his master as he saw the cuffs that were now in his hands but not secured. This situation just seemed to get more and more annoying by the second, but as his Master had said..."now is not the time." He just sighed and looked on, outside the Hanger past the shielding keeping the oxygen inside the station from escaping and the vacuum from entering.
[member="Ember Rekali"] [member="Darth Voracitos"]

 

[Matreya]

There was minor interference as the ship landed, mostly in the form of debris striking the under carriage. Once down, Damien moved to exit the ship, where he stood in the light of the sun. Crossing his arms he stood silent as he awaited an emissary from the mandalorians. He pondered what the higher ups would think of this, Damien was a known Sith. He was even defended when accused of not bearing the right to call himself Mando.

Could the others see past the make up of his person? Is it possible that the Mandalorians would see that, though he was dark, the things he fought for were right?

 

[Darth Voracitos]

[member="Ember Rekali"]

To say the least, Voracitos did not enjoy this Mandalorian so much, not that he ever did with any Mandalorian. Yet, he had never wanted to invade them, and even when he was "in charge" of the Sacking of Mandalore, he merely over saw it, did nothing... couldn't care about it. He hadn't voted for it, and the Council merely did it in giving in to the blood thirsty Sith populace.

But that was in the past, and he was in the now. The angry frail little thing huffed a bit.

"Your silence is very reassuring." He glared at him bitterly. He looked at the collar one last time, and he decided this would be the first time -nay the second time, though he died shortly after the first time- that he would be without the force. That was a scary thought, being unable to call upon in it for some, indiscernible time... that is, if they kept on filling it up with the necessary chemicals. If they did not, his existence under them would be much more tolerable. He hefted the clunky thing over his head, and slowly, painfully, but surely he slid the first needle into his flesh. His mouth was agape at the minor pain, as he plunged the thing into him. He was glad his engineering had produced the correct amount of discomfort in the things. It did not inject the chemical yet, that would not happen until he closed the thing, where it would be sealed from inside the mechanism.

He closed it, and the nimble body fell to the floor with a soft, yet violent thud. The body wheezed a yell, so faint is was hardly more than a slightly raised voice. His face was in all sorts of contortion as he felt the energies he had been so accustomed to all his life drained away. The overbearing presence of Voracitos? Diminished to what Ember held in the entire "Warsphere". The holocron suppressed its presence while the Flesh was cut off from communication to it. Slowly, he crawled in agony towards the cuffs, and slipped them on, as he had been told. Voracitos has never been so low, not even when he was cast aside by Ashin, or killed by an upstart.

Resenting eyes looked towards the Mandalorian, but he knew he didn't care, and Voracitos knew it didn't matter either.

"If one... last condition, could be request... it would be that my servants... be conquered on a Sith world... but not here, where everything... is dead." He continued to huff, and writhe.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Darth Voracitos"]

Ember snapped a word in Paecean, and the cuffs tightened around the old man's wrists. Something was very, very wrong here, but the Dark Side clouded everything. He couldn't pinpoint it. With a grimace, he removed his helmet, and purple eyes bored into Voracitos. He searched for words, couldn't find them. He turned back to the doorway into the darkness and the tramway, chewing at the inside of his lip. Hawking, he spat down into the darkness, and amped up his hearing for a moment to catch the splat. Long fall. Looong fething fall.

He pulled on the helmet, re-sealed it, and turned back to the collared, cuffed Dark Lord. "Not my decision to make. I'm the delivery boy."

From a pouch at his belt, he procured a folded package, and unfolded it tidily. A can of compressed air stood ready, and an oxygen scrubber.

"This is a space ball. If you're serious about this, get inside, I'll zip you up and pressurize you, we'll get out of here so you can talk to the people that make those decisions. I don't want to bring my ship in, and I don't want to deal with whatever personal craft you've got."

 

[Darth Voracitos]

[member="Ember Rekali"]

"Now I may safely say, what the hell?" The agonized thing shook in frustration. Even if this was all an act, most of it was pure and real reaction. He didn't know how to respond to that. He was still having trouble remembering that he was not his massive size, and thus the ball seemed to be meant for contortionists. He also, was unsure exactly what the Mandalorian was implying but not trusting any of his personal craft... as the massive sphere was the only 'craft' any living thing could possibly board here, and only twenty one individuals could be for any amount of extended time. The rest of it was essentially a droid foundry, that had a maximum capacity of 500 starfighters, and thousands of probes. His furrowed brows glared back at the purple eyed man. Shaking his head, he responded.

"So be it." He submitted to whatever it was this Ember wanted him to do with this ball thing. He was almost certain he was doing this merely out of the chance of amusement, to humiliate the Dark Lord. It was humiliating, but not as humiliating as the fool who know there was a plot, but yet allowed it to unfold anyway. If any of these Mandalorians had any sense, they'd have ignored his messages it. But he had made a case that seemed to be opposing to the norm, and this scared them. Things that scare people only procure two options: destroy it, or understand it. He hoped that he had made the case so bizarre, that destruction would be dull, and unfulfilling.

That was the hope, anyway.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Darth Voracitos"]

Ember's helmet feed continued broadcasting to [member="Mia Monroe"], and the Niathal had the range to send the signal to the rest of the fleet. [member="Captain Larraq"] and [member="Ordo"] needed to have at least some idea of what was going on. So they watched, presumably, as he zipped the former Emperor of the Sith -- cuffed and collared -- into a white eighty-nine-centimetre bubble, pressurized it-

And shot the feth out of the hangar bay's field generator. The whole place decompressed in a flurry of snow, aerial water vapor gone solid in an eyeblink. The rush of air carried Ember and Voracitos' bubble out away from the battlemoon, toward the shuttle and its waiting tractor beam. Ember's jetpack guided him around the tractor beam to the shuttle's airlock.

"I've got Voracitos in a survival bubble out there," he said into the comm, with a glance at Mia. "Battlemoon feels uninhabited. Means full automation. He wants to surrender his people and live on a Sith world under our guard. Bubble won't survive reentry. Where am I towing him?"

 

[Captain Larraq]

Rygel Larraq's fingers tapped against the railing as he watched the feed on the holodisplay. His officers scurried from station to station as external scans continued to pour in from the numerous ships that surrounded the battlesphere. "The king is out of the castle." One of his officers reported while Larraq pulled a cigarette from his pocket.

Larraq closed his eyes as his held a flame to the tip of his cigarette and inhailed deeply. "Begin operation." Larraq said after exhaling a plume of smoke.

Numerous fighters, bombers, and transports poured from the ships in his fleet and began their race towards the enormous warship. Squadron after squadron swirled around the spherical craft, many of which wrapped around and launched themselves above and below the craft to assume positions that closed the dorsal and ventral edges of the blockade around the target. Others continued to circle close, specialized scanning equipment pinging the craft from all angles.

Dropships and transports assumed positions above key points outside of the craft, including directly over the hole just made by [member="Ember Rekali"]. Troops in void-sealed Beskar'gam poured from the transports and landed on the craft with magnetic boots, powerful and specialized scanning equipment held between four man squads, each escorted by 8 additional troops.

Larraq watched additional feeds pop up on displays throughout his bridge as new reeding poured into the databanks of the Skira and his men began entering te craft.

Their mission was simple. Explore every inch of the vessel, scanning as they went. Locate and secure the primary databanks. Download all information on isolated computer systems. Mark sites for later demolition. And execute any living or mechanical hostiles that refused immediate surrender.


Exhaling another plume of smoke, Larraq turned to [member="Arrbi Betna"] and asked, "How many of those collars did you bring?"

 

[Darth Voracitos]

[member="Captain Larraq"], [member="Ember Rekali"]

"I apologize," Voracitos unceremoniously puked in the space bubble thingy, "What my ship might due to ensure nothing gets in. She doesn't like," He dry heaved a bit, "Being touched by strangers."

As the Mandalorians began to take their operational positions the Girth of Gluttony was prepared for anything. It's doubly ensured shielding system backed up by its stronger hull would protect it for long enough as it made its escape, if escape was necessary. The hole Ember had created sealed tightly, a wall of Hull closed down where the energy fields had failed, and the Hangar tram began to move away from the outside. The singular entrance and exit for anything living. 500 droid starfighters prepped for launch in all of the various modification tubes they were placed in, most of them were prepared as fighters or bombers, the fighters were meant to escort the bombers, as the bombers made suicide runs to destroy the interdictors ability to hold the Girth in place. Hundreds and perhaps thousands of probes began to pour into the hangar tram's throat in order to make a blockade of droid blasters to keep them from the center if they breached the hull. Then finally, at the center, where the holocron would have to be protected at all costs, in addition to masking its presence, it eliminated itself from sight as well using illusions and cloak. They were minor things though, and held hardly a blip in the darkside due to its suppression. That particular room ray shielded and blastdoor-ed itself in, to prevent anything from coming into it.

In full effect, the floating fortress was essentially a single trench to its gooey center that was fortified to hell. Inside, an alarm blared for the few occupants within. They were told not to resist if the Mandalorians tried to take the ship, and in fact surrender yourself immediately if they managed to, so as to set the plan in motion within Mandalorian ranks if the ship had to leave Mandalorian space. Destruction of the ship was not an option, his holocron stowed away inside was the only thing that kept Voracitos from Oblivion.

In essence, nothing additional happened, except that the Mandalorians on its surface would see the hundreds of droids prepared to launch en masse, and the singular entrance/exit was sealed tightly. With their scanners they would see the few living presences within it, and the mass of droids blocking the entrance.

Then, the automated system (secretly directed by the holocron) hailed the Mandalorian ships, and demanded they cease operations against it, or it would have to use lethal force to escape this system. It was a good threat too, in all likelihood it had enough air power to destroy the interdictors just enough to make the jump to hyperspace, frying anything alive on the surface of its hull, and enough protection to prevent its immediate destruction.

 

[Grozurra]

Grozurra and his squad had already leapt from the rear of the dropship by the time they noticed that the shield had come online.

As he drifted towards the craft and the shimmer of energy shielding above it, Grozurra closed his eyes and searched through the force for an answer to this dilemma. He felt energy and metal, cogs and wires, circuits and pipes. Metal crossbeams and plated of armor crossed his awareness. Every rivet and weld on the surface below him filtered through his awareness as he searched the craft for what he sought. Sensor nodes and tractor beam emitters dotted the surface of the ship, as did the occasional shield emitter.

Grozurra pushed his awareness deeper into the craft. The shield emitters were the problem that needed to be eliminated, but Grozurra knew that resolving a single threat would only invite other dangers to force themselves upon you. So Grozurra continued to search through the force as he and his squad slowly drifted towards the surface of the craft.

His awareness followed wires and cables from the outer shell of the ship deeper and deeper into the interior. Through one transformer after another his senses explored. The ever growing number and size of the wires he followed told him he was getting close to his intended goal... The primary power conduit for this entire section of hull. Shields, sensors, tractor beams, and whatever other dangers lurked on the side of the ship that Grozurra descended towards could be neutralized with a single, precise application of force.

Having found his target, Grozurra opened his eyes and stared deep into the heart of the warsphere. The armored wookiee held out his left hand and slowly wrapped the force around the power conduit. Ever so slowly closing his fist, Grozurra steadily applied more and more force to the conduit until he felt an ever so satisfying 'pop'.

The shields sputtered and failed as Grozurra's boots came within inches of the dangerous energy field. Seconds later, Grozurra's and several dozen other pair of armored boots rang out against the hull of the warship as Mandalorians made their beachhead on the surface of the craft.

Other squadrons would have to contend with the shielding in their own way. Many would probably have to hold position using repulsor packs while they called in fire support to disrupt the shields with ionic weapons from the nearby capital ships. But Grozurra's squad and the numerous squads on this section of the starship would have no such problems.

Motioning to his squad-mates, Grozurra used hand gestures to instruct them to take up defensive positions while he secured an entrance. Other squads would have to use plasma cutters or thermite detonators to secure entrance. If they could first find a vulnerable bulkhead or access port first. The likely hood of any of them cutting their way through warship grade armor plating was near zero.

As his Mandalorian squad mates assumed defensive positions around him, Grozurra once again expanded his senses and probed the massive warsphere for a vulnerable target.

[member="Darth Voracitos"], [member="Captain Larraq"], [member="Ember Rekali"],

 

[Captain Larraq]

[member="Darth Voracitos"]

Rygel Larraq arched an eyebrow as an automated message erupted from the speakers aboard the bridge and 'politely' requested that the Mandalorian fleet leave the warsphere alone. A slight smile crossed his lips as his eyes lit up and a deep breath of tobacco contaminated smoke was sucked into his lungs.

Still smiling, Larraq pressed a button at the commander's station of the Skira and transmitted an automated message of his own on an encrypted holonet frequency.

“Did any of our forces make it aboard before the shields went online?” Larraq asked of his bridge officers.

“We received reports from a few squads that they made it to the surface.” Responded the female voice of one of the Skira's bridge officers. “But they only account for roughly 10% of all forces deployed.”

10% would do just fine, Larraq thought to himself. Whatever happened next, he hoped that the successful troops would be able to get within the hull of the warship very, very soon. “Withdraw any troops that failed to land before the shields returned and pull the dropships closer to our fleet, but keep them in the black.” Larraq said calmly as he watched the smoke trail from the tip of his cigarette. “Order all starfighters to maintain current operations. And have the Nexus prepared for additional salvos of Interdiction Probes. While they're at it, order the activation of three of the reserve probes within the ship itself.” Larraq added as an afterthought. “If that thing wants to run, it's going to have to fight its way out first."

Pressing another button, Larraq bounced a signal off of a Haran'uliik frigate and sent a transmission to @Ordo. “If you would be so kind, please prepare for immediate combat. I believe a full salvo, followed by fighter screens should get the message across. I'm currently transmitting targeting solutions against what appear to be external thrusters.”

Finally prepared to respond to the warsphere, automated or not, Larraq issued his orders to the monstrocity of engineering. “This is Captain Rygel Larraq of Mandalorian Clan Dem'adas. You are hereby ordered to stand down and prepare to be boarded. Surrender of the warsphere is non-negotiable. You brought a hostile warship to a Mandalorian planet, your possession of said ship has been forefit. Should you attempt to flee, you will be engaged and subdued."

 

[Darth Voracitos]

[member="Captain Larraq"], [member="Grozurra"]

The "automated" messaging system replied.

If this one is correct Captain, that is poor form of conduct. This warship had no hostile intention, and hostiles stowed away on board are under the terms of surrender. As such, this warship remains property of Warlord Voracitos until the terms of his surrender are fully agreed upon by your superiors. There is but one purpose this ship would allow you entry, if you were to transport its occupants to your respective holding areas. This Warship will kindly ask you a last time to delay your orders until further notice, least hostility be unavoidable.

-Girth of Gluttony

Immediately as the wookie attempted to destruct portions of the ship in order to land on its surface, the interior maintenance probes (a different variety than the ones filling up the throat of the ship's entrance) began immediate repairs. Also, the wookie would find there would be no entering the ship from the hull. There was nothing below him, and the armor plating was an even better grade of military than most ships. This was plated with the same material that had been found encasing the Death Stars. That though was besides the point, since even if he could make his way through the hull, he would would have a full klick of interior passageways and armor to blast his way through. There was a singular entrance and exit, and it was unlikely anything short of a Spore-Class Droid Starfighter would be able to make it into the ship without using that entrance... of course even the starfighters only went to a certain depth.

The weak points of the ship? They were to large and massive for a group of Mando's to take care of, even with the aid of the force. They would have to destroy all external systems of the ship, breach its massive hull, fight their way through the throat of the ship's entrance, and attempt to destroy the massive floating foundries interior systems. This ship was not only automated, it was damn near self-sufficient and was capable of repairing many damages given resources and time.

Again, perhaps Voracitos should have acquisition his old Charon-class, or his Tulak-Horde class from the old ages. The Girth didn't exactly scream weak, in fact it positively blared "IMPORTANT!".

Poor planning on his writers part.