Mandalorian Clans assault on Republic NUBIA

[Davon Karr]

Nubia

• [member="Mirshko Betna"]
• [member="Kima Betna"]
• [member="Lorsima Gratiir"]
• [member="Lisette Kuhn"]
• [member="Varien Moxla"]
• [member="Joanes Quez"]
• [member="Kjell Betna"]

“How are things proceeding?” Davon asked. He sat, as he had so many times on the cusp of war, in the back of a dropship. His head was bowed, his left arm cradling the rifle he held upright. The hunched over figure was so still he might have been mistaken for a metal statue of a mandalorian.

As he had always been as he went into battle, he was surrounded by family, his Clan. One of his sons was here, another a great great grandson. Morellian genes meant the Karrs of Agamar brought many generations to fight side by side. It was one reason that even amongst the Betna Clan they were respected soldiers. A forty year old Karr brought experience and youth together. Davon Karr only brought one of those things; his hundredth birthday was coming soon.

“We've lost comms with the strike force. That's to be expected, they'd have been jammed or gone silent to keep us a secret,” came the reply. Davon led from the front, but he kept a line open to the bridge crew overseeing the operation.

“Understood. How long?”

“One minute.”

Death. The mandalor had named him death. Perhaps Ra had seen the grim visage of death when the old man had been snarling right in his face. Defiant even in defeat. Death was everywhere, it was inevitable. An experience of life none could avoid. It was coming for those that opposed the mandalorian clans.

Sat in the back of the gunship there was still an eerie cerulean glow from hyperspace. It vanished suddenly. The gunship lurched and darkness fell a moment later as they disembarked from the capital ship and joined the assault party.

Not long ago the initial strike force had come into realspace over Nubia in a classic hit and fade. The second smaller force had now dropped in. It would seem as if they had tried to draw away Republic ships for an ambush. In fact the mandalorian goal was to board and assault the refuelling and docking stations in orbit. There were shipyards, but they were owned by private companies. Davon's instinct was the damage them anyway to avoid the Republic from requisitioning the facilities. However, someone had informed him the Republic had paid dearly for attempting to do so recently.

To this end Stone hammer gunships were being hidden by E-war fighters. But the bravest of souls would soon be launched at the enemy. Mad bastards as far as Davon was concerned, a Torpedo was no way for a sane soldier to enter a battle.

“Let's get it done.”


Fleet
Ships:
Yes, some of those.


Let's get boarding or landing and have fun! Talk to your opponents OOC as much as much as you need to keep the story flowing.

 

[Kjell Betna]

Mad bastards as far as Davon was concerned, a Torpedo was no way for a sane soldier to enter a battle.

There was a clarity to madness.

Or, at least, there was a clarity to rage.

Most would question the sanity of the madman and the rager, but Kjell knew the difference. A madman stepped beyond the limit and never returned, a rager stepped over the line to get the job done, then eventually meandered back. He wouldn't kid himself to think there was control involved in it, he was experienced enough to know who his allies were, his HUD helped with that even in the bloodrage.

No, there wasn't control in the rage, but there was freedom.

Kjell had his armor run one last systems check on itself and the torpedo that he laid in. He didn't bother with the results himself, if there was an issue, he would die. If there wasn't an issue, many enemies would die. In this instance the enemy was the Republic. Long had the Mandalorians kept their best instincts at bay for the false promises of bloated, foolhardy regime after bloated foolhardy regime. Now the Mandalorians brought those instincts back.

A Republic General had once lauded the experience and training of the Republic's forces as superior to those of the Clans. Now, Kjell and his brothers and sisters in arms would test those exact words for them.

The thought brought a smile to his face as he readied for battle.

 

[Kima Betna]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E72zNSW7ID8​

The boarding torpedo was filled to the brim. Only the bravest, or those of dubious sanity, volunteered to seal themselves in the metal confines of the contraption. For the most part, the torpedoes were filled with warriors from Clan Betna. Specifically, those touched by the battle rage made up most of the numbers, though a few aspirants were sealed with them.

Called Cayatr A'den by the Mandalorians, the title roughly translated as 'Battle Rager'. Considered half shock trooper, half psychological warfare soldier, the Cayatr A'den was a warrior capable of unparalleled ferocity in combat, letting the rush of combat drive them into a fury where rational thought and logic was left by the wayside. Driven near-mad by trance or herb, Cayatr A'den warriors fought like beasts and were rightfully given a wide berth by other Mandalorians as in the heat of their fury it was sometimes hard to differentiate between friend and foe. To be called Cayatr A'den within the Betna clan brought both honor and respect; honor for their prowess in battle and their ability to harness the Battle Rage, respect for the damage they can cause to friend and foe alike.

To the Aruetiise, they were a foe to be feared. To outsiders, the raging warriors carried a specific name: Berserker.

Kima had felt the battle rage creeping up on her before as combat ensued in previous battles on distant battlefields. Today, under the eyes of her kinsmen and before the Basa'r'verd [member="Davon Karr"] she would prove that she could touch the rage within and earn her title. Strapped into the metal tube, she gripped her bevii'ragir tightly. It was collapsed down, roughly a baton in size, with the blade locked firmly in place. The weapon was composed of beskar, making it heavy, but allowed her to engage those who used lightsabers, namely the Jedi they likely faced in today's battle.

She pulled the helmet from her head and tucked it under one arm. From a pouch at her hip, she pulled a small sliver of what appeared to be a root or tuber. She popped the piece into her mouth and tucked it into her cheek before donning her helmet once more and activating the seals. Chewing the sliver of Katag'ihr would spark the fury within, sending her into a rage. For now, that would only cause problems sealed inside the metal contraption as she was. Around her, titled Cayatr A'den warriors were silent, some had already placed the same type of root inside their cheek, waiting for the time to let the fury break free. One or two didn't need the root, instead preparing to enter the trance that would send them berserk against the foe. Across from her, she realized after a moment, was another aspirant. She pulled another sliver of the root from her pouch and held it out to the aspirant warrior, another Verd of the clan.

"You might need this," was the only thing that accompanied the offered root.

[member="Kjell Betna"]

 

[Kjell Betna]

"You might need this," was the only thing that accompanied the offered root.

Kjell focused his eyes on the hand and sliver of root that it held, then followed it back up to the aspirant who held it. He pulled his helmet from his head, then reached out and took the proffered root. His eyes moved around the cabin of the torpedo, then rest back on the warrior across from him.

"Thank you." His voice was low, but carried across to her easily.

He tucked the root into his cheek, as he'd seen her and several others do, then donned his helmet again and sealed it. He would prefer to be able to reach the rage through trance, on the fire within his blood alone, but he had yet to achieve such a feat. By the end of the battle, he intended to be Cayatr A'den, and he could work on controlling his rage naturally at another point.

The root had an earthy flavor, tinted with a sweet under current. He worked his jaw, careful not to bite down on the root just yet, but letting the flavor fill his mouth as he prepared for the battle to come.

 

[Ria Misrani]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0UiXrIOtF4Y[/media]​

Stuffed into one of these 'torpedoes,' was Lorsima Gratiir. She wasn't a Betna, she wasn't a Karr, she was just a Gratiir among the lower ranking clans but she had nonetheless volunteered. As the war drums in her mind raged on, she kept her silence. Her eyes were closed hands clutching the t-shaped visor in her hands. She prayed that the gods of war would find favor with them today. Slipping her helmet on she secured it and her eyes flickered open to the familiar HUD.

On her person was her maul, and a blaster carbine rifle. A typical E-11 make, but it was well cared for, just like the Gratiir clan beskar'gam that she wore. Most people could consider this type of mission and how they were going about it, to be suicide. Even some among the clans might've considered this somewhat insane. Lorsima? She considered it one abyss of a way to go out. She looked to her right and her left as her vod crammed into the torpedo with her.

Today they would make their mark on the Republic, and they would make them remember them. So much so that they would go down in the annals of history. The Republic had become stagnant, lazy and thought themselves so highly. And so as she laid in for the ride down Lorsima prepared her battle rage, her maul would sing of the ancestors might and would crush the soft shelled men and women of the Republic. In the name of the Manda'lor the Mandalorians would rise again, and today was only the start of their new era.

[member="Davon Karr"] | [member="Kjell Betna"] | [member="Kima Betna"]

 

[Varien Moxla]

In hindsight following the person that the Mand'alor had named 'Death' likely wasn't the best idea.

Of course, the first idea that sprung to mind was the death of their enemies. [member="Davon Karr"] would kill them all, or lead those who would be doing it. Later on though, when you as a person was actually being loaded into a torpedo and the plan was for you to crash through the hull of a much bigger Space Station, with many more soldiers than what you brought, well... Perhaps he was named Death for all that were around him.

It was too late to go back anyway.

A member of Clan Kelborn, the young Kiffar held the beskad that had been gifted to him by one of his Mandalorian brothers as he closed his eyes.

He didn't like flying to begin with.

But this was something else entirely...

There were eight of them in the torpedo, all of them of his Clan. He found in recent times, he was spending plenty of time with the Warrior race. Much more than his own people back on Kiffu, or even in Galactic Alliance Space. The Republic was an ally of the Alliance, was it not? Was he betraying the Alliance by being on this mission, or was he upholding his duty as a member of Clan Kelborn?

His fists clenched as they were shot into space.

 

[Davon Karr]

[member="Kjell Betna"] [member="Kima Betna"] [member="Varien Moxla"] [member="Lorsima Gratiir"]

Yhe jewel of Nubia hung in the inky black before them. As soon as Davon could see the structures hanging in orbit over the world he returned to his seat.

"SuitCo: load shipyard map to HUD."

Davon looked across the maps, overlays should civilian, corporate and military structures. Another tactical overlay showed where the torpedoes would be aimed and the ingress points for troop transports. His instinct was to damage everything that could be used to construct or moor a military vessel. However the corporations were not on the side of the Republic. Their last attempt to requisition company assets had gone badly and Davon wasn't about to risk the ire of corporate fleets for no reason.

"Key targets are pylons in the Republic structures that can moor a frigate or larger. Then if we can set charges on the fuel stores. If we can prevent the world from being a staging point for Republic fleets we'll have made a difference today. Stay away from corporate assets and security unless directly ordered to do so."

Davon's tactical system beeped. It drew his attention to the torpedoes that were rapidly overtaking his dropship. Davon checked every weapon as the torpedoes carrying troops struck home and they made for the hangars, guarded by mandalorian Fang fighters.

 

[Kima Betna]

Before she could respond, the torpedo shook. The jolt could only mean one thing and as the projectile suddenly lurched and the G-forces built up, she realized they'd been fired.

The raid was on.

She bit down on the root, chewing the fibrous sliver of material until she could feel the sweet, wooden taste fill her mouth. In a few minutes, she knew the Katag'ihr would send her into a rage, her body reacting from the toxins within the plant as her adrenal glands emptied into her veins. Eyes closed for a moment as she chewed before opening again, her pupils slowly dilating. Bit by bit, moment by moment, the root took effect. Slowly but surely, she began to feel the thunder of her pulse in her head, the rush of blood in her veins roared in her ears.

What felt like hours as the katag'ihr took effect was only minutes. The torpedo impacted with a sudden, profound jolt and the deck shuddered as the cutting equipment ripped through the station's hull. Kima reached up and tried unfasten her harness as the rest of the warriors did, her fingers feeling clumsy and thick from the side effects of the drugs. Frustration giving way to anger in the blink of an eye, muscles bulged beneath her armor as she gripped the harness and heaved, tearing the material away from its mountings. A twist of her hands and the bevii'ragir was extended in her hands, the razor sharp blade glinting in the emergency lighting inside the boarding torpedo.

Ahead, a loud, concussive pop was heard, followed by a piercing white light. The exit ramp had been dropped, the fragmentation charges detonating to clear the way. At a silent, unheard signal the warriors surged forward across the decking, the ramp not even fully dropped to the station's flooring. Kima followed, spear held in both hands, her knuckles white beneath the armored gauntlets she wore.

Inside the station was brightly lit and hazy from the smoke caused by the frag charges and blaster bolts impacting around. Her boots hit the metal plating of the station's deck and a moment later something slammed into the side of Kima's helmet, sending her reeling. Shaking her head, she realized dully that her vision was blurring, though in the back of her mind, the slowly diminishing logic of her mind told her it couldn't be a concussion. Her helmet had taken the full blow.

Suit sensors showed it had been a blaster bolt, one that had impacted just behind the side of her visor. Her vision beginning to pulse and blur as the katag'ihr took a stronger effect, she zoned in on the direction the shot had come from. She could see the uniform and armor of a soldier as he aimed and fired once more. Another Betna warrior took the shot on his dinu'ul before bringing a beskad down on the hapless trooper, the blade sinking deep into the spot between neck and shoulder, splitting the armored cuirass to the sternum.

As the battle raged around them, Kima rushed forward. Another trooper appeared before her, shouting something she couldn't hear or understand. He raised an arm up to ward away the overhead blow Kima launched, using the spear as a bludgeon. Beskar met duraplast in a resounding crash again and again as she slammed the haft of the spear down repeatedly on the man's arm, attempting to break the block. Another crash and the man screamed and cradled the arm to his chest, dropping the blaster rifle in his off hand.

She didn't think, only reacted. The spear lashed out, the blade glinting dully in the artificial lighting, before sinking to the crosstrees as the razor tip of the blade found a weak point in the man's armor just below the cuirass at the waist. A scream turned quickly into a gurgle as crimson flowed from the wound, but Kima was already gone. The rage carrying her to the next trooper, the next fight, the next death.

The battle rage carried the berserkers onward and as the fighting ensued the deck ran slick with blood.

[member="Davon Karr"] [member="Varien Moxla"] [member="Lorsima Gratiir"] [member="Kjell Betna"]

 

[Mirshko Betna]

[member="Davon Karr"] | [member="Kima Betna"] | [member="Lorsima Gratiir"] | [member="Lisette Kuhn"] | [member="Varien Moxla"] | [member="Joanes Quez"] | [member="Kjell Betna"]

[media]https://youtu.be/kLP0Hf8GJI0[/media]​

As entries into battle went, riding a boarding torpedo was not something Mirshko thought she would ever do. She was used to piloting or using traditional dropships. But she supposed there was a first time for everything. She'd been in a drop pod like Kima's though hers was filled with the more traditional Betna warriors. Mirsahko preferred to keep her wits about her, especially after many of the things which had happened in her recent past.

Mirshko shook her head at herself. Now was not the place or the time to be thinking of such things. A heavy jolt followed by the sound of the cutting mechanism told her that they'd made contact with the station. Instantly, she was up out of her seat and stacking with the others near the door. What lay beyond was anyone's guess. But it was more than likely heavily defended by Republic troops. She'd fought at Roche and other places, and she knew why they were here.

 

[Kima Betna]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6GKFnwanS1I​

The Republic troopers fought hard and well, but at close quarters with an enemy who welcomed death and feared nothing in life, the battle went about as expected. Her blue armor now slick and coated in dripping crimson, Kima found herself once more without an enemy, without a foe.

Her vision shuddered and blurred with each beat of her heart, the battle rage still coursing through her veins. Around her, the other warriors finished off the remnants of Republic resistance. The fighting was intense and of the warriors around her, most sported wounds of one kind or another. Her own armor was damaged in places, scorch marks from blaster bolts were clearly visible as were the scratches and scrapes of the brutal melee she'd fought.

As she turned to follow the rest of the warriors towards the sounds of more fighting, more blood to spill, movement at the edge of her vision caught her attention. Before she could shout a warning or even turn to get a proper look at what had opened the previously sealed door, something kicked her in the chest and launched her and many of the warriors around into the air.

She landed hard on her back, tumbling until she hit the bulkhead behind. Quickly rolling to a knee, she looked up just in time to see a figure with its arm outstretched, garbed in only tunic and breeches. As Kima stood, readying to combat this knew foe, the logical part of her mind whispered warnings, the words almost unheard in the chaotic fury of her mind. As the figure pulled some kind of tube from its belt, she charged, not needing the sudden flash of incandescent azure light to tell her what she faced. They'd all expected it from the very start.

Jetiise.

[member="Mirshko Betna"] [member="Davon Karr"] [member="Varien Moxla"] [member="Lorsima Gratiir"] [member="Kjell Betna"]

 

[Ria Misrani]

Lorsima's eyes were shut as she felt the shudder of the torpedo as it launched out from the vessel. Her body rocked within, her harness kept her strapped to the metal death can. Her pulse and blood pressure rose as it broke through the station. Seconds had passed and the torpedo struck deep into the Republic's station, Lorsima's helmet rattled around a bit, she opened her eyes just as everything came to a standstill, the torpedo was opened and she freed herself from the harness.

Releasing herself from the harness she could hear the sounds of battle raging ahead of her. Seeing the fury of it sent her into her own frenzy. She rushed forward, boots hitting the exit ramp and her maul came up to strike at one the Republic troopers who sought to end them as they came out of the ramp. Maul hit with his chin crushing the bones beneath it's weight and Lorsima's boot met with the man's face sending him down to the metal plating beneath them.

Her beskar'gam took the hits of blaster bolts and she only raged further. Swinging her maul viciously into the dull helmets of the Republic troopers. She spoke Mando'a as she kept fighting through the swath of troopers sent to greet her torpedo's detachment. "Tome vi akaanir!" Spinning around she could see her vod fighting, Clan Betna had sent forth their best ragers and what a blood bath it was. Lorsima relished in it, grabbing one gangly looking Republic man and throwing him to the ground with her two hands before picking her hammer back up and swinging it up into another's chin strap.

She took a blaster bolt to the back, and the pain was fierce, she yelled out and turned to the man who had given her, her injury. Before she could take him another grabbed at her and she now struggled to pull her hammer up she saw another take his vibroblade out and she leaned back to dodge it watching as it sliced through his counterpart, the one behind her dug his blade into her side, she went down to one knee. Gritting through the pain as blood seeped out of her armor, she pulled her hands together and built her rage before grabbing the one behind her and flipping him over, taking her hammer she swung it around to the one with the blade.

Two down, but still three worked to fight her, hand to hand. She had to hand it to the Republic they sure knew how to fight.

[member="Kima Betna"], [member="Mirshko Betna"], [member="Davon Karr"], [member="Kjell Betna"], [member="Varien Moxla"], [member="Lisette Kuhn"]

 

[Varien Moxla]

Varien's head slowly nodded as the torpedo travelled towards the Space Station. He knew there were other torpedoes that had launched before them. Most of the Republic Marines would be at those locations. If not, they were on their way there. Dropping into a hallway of Republic Marines likely wasn't the best idea. Mostly because there was only eight of them, and if they were ready for them they would be gunned down, even if they were protected by their traditional beskar'gam.

"Ready." A gruff voiced warned the compartment.

Then they crashed through the top of the Space Station.

​

​

There were a dozen or so Republic Marines jogging through the corridor that had just blown a hole through. It came from above instead of the side, it was unexpected compared to what the other torpedoes did. The bulkheads caved inwards, exploding down onto the Marines as it sent them sprawling across the floor. By that time the Mandalorian Warriors were dropping out of the torpedo and into the corridor. In the time it had taken them to unharness themselves and draw their weapons, the Republic Marines were starting to recover.

The Kelborn Warriors, Varien included, went about executing them.

[member="Lorsima Gratiir"], [member="Kima Betna"], [member="Mirshko Betna"], [member="Davon Karr"], [member="Kjell Betna"]

 

[Kima Betna]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qEMMqrk2x28​

Republic troopers began to swarm the area, blasters firing as they came. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Kima realized it was a counterattack to try and push them back or, at least, hold them here. A rational warrior would have ordered their men to dig in or even to fall back towards reinforcements. For the Betna ragers, however, the only thing they cared about was going forward.

The Manda was ahead, not behind.

Her brethren occupied with Republic soldiers, it was primarily up to her to deal with the Jedi. The young warrior darted forward, heedless of the blaster bolts all around her. The Jedi ahead saw her charge and met it halfway in a flying leap. Azure blade met beskar haft for a brief moment that seemed to last forever to Kima. A split second later and the Jedi was behind her, his lightsaber slashing at her legs.

She slammed the butt of the spear on the deck plating, the haft blocking the 'saber blade before shifting forward, trying to narrow the distance and limit the Jedi's range of movement. Two more strikes from the Jedi met the haft of the spear before Kima swung the polearm wide at the Jedi's head. The man ducked the swing and slashed at Kima's leg, the blade glancing off the beskar thigh plate she wore. Using the momentum of the swing, she let the inertia spin her around. Spotting an opportunity, she lashed out with a brutal kick at her opponent.

Armored boot met Jedi abdomen in a vicious blow, the strike driving the air from the man's lungs with an audible gasp. He raised a hand and, for a moment, Kima was confused at his apparent gesture of mercy or, perhaps, surrender. That is, until she felt the now-familiar kick in the chest try and fling her back. Thankfully, the Force push was weaker than before, the Jedi's mind focused on sucking in desperately needed air over concentrating on the Force.

She slammed the tip of the spear down into the deck plating, sparked briefly flying as metal struck metal. A deep gouge appeared as the blade dragged across the floor, her body being pushed back away from the Jedi. As she came to a stop, she pulled the spear back up and readied the weapon. The fight wasn't done yet and as the Jedi seemed to find his breath once more, she smiled beneath her helmet before charging once more. Force users may be formidable opponents, but she knew that at the end of the day, they bleed and died like anyone else.

It was something she planned on teaching this particular Jedi.

[member="Mirshko Betna"] [member="Davon Karr"] [member="Varien Moxla"] [member="Lorsima Gratiir"] [member="Kjell Betna"]

 

[Davon Karr]

[member="Kima Betna"] [member="Varien Moxla"] [member="Lorsima Gratiir"] [member="Lorsima Gratiir"]

Davon pushed through the younger warriors to stand at the rear door. He had never been one to lead from behind the men at a moment like this. Letting the young charge through into a dangerous breach like this made no sense to him. Karr was a wily old bastard and had no plans on going down any time soon, but these young warriors had many more battles ahead of them than he had. No one escaped death.

The Stonehammer gunship burst into the hangar bay. Already Republic soldiers were running from their posts. The boarding torpedoes had caught them well off guard and they were being forced to rapidly re-deploy. The gunship opened up with its main laser cannon, tearing a great trail of devastation across the deck. Slowly the rear doors opened.

“Cover on your left as you exit,” called the pilot over their intercom.

Davon dropped down, powered endoskeleton taking the brunt of the heavy landing. He broke left as he turned and brought his rifle up to his shoulder. His display highlighted enemy soldiers immediately, the gunship’s sensors having instantly tagged and rated all visible enemies by thread level. He fired a grenade to airburst over a group around a repeater. Black smoke lingered in the air over the screaming wounded. His next concussion blast struck a container and forced several soldiers to the deck, but did little more.

He signalled his suit to bring up the map again. The gunship tilted and pulled left as laser fire streamed out to meet it. The mandalorians had not arrived in thin-skinned shuttles, but fully functional combat gunships which were hurriedly laying waste to everything in sight.

“On three break right for that downed X-Wing. I’ll cover!”

 

[Kima Betna]

Sparks flew once more as 'saber met spear, the beskar haft deflecting the slash at Kima's torso. The Jedi kept up a series of flurried attacks forcing Kima to take the defense rather than the preferred offense. The few jabs and swipes she launched at her foe were quickly blocked or deflected one by one. Even in her enraged state, she knew that a defensive fight against a Force user was casting away victory to embrace defeat.

Letting the fury push her forward, she took a hand off the spear she held. She raised the haft up to deflect the next blow from the lightsaber, knowing that the movement was clumsy with only a single hand to hold the weapon aloft. As the Jedi recovered, she snapped her free hand out, snatching a fistful of the Jedi's tunic. Letting the rage flow into her muscles, she yanked the Jedi forward towards her. She saw the man raise the saber to ward off a blow from her other hand as his own off hand began slamming down on her forearm, desperately trying to break her grip. Unfortunately for the Jedi, Kima had no intention of striking with her other fist... yet.

She snapped her head forward, using the momentum at work to smash the forehead of her visor into the Jedi's face. She felt more than heard the man's nose collapse from the blow, the beskar helmet impacting with a meaty crack. Momentarily stunned by the blow, there was little the Jedi could do to stop the next headbutt from the Mandalorian that held him in her grasp. Kima slammed her visor two or three more times into the Jedi's face before the fabric of the tunic gave out and allowed the Jedi to stagger backwards a few steps before falling to the deck. He managed to keep the lightsaber pointed in her direction as he tried to back away on his rump, blood streaming down his face as he tried to regain his senses.

Rage giving way to a brief moment of contempt, she swung the bevii'ragir in a sudden arc. The impact knocked the lightsaber flying, the blade of the spear laying the Jedi's hand open from wrist to thumb. She leveled the spear at the man before her, the Force user bloody and beaten as he cradled his bleeding hand to his chest.

"Weak," she growled, the battle rage within rendering her voice akin to a bestial snarl. "This is why the Republic dies."

The words barely leaving her mouth, she plunged the spear forward until it hit the metal deck plates, the resulting sparks dying as quickly as they flew. Around her, the last of the republic soldiers was cut down, the floor slick with crimson fluids. Only one Mandalorian warrior lay dead, his body unmoving where a Republic soldier managed to get lucky in the melee. The area now clear, the warriors began moving forward, the battle rage pushing them onward.

Kima turned to follow, her spear leaving a trail of ruby droplets as she walked. As she neared the next bulkhead door, she stopped for a moment. The rage pushed her forward, demanded she follow her brethren, but she knew in the back of her mind that there was one thing that she needed to do before moving on.

A few moments later, she turned to follow her fellow clan warriors further into the fray, the metal hilt of a lightsaber clipped to her belt.

[member="Mirshko Betna"] [member="Davon Karr"] [member="Varien Moxla"] [member="Lorsima Gratiir"] [member="Kjell Betna"]

 

[Mythos]

Why do all good things get a sorry end? "I was supposed to be on vacation..." Mythos said, more to himself than to his men, the Jar'Kai that currently were having a well deserved leave of warfare in the Solar Gardens. Mythos had basically sold himself to a high bidder in this visit and currently was one of the main staff in the Nubian Palace protecting the ambassadors of the world from hostilities. So far there had been little to no complications leaving his men and himself a much needed R&R.... until everything started going SithSpit haywire and alarms howled hard enough to breech eardrums... So Mythos went from sunbathing beside a crystalline pool flanked by two beautiful Nubian females to semi-reluctantly heading to his station and donning the Armor of the Fallen King.

Within the span of an hour his men were assembled and jam packed into a makeshift command room that was an ambassadors office with Nubian officials buzzing like swamp wampas on a hunt. He stood in the back, shadows covering his flanks with Lee beside him, glaring at the feed from orbit. Mandalorians had been a concern yet now they were a clear and present danger to the area. If their threat was not met with swift and brutal resistance they would show no hesitation in their attempts to destroy and further annex territories.

The Nubian commander in charge of the briefing was an aged male, he spoke rushed sentences in the language that Mythos yet was not fully versed in speaking. He could understand some words. "Boarding Torpedo" "Shipards in Orbit" "Gunships" That is all Mythos needed to know, he could deduce and identify a raid when one presented itself. The officer in charge kept speaking, yet Mythos raised his hand to cut him off... The time of words were past thirty minutes ago in his mind.

"We need to be deployed to those Shipyards, we will need escort to arrive, how many squadrons do you have available?"

There was a pause, the officer looked shocked but composed himself and shook his head. "All available fighters are currentl-"

"Lee do we have our blades fueled and ready for deployment?" Mythos said, cutting the officer off impatiently. Lee nodded, striking a death glare across the room beneath his vibrogoggles. "We can have them in the air and in combat within fifteen minutes... twelve if we move at once."

Mythos breathed in and clenched his jaw, muscles tightened beneath his armor as he nodded grimly. His eyes snapped to the officer in command and he tilted his head before speaking. "Can you fly a fighter commander?... do you have thirteen other able bodied soldiers who can as well?"

The Nubian narrowed his eyes, the Officer never liked working with humans, especially Mythos... a brute warmonger in his eyes no good for anything else than killing and being killed... but this was Nubia, his home and we was going to defend it tooth and nail. "I do,i can... and i will... what is the course of action?"

"Get us to that shipyard without getting killed, I'm taking the Nubian Strikeforce with me, pack your best gear..."

With those words the Nubians began to explosively move before being swatted with Atrisian palms in the chest. "Not so fast.." Mythos said, taking a step forward into the very center of the room. "We pray and meditate before battle... and you do too now"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tucpB76sDvw

 

[Eugen Aker]

((I know I'm late to the party, but I'm willing to mess around with you all for a bit if you'd all like to continue. I'll be on scene within my next post.))

Location: Hyperspace, enroute to Nubia
Objective: Neutralize raiders, capture prisoners for interrogation.
Allies: Republic, ([member="Dallen Thayne"] )
Enemies: Mandalorians & Friends ([member="[/COLOR][/FONT]Mythos"] [member="Kima Betna"] [member="Davon Karr"] [member="Varien Moxla"])
All over the Republic, there were reports flooding into high command about raids occurring on various shipyards in a coordinated assault. The raiders had been identified as Mandalorian, which wasn't much of a surprise given recent events. The Crusades were on, and it appeared that the Mandalorians had settled upon the Republic as their first target. The destruction of these shipyards would only mean a minor setback for the Republic from a logistical standpoint, as none of the affected companies produced much of anything for the government. The GR's chief defense contractors were based in regions of the galaxy outside the Republic where the Mandalorians hesitated to tread. Still, leaving them to rip through Republic space on their raids unopposed would serve as bad optics, a psychological stab to shake the confidence of their constituents. With the exact force strength of the enemy unknown, reinforcements had been deployed to each system to bolster local security forces and Republic garrisons.

Arisa and her strike force were one such group to be deployed. In her own little corner of the hangar, Arisa punched and kicked at imaginary targets, getting a feel for her powersuit. Her movements were so floaty with the servo assist like she was operating in a low-G environment. She would have to take care to dial back her exertion and let the armor do its thing.

"Having fun?" Irsu had lumbered over to her in his own powersuit with a flechette cannon in hand, making the already large Yinchorri look like a giant.

"Fun and Jedi don't mix," she corrected. "How about you?"

"I think I'll be having enough fun for the both of us smashing heads." With added power from the suit, he could very well do that. She felt a sense of glee from the Yinchorri as he spoke of his plans. He and the rest of the Dragoons were fine soldiers, but their natural predisposition for violence made them a bloodthirsty bunch during the thick of battle. At times, it was a struggle for the Padawan to keep from getting sucked into the mental frenzy.

"I don't think the Mandalorians will make it that easy."

"Just the way I like it." The killer flashed her a toothy grin.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-tVWt2RDsoM

 

[Varien Moxla]

(( Varien isn't identifying as a member of the Galactic Alliance. He is adopted Mandalorian nao. ))

Location: Enroute to Hangars.

The targets were the pylons.

Whatever those were.

His beskade was pulled out of the one of the Republic Marines after a moment. The last one of the dozen that they had dropped in on from the ceiling.

According to plan, they split into two groups of four and broke off at the first intersection. Varien's and his trio of Mandalorian Warriors were to head towards the actual shipyards and hangars to find something of use while the other
group was to head towards the command deck to search for schematics and any information they could about Republic fleet movements, patrols, and the number of docked ships. Anything they would help the rest of their brothers and sisters on the Space Station and for the coming Crusades into Republic Space.

Twisting his head slightly as he trotted down the hallway, he ran faster, ahead of the group of Kelborn warriors he was with just as he spotted the next Republic Marine.

Lowering himself for the briefest of moments, he took the smaller, lankier man right off the floor as he tackled him across the hallway, the trio following Varien moving into the midst of the surprised Marines, soon engaging in close quarters combat. Scattershots, beskads, slug pistols, anything that would inflict the most damage. Reversing the hold of the weapon in his hand, he shattered the visor in the man's helmet before tearing it off his head and bringing it down on his head.

Strong enough to send a splitting *craaaaaackk* down the hallway, but that was because it mostly hit the ground rather than the man's skull. It still was enough to put him unconscious as he climbed off of the man's chest. Shallow breathing, barely alive he assumed from how hard the young Kiffar had slammed him into the ground.

[member="Arisa Yune"], [member="Mythos"], [member="Kima Betna"], [member="Davon Karr"], [member="Lorsima Gratiir"], [member="Mirshko Betna"]

 

[Mythos]

Location: Surface to Shipyard
Allies: Nubians and buddies
Enemies: Mandalorians and anyone screwing around in Nubia

With the smell of incense still heavy on their bodies the warriors set up to prepare for launch into orbit and to the shipyards yet there was still the question of packing five hundred soldiers and getting them to the shipyard with every nubian escort vehicle currently being occupied. The landing platform where the blades were on was buzzing with activity and alarms as the sight of a few hundred soldiers lead by the well armed division of the Jar'Kai and Mythos leading the march. There was just one problem... no escort vehicle. Mythos stood upon the platform and scoured the area for an idea, and then his eyes rested upon a set of freighters to the south of about fifty meters each, by his calculations he could maybe cram forty men in each and two hundred in the bigger one that was about one hundred fifty meters long. These ships however... were not in any way combat oriented.

Lee saw his eyes and traced his vision to the file of freighters. He shook his head and raised his eyebrow exasperatedly. "You are not thinking what i think you are thinking are you?" Lee asked, hoping and praying beyond the force itself he was wrong.
"Bet your sorry credits i am" Mythos responded confidently. Lee let his face hit his palm and rubbed his index and thub against his temple trying to handle the madness of the plan.

"We will be lucky if those buckets of rust get us to the shipyard alive" Lee grew even less optimistic about the cargo freighters the closer they got to it, every step showed more dings, scratches and dents than a moisture evaporator at Tatooine. "I trust they will, you trust my judgment."

Lee sighed, shaking his head at the futility of it all. "Martha, It should have been me" Martha died in Chazwa, the former captain of the Jar'Kai and the only person in the galaxy who could talk sense into Mythos, after her death Mythos became a one man band of death receiving no input or guidance beyond his own will and stubbornness. "It should have been Mephirium" They both laughed, indeed it should have been Mephirium.


Mythos turned to face the warriors, this was when the peptalk went down. "Sentinels and Kai are with me in the main freighter to the south, Bulwark and Nubian teams three and six are in the freighters to the east, the rest go with the nearest cargo freighters. Officer Falkyr will escort us with the blades to the shipyard we have designated for arrival... " He looked at Lee to confirm who gave him a nod of his head and then to the aged officer Falkyr who looked like a man facing death row, the sight brought a smile to his face, fear was good... it kept a pilot on edge.

"Alright boys and girls lets give them chaos and thunder, move out!"

within a few minutes the strike force of Mythos and the Nubian special operations command would be on route to the shipyard to face the Mandalorian forces. It would be a battle for the ages, thought Mythos while preparing to board the main cargo freighter. At least... it wasn't the first time the galaxy would grant glory to a rust bucket with thrusters on it....

 

[Dallen Thayne]

Location: Hyperspace, enroute to Nubia
Objective: Neutralize raiders, capture prisoners for interrogation.
Allies: Republic, [member="Arisa Yune"]
Enemies: Mandalorians, (space itself)

102nd Task Force:
(just for the sake of consistency, making up what I would suppose is a typical small task force that I've been carrying through threads)

Spoiler

(Glory of the Republic) Republic Class Destroyer x 1 [Aurek Tactical Strike Squadrons x 3]
(Firebird) Centurion Battlecruiser x 1 [Aurek Tactical Strike Squadrons x 3] [R46 Valiant Squadrons x 3] [Scuurg H-6 Bomber Squadrons x 3]
(Testament, Song of Serenno, Herald of Onderon, Justice) Hammerhead Cruisers x 4 [Aurek Tactical Strike Squadrons x 1 per frigate]
(Swift Runner) Katana Corvette x 1

As the streaks of light passed the viewport of the Republic Cruiser, the 102nd Task Force's commander was merely doing his best to hold back from massaging the temple of his head as the battlegroup neared its destination. When the offshoot Mandalorians of the simply named Mandalorian Empire had launched their bloody, barbaric, and heinous attack on the planet of Mimban and nearby systems, Dallen Thayne had thought that the threat of Mandalorian encroachment of Republic space was over since he had thought the united clans to be . . . .less blindly violent than their brothers and sisters that had left their unity behind. With reports coming though of an attack on the Nubian Shipyards by assailants that appeared mandalorian in nature, and intelligence operatives were quite certain they had kept an eye on the Mando Empire since the Mimban incident, it appeared as if they were just as bothersome.

Perhaps they conducted themselves more honorably and would hold themselves back from butchering civilians, however, it still felt rather tedious to the Republic Officer considering the, albeit tentative, alliances they had had together in the past. Regardless, Dallen had no problem fighting the Mandalorians, and to be truthful he preferred to combat them in grand, open, battlefields than anyone else. It was just a bad time in his opinion. The Republic needed a short break to stabilize itself, and it desperately wanted in on throwing punches at the One SIth before the Galactic Alliance had all the fun. With all the Mandalorian attacks though the Republic was too preoccupied and busy dealing with homefront issues to take a stand and get down to business in order.

As Lieutenant Vanquo turned in her chair at the sensor station to inform him of their closing proximity to Nubian space, Dallen took his eyes off the blurring stars that sped past the viewport in hyperspace transition as he looked over the Testament's tried and true bridge crew. "Lieutenant Ree prepare comms to order the fleet into formation once we exit hyperspace and anyone's out of place, make sure the Firebird's captain activates the gravity well generator as well. Lieutenant Sella I want all turbolasers hot once we revert back to realspace in case the Mandalorians have anything big out there." Alarms would blare to send the crew to their battle stations, gunnery crews on the turbolaser batteries while the technicians in engineering readied themselves for deployment to damaged sections of the ship in the course of the battle, medical personnel prepping their equipment in the medbay and double checking the functionality of the bacta and kolto tanks.

Soon enough the streaks that were stars would grow longer before disappearing altogether as the Hammerhead Cruiser, Testament, along with its fellow cruisers and the destroyers of the task force, appeared from hyperspace with Nubia in view. "All ships this is Commander Thayne, check your position in the formation and deploy fighter screens. Lieutenant Vanquo scan for enemy vessels, Ree contact those based on the planet to determine where we need to send our contingent. Open a line to the Jedi along for the ride as well. Let them know the 102nd's Rocket Jumpers will go out with them." As everyone got to work, Dallen let his eyes gaze out at the world of Nubia and the yards that sat above it. He wondered if the Mandalorians were aware that the yards were owned by a member of the Galactic Alliance. Along that line he wondered if the Yards owner was aware of the attack yet, and just what the news would mean for relations between the Alliance and the Clans.