Mandalorian Dominion of Tiss'sharl

[Lord Gaius]

Gaius said after the noise died away, "Do you happen to know who is in ke'gyce here? They didn't give me a name, just a job. Not that a beskarsmith and a pilot are any good for standing in one spot." He took a step towards the aforementioned corpse of a Tiss'shar, shoving a heavy boot into its ribs with a resounding crack. "Either way, I wasn't here to see this, what happened?" He then hiked a thumb to the living one, "Or did I just kick one of his mates?"


{ [member="Catherine Romanov"] }

 

[Catherine Romanov]

Cat shook her head before shrugging her shoulders. She had no idea who was in charge. Hell, she had no idea what was really going on here. This whole place seemed to be in a whole lotta' mess.

She said "This older guy, [member="Miles Rorke"] came by, dragging a dead Tiss'sharl on his shoulders before dumping it on the ground, in plan sight of the lizard they were tasked with guarding, Ka-Dur-Lor. That drove it up into a frenzy, as she pointed at the raging lizard nearby.

Gaius then proceeded to further mutilate the corpse, sending a resounding crack through the room as he cracked one of the lizard's ribs. The room died to a pause, with everyone turning to stare at the source of the sound. Realising what Gaius did, Ka-Dur-Lor started up his tirade once more, this time spewing all kinds of obscenities and threats towards him. Catherine proceeded to place her palm towards her face, then realised she was wearing her helmet, and she sighed.

[member="Lord Gaius"]

 

[Mirus Hi'ija]

@Everyone.

In the hands of a master alchemist rested a disruptor rifle. With keen, Sith-tainted eyes, he studied the weapon, checking it over for signs of wear and tear.

"Tell me where you got this," he commanded.

Mirus Hi'ija, descendant of Petra Cavataio, considered the options laid out before him. he had come here to sow discord in the name of science, to distract the planet's leadership and then unleash hell on a fractured world already practically bent on rebellion. Unfortunately, those damn pesky Mandalorians had shown up. Now, the funny thing was, the Witches of Dathomir were aligned with the Mandalorians - now, however, he was not a representative of his homeworld, but as a Sith. He was, true to form, a Sith in its darkest nature, a twisted monster bent on testing out his new creations here on this world. He could have easily just left the planet and tried something else, but no.

One of his acolytes, the one who had snuck through the Mandalorian camp - black-cloak, red trim. The usual. "We acquired it from their stores, Master. They are woefully under-prepared for an assault."

Darth Kurloz nodded his head, knowing that it was time to begin the second phase of his plan. His people were here, their supplies ready, their ship unloaded.

"Send in the droids. Test them."

On the plus side, we know where Rena's missing gun went.

------​

At the camp of Ka-Dur-Lor, there was a slow whine in the distance that grew suddenly very loud, very quickly. It was a loud whine of repulsorlifts, heralding the arrival of something that they did not know about on this planet. For those who were veterans in the war against the Sith Empire, the sleep, raked-back shape of the approaching transport would be familiar to them - an old Hovering Armored Droid Carrier, on course for the camp itself.

Then it stopped dead in its tracks, completely silent - before its ramps opened and stopped. Like an endless tide, from its insides, spilled - group by group - about fifty total battle droids, waves of five or six or so.

They were little more than scrap - old T1 battle droids, armed with little more than aging blaster rifles, but they'd get the job done. As they disembarked their transport, they began to march on the encampment, firing wildly through the gates, hoping to cut something or someone down with their random blasts. Their twin red photoreceptors cast a fearsome sight, an uncaring pair of vertical eyes stacked, searching through the new dust-storm that kicked up in their wake.

The Mandalorians would find themselves needing to defend their encampment from the incoming unknown raiders.

 

[Not Ordo]

Kyr lifed his pistol over the edge of the table as the lizard man began calling him a cheater. His cold brown eyes taking in the creature in the was a butcher looks at a nerf before the slaughter.

"Say again?" He said his gruff voice filled with a deadly edge, "I thought you said something."

"I SAID YOU CHE"

The sound of the blaster peirced the air as Kyr watched the body fall forward onto the Sabaac table.

"That's what I thought you said." Kyr told the corpse as he stood and holstered his weapon. He calmly took the credits and the deed for the creatures holdings and shipping businesses be for walking to the bar to set down a tip.

"Sorry 'bout the mess." He told the barkeep As he passed and went out the door to claim his new company and ships.

 

[Captain Larraq]

Location: Approaching Tiss'sharl
(#1/20)


As a highly urbanized planet with a heavy export of high tech goods, Tiss'sharl was a gem among the worlds of the Tingel Arm. One that had been eyed by the Mandalorians for quite some time. While, at one time, open trade had been enough for both the Tiss'sharl and the Mandalorians, the events of the Netherworld had changed that. The Mandalorian Clans needed every asset they could get their hands on and if the whispers and rumors were correct, there were those within the Tiss'sharl leadership that were receptive to closer diplomatic ties to one of their many powerful neighbors.

While others took action to remove those who would oppose such ties, Rygel Larraq set himself about the task of conquering a planet with a credit card.


The man sat within one of his many luxury shuttles. He was wearing his finest business suit, the fabric of which was lined with fine beskar wire. Truly, one of the best in the galaxy. He was as groomed and poised as any other merchant, a fact which endlessly unsettled those who anticipated the armored and gruff demeanor of his brethren. But for this mission, exuding the sense of power and wealth was the most appropriate armor he could wear. And while others from the clans might not understand it, they respected the results Rygel Larraq was capable of.

If anything, he was a man that could get results.


As the shuttle entered the atmosphere and Larraq prepared himself to meet with those of the ruling caste that would see him, he scrolled through his datapad and monitored the progress of the others assigned to the task of claiming Tiss'sharl for the Clans. Teams of assassins worked their way towards the lair of the planet's current president while teams of slicers infiltrators had been assigned the task of framing the Primeval government for the assassination that was soon to take place. Numerous other business owners were currently working with several of the minor local corporations to secure business contracts that would greatly benefit said corporations... Each contract was to offer such high profit margins for the company in question to all but secure a seat on the high council within the next five years. A position which the head of said companies would remember came from the benefit of doing business with Mandalorians.

The real beauty of the plan was not in the promise of making lizards wealthy, nor in the hope of gaining control of the planet in five years time. The beauty of the plan was in the here and now. Spies and slicers within local news broadcast networks would be reporting on the public contracts and churn the pot with rumors and speculations as to the long lasting effect these contracts will have on the local economy, job opportunities, and, eventually, the planet's leadership.

Of course, how could such reports not draw the attention and concern of the business owners who currently presided over an entire planet?

It was at this point that Larraq would play his part. Well... beyond orchestration and financing and paying for spies and slicers to do their jobs. No, Larraq would need to handle this matter personally. After all, what self respecting businessman with something to lose would turn down a profitable contract with Mandal Hypernautics?


Rygel Larraq sipped his wine as his shuttle continued its approach.

Greed and wealth ruled this planet. And it would be greed and wealth that would bring it under Mandalorian control.

Honor and valor could be taught to the next generation.

But this one must first be tricked into opening that door.

 

[Werdla Dardalab]

Post 1/20

On planet in a cheap room rented under a fake name, one of likely many strike teams was gearing up.

"These bloody robes don't half itch hey?"

La commented with a wrinkle of her nose, scratching at the neckline of the ominous black robes she wore over generic durasteel armour rather than the instantly identifiable Mandalorian beskar'gam.

"And here I never thought I'd get to see you in a dress La'ika."

"I will end you Harmapr I swear to the Gods, send you straight to the Long March."

"Besides, you're looking pretty lovely yourself Harm."

Jidte added with a wink at the other man.

"Remember to yell about Balagoth."

"What?"

"Balagoth. We're cultists remember?"

He looked at his other four team mates, all of whom were giving him fairly blank stares.

"You.. you didn't read the dossier did you?"

"I read the bit about assassination.."

"We're Primeval cultists, that means we have to believe in their Gods. Balagoth probably fits best."

"How d'ya know that?"

"I looked it up, the hut'uun have informational pamphlets."

"What?"

"Pamphlets."

"All right then Sasctayr."

"Oh, I get to be part of the nickname club now? Wonderful I was feeling left out."

The one remaining unnicknamed squadmate shuffled his feet slightly. They might complain, but it was something of a rite of passage into acceptance.

"Beraga, Obviously."

"Anyway! What's this about Ballygeth?"

"Balagoth. 'The Dead One', 'The Unmaker', 'The Forgotten Truth'. He is the darkness of all beings and death is his aftermath. Anything that ends is his to take and all things forgotten become his truth."

"...and we're fighting these basket cases. How've they got time t'get anything done if they're busy making fancy flowery pamphlets?"

"Point is yell about Balagoth and how the dead become his and are joining his in glorious.. Un-existence or something."

"Death for the death God, got it."

"Shall we deploy then?"

"Bally-ho!"