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The Nightsister smirked at the direct challenge. She personally is particularly a bit more selective in such endeavors, but she welcomed this one anyhow, as she is ever inviting.
The Nightsister thrust the others aside and parted herself a direct path to Stardust Solus Skirae
. As she planted her steps, a slow blink of her eyes revealed now the pure blackness of her soul. The attempted assault from the weaponry of those amidst whose presence she stood, only left scattered and crumpled lead slugs upon the ground around her form as she stood behind a projected Force Barrier. She sighed at the idea of being attacked before even introductions were exchanged, finding it quite brash. It is not the witch who signaled the start of this confrontation.
As the lesser seasoned Mandalorians among them recognized her sinister disposition, they scrambled to evade her attention and give her birth, obviously trusting in the capability of their front and center savior. The Nightsister Matriarch twirled a finger and focused her mind. A sonic boom cracked around her, as she opened a porthole connecting this world to the Netherworld again.
Those who were too slow to avoid her scheme, slipped into the shadow and became ensnared within the weight of utter darkness therein. That which they suffer next all depends on the strength of the mental capacities, but the Nether is the destroyer of hope where little exist to save the lost…especially the souls of the sinful.
May Kad'Harangir judge with valor unending
through his blessed Crusade.
Strife is heard on every hand:
ours the only just demand,
He will have us rule the land.
They heeded the call to save Mandalore from yet another terrible fate. The Armageddon, the Pretender's incompetent rule, the Sith's genocide and now the Blackwing.
Mandalore will not yield.
Much like the blackwing virus, the Pretender's ilk had resurfaced to capitalize on the blood and sweat the fighting Mandalorians poured in their quest for reckoning. And now they struck. At the virus, at the pretenders, at the Sith. There would be no mercy.
Amon Vizsla gazed through the viewport much like any other Mandalorian on board at the surface of the homeworld. Desecrated, defiled and ravaged. Memories flooded him, memories which drove his single purpose in life. The Red Coronation. His father stepping in to defy the coronation of the Pretender. On his flanks Amon and Tamara, his two offspring. He'd survived, along with his father, but at the cost of Tamara - the turning point of his life. It had set him on a course to flee the clan and seek vengeance against those responsible for her death.
He was here.
The verdict was clear.
"Mount up." Amon coldly gave the order to the Mandalorians under his command.
As steeled sabatons paced to get to their Basilisk war droids, the Vizsla turned his attention to Meshla standing beside him. He stared at her for longer than intended, the warm feeling she radiated, a feeling he believed to have been unattainable before mixed with his own concern of the unknown that lied after the war.
He let it go - his helmet came to touch hers in a sign of affection.
VINSOTH
SHORTLY BEFORE <"Looks to be time, Kurze."> Kestus Bralor said, closing the transmission from Isaiah Priest
before he looked to the Mandalorian Crusader. Those stoic T-visors met on even gaze before Trajan nodded once before Kestus bequeathed the Mandalorian with a supplement of context.
<"Isaiah Priest...one of our brothers...one of those who'd sworn the Oath has called to us. Manda'yaim is under siege, the very pretenders who'd let it torched to begin have lurched past the gains we've made and attacked the Sith...all the while, Blackwing resurgent harvest the fields of death on our home."> Bralor explains to the man.
<"Take the Oathsworn. Any Sith-Imperial, no quarter. Any false Mandalorian, no quarter. Any Blackwing malfeasance, no quarter. Today is the day of our vengeance. Make it known."> A hand reaches forward to clasp the side of Trajan's worn Beskar helmet in a close embrace. An embrace of brothers before Kestus's weary voice speaks low to Kurze.
MANDALORE SYSTEM
NOW The True Mandalorian crusader ships entered the shadow of Manda'yaim with a silent rip from hyperspace and into the theatre of battle. To make war. To make war on the Sith, the very wolves who ripped the pride of Mandalore limb from limb, to make war on the knaving children who would twist the rack and bring about a second sundering of the Mando'ade, the very same souls who snuffed the pride and will from the Creed to begin with. Then there was the Blackwing. There was only one approach to them. The purge.
They were outnumbered, outgunned.
Good.
Circumstances they were used to.
The slumbering lion was enveloped in the hungering, bloodshot gaze of the hyenas. They waited in the shadows, waited for the lion to bask in the sun too long until he withered and died a lazy beast. They snapped and harassed at him. But they forgot.
They forgot that every time...every single time. That lion would awaken...and rip them all apart.
Today was the day.
The True Mandalorians rode out in the night with a blood boiling fire their hearts and vengeance alight beneath their t-visor. It was time to crusade.
A gloved hand reached into the urn. It was a pristinely maintained piece of pottery, the outlying surface lined with a depiction of battle between Neo-Crusaders depicted in heroic valiance fighting the Jedi showing no different than demons. Within, ashes. Ashes of loved souls so violently ripped from this world. His wife, his daughter. Ever since their unjust death at the Hammerfall, he'd pressed his palm against his iron skin so that they would be with him in battle. Guardian angels to watch over him in the fray, to safe guard him from the fires.
Today, he'd return them home.
The urn clasped shut once more and he secured it to his person. He'd make sure those ashes awashed the same dune sea that birthed him and all of Manda'yaim's sons into the Galaxy, to bring the reckoning. To light the fires.
A hand pressed onto his shoulder, he looked back to see the rust red and gunmetal grey of his young kin, Volker. He was ready. Known or not, they've always been ready for this moment.
The hangar bay door of the corvette slowly slid open and the shine of the broken surface of Manda'yaim reflected in their visors, bathing in the light of a ruined and defiled home as they mounted their war droids in their slow, creeping orbit of the planet.
His hands grasped ahold of the controls and he felt the internal systems hum to life as he grasped the reins of command over the droid.
He peered back one last time at the Oathsworn before turning to face the planet once more.
<"Vode An!"> He harked, summoning a deeper thrum of his fury that he'd not wielded since his exile. The Sons of Mandalore beckoned back in mirroring of his sentiment before the Basilisk war droids lurched from the ship and barreled down into the fray, the full fury of their panoply of war primed, engaged and prepared to rain hellfire on the parasites.
The fleet was doing its job, securing high orbit over Mandalore and deploying bombers to lead in the first wave of dropships. The plan called for him to lead the first wave of Mandalorian Union grounds troops down to the planets surface, and begin securing a landing site for the rest of the army. It was never going to be as simple as the initial war planning had thought, and Kreslin had to grip the railing above his head tighter as the dropship shook violently from the nearby explosion of anti air fire.
The bombers had been deployed ahead of the first wave, to begin softening enemy fortification, and neutralize anti air weaponry to limit the potential losses the landing would take. The bomber squadrons had made several confirmed kills already, but as was the way with war, unidentified enemy positions joined the fight. Half a dozen of the dropships in the first wave had been lost already, and Kreslin suspected they could lose that many against at least as they began their final descent, when it would be near point blank range for engagement.
Turning his head slightly, he took in the others in the dropship. Most were warriors from his own Clan, wearing the grey and gold Kreslin had known for half his life. A few others wore the red and black of the Supercommando's of House Awaud, seconded to the landing force to help secure the way. They stood nearest the ramp of the dropship, as they would lead the initial charge, followed by everyone else. One of them noticed Kreslin watching them, and gave the Warmaster a brief nod as the lights in the dropship shifted from bright white to a dark red, signaling their final approach had begun.
Kreslin waited for the physical impact of the dropship slamming into the ground before letting go of the overhead railing. He drew a heavy blaster pistol from his hip in his left hand, and unsheathed the Beskad from its shoulder harness. He gripped the weapons tightly in his hand as the ramp let out a puff of steam, filling the cabin of the dropship briefly. When it sprung open, slamming into the ground outside with a hard enough impact to throw dirt flying, the Union warriors within rushed out, war cries and challenges tearing from their throats as they flung themselves out and began to spread out in all directions. Kreslin was with them, his armored boots slamming into the soil of Manda'yaim for the first time since the fall, his eyes alight with fury beneath his helmet as he looked for his first enemy.
"For Mandalore!"
Allies: Mandalorian Union, assorted Goodies Enemies: The Sith Empire
Enemies: The Sith and Any to stand against a Free Mandalore.
The trip down unlike anything she had experience before. She was a natural jet trooper, Trained in the harsh valleys of Cin'Vode on Concordia, Winding and Weaving through trees and towering shards of rock that could have killed her all those years ago. But nothing had prepared her for dropping at this speed. Even now, They were nearing the atmosphere of Mandalore at breakneck speeds, Causing her stomach to lurch everytime the Drop Pod shook. She takes a deep breath, Looking up at the men around her. Most were veterans and Supercommandos of House Awaud. She was turning 26 in a few months, And most of the men around her had been fighting longer than she had drawn breath. It was a funny thing in this day and age, That the young lead the old. But she knew the how and the why. The sith had killed so many of her kind, To walk the path of the Mandalore is to be both hunter and prey, As they say. In a world where most die young, It was up to the young to look after themselves. But these men, Had survived nonetheless, And they would either survive this day to fight another day, Or they would die for the Glory of their homeland. Either way, They would stand with her, And she would stand with them. What more could she ask for?
And then there the others, Younger Mandalorians in the same position as she. Men and women born into this age of strife, brought here to fight for the promise of a better tomorrow. They were the future, And it was for that future that she would fight.
"Hey," She looks up at Shai Maji
sitting across from her "First drop?" She chuckles."Mine too..."
With a light * Clack*, She bangs the wall once or twice with her fist, Still staring at Shai through her visor. "This pod is made of a Fiberplast Dallorian alloy combination. They use it to keep weapons from heating, And to keep heavily armoured frigates from busting. She'll hold just fine. Once we land, You just stick with your time and fight like the rest of them, You'll do hold just fine too."
The pod suddenly rocks to the side as a Imperial AA batteries home in, Belching rounds through the air, Exploding via timed detonation. She looks around for a second, But makes an effort not to flinch. She had lead her men by example, She had to keep her composure in the face the enemy. The True Enemy.
"Alright people, We're dropping Soon. Weapons loaded, Knives ready and Vode An!"
"This is the Way."
Several voices ring out, Repeating the ancient words. Others cried Vode An, While some remained silent, Simply nodding or focusing on their weapons. Mandalorians weren't a very talkative people. Actions spoke louder than words, And she had come to appreciate that saying in recent times. She had almost destroyed talks between the Sons of Mandalore and the Enclave by speaking when wiser women would have remained quiet. She would not be silenced, But she would learn from that mistake.
The voice of Darsch Vizsla
crackles over the commlink within her helmet.She had been through a lot with Darsch, And having the opportunity to fight beside her, Even if it would be the last time, Meant more than words can describe to the Ghost of Cin'Vode, Who felt like so much more than just another ghost when partnered with the Vizla, Whom she affectionately called "Blue" on account of the deep blue armour she wore. The future that she fights for now could be spent with that women, Should they both survive. Blue had offered her a place within House Vizsla, To shed the burden of shame hefted over her shoulders by the fall of her Clan, And begin anew within the house that her own had been loyal to since the clone wars, And to help her partner rebuild Deathwatch on the surface of a new Mandalore. She had been hesitant when she first offered, But now, She wondered if she'd take her up on that offer. She wondered if she would let her clan fade from the annals of history, And begin anew, Washed white with the Cin'Vhetin, Not unlike her new armour.
<"Look up."> She chuckles.
"<Standby for Planetfall.">
The pod quickly approaches the surface, Though it is knocked off course by a stray canon round. The lights turn to a deep shade of Red as the pod readjusts itself.
* Slam*
The Dropship clips a nearby tower as they enter the city, Slamming itself into the flat roof of a nearby building, Overlooking Darsch Vizsla
's position. A moment later, The ramps drop, And her platoon of supercommandos rush out, Immediately taking up crouched positions in a circle around the pod and at the edge of the rooftop.
A moment later, Joti emerges from the pod, Marching out with one pistol in her hand as she comes to the edge, Putting one foot up on the low wall and raising both arms, One with her pistol leveled at the windows across from her, And the other raised to the broadband antenna on her helmet, Activating her commlink as she stares at Darsch Vizsla
down below her.
You didn’t have to be force sensitive to feel the anticipation in the hangar. Soldiers checked their equipment, maintenance ran last minute diagnostics. Voices echoed across the large room, shouting orders and calling out for friends. It was a bustle of activity and a flurry of movements, the kind that would have once left Venku confused and struggling to keep up. Not this time. Not now. No longer was he the scared child that mourned his mother and feared for the lives of his brothers and father. This time he knew what he was doing.
Golden eyes looked out, watching the people around him. He would be responsible for them. He would lead them into battle. A part of him - the part that was still the scared child, was baffled at the sheer number, at the trust given to him. Most of him was proud. How far he had come. How far they had come. Gloved hands fiddled with the buy’ce clamped to his belt. It’s orange and red paint was chipped. The ash grey was hardly even visible. Perhaps he would finally have that removed.
Alarms went off above. It was time.
If the togorian thought the hanger was busy before, he was sorely mistaken. The shouting stopped, replaced instead by quiet efficiency. In minutes, the troops were waiting on their drop ships, Venku included. Steady hands pulled his helmet from the belt, securing it on his head. It wasn’t long until the pilots got the green light. It wasn’t long until the ships were out the hangers, hurtling towards the planet. It was painfully long waiting to land. It was painfully long standing there, knowing these ships were taking fire. If they were attacked, he could do nothing to stop it. He was helpless. A vornskr with tail and talon removed.
The ship lurched. It bucked and shuddered as it entered the smog filled atmosphere of manda’yaim. The ship landed with a thud, sending up a cloud of dust. His helmet filtered it out, along with the toxic gasses he was sure hung in the air.
Around him the soldiers were scattering, fanning out with a wave of noise. They were as anxious to take back their home as he was. Venku broke off from the group, making a bee line to Kreslin. “You ready vod?” The togorian could feel the anticipation waning, replaced instead with a determined sense of calm. It was time.
As the pod rumbled and shook, Shai kept to herself. She was glad that the rest of the pod couldn't see her face, but she knew that they could likely read her face right through the Beskar. As if the fear wasn't enough, she was starting to get queasy with the pod shuddering and shaking around. She heard a voice speak up and glanced up at Joti, not exactly finding her little quip very funny. "First battle, more like." she spoke up, hoping that some interaction would take her mind off the fact that she was going to drop into the middle of a warzone. She tried to reassure her which managed to bring a small smile from the Shistavanen. "I know what it's used for. Dallorian was an easy way to drive up margins for shipments I smuggled." she admitted, however she interrupted herself with a whimper as the pod suddenly lurched from side to side with flak coming in around them. "Would you believe me if I tell you I can name every component in those flak guns?" she spoke up again, though her mood quickly sunk again as her mind poured over the details of the weapons. "You don't wanna get hit by one." she said softly as she glanced around.
She checked her comms and suit systems once more as the word announced. She breathed deeply and let out a shaky breath. Any moment now...
A yelp sounded off in the pod as it crashed through a building and deployed, with a dazed Shai quickly following after the other troops who stormed out. As she knelt down, she slipped her rifle from her back and shouldered it, glancing around. "Are we supposed to be on a building?" she asked, looking at the other troops.
She took her chances and shuffled closer to the edge next to Joti, looking around the place. "This planet's totally karking karked, man, big time." she commented with wide eyes. It was a wasteland, as simple as that. She knew from the stories Kragr told her that the place wasn't exactly much to look at to begin with... but she wasn't expecting this. She didn't like killing, but the more she saw what the Sith did to those that cross them, the more she struggled to find a reason not to kill them. It was in that moment that she realised something about this fight.
She wasn't going to be the same after this...
"What's the next order, sis?" she asked, looking up at Joti. She didn't care what anyone said, she was going to be glued to her ass for this fight.
She would dream sometimes. Nice dreams, pleasant dreams. They were of times when she was still mostly human, before she had been turned into a weapon. She could nearly feel the rain drops on her skin, the sensation of grass against the soles of her feet as she ran through the jungles of Drummund Kaas. They seemed alien at times, like they weren't really hers. Sometimes she would think of Shai, and sometimes people that she didn't know at all; yet they felt familiar to her. These memories never came to her in the waking hours strangly enough, but when she was asleep it just felt...comforting. Aerith much preferred them to the night terrors. She had just found a nice patch of grass to lay upon, her back was soon soaked by the rainfall that had gathered on the grass as she laid upon it, but she was too distracted by the stars above to notice. It was going to end soon, she could feel her sense of peace begin to distort, and she would soon be pulled back into the waking world.
She gave one last glance to the fading stars in the night sky, and wished that she could be amoung them. She felt the world fall away from her, mind and body slipping away from the open fields of her home, and thrusting her back into the confines of her cryopod.
She gasped for breath, dropping to her knees as she forced air into her lungs, coughing as she was shaking off the side effect of her forced sleep. There was one thing she could hear within her ears, the voice that completely and utterly controlled her:
"Awaken the Children, tell them it is time for war."
Aerith rose to her feet, ignoring the pair of technicians who attempted a health check on her, moving to secure her equipment. The sooner she completed the mission, the sooner she could go back to sleep. Dreams were her only comfort now a days.
Talon sat quietly on top of the drop pod, he had a beskar cable attached to it. His group was supposed to drop a minute after him to not get caught up in the explosion. The atmospheric drop would be heated, there would be no assistance from life support systems, he didn't want the oxygen exploding on him.
Shaking his head he said, "<Talon going dark, contact my men if you need me.>" With that he heard the decent start, the beauty of what he was doing astonished, he had many explosives, could create a massive crater under him. If he missed time his release he would be torn up in the atmosphere or if he got too low he would be disintegrated by the blast.
The atmosphere started to create flames due to the great increase of speed. All sound was lost to him, though AA guns shots could be seen near him. This heat was very intense causing much discomfort in his suit, though even if the burning feeling hurt he held on. Looking at his armor it was starting to turn black, chard from the intense heat. His poncho had burnt off, his comlink was gone, his wrist equipment were holding up though.
As he reached the release point he pulled the beginning of the clip back flipping his body behind it, being dragged. This created a new problem, he couldn't get the next clip off due to the force and direction it needed to go. Pulling his pistol he took a shot, though the gun locked up, the bullet going no where. "<Shit.>" He muttered. He was above his target destination and was going to go along with the enemies he was about to destroy if he didn't release soon.
The release point was behind him a couple hundred feet, this caused him to pull out one of his Beskad and start hacking away at the cable. Eventually it released, close to the ground. Immediately he fired up his jetpack and started to rise, as high as he could hearing a crash below him followed by a loud intake. Then the force threw him up high his jetpack disabling. This caused Talon to pull his emergency chute as he finally got stable, with a sigh, he continued his drop closer to the ground.
Landing in the middle of the crater, he was looking at the walls of it, vast in distance, looking under his boot he found blaster parts. Laughing he stood waiting, his armor still hot. It appeared to be chard for what he assumed would be a permanent stain, shaking his head, his weapons had survived and a droppod crashed next to him. The super commandoes filing out.
O U T R I D E R THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE
THE RAGNAR SYNDICATE
104th BATTALION 'WOLFPACK' S I M P L E _ M A N
HYPERSPACE
SHORTLY BEFORE <"Did we get clearance for this op? We don't have any prior intel or briefing on this, pretty sure 'GA' has taken no stance on this conflict."> The Alliance Marine asked to Treicolt, already well in the midst of donning armor stripped of any markings resembling the Galactic Alliance, favoring a look more akin to the Neo-Crusader more than anything else. He should've damn well known the answer.
"Since when have I ever given the impression I give a damn about that?" Maynard says, rolling his shoulders into his grey and cobalt false iron skin. It'd do the job, all but an aesthetic take on the Jedi Guardian plate he typically wore into battle, but it wasn't any Beskar'gam. He had to look the part at the very least. Isaiah was his brother in all but blood, if he'd sent the call for help, Treicolt would answer, regulations, other assignments or court martial be damned. He took the helmet from under his arm, looking into the darkened glasteel of the t-visor. He could understand why his kin of country from Concord Dawn donned it.
Behind that gaze, they were invincible.
"Didn't much care for General anyway..." Maynard says before he slides the helmet over his gaze once more. Until the day was done, the fight over, he didn't plan to remove it.
MANDALORE
NOW
He was silent as the humming repulsorlifts of the drop ship willed to life. His eyes shut beneath the t-visor of his helmet as he dropped down to his knees in the troop bay. It was only then that it truly weighed on him. His death. Waylon Treicolt. The once Journeyman Protector of Concord Dawn before the coming of the Sith Empire and his eventual pressganging into the 12th Armored Assault Divion, the very first to defect with the Sovereign Imperator, allowing him to fight side by side with his kin on the field of battle.
But that noble flame was snuffed out on Bastion, the very moment of vindication Waylon clawed and fought for and he died just before the finish. But he'd left with a wish in hand in his dying words.
Waylon Treicolt said:
<"They put me anywhere, boys...it better be under a Concord sunset once the black and silver is waving over it...till then, Nomad out.">
He'd deliver the ashen remains there himself if he had to. Until his final breath, he'd do good by his valiant soul. The very spirit which had urged him down the path he'd walked now. He collapsed unto his knees with that profound wave of loss. As if a delayed reaction, the steely resolve from which he'd first officially absorbed the news pounded to dust as they disembarked toward those broken grounds again.
His head for the first time in what felt like years truly hung low in a sense of void, loss, assailing mourn coming over him as he reached to plant a hand against the wall of the troop cabin, a flattened palm curling into a defiant fist. He was reminded again of how he denied a moment to his kin. How they could've ridden on out shoulder to shoulder to liberate their homeland and be there to watch the same sunset they did growing up in a simple youth.
His gaze looked up and back to Loske. The helmet concealed it, but there was a plead. A hopeless expression of mourn enveloping a pit of loss as tears welled up in his eyes. He was silent in that moment of foreboding self isolation before soon enough his hand slid down and off the wall. In the wake of what would be total devestation, the fiery rage of a war bent on annihiliation, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stand up to face the music. He remembered then that haunting sentiment that came his way by Lanik Dawnstar
.
And then...he rose to his feet again, turning to the rest of his unit, he spoke up as the troop bay doors of the gunship veered open to take in the desolate winds of Manda'yaim.
<"We're going to group up with Ragnar forces...they've designated everything else as hostile. We're facing Blackwing...so be careful."> Maynard said in relaying to the Mandalorian forces led by Amon Vizsla and Trajan Kurze sent to relieve Isaiah Priest
, the sight of their Basilisk War Droids descending into the fiery atmosphere a signal of their arrival.
He willed his cobalt lightsaber to his hand with the force before willing its ignition in a snap of the plasmatic blade. In his other hand he raised a closed fist before flattening his hand and pointing it out into the open air before he willed the rockets of his jetpack and surged toward the broken earth beneath.
Eventually, his feet landed unto solid ground, saber in hand.
With a roar of ten thousand souls, millennia of war behind them, and the prospect of victory before them, Clan Mortui's fleet exited hyperspace above Mandalore. Long ago their fleet had been named Mors Classemque, or Death Fleet. This day they lived up to that name, causing death the second they exited hyperspace. Mors Classemque exited hyerspace in the midst of the Sith fleet, and in the case of the Aegis Mortum, came through by smashing a Sith battleship in half.
Standing strong through the quakes of the ship exploding about them, Adenn laughed. Already they had one large kill to their name, along with at least half a dozen star fighter squadrons. No doubt a handful were allied ships, but their deaths were worth the surprise this maneuver bought. Shaking his head, Adenn observed the situation with a critical eye. Smiling at what he saw, Adenn pushed a simple red button on his command chair.
Across every channel accessible, and several that weren't so easily hacked, a sound rang out. It was loud, commanding, and it was a roar of fury carried by Clan Mortui and delivered to everyone present. With a chopping gesture that was in time with the warhorn being sounded, Mors Classemque opened fire in all its glory. They fired every which way, heavy blaster shots tearing through space and slamming home towards enemy ships. It was a glorious sight to behold, as every ship was lit with the backdrop of destruction and laser fire.
While they were in the thick of it, others weren't as quick into the fray, not that Adenn blamed them. Regardless, he couldn't focus on that as numerous calls for support came in all at once. Immediately Adenn began responding, directing fire support where needed, sending fighters every which way, and generally commanding the fleet like one deadly blade. The call from Sidiqq was hardly unique, as several people called for air support, but he was one of the few that asked for help by the mines. Said mines were important, so Adenn made sure to respond in turn.
"Send two squadrons towards the mines, give him all the air support he needs. Then break off when that distraction is done and deal with the troop contingent further North. Bomb anyone and everyone that isn't Mandalorian or fighting for us."
Without a second to waste, he was already on to the next call for support. It was then he noticed the call from Severous and this Order of the Force. Instantly suspecting Jedi, Adenn regardless knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Opening a channel, Adenn began speaking immediately.
"Get off your shebs Severous and move to support our fleet! We're gonna be punching another hole in their fleet and we need to keep it open. We'll need it to drop more troops on Manda'yaim. Burn these dar'jetii clean if you have to, but give no quarter!"
Not too soon after Adenn was moving to further orders for his fleet. The corvettes flitted in and out, swerving between laser blasts to deal with various squadrons, even as they were rocked with weapons fire. On the other side, the various Kom'rk fighters stuck close to the flagship, dealing with anything that got too close. They were troop transports and fighters, and they would be put to use once they needed to land more troops on Manda'yaim. As he looked down towards the surface of Mandalore, Adenn felt a cold hatred overcome him. During the time of the Mandalorian Empire, it had been verdant and green once more. Then the battles had broken much of it, and now the Sith had all but destroyed its surface. For that and more they would suffer.
Tearing his attention from Mandalore, Adenn barked out more orders for fleet positioning. They were holding their own for now, but Adenn knew he needed his troops ground side, or boarding Sith ships. Turning to the quartermaster of Clan Mortui, Adenn gave further orders.
"Split the ground forces into three parts, we aren't all going to Sundari after all. I want a majority still heading there, so send Force One to Sundari. They'll be marching on the city like we did before, but with less opposition from the dar'jetii. That said, I wouldn't be surprised if that damned hydra is still there, so send them most of the vehicles as planned. And prepare Hell's Angel for drop. Force Two will be held in stand bye for now, they'll go to the mines if so asked, or will act as a quick response force. As such, remember to keep the Beskad Warriors there at a minimum, and the regular vode at a max. Lastly, Force Three is staying with us, they'll be the boarding force, so obviously we want the Beskad Warriors and Beskad Elite here. Most of the Beskad Warriors are down by Sundari or up here with us, and 10 of the Beskad Elite with each force. I want them to lead them. Got it? Good, oya ner'vod."
Turning back to the front of the ship, Adenn smiled darkly. This was it, the end all be all for them. Either they succeeded, or they dug in until the Sith dug them out, and the latter wasn't happening, so they would succeed. With that thought in mind, Adenn gave the command for the pods and ships to drop Force On towards Sundari. The bigger vehicles, such as the tanks and shield tanks, not to mention the walkers, would take awhile to get down and properly disembark. But the troops, they would be down and marching on Sundari within ten minutes. As they dropped, only one call rang out from them.
"For our aliit, for Mandalore!"
It was a call that Adenn repeated on the bridge, one that every Clan Mortui member echoed as they prepared to go into combat. As the ship jolted once more, Adenn tore himself free and began barking orders. Clan Mortui went to war once again, and they did so with purpose unmatched, warriors without compare, and machines of war that rocked worlds.
Darsch would aim her two revolvers around before looking up and seeing Joti. A sigh of relief escaped her lips seeing her friend in one piece. She would spin her revolvers before casually tossing them into her holster. Some Legionaries platoons begin moving in being back by the Krieg Deathtroopers. They stopped when they reached the Vizsla. The Blue Mandalorian turns to them. One of them spoke, the platoon leader to be exact.
"Warmaster, we pinpointed multiple Anti-Air Batteries. Our recon teams have gone silent, MIA. What are your orders?"
He set down a hologram behind cover and showed Darsch the locations of several enemy anti-air batteries. These AA Guns were gonna end up tearing up any fighter that's providing air support and the jetpacking Mandalorians. Darsch thought for a moment and looked at the hologram still. Friendly Legionaries and Deathtroopers were highlighted being in multiple bunches around the city. The Mandalorians would need an FOB or some sort of location where they could resupply and tend to wounded. Getting a ship with the supplies down to surface with all this flak would be a struggle.
<"Joti, you have a higher vantage point than I do, You can see the AA guns correct? Give me a report on their defenses and troops surrounding them. I have a plan. We must eliminate each gun in this sector to create room for our ships to land safely or provide air support. We're also going to set up an FOB, I'll send some of my legionaries to scout out possible locations.">
The legionaries heard what she said and nodded sending some men to go explore the city for a possible FOB spot. Darsch would be contempt with her men quickly moving to carry out their orders. She'd draw her revolvers.
"Men, we must provide cover for Joti's platoon. Keep an eye on the streets and on the rooftops, the Sith are clever bastards.. Even I must admit.."
Darsch begin moving to a position to provide Joti and her team some cover. If any enemy troops appeared, Darsch raised her two revolvers firing them into the Sith Troopers who were rushing stop the Mandalorians from advancing. She spun the revolvers around firing them like a true outer rim gunslinger, the enemy troops would fall dead at her boots. Once they stopped coming giving her some time to breathe, she'd unload the used cartridges taking them out of revolver letting the fall to the ground before sliding in new charged ones in.
Varloc's command ship the Avenger dropped from hyperspace near the location of Severous Augustus and his fleet. Before the view port of the command deck on the Avenger was a great battle. Ships were in fierce combat, and out past the wreckage of destroyed ships was the great planet. Mandalore. It has been a long time thought Varloc.
Varloc moved up to the comms, 2nd admiral Augustus, support our allies and punch a hole through the sith defenses. Varloc turned to his captain, Fire on any sith and their allies ships, open the hangers to any damaged allie ships.
Ready my ship, Varloc then made his way to the hanger.
Mandalore remembers... I remember... This is for you, Val'ika, my beloved son.
Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum.
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As the ship grew closer to her homeworld, so did the bittersweet memories. They flooded back... of love, of family, of tragedy, and final loss.
Meshla reminisced about the unconditional love of her late father Kable Detta
as he carried her upon his armored shoulders through the tall grasslands of Bralsin near their homestead outside of Keldabe; allowing his young daughter to wear his helmet and pretend she was riding on a Basilisk war droid. How ironic as today she would return as a warrior in her own right now to Mandalore in such a manner.
There were the memorable times spent visiting her mother's parents in the North Country... That is where Meshla learned to hunt and cook from Solus and Kara Tor - why she was such a good shot and made the best damn uj cake around. But, the tragedy of the man-made cataclysmic event that devastated the planet took them away and nearly killed her too.
Then, there was the death of her beloved son. The Sith had poisoned Valen and left the little boy to die a slow and agonizing death in his mother's helpless arms. There was nothing she could do, but let Val march on... Hoping, praying to the gods someday they would be reunited, manda willing.
This also led to her estrangement from Clan Munin as she blamed her stepfather Vilaz Munin
and mother Briika Munin
to an extent of being complicit in their grandson's death because of the clan's working ties with Darth Carnifex
. Of course, now that relationship was severed but the irreparable damage had been done.
Vengeance was best served at the end of a beskad or with a bolt between the eyes, and that is exactly what she would do. There would be no quarter given. The Sith would pay for what was done to her and their People. The Detta also had no love of those that backed Mand'alor the Infernal. The Red Coronation had seen many a clan exiled from Mandalorian Space and now it was the Sons of Mandalore who returned to serve justice for that too. A reckoning for Manda'yaim had come due on all accounts.
Meshla was lost in those wistful musings when the order to mount up was given. The blue-armored Mando shook those from her mind, then turned to find Amon Vizsla still standing beside her. Their T-visors seemingly gazed at each other for a long moment with silence growing, then he simply leaned forward and touched his helmet to hers. The gentle Keldabe Kiss was a pleasant surprise and meaningful beyond any words that could be spoken or shared between them before a battle.
The Detta clasped the Vizsla's vambrace with the hand that bore her blood oath taken on Vinsoth. This was a pledge of solidarity both in heart and spirit with the man. Their common burdens had brought the two together, and they would see them lifted together. He would not be alone in this endeavor.
Then, the brief intimate moment with the son of Ronan Vizsla
was over and they each climbed up onto their waiting war droids as it was time to bring the reckoning to the Sith, and any who were unworthy of calling Mandalore home.
The order was clear, but too general. The enemy fleet was rather large, Severous needed to pick a certain point to begin the fight. Precise, concentrated fire was key to bringing down the enemy. If he essentially said "Have at it", things would not go well. The ships' fire wouldn't do enough damage. Surely Varloc knew that...of course, The Order of The Force wasn't exactly a military-orientated group.
Severous scanned the battlefield, lasers, missiles, and other projectiles flying back and fourth. Fighter squadrons soared, like clouds of insects, while bombers made organized and methodical runs over their opponent. Large ships led the charge from both sides, behemoths on the battlefield throwing hard punches and jabs at each other. This was chaos.
Suddenly, a large rumbling followed by a bright light caught Severous' attention. His head snapped to the left to see the catastrophe. The light and rumbling were the result of some sort of explosion. He squinted, trying to see what side had been hit. It appeared to be the Sith side of the battle, though the area was full of allied fighters. Out of the fiery mess the silhouette of a ship appeared, quickly advancing through the wreckage of the sith ship. Had it rammed the Sith ship? That was the only logical scenario. Of course, Severous didn't remember seeing any other ships there before.
The odd and deadly occurrence had created some chaos on the Sith side. This needed to be capitalized on. "Attention Revelation fleet, this is Severous Augustus. We are advancing to the Sith flank. An allied ship appears to have rammed the Sith ship. Move with haste, and caution. May The Force be with you!"
The order applied to his own ship as well. The crew knew to proceed, and the Star Destroyer lurched forward at full speed. There was a high risk of being damaged before they even arrived at the optimal firing distance....hopefully that wouldn't happen.
L O C A T I O N | Approaching Mandore O B J E C T I V E | Beskar Falls. T A G S | MANDOS, ASSEMBLE G E A R | Masamune, the Pew-Pew,Stealth Cloak.
Never in her life had she imagined that she would be seeing that planet again before her eyes. She had vowed never to place herself within the space of her people again, not after what the Empire had done, not after what that cursed woman had done to her people, but here she was. The last legitimate daughter of House Vizla, the treacherous dogs that fought for fortune and fame, instead of honor and codes, she was no different from them and she didn't even try to be. In her heart she would pray if she had any common sense that there would be no one capable of recognizing her, not after everything she had done, the crimes she committed against her own people in exchange for money and influence.
Ursula was one of the first to abandon her people to die, fleeing to the safety of the dark regions of the galaxy in search of her fortune and madness. She didn't even know why she was there, but inside her late father's voice seemed to scream in Ursula's ears, pushing her hand into the grip of her gun just as he did when she was a child.
"Honor is always paid in blood.", She repeated to herself, remembering her father murmuring that mantra as he drowned in his own bile. She continued to polish the barrel of her rifle, leaving artificial intelligence to do the job of descending with the ship without it intervening. "I'm home...", she murmured again, her green eyes rolling through the stars surrounding the planet.
"What is that, Mistress? Do you want me to lower the temperature?", The machine asked through the microphone, she punched with the metallic fist of her cybernetic implant against the panel.
"Quiet or I'll transfer you to a sanitation ship."
The machine was silent and she rose from the seat, snarling all the way to the small altar erected by herself to store her father's armor. Black as tar, oily at the touch of the hand and almost invisible to the eyes in the darkness, a sinister legacy from a sinister family. "Okay, bucketheads. Do you want to play chopana again? Great, but this time I'm going to collect each of your helmets if I smell betrayal and I'm good at it.", Ursula's lips twitch in a cruel smile , delighting in the idea of her being a more dangerous creature than she really was. Letting the voice laugh softly, a dry and almost crazy sound. "Mistress, who are you talking to?", She immediately roared back. "SHUT UP!"
LOCATION - Orbits Above Mandalore
OBJECTIVE - Splinter the TSE Fleet, Protect the Ground Forces
- Jaster sat there on the bridge of his Flagship looking out at the destructive force that was laid before him. The combined Fleet that the Union had for this operation was just outnumbered by the Sith Defense Fleet. He had been at these odds before, and he had fought the Sith before. Thus he knew them and their strategies, they were what killed him during the Siege of Commonor. However, this time he knew their weaknesses and brought his own toys to level out the playing field.
- The Alor rested his head on his hand that was propped on the arm of his chair. "Admiral Twoozer, possition fleet in Array Alpha Three Two."
- The droid next to him nodded, "To all ships, Array Alpha Three Two."
- Ships all around the main fleet were blowing up, however, the Sith fleet was not able to penetrate the front line of the Fleet. Jansserie-Class Shield Corvette were a design created by Jaster himself, they used a single directional shield generator called the RDS Generator. This made them perfect shield ships to protect the venerable fleet carriers and missile cruisers behind them. Protecting the Corvettes were a massive zig-zag array of Dakkafort-Class Corvette that shot down the only things able to get around the shield ships. Missiles as well as snub fighters and bombers were cut down by the constantly firing M-57 "Dakka" Cannons. Creating a half moon formation at the front of the fleet, it protected them from any forward attack. Jaster thought of this as well though, calling on the Unions Ba'vodu Class Cruiser they covered the flanks of the Jaraden-Class Fleet Carrier as well as covered the Arbitrator-class Missile Frigate from any fast attack ships that tried to flank them. The mind boggling defensive capability of the ships as well as their wide arch of weapons placements made it virtually impossible to find a blind spot where three turbolaser cannons were not pointed at the enemy. Their rear was protected by another one of Jaster own pet project ships, the Solace-Class Heavy Cruiser, for their size they were great reserve ships. Average in both Armament and Defense, it was their mobility and their Hypervelocity Cannons that could fill a gap anywhere in the fleet and snip any ships that got too close. He took the turtling approach when dealing with the Sith, and focused instead on his Fighters and Bombers as well as the long range missiles from his cruisers.
- The cream of Jasters fleet was his Flagship however, a Mephirium Class Battlecruiser, one of the deadliest ships he had the pleasure of commanding. For all its shortcomings as a slow and complicated mass of components, it was still one of the most attack heavy ships he commanded. As it was this battle he needed destruction more then mobility. The Battlecruiser was a couple thousand kilometers above the rest of the fleet and angled Ten Degrees downwards. This gave the ship the capability to to use all of its weapons to bear against the Sith Fleet before him. If this was any other ship it would have been ill advised to do so, but with this ship it could take the pounding of ships scoring direct hits.
- Jaster looked off to the right of fleet towards deep space and saw his relief, Alor Adenn Kyramud as well as an unlikely ally that called themselves Admiral Severous Augustus along with another sizable fleet. One of the Comms officer spoke up, "Sir, we have a small battle group stating they were ordered to join the fleet in the space battle, order via Vod Darsch Vizsla
to assist."
- The admiral brought up the details on the display before him. A Pelta-Class Assault Cruiser along with Three DP-20 Frigates and two wings of A-Wing Squadrons something that could be of help. Jaster looked to the Officer, "Order the ships to link up with the Support Fleet, they will be in charge of flying supply missions to the ground and the A-Wings will be their escorts." Not a glorious posting, but one that needed to be linked if they were to ferry supplies to the ground and wounded to the Medical Ships. He did not skip a beat and opened a channel to Adenn Kyramud
, "Good to see you arrive to the Party Alor Adenn, move your fleet to defend the Support Fleet and the Medical Battle Group, then continue the assualt and push the Sith Fleet out of Orbit of Sundari, keep the skies clear for the ground Forces and lets not blow too many buildings up." A chuckle escaped his lips as he moved on to send orders to their new allies of Admiral Severous Augustus who was a beginning to flank around to support Alor Kyramud. "Admiral Augustus, the Union thanks you for your assistance, please move your fleet to flank the Sith Battle Group currently engaging and push through them, do not stop and blow as many ships to space dust, once through do not return to assist and move to orbit The Foundry, we need space supremisy there for our Ground Forces to push through and liberate the Factory."
- Jaster pulled up the battle data on his display. It seemed they had four different beach heads they could break out from. He would have to organize it all from here. "Admiral Twoozer, move to phase two, organize the fleet to move out as soon as Alor Kyramud arrives." The droid nodded and began to type on his console. He then needed to organize the ground forces. First up was Aloy VizslaShai Maji
and Darsch Vizsla
they seemed to be near a city center, "Battlemaster, inform Joti's Platoon to hold their ground till 3rd Division can break through to them, unknown timeline, also order the 13th Ground Air Wing to be at their disposal for Close Air Support." The Battlemaster nodded and ran over to one of the Com Consoles. Next was Talon Richwood and Kreslin Westwind
, they seemed to be near one another and they needed to complete their objective while the other forces were distracted. "Officer Casandra, send order to Rallymaster Talon to link up with Warmaster Kreslin and begin to push towards Sundari Palace, the Warmaster will have orders from there." The Coms officer nodded and went to relay the message. Good, they were starting to get the ground word started. Next was Sidiqq Ordo and their mission, "Vod Alfred, send orders to Sidiqq that armor support is on stand by for a final beach head, and have the Supply Fleet ready drop ships for stand by as soon as their unit request back up." The Mandalorian saluted and ran off to get the order sent. Then finally was Venku Bralor
the person in charge of the main force. He decided to send this personally, "Field Marshal Venku, orders are as follows, use the main force to push through the city's defenses and regroup with 1st and 3rd Ori'ramikad as well as the Death Korp, we need to get control of the city before the we can move on to the other cities, the Support Fleet is on stand by to send in Armor and Artillery when needed."
- As the Alor of House Awaud this was not his first battle, and he knew organization was the key to winning this battle where they were out numbered and out gunned. But there was something else he needed to do once it was all settled, he turned to his Droid companion, "Admiral Twoozer, you have command of the Fleet." The droid looked to him, pausing for a second and then nodding. He was getting the last of the fleet movement orders ready before they were to get to the Third Phase of the plan. Jaster grabbed a cable that was attached to his chair and attached it to the back of his head. He was entering a Battle Meditation, letting part of his mechanical brain link with the ships computer to process that massive amount of information he was taking in. Each of the Allied Forces would get a small boost to their moral and flashes of images of what Mandalore once looked like. Green plains with relaxing scenery of long clean rivers with snow kissed mountain peaks in the distance. It was a daunting task, but Jaster knew it would give them the edge they needed. The massive amount of data passing through his skull and focusing his force powers into helping retake the planet he could only focus on those whos Mandalorian Desires were deep. His Meditation kept his mostly occupied till he knew it was no longer needed. Till then, his Droid Companion was to lead the rest of the Army in his place.
Jaster took a defensive stance with his fleet to protect the Support Fleet.
Orders were sent to Adenn to take over the defense of the Support Fleet and push the Sith Navy out of orbit of the Capital.
Orders were sent to Admiral Augustus to push through the fleet engaging Adenn and then push the Sith Navy out of orbit of the Foundry.
Orders were sent to various ground teams of their mission to organize them.
Support Fleet is on stand by with weapons, armor, and artillery for the Ground Forces when called upon.
A more Elite Platoon under the direct command of Sidiqq: Made of mostly snipers and infantry, were assigned to assault the hanger and create a distraction. However, with the plan being botched. They will be gathering new orders from the reptilian himself.
Allies: A rogue mandalorian with big balls Siv Dragr
, Mandalorian Union, Mandalorians fighting for the liberation of mandalore, other allies
Enemies: Ingrid L'lerimCara Dorniarn , TSE conglomerate , Ragnar Union Darmada , Sons Of Mandalore Darmada
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The battle for mandalore was escalating, a large explosion of in the distance where the battle for the captial city had gone off. The enormously large crater left in its wake absolutely frightening if you are the defender in this battle. Luckily for Clan Ordo's forces, this siege group would not be the victim of such an explosion. Their tanks now shooting bombardments at the shields to provide a great distraction for their A'lor to gather inside, not only was this bombardment happening. This cluster fuck of a battle had dying, death, and destruction everywhere. Bodies would certainly pile up, those from the sith, those from the various mandalorians among the Union, as well as various third parties. But this is what mandalorians were raised for, challenges worthy of their time, battles that will be written in legend. The light footed and rogue like A'lor fearlessly ran towards the vent that would lead to the forge, leading his men through the various explosions around them. All the could be described was the utter and pure chaos around these few brave vod, who were here to shut down the shield. So the rest of the clan's force with a few union auxiliaries could assault the important structure, and capture it for the revolution that was taken place. A revolution that was for the mandalorians who cared about their culture and code the resol'nare.
Hissing and seething at random, the cold blooded warrior would signal for his soldiers to cut through the vent before being spotted. If it had not been for the camo that this unit was wearing their chances of sneaking past the several sentries and foes would not have been successful. With purpose, these infiltrators would begin cutting through the vent with a welder of some kind. After what seemed like a few minutes to the calculating sniper, they would now be inside. On his bucye's comm he would speak to Adenn Kyramud
on the comm channel, with a sharp and slithering tone "Sidiqq inside, sthhhhhhhhst we will be going dark. Hissssssst, Over." . One thing was certain, in typical fashion of his culture, the reptilian would shoot first and ask questions later. The first form of business was to cut off any chances of escape and gathering reinforcements, as if it was up to the vengeful killer he would kill everyone here.
The newly formed outfit would now be inside the forge, many including the orange eyed warrior would be in a crouched position. Those who had silenced slug throwers would begin shooting any camera's as to avoid detection. Others would closely attack unsuspecting patrols with beskads as to not alert most of the facility currently dealing with Siv Dragr
. The group would kill those who they could not avoid, such inconveniences were not acceptable to tolerate. Soon the forces would split off, a bigger portion heading to the shield generator. While Sidiqq and a smaller group would head to the tech terminal that had satellite information and communications, with another group heading towards the assembly area to create a distraction. Their job being to cause utter chaos within the walls of the facility. What was chilling, was the coordination these members of Clan Ordo had, all of these orders came from the silent trandoshan's hand signals. With these hand signals the orders were passed around, quickly and efficiently, the looming threat yet to reveal themselves until that small group would attack the assembly area.
Upon Arriving, tall and lengthy sniper would have his group hold, for whatever reason, there were security guards around an odd official using some sort of hologram to hide her appearance. This was easily spotted with the infrared vision that the ambusher had at his disposal, there was certainly some weird hologram capable of hiding her true form. Whoever she was, she was dangerous enough to be able to apply intrigue at the level that Sidiqq was able to. As a result they would have to attack swiftly, most defenses were freaking out out over the other areas being attacked.
With controlled ferocity and a calculated attack of a trained hunter, with his side arm ,would begin firing rapidly at the individual. Hopefully she was not force sensitive, and hopefully this was not some trap. The scrappy individual made the first move, also throwing a forcebreaker grenade inside the room so that force users would not be able to use their little magic to make the fight unfair.
Here, a great skirmish would now begin , as others with Sidiqq would begin providing supporting fire.
Location: Southern New Gratos, Unidentified City Objective: Marching to War Allies: TSE Enemies: MU (Aloy VizslaTalon RichwoodDarsch VizslaShai Maji
), Ragnar Syndicate, The Rancidus Order
The Graug marched to war.
Kytana had lived her entire life on New Gratos, and up until that moment, she had never stepped foot to venture beyond the gates into the Southern Hemisphere. Now, she, along with the warriors of the Dark Legion, was being flown across the gates via dropship, escorted by a formation of Sith-Imperial fighters as a seemingly innumerable quantity of Mandalorian drop pods fell towards the surface all around her. Glancing out of the viewport, Kytana immediately saw three more Dark Legion dropships in close vicinity to the one she was in, with many more ahead in the distance. However, just as she moved to shift her attention back to running a final check on her weapons, the closest dropship was impacted by what she could only make out as a Mandalorian drop pod. The pod ripped through the dropship’s hull as the force of the impact carried both craft towards the ground, before crash landing in a fiery blast. Kytana couldn’t resist the urge to watch as they struck the ground, carving a deep impact depression into the earth as the violence continued unabated in the skies.
After that, it wasn’t long before the formation of Dark Legion dropships reached a city, one which Kytana didn’t know the name of, nor did she particularly care. Nevertheless, when the massive Centurion at the head of the dropship banged his hand against the bulkhead to call for attention, Kytana, along with the rest of the scouts in the dropship immediately turned to listen.
“Prepare for landing! The Mandalorian rats have crawled into the city faster than we anticipated. Be ready to meet them behind any corner. We will flush them out!” The Centurion spoke, giving the order in the guttural Graug tongue.
Kytana answered with a shout of affirmation, lending her voice to the response call as the dropship lowered into a hover over the ground. Moments laters, Kytana was outside, scanning the perimeter as the other dropships disgorged their payload of hulking male Graug Legionnaires, Phalanxes, Gladiators, Incendiors, and Centurions within the city. More than a few towering Colossi took the field as well, leading troops into the fray as they sought to exterminate the Mandalorian vermin.
With their lack of an armored hide and comparatively tame appearance that stood in stark contrast to their monstrous brethren, most female Graug were relegated to serve as scouts or in other support roles within the Dark Legion. Nevertheless, even as a scout, Kytana was given the chance to prove her prowess in battle to her peers, both male and female.
It was a chance that she did not intend to squander.
Scanning her surroundings, Kytana quickly identified a group of Mandalorians (Aloy VizslaShai Maji
) standing on the edge of a rooftop roughly fifty meters from her position. Then, with a bated breath, Kytana raised her rifle, took aim at the chest of one of the Supercommandos , and squeezed the trigger, sending a single kinetic energy penetrator round flying up towards her target.
Location: Ruins of Sundari, Mandalore Objective: Fight for the MU Allies: Mandalorian Union and Allies | Open to interaction Enemies: TSE and those against the MU | Open to interaction
"Heaven offers nothing that the mercenary soul can desire"
Within every group, army and people there exists the outcasts, those who have been alienated, exiled or here for a cause not their own and Kes had found three of them. Neth Kote, Esok Tyvark and Epo Brilla, a Dar'manda, a clanless merc and a thief, these were Kes' people. When the call was sent out by the Union to rally together they had come, fighting for credits instead of for their people.
Within the hanger of one of the many vessels in the MU fleet Kes walked up to the 3, his WESTAR Blaster Carbine in hand he overheard Epo recounting the tale of her exile. "I remember being held down, blaster barrel pressed against the side of my head and the Alor with a branding iron in hand, turns out stealing from him not only gets you exiled but also branded on the forehead." Esok let out a chuckle and spoke to Epo. "How thick headed do you have to be to steal from your own Alor Brilla." The female mandalorian simply shrugged, "Guess I was looking for a challenge." Kes shook his head and spoke up. "As much as I'd like to join in on telling Epo why she makes the worst life decisions it's time to earn our pay. Transport Besh 7, let's get moving before some pissed off rally master reminds us why we're the scum of the galaxy." He said before they all walked over to one of the numerous transports.
Kes stood on the transport with a dozen other mandalorians, their faces hidden behind their helmets. He felt the entire ship shake as it lifted off and right after the pissed off rally master Kes had mentioned turned to them and spoke. "Brothers and sisters, verde of the Union. Today is the day we retake our home!" Kes felt the landing craft shake again as they began their descent through the atmosphere. "Many of our elite soldiers are already on the ground and we're moving to reinforce them as we speak." the rallymaster paused for a second before continuing. "I will not lie, the enemy is dug in well. This will be a bloody battle and many will not make it. But if you stay true to our people, we will prevai-" The rallymaster's speech was interrupted by a load explosion and the entire landing craft rocking violently. Kes hit the floor hard. It took him a second to regain his bearings and once he looked up he saw carnage. A direct hit to their landing craft taking out the pilots and ripping a massive hole in the troop bay. He watched as Mandalorians stumbled over dead comrades to the breach, leaping out of the doomed vessel. He felt himself helped up and he to leaped out of the ship.
Kes let himself fall freely before activating his Jetpack, and making his way straight towards the surface. Landing in a destroyed building on the outskirts of the ruins of Sundari Kes fell to his knees, trying to get a sense of what had just happened. "Kriffing anti-air guns." he said to himself before standing up and unholstering his blaster carbine. "At least it made the rally master shut up." Kes said before pulling out his comlink to contact his fireteam only for it to crumble in his hand. As for now the mandalorian was alone.
Stardust Solus Skirae
. As she planted her steps, a slow blink of her eyes revealed now the pure blackness of her soul. The attempted assault from the weaponry of those amidst whose presence she stood, only left scattered and crumpled lead slugs upon the ground around her form as she stood behind a projected Force Barrier. She sighed at the idea of being attacked before even introductions were exchanged, finding it quite brash. It is not the witch who signaled the start of this confrontation. 
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