Skirmish Neo-Crusaders Raid on Manaan | Open to All

[Vince]

Neo-Crusaders Raid on Manaan
Objective I: 40:1 | Intervening, again​

Tags: Valery Noble Sig Dryggo Trajan Fett

There was not even a sign of surprise as the Mandalorian yelled a hateful 'you' - many had found reasons to despise the likes of Vince, often for rather understandable reasons too. He pushed on. Dazed and weakened, being able to tackle the Mandalorian after missing the swing probably counted as a win. But then, Vince did not truly manage to tackle the Mandalorian: For he used the Prince's momentum against him to throw him into the store.

Entering with the loud clir of the large window shattering, the Royal's eyes moved frantically trying to make sense of what was happening. A single stream trickle of blood ticked from his upper cheek where glass had pierced skin and he noticed a few nasty scratch marks running across his gloves, sleeves and shoulder pads. Then, he noticed what was likely more important: A number of civilians looking to him and the walking Mandalorian with terror. "Lights off. This place is no longer safe. You need to get away."

The words were not spoken whilst idling. As the lights quickly went off, Vince got back up to his feet and holstered the blaster pistol and saber in favour of the rifle. While Sig walked, a number of customers and the junior staffer rushed into the back room and presumably continued deeper into the building complex. Meanwhile, a smirk appeared on the young Royal's lips as he saw Valery reemerge.

First, he threw an eye on the angry Mandalorian who had just entered the store. Then, he looked to the one who had attacked Valery earlier. Without wasting another moment, he took a few silent steps to put a pillar with a mounted holoscreen between himself and the attacker. Then, he took aim at Trajan Fett and fired a precise shot in his direction. The high powered rifle had knocked beskar clad warriors out in the past: It would likely be harder to ignore than the blaster pistol. A second shot soon went off, and then a third, effectively providing the Jedi with a bit of cover.

The fourth shot would never leave the barrel. For Vince was soon alerted to the horrified whimper of a Selkath along with seemingly deranged talk from the Mandalorian. Pressing himself against the pillar and readying his rifle for a close engagement, Vince let out a clear but non-hostile "We recognise you from Contruum. You have our sympathies for your hand, but taking out your anger on a bystander is not the way."

The Mandalorian continued his rant - but as soon as he laughed, the Prince's brows furrowed violently as his eyes displayed a mix of confusion and suppressed realisation. Then came the part about the weak and the strong. A weak whisper escaped him "The voice.. No" - it was low to the point where it would be hard for anyone but himself to hear it properly.

A first attempt to speak was quickly abandoned. A mere S had been uttered before he noticed hos shaky his voice was. Straightening his back and pushing his shoulders back, the Royal made a second attemt: This time, with the same strong voice he would use during ceremonies and parades "Sigmund." The official sounding voice soon gave way to a softer one "Cousin, you are alive! But... what are you doing? You should stop this, at once. Release him. I can take you back home. We will work things out."

 

[Carduul Akahl]

TAGS: Jenn Kryze
"Tion ke'gyce ner kad al'ijaat? (What guides my sword if not honor?)"
—Ancient Mandalorian Saying

Jenn Kryze, in some strange way, could represent everything he fought to prevent when he joined this crusade. A Mandalorian with a strong resolve, corrupted for the wrong purpose. Turned against her own kin for those who would prefer them all scattered again and again. Had he encountered her earlier, perhaps they would be upon this very same battlefield, covering this very same evacuation together. Alas, she fought for her own hopes, dreams that ultimately aimed to stifle away those like himself. Those who craved honor and glory as their ancestors did. He fought to liberate himself, and those like him, to pursue that same path. He refused to decay in silence. That harsh reality only fueled the reserved anger he held.

The transport was away somewhere behind them. Soaring upwards, to link up with the defensive line of Hakon Fett and escape. It would not be long now, before they had to follow in its steps - those trying to stop it would be intercepted with an even greater ferocity than their defense thus far - just a bit longer, and they could leave. Each warrior felled here would provide ten more with the life-saving supplies in a crusade. Noble and honorable sacrifices, all, with each willingly made. Ones he would later mourn nonetheless.

“It is a herald of a slow demise that will be brought by none but thyself.” His words a touch softer as he referenced the elegant weapon she regarded so highly, just as he barely caught another one of its subversive arcs. Dismiss its craftsmanship and use he could not, but what it stood for was an affront to his way. It was a promise of a death that would last for ages, like a carcass rotting away. Only she could bestow upon herself such a thing.

His weapon had then sailed through the air in a decisive cut. The maneuver he had just used was risky in nature, dangerously extending his body to prod an opening. Fortunately, it seemed the gamble had paid off decently enough. The bladed edge ricocheted off her armor, immediately pulled back to hold it in both hands once again with a new assumed stance. The butt-end of the haft pointed towards her for a brief moment, regarding her with a measured look. His head and voice raised high once more.

“I fight for a true future - for we are Mando'ade!” His steps, in concert with the poleaxe, motioned to take initiative, which she cleverly disallowed him from possessing for long. “We shine brightly, however brief it may be! We do not care what gets burnt before the end - only that we die gloriously, with honor! Our history and future demands it, for without us, the galaxy would be too weak to continue!”

He lunged forth in a downward stroke, untwisting his arms to bear down upon her with the bladed edge once more. He was eager to begin testing just how strong her own armor was. But just as he would’ve made contact, it was met with a resounding CLANG!

Altogether different from armor, a blade had come flying to her hand just in time, meeting his edge. The revelation that followed was immediate; this woman could use the force. Perhaps that alone could have explained her unfortunate allegiance, but he had neither the context nor the time to assume. Many of his kin would regard her with only further hatred as a traitor - but the Force mattered little in the grand scheme of their culture, to Carduul. If anything, it only proved her ability to think on her feet. The Orders that counted themselves its ally were a different story altogether.

The Rally Master's gaze had narrowed behind the smaller visor, leveraging his newfound position to the best effect he could muster in reply, despite her newfound proper armament. Her previous insult was a grave one, even amidst all that was said thus far - a hut’uun. He was swift to deliver a rebuttal between a renewed scornful assault.

It was smart of her to uptake a proper blade in the face of it. The poleaxe twisted and thrust forth, lancing forwards several times, angled high and low towards her breastplate and lower hips, pressing closer than he should've. “For proof, you need but look around! This planet could not stand our occupation - so they were reborn anew in the fires of conflict! They took up arms against us, and are stronger for it! That is what your protection would have robbed them of.” Sending forth this accusation in time with his attacks. He indicated it as a good thing that they were in this situation, right now - with enemies on all sides, no quarter given in a fighting retreat. Something that could be considered borderline insane, by most. He did not believe he preyed upon the weak, only made them stronger. It was something only proper Mandalorians could understand. Between his words that deadly dance continued to be tread - just as he saw a diagonal stroke from her blade, her body lunging forth with a poised finesse.

“You are not the first of your kind to hold such delusions of grandeur, Kryze - even in your clan. The end result will be the same as before. Your would-be legacy leaves naught but a foolhardy attempt to domesticize our Way, slowly falling into decadence and corruption, before our heart forces us from the ashes again.”​

An ironic statement, given all know well how the escapades of the Neo-Crusaders ended, how her very words at the beginning of their fight had intoned the multitudes of Crusades afore them. Perhaps he simply didn't care. A slight movement to intercept her blade, before it pulled back in a feint. With how close he was, the slight movement he used to compensate for it proved enough to give the briefest of openings - one his opponent exploited precisely how she should’ve. Indeed, the woman was as versed with a beskad as she was with the lightwhip it seemed, a testament to her ability as a warrior. One did not merely become Alor by word alone, even if they held such wayward ideals; it was something that demanded wisdom and strength in equal measure. Question the former he did, but the latter was laid bare upon their exchange this day.

Her wrist-shield was sent crashing into his helm harshly, earning a forced ‘Hff-’ from gritted teeth accompanied by blooming pain. It forced him to take a step back and reassess, briefly reeling from the blow. But there would be no time to reassess - that small slip-up had now flipped the tide once again. The polearm braced in both hands, he pivoted his grip the opposite direction, attempting to harshly crack the blunt steel end against her side if she had come too close to press her advantage - or even just move it in the way to defend against on-coming blows at the range he was in.

 

[Sig Dryggo]

"We are born to die. We live to be remembered," -Mandalorian proverb

The Crusade: Trajan Fett | Carduul Akahl | Feydrik Munin
The Opposition: Valery Noble | Vince

Sig didn’t flinch or move a muscle as the words left Vince’s mouth. Indeed his words truly fell on deaf ears, as all Sig could hear were the words of a dead man. The nerve to call him by his ‘full name,’ or to dare care him family. Sig let the anger within him slowly boil over as his cousin pleaded for him to come ‘home.’

“My yaim was taken from me,” he stated coldly, his blasters still fixed on both the civilian shopkeeper and Vince. “My aliit was taken from me!” His shout echoed in the shop, filled with hate. His grip tightened on the pistol raised towards the shopkeeper. “I warned you that this galaxy would keep on taking. You need only look around; this planet, this worthless and weak planet, couldn’t even stand the might of a fraction of our full strength. Our people aren’t even united and yet we stand here with the enemy beneath our boots!”

Sig took a beat, letting his words hit his cousin like daggers. He knew they would. He knew his cousin. He was weak. He would be beat down by the words harder than he would the strength Sig would soon demonstrate. Just as he did a decade ago, Sig knew his cousin’s bleeding heart would be his greatest weakness.

“This is my rage unleashed upon the galaxy- my revenge!” His teeth gritted, his hatred burning through his t-visor and peering into Vince’s soul. “I warned you that you didn’t have the strength to see the tough choices through, and I was right! Showing up to an active war zone in a yacht? Pathetic! You aren’t even worthy of the fight, but I am! I AM MANDALORIAN!”

Sig grinned, catching his breath finally. “And you are the weak.” Before his cousin could say anything, Sig’s finger pressed the trigger and fired off two shots clean into the back of the shopkeeper. He didn’t know for sure, but he hoped his eyes were open and looking to his cousin as he fell.

The body hit the floor with a thud. Sig trained both blasters on Vince before taking a few steps back; a familiar voice rang in his ear, Hakon Fett was warning the planet-side forces of the incoming fleet. Sig knew he couldn’t waste time on Vince- nor did he see him worthy of it.

As he reached the threshold of the shop window, he fired several shots in Vince’s direction; intending to hit him or any other civilians who might get caught in the way. Either way, his jetpack launched him up and into the sky above the shops and fighting. Without hesitating, he began towards the city-center.

<“This is Dryggo, all nearby forces regroup in the city-center!”> he commanded over the Crusader channel, <“Time to beat the impossible like our ancestors and fight another day!”>

 

[Gaanla Munin]

C R U S A D E R
MANAAN
Hakon Fett | Trajan Fett | Sig Dryggo | Carduul Akahl | Feydrik Munin

It was a matter of “when” their occupation over Manaan would be contested. Today was that very day. The crusaders had enjoyed their reign over the Selkath; treating them akin to slaves while the Mandalorians took whatever they wanted. Kolto and other goods they could get their hands on.

Now the stalwart Jedi and their allies had come to put an end to the Mandalorians’ operation.

Predictable.

But now time was running out, before the enemy overwhelmed them into submission. They already claimed all the glory and honor from their occupation over the Selkath. Now they had to flee to live on to make sure their future was preserved.

But not before leaving their mark on Manaan.

Like the crusaders of old, Gaanla was inspired by their malevolent acts and would inflict such brutality upon the seas of Manaan.

<“Hakon,”> he reached out the Fett Shipmaster as he rushed to the city center with his fellow warriors, <“like our ancestors of legend, let us leave our mark on Manaan for the Galaxy to see. Rain fire to its seas.”>

A message to relay to the Galaxy and deny anyone to have access to the Kolto.

 

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | Manaan
| Objective | Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a!

There were some who looked upon Mandalorians as better warriors than strategists. A fair assessment, as far as Jenn was concerned, for her people, proud as they may be, had known death and defeat in ample portion. Therein lay the seed of her discord - a realization that the old ways, venerated as they were by the likes of her adversary, had only ever brought doom upon the children of Mandalore. The crushing defeat at Malachor V at the hands of the Revanchists marked a long period of decline her people took centuries to recover from, each subsequent attempt to reclaim their past glory less and less successful. To repeat the cycle seemed nothing short of insane to the Reformer.​

​

Ever since her ascension to the role of Alor, Jenn's every setback served as a lesson from which to learn from, adapting her tactics as she went. Facing the very same people she had fought alongside with in the past only made the prospect of outmaneuvering them all the more accessible, for she knew, more intimately than any aruetii ever could, where their strengths and weaknesses lie. Vastly different as it was beginning to look, her Clan shared many of them. Stalwart in their commitment to the defense of the Jedi Temple during the Battle of Coruscant, the Mandalorians of Clan Kryze had suffered high casualties in the conflict... and so Jenn was given no choice but to face the ever-present problem faced by a warrior-culture favoring elite troops over a more standardized fighting force; the replenishment of manpower.​

​

The cultural tradition of adopting war-orphans as foundlings and teaching them the ways of their caretakers was an efficient way to replenish losses, but a time-consuming one. It would take years for each individual child to reach adulthood and become a new warrior of the Clan, and during those years, it would struggle to project its force as it aimed to. Thus came the decision to recruit Onderonians as auxiliary troops, padding out the number of warriors at Jenn's disposal... and giving her the edge she needed against those foes who thought to exploit the small, if elite numbers most expected of Mandalorians.​

​

The Crusaders may very well escape from Manaan just before the jaws of defeat closed in around them; they were, after all, some of the mightiest warriors in the galaxy, and Jenn held little doubt as to their ability to defy the odds, just as she had done time and time again. But her goal was not to stop them from escaping, nor to prevent them from getting their precious cargo in orbit. Blindly brutal as the vengeful onslaught might seem to an outsider, it held a deeper strategic import to the Alor.​

​

Jenn was trading numbers.​

​

Even as the foe prepared to escape with much-needed supplies to keep the Crusade going, the Reformer was keen on inflicting as many losses as she could, draining their manpower with each seasoned veteran felled by her warriors. Victory would taste like ashes in the mouth of those who escaped from the wrath of the Redeemer.​

​

"Listen to you murderous scum speak of honor!" answered the Alor with renewed fury... and the slightest touch of pity. "Do you even know the meaning of the word, Crusader? Courage is fighting against the greatest warriors in the galaxy as they come to plunder your home, no matter how desperate the struggle! YOU KNOW NOTHING OF COURAGE!"​

​

Properly armed as she now was through her quick-thinking, Jenn's fighting style proved far different now that she fell back on a combination of sword and shield, rather than a lightwhip; through the vast change in technique, she hoped to keep her opponent from pinning down how best to counter her, just as she knew him capable of doing. Keeping her shield low to ward off any attack against her hips and her sword raised up high enough to defend those deft blows aimed for her breastplate, the Redeemer proved to be as capable on the defensive as she was on the offensive - given the right tools for each task, naturally. One might have called it a deadly dance, now; a pair of elegant fighters striking, parrying and side-stepping, only ever one failed maneuver from a deadly blow!​

​

Carduul wielded his poleaxe well; his renewed assault forced the Alor back with each blow narrowly blocked by her energy shield or parried by her beskad; one of his mightier blows broke before her elegant counter-attack broke through her guard, slamming against her breastplate with enough strength to knock the wind out of her! Sucking in a lungful of air, the Alor could only stumble back at first... before finally exploiting the opening created by his relentless aggression. Mercifully, the viper fell for the feint, allowing her to disorient him just long enough to turn the tables on him, falling upon the proud son of Mandalore with a flurry of blows of her own.​

​

A horizontal slash of her beskad aimed at his midsection was followed by a diagonal one towards his shoulder in quick succession, then came another attempt at another blow of shield, this time against his chest; just as she made to try and follow it all up with a pair of stabs, the blunt end of his weapon slammed against her side. A grunt of pain was claimed from the fierce warrior as she quickly retreated, circling the cunning viper for now, if only to give herself time to drink in the sheer devastation around them. The ground was red with the blood of the dead and dying alike, and those who remained were all but bogged down by the amount of bodies.​

​

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"My legacy will outlive me, just as I will outlive your Crusade. Can you not see, Carduul? If you will not listen to me, then look to our past - look at where the Crusades brought our people! Look beyond the songs still sung of our victories, but to the many defeats the Mando'ade have suffered! What use is there in winning battles, if we lose so many of our wars?"​

​

Carduul Akahl ​

 

[Livia Cadera]

Location: Manaan
Objective: Cut power
Gear: Beskar'gam, boarding shotgun, Ship
Tags: Livia Cadera

The Jedi had the jump on her and he quickly capitalised, launching debris at her using telekinesis while quickly moving to close the gap. Livia was quick to adapt though and after blocking the debris with her armoured forearm she lept into a low hover and peppered the Knight with her wrist mounted ripper pistol. The bolts exploded against the blade of his saber forcing him to quickly change tactic and throw up a telekinetic barrier to prevent himself being lacerated by splash damage.

Livia held fire to allow him to advance again, before quickly launching whistling birds at her target. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the door she needed to get to getting further away, he seemed to know what her target was and was moving to place himself between her and it. Livia was done playing so she launched forwards and extended her fist blades. The Jedi was hoping too bisect her as she flew past but the unexpected appearance of the blades caused him to block those instead, causing a flash where Dral'kayatr met plasma. The last minute block had saved his life but she had managed to score a glancing hit, leaving blood on his arm.

"You can yield, if you like? I'm too busy to chase you down." she said, landing and turning with one blade extended forwards and the other raised defensively. The Jedi didn't respond, he just held his blade aloft in a pose that Livia had been taught to recognise as makashi. She didn't need a second invitation and went back on the advance. Saber and metal flashed rapidly as his advantage in reflexes was balanced by her armoured advantage. Back and forth they went for several blows before she saw her opening, her metal foot blades found the side of his knee and his suprised face turned to agony as it was followed up by a blade punch to his collar, destroying bone, muscle and tissue and causing him to first drop his weapon and then collapse with a gurgle. Livia barely stopped for breath, putting a shot into the head of the gasping jedi before continuing onwards to her Objective.

 

[Carduul Akahl]

TAGS: Jenn Kryze
"Tion ke'gyce ner kad al'ijaat? (What guides my sword if not honor?)"
—Ancient Mandalorian Saying

It was true, the number game was in her favor. But as the battle evolved, it did not seem the true result of it was in anyone’s favor. Her own clan would suffer despite her promised protection and brighter future, on a world not their own, fighting their own kin. Their victory would be equally as bitter as their defeat, it was a collective assurance - their culture personified. And it only got worse - Hakon Fett had made the call to live to fight another day, or die with honor. More and more began to arrive to the evacuation point, even threatening to rival Kryze’s numbers. He had been holding with his own forces alone, but now, with the eager brothers and sisters that joined the fight, his warriors would survive yet. And much like her own clan, they would rebuild in their own way.

“Courage is doing as I do now, seeking to engage a foe greater than ourselves!” He bit back, a sentiment echoed time and time again by the Crusaders of old. “Even if that was not the case now, it will! Because so long as those such as thyself exist, there will always be someone seeking vengeance! And therein lies the next glorious battle, even if it is unto my end!”

The switch in style was enough to keep him on his toes, able to stave him off from overtaking her with sheer force alone - what would’ve worked for her previous weapon. Deftly she weaved through his attacks, deflecting them with just enough force to not expend too much, while safeguarding her all the same. Both walking a razor’s edge, the tide of battle like the seas of the planet, liable to shift direction at a moment’s notice - a beautifully fragile thing, and each participant knew all too well. And shift it did, though not in Carduul’s favor. One small mistake was all it took.

As he sensed, the daughter of Mandalore was upon him with all the ferocity he had wrought upon her just moments before. The first blow was too close, too swift to block - having to tilt his body just enough to avoid being cleaved into, the armor just barely withstood the beskad, cracking under its weight and imparting all the energy beneath. A low groan of pain was forced out, turning into a growl as he twisted his weapon to intercept the next diagonal hit. Only to meet the shield once again with the positioning of the interception, the center of his poleaxe taking a majority of it with a huff of exertion from Carduul. This was what he sought, what he fought for - training was not the same, stashed away reading passages until the galaxy ended. This was true glory.

As his head slowly stopped ringing from the prior blow, he was barely able to catch the pair of thrusts she sent with deadly precision towards him - his pivot saw the polearm reeling to barely deflect it off his own breastplate, forcing a trading of blows as it bit into the imperfect armor with its might, no doubt earning a bruise even despite the shell he bore. At the least, so too had his desperate action of recovery succeeded, daunting the so-called Redeemer’s offensive just enough to earn a reprieve.

And so they stood across from each other, pacing slowly in mutual assessment. The Rally Master listened, continuing to step as he did. The poleaxe leveled at her with that same poise as before. The bodies around them, the world all but ending, as these two warred with their separate beliefs. And in response, he allowed a few more moments of silence to pass - staring, with a masked, plaintive look behind the visor that could not be witnessed. It wiped off not long afterwards.

“You still do not understand. We are life and death made manifest. We have won, we have lost more, and we will continue to do so! Our defeats echo as greatly as our victories, for we are remembered nonetheless! That is the reason we stand here, on this very day, as Mando'ade! Even if we had won the Mandalorian Wars, we would still be standing in this. Very. Spot.” The words punctuated with a venomous edge.

They gave way to a glimpse of his own true thoughts and feelings regarding the matter, however briefly. The fact she prized survival so highly was dismaying, in a way. But he could not truly contest it - if at least one did not live, only their deeds could tell their tale. Then there would be nothing but ghost stories. That was one of the many reasons he was here.

He learned much of her in this battle. Glimpsed the soul she casted aside in favor of the aruetiise. It was said such a concept was championed by the Echani - but he felt it applied to the Mandalorians in an all-too-similar manner. And in that glimpse, he had made one key realization, for there could be little other explanation. He could see, now, that she was no dar’manda. He would feel sorry for her, if there was any room to do so amidst the chaos.

“That is my legacy, Jenn. Outlive me you may, but you cannot outlive what we are. The Enclave embraced it, and the Protectors no doubt soon follow. You fight like us, you act like us, even use the same tactics. Merely masquerading with a new ideal at the forefront.”

“You are, and always will be, a Crusader, just as I am.”​

If she truly wished for that brighter future for all of their kind, she would not be here. She and her troops would not be fighting with the fervor to drive his kind to extinction on behalf of outsiders. The reason was simple, plain for all to see; there was no brighter future - not for her, not for him. The cycle will continue.

With the words, Mandalorians of varying clans and allegiance soaring over their heads at this point, his stance adjusted to hold the Poleaxe close to his body. He was prepared to lay down his life, this day. To engage in a glorious battle with a dogged contender, one with a kindred spirit of an altogether different purpose. But to throw one’s life away frivolously was honorless - he still had a job to do, a crusade to herald. A tale to tell the end of.

“Despite your misguidance, you still make a worthy foe.” He decreed. It was a testament to her spirit - even he owed her a begrudging respect, old-fashioned as he was. His jetpack spurned to life, and he was up swiftly with a call;

“I hope you will see as I do again, one day. I look forward to our next engagement.”

He was gone with the tide of conflict. Evacuation was well underway. Transport shuttles, the mighty basilisk droids, all gathering together to leave collectively. Others started appearing, like Sig Dryggo , like Feydrik Munin . Warriors, all. They could not be impeded, though they have been hindered with losses. That would have to be comfort enough, for this battle.

 

[Brooke Waters]

There were so many other ways to use the Force, that was something Brooke knew. Something she understood in her core. SHe had been around, she’d seen both parts of the Force, good and bad. The cult of the Jedi, and the unbridled freedom of someone who touched the dark side. She was not either, but she was not neither.

As she readied her lance, she looked, the armor did not allow for her to carry many weapons, and she assumed the Mandalorian would in fact see the hilt that was covered in coral and a Zeffo alloy. But the fact that her weapon was glowing with the Force, Brooke hoped the woman’s focus was elsewhere.

“I’m not here to hurt you, but that doesn't mean I’m letting you strike at the innocents. Any of you.” She nodded up, the blue eyes of her helmet angling towards Alliance ships. This wasn’t her world, but these were aquatics, they were under her protection.

Zandra Ruus

 

[Trajan Fett]

R E T R I B U T O R
CRUSADER
MANDALORIAN NEO-CRUSADERS
CRUSADE | Sig Dryggo | Carduul Akahl | Feydrik Munin
ALLIANCE | Jonyna Si | Brooke Waters
DIRECT OPPOSITION | Valery Noble | Vince
Beskar'gam | Carbine | Void Grenade

THE ART OF DYING​

No escape taken. No quarter given. Though Mandalorian had been only recently renewed in the holy caress of Beskar. He was Mandalorian to the core of his mortal shell and existential pneuma. There would be no mortal threat which would peel him from the field of battle short of death. The Grandmaster of the Jedi was no different. She managed to slip from his grasp only to surge back into the fight.

He could read in her eyes all the conviction and confidence of a Master Jedi and even still, within her arena, the blade, he read the riddle of steel with a violent strike of his vibroblade against her double bladed saber. For all the force he lacked, he was deft with the blade. His unseen defiance hidden beneath the t-visor of his Mandalorian helmet as the vibroblade matched every strike, his spare hand snatching for every dirty trick in his arsenal. Following a initial riposte, he let off a burst of flame toward her before another surge of whistling birds fired out with a horrific roar from his vambrace, proximity to the explosion be damned, he pressed the assault.

<"There is no escape."> He said, a low grunt leaving him as he grasped the hilt with both hands to deliver another cut of his vibroblade.

<"Not for you...not for any of them.">​

Manaan would burn.

 

[Yuri Maji]

MANAAN | AHTO CITY
ALLIES: Sahan Dragr | Feydrik Munin | Careena Fett
ENEMIES: Non-Mandos
ENGAGING: OPEN
GEAR: In bio

BLOOD TYPE​

Yuri didn’t comment on it, but there was a deep appreciation for Sahan’s words about his mother. However the situation at hand didn’t leave much of a chance for him to dwell on those thoughts. ”Challenge the bottom of my boot, Sahan. This is borderin’ on suicide!” He argued with a glance at his friend. While the visor hid his annoyed expression, any Mandalorian could still see it through his helmet.

”Jetpack’s offline. I used up all my flight time gettin’ away from these karkin’ fish, it’s still charging. And for the record, I hope you got two cases of spice and twenty thousand credits stashed away for that payback.” He explained as he steadily made his way towards the stranger.

The pressure was letting off for the moment, though Yuri knew that it wouldn’t last forever. His ship was too far for them to reach, luckily it was an expendable one. He had a gut feeling that he was going to have to leave it behind, just not in a case such as this.

”Do either of you know how to get outta here? My ride’s gone.” He asked the two of them, hoping that either one of them had a way to get off this watery rock.

Out of nowhere, four shots rained down from above the trio and downed a few more enemies. Yuri took a moment to glance around in search of the unknown shooter. Raising a hand, he signaled his and Sahan’s location to the stranger. :: Unknown shooter, can you hear me? :: He asked over open comms before returning his attention to the slowly dwindling crowd ahead of them.

 

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
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| Location | Manaan
| Objective | Aruetyc talyc runi'la trattok'o!

Over the course of her life, Jenn had been a great many things. Foundling. Bounty Hunter. Smith. Crusader. Reformer.​

​

From mere ruffians to the most elite of stormtroopers, knights of the Sith and Jedi orders - her blaster had felled a great many foes, and so too had her beskad tasted the blood of myriad species. Such great victories and narrow escapes alike fed her ego, kept in check through no small effort on her part, afraid as she was of becoming yet another example of Mandalorian arrogance. Carduul Akahl's skill with a blade would ensure that he, too, earned a place in her dreams, prone as she was to relive past battles during her slumber. No matter how profoundly she detested him, the Alor was not so blinded by her fury as to underestimate her foe. To kill him, she reasoned, would be no different than destroying a great work of art.​

​

A pity that he had to die for the good of all.​

​

Hastati and Mandalorians alike extracted a bloody toll from the onrushing tide of Crusaders, but their slow, inexorable approach came to a halt with the arrival of more enemies. Their methodical attempt to close in the circle formation they had drawn around the embattled forces of the Rallymaster was all but shattered by this sudden turn of events; quick to adapt to these new odds, several squads broke off from their position to regroup into larger formations, the personal shields of the Hastati interlocking to form a barrier shielding them from the copious amount of blasterfire sent their way. Forced on the defensive, but not quite crushed just yet. More than a few of them seethed at the sight of their foes activating their jetpacks and escaping from their clutches, but the discipline of the Rallymasters kept the warriors of Clan Kryze from pursuing their foes.​

​

Jenn, for her part, kept her gaze fixated on the cunning viper before her, all too aware of how quickly he may strike, should she allow him to take her by surprise. The two warriors kept on circling one another as prowling beasts trying to gauge the other for weakness, trading words with an intonation somewhere between a threat and a promise. Yet another point of commonality between them; some among the Mando'ade all but embodied the notion of the strong, silent type, convincing many among the aruetii of the laconic and taciturn nature of the warriors of beskar... but Jenn was no such Mando, and, evidently, neither was Cardul. Even as they fought so fiercely, pouring all of their attention towards the task of ending one another, the pair traded words one may hear in song.​

​

"You are nothing but a rabid dog, Cardul! Enslaved to our past, and blind to the future. You choose hatred, where I have chosen love. You choose spite, where I have chosen forgiveness. I am nothing like you. I may never succeed, Clan Kryze may struggle yet another thousand years in vain, but I will never stop to fight for a better future!"​

​

The Redeemer struck the flat of her beskad against her shield, then; a gesture mimicked by the rest of her warriors as the Crusaders fell into a full retreat, soon joined by the Viper himself, though not before he offered her words of begrudging respect. A sentiment she shared, no matter how deeply she loathed him and his nihilistic embrace of the never-ending nightmare of eternal war, raid and counter-raid. In another life, the pair would have shared a bottle of tihaar after such a bold raid, mourned the fallen, and recounted their deeds, that they might live eternal. Instead, the fiery Redeemer would find herself haunted by Cardul's words for months, if not more; for she knew no greater fear than to lose herself to hatred and spite, and revert to what she had once been.​

​

"We will break the cycle!" called out the Alor after the retreating Crusaders, the surviving Hastati and Mandalorians joining her in this act of simple defiance, striking the hilts of their spears against the ground and slamming the flat of their beskads against their personal shields.​

​

"HAAT, IJAAT, TOR!"​

​

The day had not been won, and the bodies of many a vod lie broken against the ground; but through their unshakable resolve, the warriors of Clan Kryze had gouged the foe deeply, and took ferocious satisfaction in that. Through the fire, fury, and death of such a skirmish, the Hastati were made stronger, for they were no longer unblooded; through this trial by fire, the strongest among them were revealed. Where the others fell, they endured, and won glory for themselves.​

​

As is the Way of the Mando'ade.​

​

Carduul Akahl ​

 

[Hakon Fett]

TAGS: Andien Gale GAL Ltd.
GROUND IMPACT (bottom of the post) TAGS: aint tagging everyone
IF I HAD A HEART
"Buy'ce olar, kar'ta ogir. (Helmet on, heart gone)."
—(rough translation) Mandalorian proverb

Orbital Defense Grid
Command deck of XQ Platform One
Manaan High Orbit

Sparks of fire flashed in the distance, the momentary flames suffocated by the vacuum of space as the Wrathful succumbed to its destructive wounds, carved into pieces by a heavy broadside battery of an Alliance star defender.

And with it, an old friend. Lann Kelborn had been merely a young vod, compared to him, during Mandalore the Wrathful’s reign and the Mandalorians crusade of the Core Worlds, but Haddur Kryze recalled the man’s composure and bravery during the Battle of Kashyyyk. After decades of ruin, created by his people’s abandonment of the true ways, Lann had finally had his opportunity at a glorious death. And he had seized it without a blink of an eye. Of that Haddur was certain.

In the near-silent confines of the orbital platform, where the thickness of its hull and the vacuum of space dulled the cacophony of battle, a horn began to blare relentlessly.

“Buir! Alliance cruiser headed on a collision course with us!” the young Mandalorian in the scanner pit alarmed.

“Divert all firepower on that ship!” Haddur replied.

“But Hakon’s orders were to fire on the other—“

“This is war. The tides of battle shift constantly. Our priority is that charging bull.” to explain the obvious… the aruetii have truly corrupted our ways of life.

“Understood, buir.” the sensor officer nodded and the Mandalorian on the comms quickly relayed the new orders.

“And get those basilisks on it, too!”

“Copy.”

The viewport blazed with the relentless onslaught of green turbolaser bolts, pouring down on the enemy cruiser like a deadly storm. Moments later, a barrage of concussion missiles streaked through the chaos to hammer at their target. Basilisk war droids veered into a half loop, thrusters engaged at a maximum to intercept and swarm the ship in hopes to turn it into a harmless, floating wreck before it tore through the orbital platform.

Haddur pondered as he watched the battle unfold. A small part of him wished to nod in respect to the aruetii’s boldness and their desire to test their mettle in the crucible of intimate battle. But this was rash, bordering foolish. Thirteen warships, and they had completely disregarded their advantage and abandoned all common sense of the engagement. If such was the state of the rest of the Alliance’s navy, then Haddur could only wonder at the damage the Mandalorians could inflict should the Crusaders truly rally the majority of their people for war.

The harsh truth, though, was Haddur Kryze would not be able to witness it. And neither would the rest of the Mandalorians aboard the platform.

He could only revel in the fact he would die in battle against a worthy foe, rather than perish honorless for a coin or misguided principles in service to the Alliance or the Hutts or anyone else but his own kin.

And he would not die standing watch as the abyss engulfs him.

He would charge into it himself.

His hand produced a hilt and with a soft click and one swift motion, a beskar spear snapped into its full length in his hand.

Engaging his jetpack, Haddur Kryze rocketed onwards into the abyss, into oblivion itself. He crashed through the viewport and pierced the bow of the enemy ship as it plowed through the orbital platform like a hot knife through butter.

Weeks later, a Toydarian scavenger crew would blink in amazement and bewilderment at the sight of a beskar spear stuck into the flying chunk of a vessel’s bow.

They would never be able to disloge the spear, and tales, bordering the mythical, would be told of it for centuries ahead.

Mandalorian Neo-Crusader Fleet
Bridge of the Keldabe battleship Stormbringer
Manaan Medium Orbit

"Order the ordnance section to load the VS canisters and open a line to our ground forces."

Ormbyr Rook watched silently, eyes slightly open wider in stupor, as Hakon issued orders for firing solutions of the VS canisters. The surprise at what his vod was about to undertake was only mild; Hakon Fett had always been wayward. Different. Even more so since his findings of their ancient history were revealed to him by this Carduul Akahl and his men of Dxun.

Hakon Fett never was the strongest of warriors, nor the most natural-born leader of men; nor was he the sharpest of marksmen, nor the master of blades and pole-axes and spears. No. Hakon had always stood out as an outsider, an outlier, from most of his vode with his curiosity, even fascination with aruetii cultures; his constant desire for insight and knowledge; his methodical nature; his flexibility towards tradition; and his cunning often shunned him from the rest of his kin. He was quick to leave his homestead on Concord Dawn as soon as he had passed his verd’goten, seeking to quench his—inexplicable to Orm—thirst for the wider galaxy.

Orm could see it even on this very bridge: Neat and organized, operating under a simple, but strict chain-of-command and communication code like a well-oiled machine.

“Transmission from Gaanla, al’verde.”

“Patch him through.”

<"Hakon,"> he reached out the Fett Shipmaster as he rushed to the city center with his fellow warriors, <"like our ancestors of legend, let us leave our mark on Manaan for the Galaxy to see. Rain fire to its seas.">]

“Will you go through with this, Hakon?”

“Not fully. The Alliance controls all bacta production. Kolto is all we have left for medical supplies. Destroying it would hurt our long-term plans,” Hakon said. He paused, then added, “But the Alliance has thrown down a challenge and I’ll answer it."

"Iago, order the fleet to withdraw to the far side of the planet. Have navigation plot a hyperspace jump for us and traffic to adjust the exfil flight plans from Manaan to our new route. And have the ordnance team prepare and execute a firing solution of the VS canisters with the new flight path in mind.”

“And the orbital platforms?”

“If they escape, they escape. We will not wait. Their sacrifice will be remembered.”

“Understood, al'verde.”

Minutes later, the Mandalorian fleet began to veer right. Retaining the same line formation, they burned thrust for the dark side of Manaan, the Stormbringer cutting through the darkness of space in the center of the line.

From the Stormbringer’s starboard, warheads loaded with a strain of the Viral Spore began to rain upon Ahto City and its surrounding oceans. This particular strain, unearthed by Hakon in a forgotten Sith research station on Mandalore, was engineered to afflict amphibious and aquatic beings. The affected would meet their end almost instantly if they were fickle or sickly, while the resilient would endure a protracted agony before their inevitable demise. As the spore unleashed its insidious effects, landmasses would slowly emerge from the sea, not of solid earth but writhing masses of living flesh.

Orm remained silent, his unsettled gaze fixed on Hakon.

Kad Ha'rangir would be his judge.

Spoiler: Fleet Comp

1x Keldabe-class battleship
8x corvettes
3 2x light cruisers
2x frigates
1x refitted A-class bulk freighter

 

[Zandra Ruus]

Only two kinds of people carried around weapons as ornate and flashy as this coral covered article, fools and masters. One option was more dangerous than the other. It wasn't going to distract her though, losing concentration could be deadly against any opponent. Zandra circled around slowly, processing what the woman was saying.

It was strange, being told by a warrior that peace was her objective. Two paths laid out in front of Zandra now. She could very well return to her vode with no honor lost, that option didn't sit right though. This force user was clearly on the opposition's side, at least on some small level. "So you want me to just turn tail and run? Not my style, besides, I need to buy my clan time to bug out. Which means I'm here for the long hall, and I'll gut anyone getting in my way!"

There was a noticeable venom in the streetrat's words, she was almost speaking in an angry hiss. The time for talk was now over, and all there was to do was act. Without much planning the Mandalorian started to do her part of the dance of combat, a series of aimed slashes going for the woman's chestplate. It was Zandra's hope that without her armor she'd pull back, ending the fight a bit more cleanly. How well that turned out would depend much on Brooke's reaction.

Tags: Brooke Waters

 

[Brooke Waters]

She really wasn’t one who was trying to hurt anyone. Even the bounty jobs she did take were in order to remove one bad person off the streets. At a time. When she needed to. And honestly, bounty hunting, like she assumed about smuggling, was a great way to learn more about the galaxy. And with what Brooke was tasked with, by not only her Clan but other groups? She needed all the ears out there that she could have. A witch did not need to be someone feared.

But it was always good to have that option. And her magick was going to be able to help solidify that she was not someone who was a pretty face. Well, once the armor was removed, after all.

Sometimes that was the better way of learning things.

But here? She was about to enter combat against a Mandalorian. And knowing how the Protectors worked would give her that minor advantage, but these weren’t those Mandalorians, so who knew what this one had up their sleeves. Or in the armor. Beskar was a very challenging thing to combat, so unique to each, but her own armor was songsteel, nothing to snuff at.

“I want you to leave the Selkath alone. Any Alliance member holding a gun, they’ve made their choice. But your people are striking without precision.” Making a damn mess of it all. She spun her lance around, fixing her grip to it.

Zandra Ruus

 

[Sig Dryggo]

"We are born to die. We live to be remembered," -Mandalorian proverb

Sig landed in the city center just as @Hakon Fett’s fleet rained death from above. Thankfully, the city-center wasn’t afflicted, though Sig couldn’t account for the rest of the doomed city. As he examined the area he landed in, he could see several brothers and sisters engaged in combat, several others injured or dead. He ran over and slid into cover; the wall of a storefront. Just as he did, however, the fire from the enemies direction halted.

For a moment Sig remained in cover, as did the two other Crusaders on cover across from him. As one peaked over the cover he hid behind, a flash of blue zoomed quickly by. Just as quickly as the flash appeared, the Crusader’s head rolled backwards and onto the ground with the body following immediately after. “Jetiise.”

Sig stood and walked out from behind the wall, entering the ruined streets of the city. Standing at the opposite end of the street stood a cloaked figure, blue lightsaber ignited in hand. Sig grinned and planted himself firmly in the street. Without warning, the Mandalorian broke into a sprint towards the lone defender. The Jedi quickly raised their blade, ready to bring it down and strike Sig down.

The lightsaber cut through the air but was suddenly stopped in its tracked. The Jedi’s face quickly looked in confusion as Sig held the blade firmly in his hand. The glove he wore quickly burned away, revealing the beskar hand beneath it. Sig immediately launched his head forward, slamming it against the Jedi’s. He stumbled back and swiped at Sig’s chest, who responded by quickly diving backwards. As he landed, he drew his two blasters and left off two shots each.

The Jedi’s saber absorbed most of them, only deflecting the final two back at Sig. Both landed, one on his good arm and the other on his shoulder. While the armor absorbed most of the shoulder damage, his good arm didn’t fare as well; the shot landed between the forearm and upper arm plating. Sig looked down with a pained grunt, blood now drilling from his arm. As he bright himself to a stand, it was now the Jedi who charged him.

Activating his jetpack, Sig attempted to reach a rooftop. The Jedi however threw his saber once more and landed a hit directly on Sig’s jetpack. Going haywire, he lost control and slammed into a nearby shop wall before being dragged back down to the ground. He landed hard onto the ground, his jetpack sparking and finally deactivating. Bolstering his pistols, he glancing up to find the Jedi once again sprinting. Already on the ground, Sig was able to unsheathe his knife from his boot holster. As the lightsaber came towards him in downward motion, Sig rolled to the right. As he did so he attempted to slash the Jedi.

He missed, with the Jedi once again closing the distance and attempting to cut him down, this time horizontally. Sig saw his chance. Leaning down he started moving right of the incoming strike. As soon as the blade missed, however, he changed directions and brought his knife down on the lowered hands of the Jedi.

A clean strike.

The Jedi let out a pained yell as one of his hands fell to the ground. Stumbling back he raised his saber in a defensive stance, his other arm pressed against his chest. Sig let out a chuckle. “This is the Jetiise of today?” He spat. “Pathetic.”

The Jedi let out a yell and charged him, though Sig had no problems this time side stepping the injured force-user. He turned but was only greeted by the butt of Sig’s knife, the Jedi’s nose breaking with a crack Sig found satisfying. Again he stumbled back. “This ‘Galactic Alliance’ is nothing,” he taunted, the Jedi dazed from his previous strike. “The galaxy will know true fear when we are done with it.” He was now aiming down sights at the Jedi, who was still dazed and likely delirious from the recent lose of his hand. “But you won’t live to experience it: consider this mercy, then.” Pulling the trigger, the Jedi fell to the ground dead.

Sig examined the body momentarily. He had his first Jedi kill. It wouldn’t be just last, he swore himself that. He eyed the rest of the area, which was clesr save the bodies of Mandalorians and others littered about. Sig was satisfied, another glorious battle had been won. He even got to reintroduce himself to his old cousin Vince . It was a good day.

As he reached the nearby Crusaders, who were finishing securing an evac area, he couldn’t help but let a smile form on his face as the smoke and ash around them danced in the air. The Crusaders were letting the galaxy know they were here. For Sig, it was destiny calling.

Another day. Another glorious fight.
​

(OOC: Incredible thread everyone, I’m out)

 

[Ninurta Slaabur'r]

A fleeting satisfaction gripped the beastmaster.

Watching how effective the Rathtars were pulling the jedi master down further. And yet all that ended with the sudden ignition of her lightsaber and what followed was a quick flurry that severed the tentacle like appendages off completely. It was more than enough for Ninurta to back away physically to avoid getting struck himself. The pain sent the two creatures in a frenzy and launched their handler away into the open sea.

Looking to the surface the Beast-Master began swimming up, assisted by repulsor boots Ninurta ascended out of the water only to see the jedi Valery Noble air borne into a leap that defied what most humans knew were possible. Though her words he heeded well.

"Every second you waste, your escape window closes further,"

Considering this and the message given from Hakon Fett in high atmosphere...

" Gather all the glory you can as you retreat or be left behind." he said into his comms and departed.

[OOC: Okay I leave thread]

Sig Dryggo Trajan Fett @whoever else

 

[Careena Fett]

C a r e e n a _ F e t t

| Location | Ahto City, Manaan​

| Objective | Cover the retreat​

​

Careena's aim was swift and true, dispatching the locals blocking the way for her fellow Mandalorians to get to extract. Her comm trilled in her ear as Yuri Maji , her aim remaining steady as she picked them off one by one with extreme precision as she spoke, <"This is Careena, I read you.">. Their window for evac was growing shorter by the minute. <"Closest group to you is two blocks ahead of your position. Rendezvous with them and get to extraction."> A Selkath on the roof overlooking Feydrik Munin , Yuri Maji , and Sahan Dragr would fall over as they took a shot to the back, the would be sniper plummeting to the streets below.​

​

A Jedi would leap out to engage the group, their saber ignited. Careena quickly flicked a switch on her rifle as it shifted from its blaster mode to its slugthrower configuration, quickly taking aim as she squeezed the trigger. The Jedi's saber swung for the charging Feydrik only for a cortosis tipped slug to make contact with it, shorting the lethal edge out to give the group an opportunity to take the Jedi out.​

​

<"I've got you covered.">​

 

[Feydrik Munin]

FIGHT ANOTHER DAY


Moving to: Yuri Maji

​

Perhaps it was fear that gave men wings.

Or perhaps anger.

Hate.

Courage.

A lust for glory, power.

Whatever it was, it propelled Feydrik across the open street, blaster bolts skirting around him. The Selkath defenders, dozens in their number, targeted him. Blaster bolts, machine gun fire, and a rocket impacted the dirt around him, and whizzed by him in the air. But not a single one found their mark. Perhaps they were taken aback by his perilous flight, perhaps they were simply bad at their jobs-

Or perhaps, some other worldly force, some ethereal thing, prevented Feydrik from being hurt. Those who came before guiding him to safety. He skirted along the ground, as he reached the safety of the other side of the open area, joining his Mandalorian comrades. He laughed behind his helmet, embracing one of his brothers in a quick clinch before reloading his rifle, breathing heavily behind his helmet.

In-shape as he was, running that fast and with this much gear was taxing. But Feydrik moved like a demon, and was going to live to fight another day. There was much more glory to be had, more fear to be struck upon the galaxy. And many, many more people to kill.

 

[Yuri Maji]

MANAAN | AHTO CITY
ALLIES: Sahan Dragr | Feydrik Munin | Careena Fett
ENEMIES: Non-Mandos
ENGAGING: OPEN
GEAR: In bio

VICARIOUS​

The sniper on the roof identified herself and gave them a route out of the area, earning a sigh of relief from Yuri. Adding a cherry on the cake, the sniper took out a Selkath above them. He raised a hand in thanks to her as he stared down at the dead shooter next to them.

Two blocks. Yeah, he could work with two blocks. All they needed to do was get the damned oaf out of the crowd and start moving. They needed to figure out how to-

”Holy kriff he’s running.” Yuri blurted out as he stared in awe at the man sprinting toward them. ”Sahan, dude’s runnin’ toward us!” He called out, laying down suppressing fire for the guy to reach them. Adding even more confusion to the mix, a Jedi knight rounded the corner with their weapon at the ready.

Yuri zoned out for a moment, not even caring when the stranger finally reached them. Not even caring when Careena shorted their weapon out to give the group an opening. A snarl erupted from his throat as his jetpack’s charge icon notified full power, his entire focus devoted purely to the figure in front of the group.

Without another word Yuri blasted forward at full speed toward the Jedi. They barely had time to react when the Shistavanen slammed into them, flying high above the warzone with a vambrace pressed against the Jedi’s midriff. Several blaster shots fired from his vambrace before he let go of them, letting them fall as he dove in pursuit. Once he caught up, he grabbed hold of the wounded foe and aimed directly for the ground below. He landed with a heavy impact, feeling and hearing a series of sickening cracks and snaps beneath him.

His whole body trembled with rage as he rose and stepped off his broken enemy with bloodshot vision directed at the swarming Selkath. Rising into the air once more, he hurled the entire arsenal of his armour at the encroaching crowd, unknowingly creating an excellent diversion for the group. Missiles, rockets, sprays of hellfire and carbonite, nothing was spared as he mowed them down with no remorse or mercy.

For a brief moment, he had become what he feared most.

His mother’s child.

The bloodlust finally came to a crashing halt as a massive explosion went off in the distance. His rented ship. The spectacle brought him back to his senses as he looked around him. His armour was scorched with blaster marks which he didn’t even register, the ground below him was a hellscape of fire and bodies. It was time to go.

He caught up with the group, his head spinning and his heart heavy. He kept his sight forward to the evacuation zone. He couldn’t bear to look at Sahan, one of the very few people that knew him as a little bit more than just another comrade in arms. His body carried him on autopilot as his mind spun in a hurricane of thoughts. His breathing was heavy and it felt as if everything around him no longer mattered.

 

[Sahan Dragr]

Spoiler: Equipment

SHIP:

• "Ure'adtr" Howler Basilisk War Droid​

ARMOR:

• Besk'gathr Mk III​

WEAPONS:

• Tusurki'aa Ta'hye Beskad​
• M.I. Model 6 hybrid pistol​
• "O'dteyase Saranuhlr" Modified Vora-Class Verpine Hand Cannon​
• M.I. Model 12 shatter rifle​

ITEMS:

• AXC (10)​
• Mirshir Ka'esr Binders​
• Irya'kadir Smoke Bombs​
• Sasori Last Resort Cannon​
• Ring of Vision​
• Runi Ticu'r​
• Rulariyi Mandalorian Sunglasses

AMMO:

• Gas Canisters (12)​
• Slugs (100)​
• Grulyr'bedtr CryoSlugs (1 Mag)​
• RB-02 "Salt" Rounds (1 Mag)​
• RB-04 "Droid's Bane" Rounds (1 Mag)​
• RB-03 "Force Breaker" Rounds (1 Mag)​
• Tracyn'wuta Pyro Slugs (5 Mags)​
• Hurdisi Photonic Blackout Rounds (5 Mags)​

---

”Challenge the bottom of my boot, Sahan. This is borderin’ on suicide!” He argued with a glance at his friend. While the visor hid his annoyed expression, any Mandalorian could still see it through his helmet.

”Jetpack’s offline. I used up all my flight time gettin’ away from these karkin’ fish, it’s still charging. And for the record, I hope you got two cases of spice and twenty thousand credits stashed away for that payback.”

It's only suicide if you die, Sahan thought with a chuckle. "My bad, Maj." He immediately wired twenty thousand Credits to Yuri's account, mostly as a flex, but also in sincerity. "Will Ryll do? I actually to conveniently have some of it. I don't mind sharing. I could use a fun night outside my lab that isn't hunting vam... erm, vermin." He caught himself on saying the word "vampire." Yuri's mother Shai was the whole reason Sahan wanted to create a universal cure for vampirism. His efforts were still proving futile, but every vampire he hunted for blood samples at least lessened the pool of the monsters making thralls of others.

Sahan and Yuri continued firing at the Selkath surrounding their unknown brother. A sniper rang out, joining in. Yuri was quick to try to yell at the vod. "I think that's Car-" His sentence was cut off as Careena Fett indeed confirmed it was she. "Yep. She's pretty cool. Must've taken out that 'old dog.' Or, at least survived." He had no idea what beef she had with whoever Preliat Mantis was. For all Sahan knew, it was just a lovers' quarrel done the Mandalorian way. Not that he'd know. Despite his charisma, he'd never really bothered to slow down enough to really even think about romance.

”Holy kriff he’s running.” Yuri blurted out as he stared in awe at the man sprinting toward them. ”Sahan, dude’s runnin’ toward us!”

"'Course he is," Sahan replied. "Where else would he run? We're allies, so why would he run away?"

He called out, laying down suppressing fire for the guy to reach them. Adding even more confusion to the mix, a Jedi knight rounded the corner with their weapon at the ready.

Sahan noticed the Jedi too. As much as he would have loved to shoot the sorcerer dead himself, he noticed the look in Yuri's eyes. If anyone deserved vengeance upon the Jedi, it was him. Taking his free hand, he charged his generator into lightning through the capacitors in his gauntlets and slapped it into Yuri's back, power charging his jetpack. The Shistavenan didn't seem to notice, he was so focused on the Jedi. But he knew his jetpack was charged and took off, taking the wizard by surprise. "Get 'em, buddy."

As the sprinting brother finally made it up to where Sahan was, the Munin surprised him with an embrace, which Sahan returned with equal laughter. "You ran like a jogun-bat out of hell!"

As Yuri joined them after dispatching the Jedi, Sahan clapped his shoulder. "Magnificent! I see you haven't lost your warrior edge!" But Yuri seemed to not want to look at him for some reason. Did it have to do with his mother? He decided it best not to say anything else. He'd invite him for a guys' night out later. It might do them all some good.

<Gold,> he said into his helmet comm. <You busy?>

<Just doing some fishing, Boss.>

<Come get these guys to the extraction zone.>

<On it!> The aurodium-beskar Howler Basilisk burst out of the ocean, dragging an enormous shark in her claws. ://: LOOK WHAT I CAUGHT! :\\: She slammed the shark down, crushing buildings and whatever Selkath may have remained.

Sahan just shook his head. "Had to one-up me, didn't you?" The Basilisk just roared with laughter.

She opened up her cockpit. ://: ALL ABAORD! WHO WANTS A RIDE IN THE MOST AWESOME STARFIGHTER THAT EVER LIVED? Wait, Boss, do I count as alive if I'm a droid? :\\:

"Sure, why not?"

://: Awesome! LET'S GOOOOO! :\\:

---

TAGS: OPEN
Yuri Maji Feydrik Munin Careena Fett​