Masters of the Dead Road (Kintan Rebellion: Witchmasters vs Hutts)

[Ashin Varanin]

The Dead Road, an ancient hyperlane, connects the Kintan system to the galaxy. An ominous name, and not unfounded. In the last twenty-seven millennia, the lethal Cult of M'dweshuu has risen again and again, sowing terror through sacrificial rites. Black Sun and Hutt Cartel dominance has kept the Cult under control -- until now.

Kintan is a harsh world. Transparisteel sandstorms rip flesh from bones, Kintan Crushers roam the wastes, and the native Nikto civilization has suffered long. And not just from the Hutts. The ancient Cult of M'dweshuu has risen again. The Witchmasters look to the Cultists as potential rivals and interesting targets. Ancient rites often contain a grain of truth, and power can be found in the unlikeliest of places. Due to Witchmaster interest in Kintan, and the reduced circumstances of the Hutt Cartel, certain Nikto organizations have contacted the Dathomiri for aid.

Theatre One: Fortress Kh'aris
The Cult of M'dweshuu has taken up residence in the ancient Fortress Kh'aris. High on a sandstone cliff, the fortress is shielded and must be conquered in person, by Witchmasters brave enough to slip through shield-gaps under rocky crags. The Cult may be benefiting from Hutt Cartel support. Take Fortress Kh'aris, and a substantial portion of the planet will fall in line. Alec Rekali will take part in this theatre.

Theatre Two: Space
A Clan Rekali fleet, including several battleships, has entered the Kintan system. Hyperspace-moored interdiction and early-warning vessels have taken up positions on the Dead Road, on both sides of the system. The fleet is under the command of Ember Rekali, the Warlock of Yavin.

But no reasonable strategy can hope to confine a system-wide campaign to only two venues. The Witchmasters stand ready to face a Hutt counterattack from any direction. And targets of opportunity may yet present themselves...

OOC thread found here.

[member="Aarrki "][member="Alaric D'Lessio"] [member="Althea Raxis"] [member="Anija Betna"] [member="Apollymi Djo"] [member="Asemir Lor'kora"] [member="Auswyn Nothrael"] [member="Avo"] [member="Aynea Zyn'meshurok"] [member="Cennika Hawk"] [member="Curupira Hawk"] [member="Daedel"] [member="Darth Metus"] [member="Deneve Verd"] [member="Dralos"] [member="Dredge"] [member="Edison Bulkhead"] [member="Eirlys Verd"] [member="Erebus Seth"] [member="Fable Merrill"] [member="Fabula Caromed"] [member="Falcon Gyndar"] [member="Gheleon"] [member="Iegoris Verd"] [member="Imogen Blanche"] [member="Inara Ka"] [member="Isley Verd"] [member="IxChell Kai"] [member="Kadesh Tiamat"] [member="Kaeda Vevut"] [member="Kass Zyn'meshurok"] [member="Kytarra Hawk"] [member="Lilith Engelis"] [member="Loxa Visl"] [member="Mia Monroe"] [member="Morgana Belcourt"] [member="Naimes Ahn-Dross"] [member="Ostanes"] [member="Revy Khai"] [member="Shezi Khoza"] [member="Skye Mertaal"] [member="Spencer Varanin"] [member="Sumiko Tanaka"] [member="Tia Laveau"] [member="TiCira D'Arr Hawk"] [member="Venetia Wynne"]
[member="Sempra the Hutt"]

 

[Curupira Hawk]

Theatre One: Fortress Kh'aris

There was a thrill in the chase, a thrill in the possibility of being caught. Because it was that very reason why in her youth, the redhead loved playing hide and seek. Sometimes she'd even assumed whole life was hide and seek so even when her older siblings were simply off doing their thing, she would just have to trail along and catch up with them. It made sense. She would either hide or she would find. Of course, back then, she didn't know as much as she knew today, or what she'd learned back when she was a Templar. Like the fact that there were suits that could help at hiding. There were many toys she'd kept from the time she was a Templar but her armor was definitely one of her favorite. Even now, when she caught the fabric to the inside of hoodie, she enjoyed the mission, knowing the armor would serve her well in her task.

Her hands slid to the holsters around her legs, checking both of her Striker projectile pistol and her Dissuader KD-30 slugthrower pistol were firm in their place and ready to be used. Curupira knew she was a curious Force User, never carrying a lightsaber but that wasn't just who she was right now, lacking the training for it just yet. There was a time in her childhood, when the training had began, but so much had happened since. Too much even, that the training never progressed. And here she was, happily carrying of her pistols, glancing at the others for a moment. There was no glory in rushing ahead first.

[member="Alec Rekali"] @whoeverelsejoiningushere

 

[Darth Libertas]

Theatre One: Fortress Kh'aris


[member="Curupira Hawk"], [member="Alec Rekali"]


Proxy wars, rebellions and interventions in failing states by nonstate actors were the new trend these days. In this particular case, a collection of Dathomiri Witches, Witch affiliates and friends had embarked upon a voyage to a planet that was nominally under the faltering control of the Hutt Cartel and was experiencing a cultist problem.


Dark cults were always an unpleasant lot. Especially if they were of the doomsday variety and into practices such as blood sacrifices. Doomsday fellows were not inclined to rational thought and their sects had the unfortunate habit of being revived no matter how many times you exterminated them. The Bando Gora were a case in point, no matter how many times Kerrigan bragged about conquering Gehenna. However, the cultists were not just objects of termination, but potential sources of knowledge. Even lunatics could possess valuable insights.


So Sumiko had joined the hunt. The now defunct Atrisian Inquisition had taught her the trade, and there was a certain thrill in it. This might have been the moment to get nostalgic about the 'good old days', but she very much appreciated no longer being controlled by a repressive, totalitarian system. Her bolt pistol and shattergun were firmly strapped to her thighs, her lightsabre was ready. As was the frankly melodramatically named sentient Sith sword.

 

[Thraxis]

The Fortress:
GOAL: End Game

it was a rare day for rumors to be a thing of truth, a grain was hidden only a handful of rumors yet for one to be so accurate. It seemed that this fateful day would be one that most mortal men would quiver at prospecting. Though this was no man, nor where the men who remained, if he survived this day, he would make sure each man who came to the defense of the Hutt... no. Not the Hutt. Each and every man and women who came here was for purpose. He looked around, he saw it in all their eyes, these were the men ready to die. They no longer had any purpose other then to go out with a blaze of glory. No matter how few they numbered.

He had strapped everything he had, no matter how much he wished that this rumor was just that, he had to come armed to the teeth. He had strapped all his guns on today, a rare prospect for him to feel the need. At the front of his belt he had strapped his Sonic Pistol, he knew what was coming, witches and warlocks armed with the sorcery of the force. Strapped on his left was his Custom made Pistolas and on his right was his two oldest friends. Then came the piece of resistance, a gun he rarely used but in this case, it like everything else was a necessity. The DEMP. If anything, he could rely on that more then anything else. All of this ensemble wrapped around his Custom Armor, a barest of necessity in any combat.

He looked to the men, they had been overworked and now it was time to put the planning to the test, his hand raised as he looked at the map, "Demolition Squad Alpha! I want the entrances blown to chunks, we will need the cover for advancing forces!" he demanded as the men grabbed the equipment, rushing forward towards the theaters entrance, "Squad Two! I want the rest of the explosives set up around the building! If this goes bad I want this place destroyed! No matter the cost!" his body turned as the men packed their equipment, getting started in the current room and would slowly make their way through the rest of the building, to get it done completely would take hours, but they merely needed to destroy any part of importance.

His digit flicked on a command panel, his voice echoing throughout the building as he relayed the next set of orders, "Combat Squad Alpha through Delta all are to be standing guard at the front! Make sure no one gets through the shielding! Without a heavy dose of Blaster fire Understood!" he commanded, quickly switching the link off as he rested his elbows onto the table, looking towards the last of the squads. "Pilots. I want you lot to get escape ships ready." he quietly muttered, looking to the men with a look of malice in his eyes, before looking back at the map. It seemed Kay was right. It was good to have allies.

He turned to his last resort, the Cultists. He had no clue what they could do. He had no idea if they were even combatants but directed his arm towards the front of the building. "Do whatever it is you do." he said as he looked to them, assuming they had some way to contact the rest of the Cultists throughout the building and watching as they slowly walked with a methodical pace to where he had instructed.

He flicked his digit one last time onto the speaker. It was time to give a rousing speech. "Men. Women. Today. Is not a good day. I am not here to tell you victory is in our reach. I am here to tell you one thing. Today we fight to the death, to each and every last breath." his voice was monotone for the most part, though slowly turned to one of power, one whose voice sounded like it commanded a thousand starships just the night before, "Today! This very day, we might die in obscurity! It may not go down in legends, but let me say this! On each one of your hearts I see something grand! I see the power to topple empires! To reach our hands around the neck of kings and crush their voice!" he yelled as he stood up, a flare erupting in his heart as he pulled out a small vial, uncorking it and releasing a vile scent of alcohol before taking it down in one go, "So invite them in, because tonight, they dine with usurpers of their throne!" he yelled as he heard an uproar of cheer and rage all mixed together, in one unified horah as he heard them stamp their feet.

Thraxis moved himself to the front lines, getting the com people to give him a link so he knows everything that could happen. He ran his hand along his chin while he held his helmet in his hand, looking to the men as he saw the Alpha squad done their job well, they provided a line of rocky cover for the Combat squads to provide them with cover. With one last scan he placed his helmet in his head surveying the scene with a malice look hidden behind his visage.
[member="Sumiko Tanaka"] [member="Curupira Hawk"] [member="Ember Rekali"]

 

[Asemir]

Theater One

Kintan. Another world to conquer.

Fortress Kh'aris. Another strongpoint to demolish.

Someone had once said something about forgetting history and being doomed to repeat it. Asemir Lor'kora sighed. He remembered just about all of the events in his life, especially those involving the conquering of worlds and demolishing of strongpoints. So how is it that he was repeating yet another conquering of a world and yet another demolishing of a strongpoint?

The Forgotten shook his head, sending his tera gently swaying. Part of him was tired and seriously considered retiring and living a peaceful life. Start a family. Work a farm. Or something like that. Which was odd, given that his sixty plus years was considered young for his people.

But, he knew why he was here, on Kintan, watching the cultists strengthen their fortress. Fighting was all he knew. This was what defined him. The battlefield was his home. And, frankly, the idea of a peaceful life, as alluring as it was, was actually terrifying.

He shoved those thoughts away. He would focus. His job, as given by [member="Alec Rekali"], was not to lead the assault. He was not tasked with knocking down the fortress walls. Rather, he was to find a way in and kill their command and control. Destroy the brains. Decapitate the beast.

Just as well because that was his specialty.

Asemir Lor'kora looked around, seeing some of the Witches assigned to this task. The howl of the wind carried the screeching of the fortress shields.

Sure, he would be repeating history again. But that was okay, he decided. One more time. And then he would try something new.

[member="Curupira Hawk"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Theatre One: Fortress Kh'aris

[member="Curupira Hawk"] [member="Asemir Lor'kora"] [member="Sumiko Tanaka"] [member="Thraxis"]

The fortress shields prevented the Witchmasters from rolling up artillery -- either the modern kind, or rancors chucking boulders. Instead, the shields and the cliff combined to keep such attacks at bay. It fell to small teams of Witchmaster warriors to slip through small gaps where the shield met rocky overhangs and suchlike things. Alec, clad in her duraplast'gam (so to speak), paused under one such overhang as a rumble filtered through from above. Demolitions. Landslide traps, maybe, or obstacles at the fortress gates.

Wary of a collapse, she wriggled out from beneath the overhang and emerged in a crevasse, just inside the theatre shield. She squinted out of the crevice, helmet amplifying her sight, and noted a second, smaller deflector shield at the demolished front entrance. The rubble, the former door, and the shield combined to make a brutal killzone; she glimpsed motion in there as numerous men set up defensive emplacements. She sucked her teeth and shifted in the crevice's mouth, scanning the fortress. Thick walls and huge spars of rock conspired to limit approach routes; the fortress's designers and commander had set up their choke point expertly. Highly mobile expert infiltrators like Asemir and the rest might be able to find alternate ways in. For Alec's part, she kept a low profile, ready to provide cover fire if others needed it.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

The Witchmaster fleet comprised all manner of strange fruit. Biotech Witch ships flitted around Clan Rekali's bruisers. Even the Clan's Alor-class dreadnought, three klicks of hyperdurable obstinance, orbited the planet Kintan. From the bridge of the much-decorated Skira-class battleship Like Hell, Ember coordinated the grand strategy, such as it was. Apart from a flotilla of Witch ships of frigate size or less, the bulk of the Witchmaster assault force was over twelve hundred metres' worth of Rekali vessels. The combined primary fleet was split into three: one part guarding each of the two hyperroute vectors (Force Vodran and Force Klaatooine), and one part hovering above the planet proper (Force Kintan), ready to provide backup. Fortunately, it wasn't as though the two routes were separated by a hundred eighty degrees from the system primary. Slightly less than ninety degrees, actually, with one spur leading to Vodran and the other to Klaatooine. The Like Hell remained over Kintan with the Alor-class dreadnought and some escorts.

Hyperspace-moored early-warning craft, non-combat vessels but not about to be detected, moved into position around the two routes. Others, with escort, remained in hyperspace between Tas-La and Ques, by far the most probable route for Hutt reinforcements. Still others monitored the line from Vontor to the Tion Hegemony. Those two flotillas (Force Tion and Force Ques) hovered at the edge of the Si'Klaata Cluster, not to engage enemy reinforcements but simply to alert the main Witchmaster fleet in the Kintan system. The telemetry angles had been adjusted so that Force Ques' cross-channelled non-mass hyperspace radiation could be used to pick up not just traffic along the routes in question, but the direction of traffic once it passed Tas-La. Tas-La was the critical point, the divergence: if the Witchmasters knew what course a fleet might take at Tas-La if coming from Ques, they could know whether to commit reserves to Force Vodran or Force Klaatooine.

The general idea, in brief, was to keep the Kintan system isolated from all external support -- and, more importantly, to know ahead of time if reinforcements came this way.

 

[Onley Xiangu]

Theatre One: Fortress Kh'aris

That she didn't know a single one of them was sort of par for the course these days. She had too many houses and none of them felt like home. So there she was on a planet that reminded her of some circle of hell - perhaps Greed, Violence, or Treachery - with a pack of strangers, prepared to brave elements she had no real grievance with. No grievance, but more interest than one mind should have been capable of holding.

She'd hitched a ride, as always. Some little rats never changed.

A shock of white hair bloomed from the transport she'd caught as she leaped out, big black eyes peering out of dead-white skin. She'd spent the trip drawing hundreds of little circles up the inside of her arm. They meant nothing to anyone but her.

She was unfamiliar with battle, but not with stealth or squeezing oneself in to spaces in which it seemed physically impossible to fit. She might have a use yet.

[member="Alec Rekali"] [member="Asemir Lor'kora"] [member="Asemir Lor'kora"] [member="Thraxis"] [member="Sumiko Tanaka"] [member="Curupira Hawk"] @anymore friends

 

[Ashin Varanin]

FORTRESS KH'ARIS
[member="Thraxis"]
[member="Shezi Khoza"] [member="Asemir Lor'kora"] [member="Sumiko Tanaka"] [member="Curupira Hawk"]

From her vantage point in the crevice, through a hailstorm blanket of static, Alec listened to the comms. Witches and other fighters were coming up through the identified gaps where shields met irregular stone, just as she had. Witches and warriors, getting the lay of the land and understanding the bloodbath to come. The defenders had made that choke point lethal -- sixty degrees of crossfire, maybe more. A small deflector shield. Stone barricades. No really solid alternate entryway.

By comm codes, Alec indicated she was in position to give cover fire -- or to charge, once someone got in position to cover her. Her armour wasn't invulnerable, nor her shields, but she could take a hit. In the meantime, she kept an eye on the walltops. A head or two poked over, but she refrained from sniping so as not to give away her position in the tall crevices. A couple of rubberneckers didn't matter. If someone got a pintle gun running up there, though, she'd have to reevaluate things.

 

[Asemir]

[member="Alec Rekali"] [member="Shezi Khoza"] [member="Thraxis"] [member="Sumiko Tanaka"] [member="Curupira Hawk"]

OOC:
Would any PC Witches like to go with Asemir?

IC:

The going was a little trickier than Asemir would have liked. It had taken him far more time than he would have preferred to circle around the main entrance, but it was a necessity. There was no way that he (or anyone else with any tactical sense) would be assaulting the fortress directly. A quick glimpse at the rubble-strewn former door told him that that entrance was now defunct. And, if the defenders were thinking like him, there would be numerous soldiers guarding the remains. It would be a kill zone, and the Witches didn't have the manpower or heavy armor needed to brute force their way through that type of crossfire.

He slowly edged his way around the fortress walls, moving at a determined pace that still felt like a Hutt's crawl. It allowed his armor to maintain its maximum camouflage, the nanomachines masking his movement by changing their surface texture and coloration to match his surroundings. A bit of the Force also cloaked his presence, and that made him nearly imperceptible to any observers, electronic and organic alike.

He didn't have a specific destination in mind, as no one had any true schematics or architectural plans of the fortress, but he knew what he was looking for. An alternate entrance, a side door that had not been sealed. Well, he honestly didn't expect to find an actual secondary door, not in the literal sense. The defenders would have to have been utterly stupid to have left any formal entrance undefended. No, he was looking for, hoping for, something else.

And, after what seemed like an eternity, he found it. It was embedded into the underside of a rocky overhang, hidden and camouflaged expertly into its surroundings. The centuries of weather erosion, however, had unmasked it, just barely, just enough that an expert infiltrator could spot it.

Asemir pulled himself up to the heavy durasteel grating that covered the sewer discharge port. He peered into the dark tunnel, letting his armor's AI do her work of scanning for any traps or alarms. After a moment, he leaned back, satisfied that there were none, and examined the actual metal barrier. It was covered in rust and grime, and looked like it hadn't been disturbed in ages. That was a good sign. Perhaps the current occupants had forgotten about it. He'd find out soon enough.

The Forgotten glanced at a few runes on his HUD and blinked a precoded message to Alec: Alternate entrance discovered. Proceeding.

It would take him a moment to cut through the grating, and then he and the others would be pulling himself up through the sewer system and into the fortress. And if Fortune was on their side, their ingress would go unnoticed until it was too late.

 

[Zef Halo]

Theatre I - Fortress Kh'aris


Gheleon was excited to have joined the Witchmasters of Dathomir on their expedition to a planet called Kintan. It would be the first off world planet he had seen after Essien - the home of the Mandalorian Crusaders. All of his life he had spent on Dxun. A survivor as a child of a crash landing of Mandalorian explorers two decades ago along with Alar Brokarra and Skorri. For them, every new place was a blessing and brought excitement. As Mandalorians, they were always looking forward for a fight. Even if it was an impregnable fortress on this wretched planet.

The young Mandalorian had come under the Witchmasters as he had been the playground of a Dathomiri Witch's experiments on him when he was 3 years old. That had resulted with him being enhanced by Dathomiri Magick. The experiment had come with a cost - an alter sort of ego which when it overtook him, a red aura projected around him and from his eyes. Why red rather than the typical Dathomiri green, it was not known yet. That was also one of the reasons Gheleon had come forth to the Witchmasters. Find out more about what had happened with him.

Following the shorter figure that wore an interesting looking armor, Gheleon wondered at what the man's armor was made of. Unlike his technophobical relatives - Alar and Skorri, he was always intrigued by technology despite his lack of knowledge in it due to living like primitive survivors on the dangerous moon of Dxun his whole life. It was his practical and quick learning ability that had created items out of all sorts of salvaged goods during their life on Dxun. He would've asked the man about his armor but their stealth mission required more or less unnecessary chatter.

"Safe ?" He asked in broken Basic implying the grating that they were currently cutting. His language skills were limited only to Mando'a and as such the Mandalorian preferred to remain silence.

The Mandalorian donned a Mandalorian armor (middle) made of salvaged durasteel he had made himself along with Sentinel dueling gloves and a Ring of Aspiration - both acquired from the Witchmasters. A vibrosword was magnetically attached to his back while his helmet, a Mandalorian one taken from a victim of the crash landing on Dxun, was more of a heilroom as it had only basic functions such as flashlight and an average targetting system. Finally, across the back of his waist, the notorious EE-3 Blaster Carbine was attached. Nothing more, nothing less.


((OOC: Joined you, Asemir. If you don't mind.))

[member="Asemir Lor'kora"] [member="Alec Rekali"] [member="Shezi Khoza"] [member="Thraxis"] [member="Sumiko Tanaka"] [member="Curupira Hawk"]

 

[Edison Bulkhead]

Theatre I - Fortress Kh'aris

Edison Bulkhead's rancor shifted its weight beneath her impatiently, anxious to charge. The witch sent out a calming wave through the Force, stilling the great beast.

Around her, an army of giant Kintan striders waited as well, gathered in her thrall. Less intelligent than their cousins the Kintan crushers, they had been easier for Edison to pull into service with the power she currently wielded.

No lightsaber hung at her waist; no Force weapon of any kind. She had neither requested nor received instruction in such things, preferring to focus on her spell craft. Her right hand drifted to her left forefinger, where she absent-mindedly rubbed the Talisman of the Raven ring she wore proudly. Perhaps some day she'd look to more martial weapons. She looked around her at the beasts at her command. Perhaps some day, but not today.

 

[Nyx]

These people were not her clan.
Despite herself, the small Jawa couldn't help but let that thought run through her head. Since her departure from Tatooine, she had seen much, but these 'Witchmasters' were the closest thing to the Nanta Clan she had encountered, though they were still quite different. They seemed to practice a similar kind of magic to what she had been taught by Isil, the shaman of her clan. Not that she was even close to being as powerful as some of the individuals she had seen among her new clan. She had always believed Isil to be the most powerful and strongest being she would ever meet, but some of these Witches were challenging that belief.
But she was a proud Jawa, so she pushed her fears and doubts aside, determined to prove herself to her new clan. She was no fierce warrior, but neither was she defenseless. She had her simple ion blaster, useful against droids and any automatic defenses the enemy might have, as well as her metal cudgel, wrapped in bantha leather. It was not a substantial arsenal, but they were the last remnants of her life as a member of Clan Nanta, and she wasn't willing to give them up just yet.

Herata gazed over the battlefield, her bright yellow eyes staring at the fortress she was supposed to attack. She was well aware that she was no use in a straight fight, her small size, limited power, and lacking strength all factors playing against her. So the question remained in her mind; how could she assist? Well, if she could not lead on the front line, perhaps she could help from the side. The defenders were less likely to notice a Jawa than the large warriors otherwise employed by her new clan. Yes, that was it. Her mind made up, Herata began slowly making her way to the side of the fortress, her small robed form nearly invisible from the walls of the structure.

(OOC making my way over [member="Asemir Lor'kora"] and @Gheleon)
[member="Ember Rekali"] Alec Rekali
[member="Shezi Khoza"]@Thraxis@Curupira Hawk

 

[Amun]

Theater One: Fortress Kh'aris

The bulky Verd followed the tail of Ember's granddaughter and a few fellow members of the Witchmasters at such speed that was quite irritating for Iegoris. Scaling the wall and environment could make someone very annoyed, but there were no alternates on approaching the fortress. Besides, the Conscript already committed enough time to scaling the wall with his fellow Witchmasters that it'd be a waste if just turned around and come up with another strategy to infiltrate the fortress. Rubble and rocks fell to the grace of gravity which caused their venture a bit more hazardous since they needed to watch their single step and not fall to pit below the castle. After some time of nearing to the grand doors of the complex. Unfortunately, they were defunct and could not be opened unless some artillery blasted the doors opened; however, there would be no artillery at their aid until they managed to disable the shield which projected the entire fortress.

Well, he wasn't going to stand where he was all day and try to keep his balance at the very edge of the castle.

So he then followed [member="Asemir Lor'kora"] and [member="Gheleon"] as it was the only thing the infiltrators could do which meant more scaling the walls of the fortress. It felt forever doing this procedure, but they finally came across the entrance of a sewer that they could use to infiltrate the fortress. Iegoris waited for Asemir to cut through the rusted grating of the sewer, so that they could finally enter the fortress and begin the operation tasked to them.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

Theatre One: Fortress Kh'aris
[member="Alec Rekali"] | [member="Asemir Lor'kora"] | [member="Thraxis"] | [member="Sumiko Tanaka"] | [member="Curupira Hawk"] | [member="Shezi Khoza"]

“Hey, what the hell are you doing here?” those words were never quite uttered, but that was the general gist of the cowled Nikto’s expression as far as Vulgrim could see. See. Contrary to his fellow revolutionaries, comrades and upstarts outside the fortress, Blackwell had already found his way into the fortification.

How, you might ask.

The truth involved exactly two small pieces of cheese, a Dantooine Turkey, five meters of rope and some greased gloves.

Take that as you will.

“Ah, my good frien-” Sadly the Nikto was not in the mood for some friendly chatter. He made a run for it, instead. Vulgrim was taken aback by this display of ill-bred manner. Why wouldn’t he sit down with him and have some tea?

Shaking his head, he returned to reading the black-leathered book while sipping some tea every once in awhile.

The fact that said book was the only booklet in this supposed library and the fact that said book excreted a distinct aura of unease twenty meters in every direction did not even pop up in Blackwell’s thoughts.

OOC/ Permission received from the Hutts to start off inside for story purposes.

 

[Asemir]

OOC:
[member="Gheleon"]
[member="Herata"]
[member="Iegoris Verd"]

I definitely don't mind for others to join me!

Also, I won't try to tag everyone in the thread. There's too many people...

IC:

Asemir glanced at the young Mandalorian standing next to him and shrugged. "It's probably safe," he said with a smile that the man couldn't see because of his armor. "Maybe. We'll find out soon enough."

It didn't take him much longer to cut through the grating. It was only durasteel, after all, and his songblade and the nanomachines of his armored gloves made quick work of the ancient and corroded steel. Finally, with a soft moan of stressed metal, Asemir pulled the grating from its mountings and gently laid it on the cracked ground.

He looked at his small group of Witches. They were a mismatched lot but that suited him just fine. "I'll go in first," he explained to them. "Follow closely behind but not too closely. I don't know what we'll be facing, so you don't want to be too close and get caught in any trap with me. Be careful."

With that, the Forgotten pulled himself into the sewer pipeline and started the climb.

After the first few meters, Asemir found that it wasn't that bad. The pipe was large enough that he could fit comfortably but small enough that bracing himself against the walls was pretty easy. The angle wasn't that steep either, making it a relatively simple climb, technique wise. Just grab a lip or brace his hands opposite one another and then shimmy up. Repeat.

It was slow going, but after a while, the Forgotten found himself staring up at another grate. This one looked into an empty room, probably a pump or furnace room of some sort. To his relief, a quick check showed that there were no alarms or tripwires. The grating gave way with surprising ease, and he pulled himself into the room. It was dark and the hum of machinery masked the noise of his entry.

Asemir knelt in a corner, carbine out and ready, and covered the drainage pipe as the rest of his team made their way up the pipe and into the room.

 

[Curupira Hawk]

Theatre One: Fortress Kh'aris

Did you know? A small quiet voice giggled through her memory as her golden gaze caught the other slip through the shield one by one. I once made my little bunny go boom. The little voice continued as she crunched down, making her way through the exposed area of the shield, carefully coming out on the other end. When bunnies go boom, they make red rain, the voice continued in her head. The redhead still crouched down spun to her side, following suit after [member="Alec Rekali"] into cover. Her suit was made for stealth, not for slugs. If necessary, she bend the Force to her will and run through but unless given cause, she wasn't going to make it rain.

But you said red rain isn't always fun because it could be yours. And then what? The shorter girl had entered her life, filling her head with all sorts of details lately. Things she'd initially said no one should know their own future because that could mess it up. But somehow that didn't stop her descendant from running her mouth, and often, when she forgot. Don't let there be your red rain when you go... There was a point to the story, the redhead realized eventually. Don't get shot, don't get cut, don't bleed. It was an innocent enough request for a child, yet one Curupira knew couldn't be promised as she took a glance onto the wall.

She took in the movements around them, the assault team moving forward, disappearing quickly onto their own mission, to find the head that needed to be cut off. Question that bothered Ruu in that was whether they'd find the answer to the mission along the way. Her head turned to the girl beside her, calling the Force to her without much thought as she sent a telepathic thought to Alec: 'Are we sure there isn't an alternative source we could take out for the shield?'

[member="Sumiko Tanaka"] [member="Thraxis"] [member="Asemir Lor'kora"] [member="Shezi Khoza"] [member="Gheleon"] [member="Edison Bulkhead"] [member="Herata"] [member="Vulgrim Blackwell"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Theatre Two: Space

Being a peripheral world in the tiny Si'Klaata Cluster, Kintan offered little in the way of naval resistance. Objectively, anyway. Still, in the Hutt ships' audacious maneuvers and darting stratagems, Ember found courage worth respecting. He'd anticipated a defense force that fought like they had neuronic whips at their backs. Instead he had to admit he'd fallen victim to a stereotype.

The Witchmasters would still win, of course. The 'Like Hell' alone outgunned the frigates and patrol craft that probed his defenses and escorted caravels to safety. But still, they tried. He had to honor that.

In his mind, anyway. The Witchmaster fleet didn't slacken its fire.

As of yet, the hyperspace monitors had detected no serious reinforcements entering the cluster. Quite a few ships, however, exited the region at best possible hyperspeed.

Not the system, though. In the Kintan system, safety was an illusion, and the monitors deployed their gravity wells. The taking of prize ships began.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Stealth... Much earlier in his rebirth, he had relied on it almost overmuch... But the acquisition of Moridins' mask had spoiled him somewhat. There was less need to make himself so concealed when the mask completely hid his identity. But this time, the mask was but a singular part of the guise. As Darth Shadow had taught him, and he had researched further from there, he cloaked himself utterly in the Force. Eyes would slide past him unless he made effort to be known, at least for the weaker willed. Slowly, he followed Alec and the others, a bag slung across his chest with his usual tools and supplies, as well as several other things. In a pocket in his sleeve rested the fanged lightsaber of his youth, and he cast eyes about, one hand gripping his hjarna stone staff tightly.

Finally, he followed Curupira and Alec through the shield, a little less gracefully. As he eyed the shield, he pondered. Though the thought was not sent to him, he could see the obstacle as clearly as they. This was where, perhaps, his particular brand of things might be.... Useful... Taking a hand to his bag, he dug slightly, fishing and looking, until he came up with a rather interesting little pair of items... Two jars of bees he had bought off a shard who ran a custom weaponry shop. Being younger and slightly sillier then, he had then went and experimented on them with Sith Alchemy. They were quite angry, and were very apt to sting. And if they hit their mark, the sting was incredibly painful and long lasting, though not lethal except in those allergic.

The rest? Why do something too crazy when simple would work? Sometimes genius was simple. He merely took off his soft white scholarly robe and such, folding them and setting his bag upon it, and walked down in a rather nondescript business suit to the edge of a rock outcropping near-by. The staff was left behind as well. With a bit of scampering, he positioned himself at a gap that was near to the shields, and managed to catch Alec's attention, jiggling the jar of bees in his hand to agitate them. While it wouldn't kill anyone operating the shield, it would likely induce a blind panic. One jar, with the lid just barely on, could be rolled towards the area with controls... A gentle Force Push should direct the bees right to it, and jar the lid open.... He could then repeat for a rather healthy swarm, or slip through another point and then throw the jar there, for Chaos. Even under the mask, it would almost be obvious the Shi'ido was smiling.

[member="Curupira Hawk"] | [member="Sumiko Tanaka"] | [member="Thraxis"] | [member="Asemir Lor'kora"] | [member="Shezi Khoza"] | [member="Gheleon"] | [member="Edison Bulkhead"] | [member="Herata"] | [member="Vulgrim Blackwell"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

THEATRE ONE: FORTRESS KH'ARIS
NEAR FRONT DOOR

[member="Curupira Hawk"] [member="Ostanes"] [member="Thraxis"]

Alec glanced at Curupira as the witch's mindspeech came through. Alec, though Force-attuned, actively shunned training, and anyways her Force connection tended in other directions. Weird directions. Nothing to do with telepathy, so she answered aloud. "Yeah, there-"

She cut off as Ostanes deployed...alchemized bees.

"Well, that's one way to do it. As for taking down the door shield..."

The generators were well-protected, nestled in the ragged entryway, safe behind big chunks of rock as well as the cover of the shield they projected. But not all of that cover was an asset. Bracing herself in the crevice, Alec raised her hands and aimed her bracer weapons.

"Uh, you might want to cover your ears."

Directional hard-sound guns didn't have a lot of spread, but the noise was still significant. Above the entrance, above the shield generators, the bonecracking weapons shivered the stones. Mortar began to crumble, and the damage from the Cartel's own explosions began to spiderweb through the stonework.