Rebellion Operation Beskar Falls

[Sidiqq Ordo]

Location: The Foundry

Objective: Lead Clan Ordo and union forces to victory and capture the beskar mine

Auxiliary Objective: Disengage and make a B line for the shield generator terminal, now that the information terminal was destroyed.

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Gear:

- Durasteel Armor: Nothing special
-Sniper: https://www.starwarsrp.net/threads/snips-sniper-blaster.53663/
-Side Arm: https://www.starwarsrp.net/threads/westar-blaster-pistol.114798/
-Grenades X9 (currently): https://www.starwarsrp.net/threads/ba-h377-browncoat-forcebreaker-grenade.29907/
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Forces:

Currently Outside and engaging enemy forces outside of the facility: Motorized tank infantry using this tank: https://www.starwarsrp.net/threads/buurenaar-class-tank.143717/


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. Now inside the facility they have split into three groups , one attacking the assembly area of the foundry, another attacking the terminal with Sidiqq, and the last one currently assaulting the generator. Tho the last group is struggling, and will need help to complete their mission.

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Allies: A rogue mandalorian with big balls Siv Dragr , Mandalorian Union, Mandalorians fighting for the liberation of mandalore, other allies

Enemies: Ingrid L'lerim Cara Dorniarn , TSE conglomerate , Ragnar Union Darmada , Sons Of Mandalore Darmada
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A lot was learned about this opponent now that the two had begin their cat and mouse combat ritual. The first being her combat armor was too strong for any of the weapons the cold blooded bounty hunter had available to him. There was too much to do , and the A'lor could not sacrifice himself with further coming up with a plan to take this dangerous foe down. So far from what the shadow warrior had heard, the plan was going well for his elite band that went to fight with him. Until a call on comms was received, the reptilian now listening to the call for back up. "A'lor , mhi ne'waadas norac laam!" . This battle was bigger then one duel of glory in the orange, predator eyes of the trandoshan. Hissing and seething through the mouth however, the agent would be able to hear the tall sniper respond in mandoa. "Bat ner miai, at lirsa suru'iya'a! Hisssssssssssst!". While aggressive and direct, there was a time and place for the patient and calculating combatant.

Especially being outgunned, and with his opponent having superior armor compared to the rogue who only wore durasteel beskargam. For now it was time to tactically retreat, so that his vod could be properly reinforced and supported. With the shield generator being the difference between this facility falling and being controlled , that was the primary objective of the rough skinned being. With dexterity and precision the length individual would through two more force breaker grenades at the crates where his foe was taking cover at.

While the fragments would likely not hurt her, the gas exhibited from the weapon would spread enough to give cover for his smaller group to escape this engagement. Sidiqq would taunt his foe before completely retreating, speaking confidently as his bucye's speakers carried his light and chilling voice "Sidiqq, sthhhhhhhhhh will come for you soon." .After this statement, the hunter would quickly rotate his hips and begin sprinting from the direction they came from. Their objective here was complete, the facility was now more isolated now that they could not receive information from the outside.


The individual was worth being a trophy in the eyes of the mandalorian, the way she was able to pretend to be surprised before engaging the attacking group was impressive. This stealthy and swift combatant seemed to be even more prepared then the trandoshan attacking her, and as a result staved off the original attack. However, she could certainly be defeated with more reinforcements, meaning that the shields were a necessity to bring down. Hopefully the individual did not speak their language, otherwise she would likely meet the light footed individual that was now moving to support his allies. However things were about to become more heated, outside it seemed the siege force was now under attack by reinforcing sith. Blaster fire, canon fire, death, and corps were likely to be outside at this moment. The longer these shield remained up, the harder it would be to take this important site.

The area which was once the more quite part of the liberation battle had become total war, and they would need help so that they could maintain this encirclement. Despite fighting inside the facility, there would still be enough time for the unorthodox figure to contact high command Venku Bralor Kreslin Westwind Jaster Awaud Adenn Kyramud . On the comm he would speak quickly as there was not much time, "This is Sidiqq Ordo, stttttt request support for my encirclement hissssss. Sith reinforcements are attempting to break our siege hiiiiiiiiiisssssssssssst!" .

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

N I G H T S I S T E R S​

Tag: Stardust Solus Skirae ​

H A R B I N G E R
of...D E S P A I R​

The Darkside of the Force thrives in this region of space, driving its Will into its servants. And yet for Nightsisters and Masterful Sith, they are not subjugated to fulfill the lusts of the Darkside of the Force, but the darkness is the instrument manipulated which spawns their developed craft.​

The shadows in the Nether are not cast from void of Light, but dark entities which hunt herein to secure their eternal domicile. These demons ensnare those misaligned to their presence, because the Light is their enemy inflicting physical and emotional pain.​

The Nightsister is at home in such a place as this, for her own god is its originator, surpassed by his own creation, those Lords who walk the physical realm and alter the stage of Life across the galaxy. Pomstychtivé has found her home, its promise far surpassing expectation.​

Coward, it said? "Amusing. You expect me to fight on your terms. To downplay who I am? You're targeting me, remember?" Such confrontation amused her, for the Nightsister is curious regarding the cultural mentality of Mandalorians. Take away its toys, its tech, and what vitality is left to it's existence? It is nothing more than an antiquated squib. No determined self-actualizing is going to change that fact. Pom never found a need for weapons to assist in emotional expression; her weapons are the physical embodiment of emotional expression. ​

The Nightsister slipped into the porthole of the Nether behind the chiding of its victim. The expected wails of agony immediately assault her awareness. "Are you innately afraid of shadow?" she whispered tauntingly keeping with the darkness and unseen. "I am the shadow comprised during the shank of night. The light of your essence is obsolescent in my world." Even its lightsaber seemed shrouded under the endless depth to the darkness within which it struggled to seek out anything to alight. The Mistress' eyes squinted curiously, identifying fear, and also familiarity to exude from her challenger. The Nightsister whispered directly into the Mandalorian's ear, "Do you want to understand the wholeness of this existence?" she offered, yet was not physically near in actuality.​

A tiny flame flickered in the distance, surrounded by nothing visible but seemingly palpable darkness. Suddenly the flames multiplied, surrounding the Mandalorian who stood steeped within her anger. Then the little lights clarified their form when they blinked. Faces from past relationships shone back at the Mandalorian, but their smiles revealed feral teeth. "Is this the afterlife you imagined when you pray to your Manda?" the Nightsister asked, as she came into view along with the departed.​

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[Ingrid L'lerim]

Lady Ingrid L’lerim-Ragal
Empress Regent of the Eternal Empire, Overlord of the Eternal Empire, the Emperor's hand
The Red Witch; Director of Blackwatch; Baroness of Vengard, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium​

Location: Rizûti Kûts, the Black Death - The Foundry, Mandalore
Equipment: 2x Sigra vibroblade | 2x Striith vibrosword | 2x red blade lightsaber shoto | Heilagr MK. I Assassin Armour | Shield talisman | G1 OmniLink | BCR-X10 Sniper Rifle | Empyrean gland | Taozin amulet
Tag(s): Sidiqq Ordo | Siv Dragr | Cara Dorniarn

Background music:
Sabaton – Rise of Evil​

As Ingrid waited behind cover, she also heard the communication taking place between the Mandalorians. Actually, given that she learned tactics too, so it wasn’t surprising to her what she heard. Although she did not speak mando’a on a native level, she understood what they were talking about. No wonder they wanted to destroy the shields, it was a logical choice, unfortunately.

At that time, two more grenades landed behind her cover. The red-hair woman immediately activated the camouflage of her armour and then jumped out of there. She even felt the power of the explosion, she fell to the ground because of it, just as she felt the shrapnel standing in the armour. The grenades were annoying. Through the Force, she also felt and heard that the enemy, after a brief conversation, began to retreat and did so. She stood up from the ground where she was due to the wind of the explosion. Meanwhile, on the communication channel, she sent a message to every Imperial person here that they knew where the enemy was heading and also that they were here. If they hadn't already known about it.

”This is Ingrid L’lerim, for every imperial person. The Mandalorians are inside the Foundry, on their way to the shield generators. And be careful because they have Force-blocking grenades!”

She even heard her opponent's voice coming for her. Not if it happens the other way around. That's why she didn't want to let the enemy leave. Not to mention that she didn’t even want to let her own assets fall into the hands of the enemy. The other was also very fast and had an advantage over the woman, so there wasn’t much chance left for her to catch up with the other. Exactly three. One is that it is teleported in front of the Mandalorian, the other is that it comes with Force Speed behind it. The third is to pull him back here.

This seemed the simplest and easiest because it doesn’t reveal much about her abilities. So she reached out to the Force and tried to grab the trandoshan with invisible hands (telekinetics). As soon as she succeeded, she tried to pull the man back to the landing pod with a firm tug. If she succeeds, she closes the door with telekinetics behind them so that her companions cannot enter.

”I did not give permission to leave. Do you leave all the ladies alone on the first date?”

​

 

[Kreslin Westwind]

Kreslin was barely drawing the Beskad from its harness when O Omegon rushed forward, his mechanical warriors following behind him as they advanced to engage the outsiders. Kreslin's eyes narrowed as he took in the features of those who had come to fight them, and he could not help but feel a moment of pity as he looked at them. That brief moment was gone as it was washed away in the rage coursing through his veins, and he gave Omegon a brief nod as he turned away. Those the mechanical warrior were but a distraction for the Liberation of Manda'yaim. He would not give them the time to stop the Union's advance on the capital.

He had barely made it a few feet when the warriors Omegon had brought suddenly turned, encircling both he and Venku Bralor on all sides, though they did not attack. His eyes panned around the circle, his Beskad held at the ready before him as he tried to look in every direction at once for where the attack might come from, for this could be nothing other than such. His answer came however not from the mechanical warriors, but from the the individual that emerged from their ranks, stepping down into the crater where they both stood.

Kreslin could barely control the snarl he felt rising within his throat when Telis Taharin-Zambrano spoke, and his free hand itched to draw the blaster at his side and open up on the Sith Lord, but he held himself in check. His head snapped to the side as Venku spoke, seeming to take a step forward to engage the Sith, but Kreslin put his hand out, halting the youth. "Your enthusiasm and words fill me with pride, lad, but this is not a fight you can take. Go, get to our forces and organize the advance on the capital. I shall handle this one and catch up." The last words were spoken towards Telis himself, and the finality in the Warmasters words left no room for negotiation as he took a few steps towards the Sith, twirling the Beskad in his hand loosely.

"I may be a simple, barbaric warrior, Sith. I may be a man without a home, wandering a galaxy too big for myself. But in all that, in all my simplicity and flaws, I do know one thing to be true though. No true peace or serenity can be built on the back of genocide. I would never use grand statements and pretty words to cover up the truth. Manda'yaim was taken from us. My people were slaughtered in their homes by the Sith who now claim they did it to bring stability and peace to a world." Kreslin came to a halt then, two meters away from the Sith, bringing the Beskad blade in his hand up in a brief warriors salute before lowering down into a combat crouch.

"I do not seek to destroy this world, Sith. I seek to liberate it from the idealistic marauders who took it from us. I will stand by my actions, and let the nobility of your Empire answer to my blade."

 

[Stardust Solus Skirae]

As a beast jumped for her, she grabbed it and slammed into the ground silencing it in this battle as she turned and angled her blades to slice one into three pieces as she stepped forward and stood as she started forward again as darkness began to seemly ooze around her. The witch spoke back and iddly spoke sense as stardust stood straight and chuckled

you speak sense...I will only give you that

The agony and death was all around her, yet this didn't phase the veteran, for it was not the first time such a thing had occurred and as such she was numb to it. The witch asked if she was afraid if the night and went on to say the light in her was obsolescent to her world

I fear night the shadows which you, weave, what little light I have in me sets ablaze my fires that I will use to burn these shadows back

Her sabers deactivated, hands at her side as she formed fire around them eyes scanning around her, she heard the witch by her and shot a plume of flame yet they didn't connect, she turned to see small bits if flame forming and amused she did hit yet they formed into people from her past, all smiling with rows of feral teeth. A few she could remember her ex husband gray, her mother and father staring back at her, different friends and family yet the dragon stayed a steady mind as she growled seeing the witch appear

I am likely damned to the nether no matter how much I'd pray, for the ability I've had since I was born

The fire in her hands grew hotter, stardust glared at the which and held her hands up

THE DAY I FALL! THE NETHER WILL GET A NEW BEAST THAT ALL SHALL FEAR!

The darkness fueling her the flames turned to plasma, being launched out in a half circle towards the witch

Pom Stych Tivé

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

N I G H T S I S T E R S​

Tag: Stardust Solus Skirae
​

The Nightsister intently watched the Mandalorian woman as she spoke, studying her body for the most subtle telegraphing movement revealing when she begins to strike. As the moment presented, Pom immediately braced her footing, focusing her mind on raising a hellish whirlwind before her, she formed the intensely hot raging flames into a fiery tornado, which churned before her.

'Green just like the Spirit of Ichor,' she thought, curious.

"What a shame," she stated, "So much potential, and yet raw energy is all you form?" It is true, "Remarkable feats can be formed out of this. But you don't know about such things at all; do you?" Pom snickered, "You're in the wrong family!"

Pom twisted their relationship with the porthole of the Nether, altering their current trajectory with the world beyond. She immediately opened the porthole which resounded with a thunderous crack. Accustomed to the sudden rush of the landing on solid ground once again, along with the instant assault of blinding light of the majestic physical world, she did not falter upon her heels. She placed Star on solid ground along with her once again, and stole her back into the pitch blackness of the Nether, closing off her exit, repeatedly. She assaulted the woman with mere Pushes and Pulls in the Force as she did so. Unprepared, she expected her challenger to stumble onto her arse again and again with each reestablished contact with solid ground. She knew that the art of standing within the Nether is naught but a mental adherence to the physical affirmation of one's existence, and is not in any way reality. Many just cannot stomach the imagery of voyaging across endlessness. The parameters of the Netherworld are to each unique as they are determined to design it.​

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[Kes Stag]

Location: Ruins of Sundari, Mandalore
Objective: Fight for the MU
Allies: Mandalorian Union and Allies | T Tyrana Beroya Kreslin Westwind
Enemies: TSE and those against the MU | Open to interaction

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"In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity"
​

You staying here or going into the city, ner vod?

Kes looked over to T Tyrana Beroya "The Union isn't paying me for nothing" he said with a smirk. "Longe range comm-link is fried, lost contact with my squad. At least with it gone I won't have to listen to any rally masters constantly trying to ram propaganda down my throat" he continued while checking his carbine for any damage. It seemed not too long ago they were just a small band of mandalorians, dreaming of the day they would liberate Mandalore. Kes' dreams of course were about getting paid but as an outcast who followed the Resol'nare the prospect of liberating Mandalore had sparked some interest in him.

"The rest of my gear is alright, lost a bit of fuel on the flight down but I'm ready to move." he said as he watched the battle begin from a distance. The ideals of a noble scoundrel soon disappeared from his mind and the opportunistic arms dealer took over. "I bet the Sith Troops and those enemy mandos got some good gear, could fetch a good price for their weapons in hutt space. A few clans would also pay a hefty amount of credits for those basilisks." Kes would be sure to return to the battle once it was over, if he made it out of course.

As they continued to wait for a response from the Warmaster Kes let his mind wonder. A mandalorian civil war amongst a battle against the Sith, sure was an interesting fight. Kes didn't blame them for their actions, various clans and factions have warred against each other over territory and power since the inception of their culture, a culture he often found himself at odds with. That's why he signed up as a mercenary, couldn't stand clan life and the rules that came with it and he'd never forget the exile of his parents, nor would he forget the freedom he felt as a Hutt's hired gun in his youth.

 

[Seydou of Thyrsus]

Objective: Liberate Mandalore from Sith, Union and Blackwing
Location: Approaching surface
Allies: Isaiah Priest | Kestus Bralor | Trajan Kurze | Meshla Detta | Rynn Vizsla
Enemies: Blackwing/MU/TSE
Engaging: O Omegon
In vicinity: Kreslin Westwind | Venku Bralor | Telis Taharin-Zambrano

D O N ' T _ G E T _ I N _ M Y _ W A Y​

Absorbed by the tunnel vision formed of his thirst for vengeance, Amon missed the appearance of a droid intercepting his way. The darksaber clashed straight into the raised arm of the drone, he drove it deeper to no avail. Beskar, most likely - yet another example of the desecration of the Mandalorian heritage by the pretender's lapdogs.

Green photoreceptors illuminated unto his emerald visor and the thing jabbed at him verbally. Its words escaped his mind, too focused into rending the metallic arm with his blade. His recklessness cost him as the droid swung its heavy arm down onto his helmet. The world flashed black as he staggered backwards. Thermal gel splattered across his face and a throbbing headache plagued him. Amon barely registered Meshla's voice as he tried fighting the blackout.

He tasted the bitter gel run down his lips and looked up at the towering drone. A violent scowl formed across his face beneath the helmet. Blue lights whirred to life. Amon fired a punch in the air towards the droid sending a wave of powerful repulsor energy at the enemy.

 

[Cara Dorniarn]

Location: The Foundry
Opposition: Siv Dragr | Sidiqq Ordo
Allies: Ingrid L'lerim | TSE

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She restrained the desire to grin in a mocking way, displaying at most the shadow of a polite but cocky smile. If the warrior thought her to be only a worker or footsoldier then all the better. There were rewards for being an unknown. She stayed her tongue as he spoke, instead calculating with wandering eyes the length of the metal floors and surmising their thickness. Vibrations grew with the slow but steady pace of the cyborg's gait, each step a testament to the creature's brutish nature and its existence for punishing warfare.

A harsh whir of gears sounded as her arm pushed forward to meet the crimson spear her assailant fired. Fabric from the labcoat's sleeve burned as she slapped the bolt from the air, the red wash revealing a shimmer of metal as the white threads fell away. Her other hand remained firmly in her pocket, yet it too was prepared to block a blast.

Her guise was down, eyes burning intense as a full crucible, "Don't make me hurt you before it gets here."

With a violent motion Cara rose her foot and fist then slammed both into the ground. Large metal tiles screeched as they were warped, the deformations buckling the floor in a line barreling toward the Mandalorian.

 

[Jaster Awaud]

Location - Mandalore Space
Objective - Blockade Concordia
Allies - MU and Liberation Armies
Enemies - TSE and their Allies

- Jaster could not answer any of those that tried to get in contact with him. The winding flow of the Force around him was like trying to fight waves with a blanket. No matter how hard it was for him, he had to push through and continue the Battle Meditation for the Union. He could feel the conflict that everyone was in, the death and the Dark Side. Jaster was a Master of the Balance, the Force was not a thing to be worships, or a means to power. It was just another tool in a Mandalorians Tool Box. He trained day in and day out since he was awoken from Deaths grasp. Traveled the galaxy, found ruins and lost orders, masters and apprentices, all that could showed him the usefulness of the Force. He was Mandalorian, and it was their duty to master whatever trade they had entered. So he pushed himself to new extremes to master these new tools, and it was here that he would use them to liberate his homeworld.

- As Jaster struggled in the Captains chair, his droid companion had his job to do. Twoozer finished handing out orders to the fleet and look to the coms officer that relayed the message from Adenn Kyramud and the Tactical Droid opened a channel back. "That will not be possible Alor Adenn, the 1st, 2nd, and 4th Fleet have a different objective, order from High Command is that Liberation Forces of Mandalore are transferred to you Alor," He paused as he sent the Fleet Communication Codes on an Encodded Laser Line directly to the Alor. "The Union Fleet will be moving to our next objective now Sir, Alor Jaster wishes me to relay this message," There was a pause, "Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur."

- With that the Union Armada moved out of position and started burning a whole through the Sith Fleet. One of the Lucrehulk also followed the Armada but stuck close to the carriers. This time the Mephirium Class Battlecruiser was leading the charge. All Batteries, missiles, and flak banks were let loose while hundreds of Fighters and Bombers offered support to the push. The large Armada just speared through the lines of Sith Battle Groups, none were able to stop their advance. The Union Armada was pushing to get the Fleet between the Moon of Concordia and Mandalore itself. The weapons of the moon were not yet used on the planet, but Jaster knew that was only for as long as the Sith knew they had a chance. Now however, Twoozer had the battle plan downloaded into his data banks.

- "All Ships, position Gamma-Zero-Zero-One."

- The Union Armada changed position again. There was little that changed, but the Shield Ships were still on the front lines, but the Fleet Carriers were right next to them. The Dakka Corvettes created a tight net around the Carriers while the Ba'vodu Cruisers covered the flank and rear. The Heavy Cruisers were moving around the fleet and took care of any ships that got to close. The Missile Cruiser stayed close to the Flagship and patrolled the moons facing Mandalore to shoot any ships trying to leave the moon.

- "Deploy the Army."

- Within second the Carrier and the Lucrehulk that was at the center of the protective blockade fleet launched hundreds upon hundreds of Liburna-class Low Altitude Dropship. They all carried Jasters Private Droid Army, Three Hundred Thousand disposable Droids along with weapons and light vehicles that could keep the Sith Occupied. Their job was to keep the Moon Occupied while the Ground Forces took the capital and captured their Homeworld. The Union Armada would do its best to keep the line held for as long as they could.

Fleet Comp

Spoiler

Jaster Fleet Comp
1x Mephirium Class Battlecruiser
3x Jaraden-Class Fleet Carrier
4x Ba'vodu Class Cruiser
- 2 Critical
4x Solace-Class Heavy Cruiser

• 1 Critical
• 1 Destroyed

10x Jansserie-Class Shield Corvette
8x Arbitrator-class Missile Frigate

• 3 Critical
• 2 Destroyed

14x Dakkafort-Class Corvette

• 8 Critical
• 1 Destroyed

1x Lucrehulk-X-class bulk freighter

Fighter Wing
25x Squadrons of Awaud Superior Wing
9x Squadrons of A'den Class Starfighter
8x Squadrons of TCW-09 Bomber

Droid Army

Spoiler

Hundreds of Liburna-class Low Altitude Dropship
NH-Knight Droid - Ground Units
NN-2 Front Droid - Heavy Infantry
NN-Disco Droid - Anti-Infantry Droids
NK-Wasp Droid - Aerial Fire Support
Chupacabra - Ground Transport/AV/AA
AMCAP Walker - High Speed Walkers

 

[Caden Evesa]

Mandalore.

Almost instantly, the fighting had begun. Caden wasn't surprised, he had been in most of the planning meetings. He had expected an almost instant fight with the The Sith Empire. What the young man hadn't expected was to be going into his third battle with the Sith in less than three days.

He was worn down and exhausted. Amani, then The Shadow Hand. He had gone from one to the other and both of them had been a real, true challenge. He had almost hoped he could go into the battle for Mandalore with a little bit of sleep and a break, but that was too much to ask.

Originally, the man had fought on the front lines, lightsaber in his hand. His Jedi Robes were again coming into use, slightly repaired this time. He was exhausted, fighting The Sith Empire was wearing him out, especially three times in about fifty hours with no sleep.

Caden had gone from killing no-one in his life to tearing through Sith soldiers. His first kill had been in self defense, his second to save a friend. In the end, he lost track of the reasons that he was coming up with for killing Sith soldiers.

He was exhausted and sick of being covered in blood.

That was why he had pulled back from the front line. He needed to take a breather, allow himself to process everything that he had done in the fifty or so hours since he had landed on Voss and gone head to head with Amani. He truly needed to process.

Walking through the streets of Mandalore, he couldn't help but think. He thought of every solider his yellow blade had claimed the life of. He thought about how each soldier had a family, how he had robbed that family of their chance to see a brother, a sister, maybe even a father.

Guilt overwhelmed him, and he kept walking in silence.

Quinn Varanin

 

[Aloy Vizsla]

N O R T H E R N - S U N D A R A I​

Equipment: Thousand Degree Blade(Beskad), "Hissing Ghosts"(x2), Modified NN-14s, "Banshee"(Sonic Disruptor Staff), TTOT Scatterblaster, Vibro Switchblade, Chainbreaker, Furies(X6), Beskar'gam(Ga'yusr'gam). ​

​

Forces: House Awaud Suppercommandos(x24)​

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Allies: The MU and other True Mandalorians \\ Darsch Vizsla Shai Maji ​

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Enemies: Any and all Imperial Puppets, Sith and Otherwise.​

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Engaging: Kytana ​

​

* BLAM* Another shot rings out overhead, Crashing through the low wall and then right through the Supercommando's head, His lifeless body stumbling back and slumping over in front of the remaining commandos.​

​

<"There goes another one... They're targeting officers, Keep quiet.> The next in command sighs before turning to the others, Directing them via coded hand gestures to join the Deathtropers of Krieg below them, Sending the entire platoon leaping down into the streets and back alleys, Their falls broke by their HDG Packs, Causing a series of ghostly green splashes in the dark alleys just before their descent. ​

​

Meanwhile, Down below... ​

​

Joti suddenly feels the strange sensation of movement as she is dragged through the rubble by her comrade, The polluted gray and gold sky slowly fading away, Replaced by the dimness of the building she'd fallen from. When at last she came to a stop, She could see Shai Maji standing kneeling beside her. "MMH!" Next came a jolt of sharp pain as the Shistavanen felt for the slug with a claw, A feeling that was neither familiar nor expected. The slug itself had slipped below her backplate and through her kinetic vest, Else there may have been beskar in the wound which would have complicated things. Despite this, She was in shock, Having never been shot with a slug thrower before, And wasn't entirely sure if she was dying or not.​

​

* Choom* * choom* She twitches as a pair of blaster shots catch her eye, Her eyes darting towards the blue flash outside. Instead of more fighting however, Darsch Vizsla is the first thing she sees, The large blue Vizsla sliding into the room and beside Joti, Dead Imperials and Rushing Kriegir Legionaries trailing behind her.​

​

Spoiler: Token Drama Music

​

"Dar- Cough" She tries to speak, But only shallow breaths came as she looked up, Deep Blue eyes staring into the cold and empty glare of the Vizsla's visor. Not the last sight she wanted to see. She would have preferred to stare into her Vibrant Emerald Eyes, Even if one of them was cybernetic now.​

​

The presence of their helmets really disconnected one from the emotion moment's like these. Maybe that was for the best. She didn't want to see the worry on Darsch's face, She didn't want to the next person to leave and cause her pain, Just like EllieEx .​

And yet, What she was about to say, Could very well do just that. ​

​

She was told to breath, But the remaining air in her lungs would be put into what she thought were her last words. ​

​

"B-Blue." She raises her hand, Placing it gently against the side of her partner's helm. "Shut up, A-* Cough* And listen for a sec," She knew the moment that Darsch had left for Krieg, The moment she had been without her partner, That she never wanted to part ways ever again. She'd been the Lone Wolf for years before they met, Surviving on the Bounty Hunter's trade, Selling her gun and soul to the highest bidder and living from paycheck to paycheck, Shady cantina to shady cantina where she drank and drugged herself until she had forgotten her sorrows, The faces of the Kin she'd lost, The father she'd slain, The homeworld that had been taken from her.​

​

​

​

Darsch had, For a time, Saved her from all that. Her addiction had ceased, And for the first time, She had another Mandalorian to call a friend, And even though they were always on the move, And the place of her birth had fallen to ruin, There was one place that felt like home, And In her mind, If she were to die by her side today, Than at least she would die in the place she considered a home: Not Mandalore. Not Concordia. But beside Her.​

​

"Darsch... I.. I love you..." She says in a quiet voice. She finally says. ​

​

​

“Bosnauk kul dobat, hundur. Gundum agh maukum, zatal za lat ukmash liwo juliave to ishi gurz.” ​

​

No! Not now. Anytime but now...​

​

She turns suddenly, Spotting the small green haired woman, Carrying the large rifle. This was the woman that had shot her, It had to be. And now she'd come to finish the job. That means the Graug aren't far behind.​

​

"Good..." She grunts, Starting to catch her breath.​

​

"It's better to Burn than to fade away right?!"​

​

She spat, Turning to Kytana as she spoke with all the venom and fire left in her, Leveling both her vambraces at her and spewing streams of fire at the woman's face, The fire and rage dancing in her eyes. You won't take this moment from me. No one will.​

​

 

[Stardust Solus Skirae]

Pom Stych Tivé

Been awhile since she had a opponent she had to think on, this was gonna require more finesse then just blinding throwing fire out towards her enemy. Watching that whirlwind with awe she barely noticed the resounding crack and then suddenly they were back! Stardust braced herself to land as her Buyce filtered the light so she wasn't blinded. Landing roughly she went to stand and suddenly now she was being thrown in and out of that damned place then back to the world! Each time that witch used the force in her making her stumble, fall, wobble, and gently unable to get proper footing each time she came out.

She normally would think this was neat and even fun but this was FAR from the time for that, instead she grew further annoyed and began to clench up her fist in anger, she needed a opportunity, looking to her belt she reached for a thermal detonator and held it close as she kept scring like she was fumbling about like some ragdoll. Setting the thermal det to medium yield she popped her neck and chuckled speaking to herself

eat this you stupid bi-

She was cut off as she was taken back in, as she came out she focused on her signature and twisted as she threw the thermal det, which had but only a couple seconds before it exploded

 

[Bridger Axii]

Allies: The Mandalorian Union
Enemies: Imperial Invaders and their puppets

The Paper Dragon came churning through the thinning layers of atmosphere on the desolated planet Mandalore, above the skies a brilliant lightshow illuminated in greens and blues and reds, creating a rainstorm of fiery metal delivering death and smoke from above. The Mandalorian's ship brought with it a streak of thick smoke bellowing from the aft-most thrusters as it came plummeting through the sky. Flipping countless switches and buttons, Bridger worked to send the auxiliary power to the remaining thrusters in hopes to keep the starship somewhat level as he rapidly approached the ground. Hissing out a few curses underneath his breath, Bridger pulled tightly on the steering of the ship, pulling it up as the craft hit the ground with a thunderous bang, Bridger despite his best efforts came lurching forward out of his chair as his head whipped violently forward. Small tools and other gear adrift on the ship were tossed as they banged around wildly. The nose of the ship began excavating a trench in the dead soil of the planet as her majesty came to an all but beautiful, screeching halt.

Shaking his head, Bridger immediately checked his hands out of reflex for any signs of double vision or concussion, something he had unfortunately grown used to at a young age. A few loose wires on the control panel sparked as the main lights in the ship went out, replaced by an ominous glow of red warning lights and other flashing emergency lights displayed on the control panel. Bridger extended his arm for support against the chair as he came to his feet with a dissatisfied grunt. Fortunately he was unscathed, but now he'd have to burn another few thousand credits to repair his ship yet again, at this point Bridger began to consider the possibility of renaming his ship to the "Money Hole." Bridger traversed his way into the deeper compartments of the vessel, using his hands to guide him along the bulkhead as his hands grazed across the familiar feeling of the weapon locker door, quickly prying it open and grabbing what felt like his X-45 sniper rifle.

Continuing his tour through the vessel, he eventually made his way to the familiar hangar bay door, activating the lever as the hangar bay door opened, unleashing a swell of intense light into the dark ship. Not a moment after the hangar bay door came open, Bridger stared death straight in the face. In this case death came in the form of a t-shaped visor. A deathwatch scout hoping to make a name for himself among his order of schemers and traitors made a move on the Mandalorian, drawing his blaster pistol as he took aim on Bridger, firing a single shot. As the dar'manda's arm extended to fire the shot Bridger instinctively curled his body inward slightly, the blaster shot ricocheting off his beskar pauldron, not powerful enough to cause damage but at a close enough range to surely shake the bones. Thrusting the sniper forward at the dar'manda it slapped him across his chest causing him to instinctively flinch, giving Bridger all the time he needed to finish off the pretender. His body moved on his own, programmed as he had made the same maneuver countless times before, drawing his DE-10 Blaster pistol, or so he thought. As his hands came to grip the weapon they were met with air, his trusty blaster wasn't there.

"Well shit."

 

[Darsch Vizsla]

Darsch looked down at Joti gazing into her blue eyes then the words hit her. Everything went quiet for the Vizsla being lost in her thoughts for a moment. Joti had said those words and it was a shock to Darsch. Deep inside, something came out. The hardened warrior did have a love for Joti. Under her helmet was a half smile and a blush. She snapped out of her thoughts and looked at the medic. He had finished operating to remove the slug. Joti had been patched up and could keep fighting if she felt safe. She began to speak.

"You picked the worst time to talk about this! Joti Johayc, we will speak about this later.. Now quit being a drama queen, we have a job to do.."

Darsch said in a nice but annoyed tone. She loved Joti as well and didn't want to hurt her feelings. After the battle, she was gonna show how she truly feeled for the red headed mando that sat in front of her. Her hand reached out and firmly grabbed Joti and pulled her to her feet.

"Get the hell up, vod.. We've got an army of Sith to burn!"

The legionaries would move to assist Darsch as Kytana and her Graug appraoched. Darsch would take out her revolvers spinning them before aiming at the woman with the large rifle. The heat from the flames that Joti shot out was unexpected but she would now assist. Another round of spinning was done by Darsch before firing the revolvers at Kytana. The Legionaries nearby would open fire on the approaching enemy. This Woman and her aliens stood in the way of Darsch's forces. The Anti-Aircraft cannons must be destroyed and fast. Flying would be a deathtrap. She wouldn't be able to get to all of them in time but her men who were scattered across the city could.

<"All Platoons and Fireteams. Move to destroy or capture the Anti-Aircraft. You'll have to do this without me. I'm sure you'll complete the task with ease, Vizsla out.">

She said into her comm as the battle raged. As soon as she gave the order, Legionnaire Platoons and Deathtrooper Fireteams would attack the Sith Anti-Air emplacements hoping to make a hole in there air defenses so that air support and reinforcements could fly in without risk of getting shot down. Meanwhile Darsch would continue fighting being an expert with her revolvers.

Aloy Vizsla Shai Maji @

 

[Venku Bralor]

Allies: Stardust Solus Skirae
Engaging: Pom Stych Tivé

Blaster bolts flew past the dome, allowing for brief moments of light. The steel trap that surrounded the two mandalorians was bathed in darkness, lit only by the flash of blaster bolts outside, and the bloody glow of the darjetti’s lightsaber. Kreslin Westwind said go. There was nowhere to go. Instead Venku did the next best thing. Comms crackled as the rallymaster related the orders. He would have to trust them to lead in his absence. Turning back to the fight, the togorian kept a wary eye on the two combatants, careful not to get in the way. His misstep would not get kreslin-

Light erupted in the small space. As it receded, two figures could be seen, wrestling in the mud. Light flashed again, blinding the togorian with its brightness. Three figures were gone.

The sky was obsolete, the ground was unimportant, left and right became meaningless sounds. All was replaced with dark and light. The colors swirled around each other, peaceful in one place and clashing in another. Venku did not fall. He did not fly either. But he did move. He moved in some unknowable direction as the light and dark flashed around him. A groan escaped his throat as he was teleported out, stomach lurching. Gravity was gone, his eyes assaulted with that darkness. It returned with a jolt, tugging at his stomach as shaky hands yanked it off his head. Light swirled as once again gravity was wrenched from his grasp, along with his helmet which tumbled from spasming hands and his lunch which moved with him in that endless void. Again and again the process repeated, disorienting the already confused feline.

Noise assaulted his ears, an endless cacophony of screams and whispers. Distantly he heard the sound of fighting, but it was broken and disjointed, meshed together with the sounds of battle and death like a poorly made holovid. Gravity returned, sending Venku plummeting into the dirt. His helmet was gone, lost in that Other place. Wind and heat battered at his fur. He felt utterly exposed. He was helpless.

He would not be helpless.

The void returned with violent clarity. If this place had no gravity, then he would make one himself. It was no different than the vornskr lunging down, or climbing the roof of the caverns below his home and considering them the floor. Armored legs stretched out and paws found the ground. Venku stood, golden eyes staring at the two figures. A detonator went off, though he was not immediately sure who it was meant for.

He would not be helpless.

Trembling hands grasped his staff as Venku came to bear. Before him, the two combatants fought on the wall. Grey ears flattened against his head and lips parted into a feral snarl.

He would not be helpless.

The storm was gone, replaced only with determination. Electricity crackled along his staff but did not sink beneath his skin.

He would not be helpless.

The staff spun, arcing through the air towards the night sister. A blow towards the torso followed by a strike to the knees. Perhaps she would be disoriented by the blast and he could catch her off guard. Perhaps he could win this fight. Golden eyes glowed in the force, alight with a dangerous concoction of adrenaline and determination.

He would never be helpless.

 

[Aerith Krayt]

// LOCATION // Mandalore
// OBJECTIVE // Terminate Mandalorians
// ALLIES // Kytana
// ENEMIES // Shai Maji
//EQUIPMENT// In Bio; Armed with CF6 Concussion Rifle as primary weapon.
Based on the com chatter she was hearing, her team wasn't doing so hot. Unfortunate, but not unexpected. Mandalorians were a stubborn breed, they wouldn't go down easily. In a way, they were like bugs, only way to get rid of them was to burn them out. She had been grouped together with yet another suicidal squad, their mission being simple; protect the anti aircraft weapons until the signal could be given. It was a futile effort, but she knew what the real game was here; hold on to what was left by your fingernails, make the enemy die before you do. It was typical Sith war strategy, and look where it had gotten them. Being sent to the field with a group of soon to be dead Commandos, the cyborg ignored the few signs they tried to throw her way. None of them were going to get out of this mission alive after all, they were just delivering her to the drop off spot, and if they managed to live it was a pure luck on their part. Aerith on the other hand had another mission assigned to her. Concussion rifle sat between her legs, Aerith gripped the rifle tightly, the minor 'hum' of the engines being the only thing that filled her mind. She was always tense before deployment, being held helpless in the air by the work of novice airmen, it wasn't a feeling she particularly enjoyed. When the voice of the pilots came on over the intercom, she breathed a sigh of relief. "Tarenatak Squad, we are nearing the drop off point. Prepare for deployment." Reaching the side panel of the gunship, Aerith ignored the startled remarks of her lessers, pulling the door open, and gazing upon the destruction that erupted down below her.

At one point in her life, she remembered enjoying the fires that came from battle. Now, it just felt empty.

If nothing else, the chaos would give her an excellent opening for deployment, and her team would work as a great distraction. Her right eye flicked on, giving a run down on how high up she was from the ground, and taking into account what she was about to do. Taking hold of the outside of the gunship, the cyborg flung herself out of the drop ship, her right arm clamping down tight as she fell, her cybernetics giving her feedback on the approaching cityscape before her, left arm twitching to initiate the jetpack controls. Her right eye flashed a warning as she broke past the 10 meter marker, and signaling to the cyborg that it was time. Throttling her jetpack to full, Aerith straightened her back, pulling up sharply as she nearly impacted against a small theater, and moved to take a position with some high ground. The gunship was busy laying down suppressive fire on a squad of Mandalorians near a weapon emplacement, no doubt her team moving to engage them. The real prize however, was the leadership that had given the order. They might have lost the battle, but they could still cripple the clans.

She picked up on a pair of Mandalorians moving on the streets below, and leapt down to investigate what they might have been doing. Not seeing a need to be subtle with a war breaking out all around her, Aerith struck the streets, making a dent in the ground, and catching the attention of the Mandalorians. They seemed to have their hands full, explosives of some sort, though it didn't do them much good here and now. Aerith beat them to the draw, and fired two concussive blasts into their chests; causing quite a few internal injuries she would imagine. She moved towards the bodies, giving one more shot to the head of each Mando just to make sure, and took the explosives for her own use.

Things were starting to get interesting.

 

[Rynn Vizsla]

​

Location: Mandalore's Surface; Infested Graug Encampment.
Primary Objective: Cleanse the Surface. Stop the Rancidious Order.
Secondary Objective: Defy the Unworthy.
Contractor: The Ragnar Syndicate.
Allies: True Manda'yaim | The Oathsworn.
Enemies: The Sith Empire, The Rancidious Order, The Mandalorian Union.
Equipment: See the Link in the Signature.
Complement: One Basilisk War Droid, [Currently Mounted.]
Engaging: Khornelis Lusk and the Rancidious Order, as well as the Sith-Imperial Blackwing Graug Infestation. ​

This mission was rapidly turning into a mess of inordinate proportions. Rynn was told and subsequently believed that the forces of the Sith Empire had withdrawn from the Sector. That they slowly pulled out of Mandalorian Space to reinforce other fronts that dealt with either the Silver Jedi or the New Imperials. However, as the Young Vizsla was breaking through the atmosphere - a chance glance towards the fiery heavens made him believe otherwise. Dozens of Cruisers, both with markings from the Sith Empire and the Union of Carrion, populated the solar tides above the ruined planet. In numbers that defied initial projections, the Oathsworn were outnumbered by a factor that the Mandalorian couldn’t even begin to fathom.

Warriors with a weaker constitution would’ve buckled by now. They would have begun to question the motives of their Commanders, asking themselves why their Officers were leading them towards certain death? Surely, before the first shots were fired - they could have struck an accord with the Union. Swearing to stand beside one another and reclaim their despoiled Homeworld, together as One. However, Rynn wasn’t a weak warrior. He didn’t question the authority of his Commanders, for he knew their cause was just. They weren’t the ones who hid in the shadows and waited for the Sith to supposedly weaken their hold on this Sector. They weren’t Vultures.

While others would be quick to label their actions as Dar’ manda - Outsiders, or those who’ve lost their heritage, identity and soul. Rynn didn’t see it that way. Sure, their claim to the Creed was just as strong as his. They wore the same stylized armour passed down through one generation to the next and even spoke the same language. Yet, from everything that he was told or learned for himself, the Union was populated by the very same Mandalorians. They were the ones who lost their Homeworld in the first place. Who were also the very same Mandalorians who willingly threw themselves into bed with the Sith Empire. Spitting in the collective faces of their parents and their ancestors thereafter.

This battle was likely their attempt at redemption, and Rynn couldn’t hate them for that. If only they had chosen the right side in this ensuing conflict. Then there might have been a chance for the others, employed by the Ragnar Syndicate, to see their actions differently. Alas, the truth was laid bare for all to see. Rynn would never call them Dar’ manda. That was too courteous of a term to match their actions. They were Cowards. Unwilling to face their enemy head-on and prove themselves to be worthy of the armour they wore. They fled during the assault at Wayland when the tide turned against them, leaving the Sons of Mandalore to fend for themselves as they fought their way off the planet.

Time and time again - they had proven themselves Unworthy, and yet here they were. Perpetuating the cycle again, hoping that something would change. Wasn’t that the definition of insanity? Rynn was about to laugh, but that notion was swiftly cut short by the sounds of anti-aerial emplacements warming up and bracketing his War Droid’s integrated deflector shields. The projected corona flared as one impact struck their surface, followed swiftly by another. A mechanical groan resonated from his iron beast. It was an audible warning that sought to refocus the rider, to take their mind off whatever ailed them. Rynn shook his head to clear his thoughts. He needed to narrow his world to a point - where all that would matter was present and the moment that directly succeeded it.

As another barrage of plasmatic cannonade stitched the War Droid’s shields, the Young Vizsla snapped back to reality. He missed the rallying cries of his comrades, and when their Unit parted ways. But that didn’t matter. His voice would’ve been drowned out by the others who were more fervent in their beliefs.

When the world around him flooded into his refocused senses, Rynn saw the anti-aerial emplacements on the sundered plains below. He saw the legion of Graug clambering over one another as they sought to fight back against those who invaded their new burrows, and a swarmed shuttle in the distance. The Mandalorian couldn’t make out the details. Still, as it was a transport in the middle of the largest concentration of Vermin on the planet - it likely belonged to their target. For a split second, Rynn was about to cheer at the sight of a swarmed shuttle. The Graug probably completed his assigned task, meaning that his job became all the easier. However, as the War Droid ferried him closer to the swarmed shuttle… the Mandalorian felt his stomach tighten.

Dozens of Graug Warriors were dropping to their knees, gasping for air. They were dying in droves. While that wouldn’t have been a problem for Rynn or his fellow Crusaders, the Graug didn’t stay dead. After their bodies seemingly expired, those that fell found themselves animated by dark magics - and driven forth by their desire to feed. Those Warriors that fell and were reborn soon attacked their former comrades, tearing them apart - limb from ragged limb, howling with ethereal hunger. Rynn was horrified at the sight arrayed before him. Never before had he seen such sorcery in his life. He believed that it was nothing more than terrible stories meant to keep the children from misbehaving. Yet, the evidence to the contrary was staring at him - bestially yearning to consume his armoured flesh.

“I’m not touching down there,” Rynn said, as his mind managed to collect itself. The Veteran in charge of their detachment agreed. It was suicide to even entertain the thought, especially now that the virus was beginning to spread. And, quickly too. They needed to act and fast. Lest what remained of the planet become infested with Undead Graug. The Young Vizsla looked towards the distant Ruins of Sundari and the battle transpiring there. He thought of leaving this infestation alone, letting the Undead sweep across the surface of the planet and consume the rest of their misbegotten kind, as well as the massed forces of the Union as well. It would’ve been easier for them to mop up from orbit - glassing what remained of the planet and ensuring that the spreading plague would be contained.

That meant that they would be reliant on the New-Imperial Order to fight their battles for them. Rynn couldn’t stomach that thought. The Sons had already pledged too much in service to the Sith and gained little in return. It was time for them to stand on their own two feet. To take back what they lost with their own two hands. And to fight for what they believed in. He already proclaimed that he would fight here until his death; it would’ve been extraordinarily foolish and marginally hypocritical of him to back out now. “We need to contain them before this plague spreads any further!” Rynn almost shouted over his Unit’s encrypted channel.

“We need to take out those batteries first!” the Veteran replied, as his War Droid’s barriers flared. “We’ll be sitting ducks otherwise. Easy pickings for our Cannons!”

“There aren’t many emplacements, it’d be a waste for our Unit’s firepower to be diverted from containing these bastards,” Rynn snapped back in his native tongue. “Take two of the others with you and sweep up those emplacements. I’ll hang back with the rest and start chewing through this horde!”

There was a moment of silence that transpired across the channel before the Veteran finally acquiesced. It was a sound plan. Both objectives could be handled in half the time, with a momentary loss of firepower regarding containment. Should they survive their ordeal - the returning cannons would be a welcomed reinforcement. Rynn didn’t wait to see his Unit Commander race off towards the emplacements. Instead, the Young Vizsla turned his attention to the swarming masses below. His eyes narrowed, and his lips peeled back into a savage, bestial snarl. He squeezed the twinned flight sticks’ triggers, forcing the War Droid’s rotary cannons to roar into life. Ochre beams of coruscating lightning burst forth from the mechanical steed’s armoured prow, bathing the despoiled surface of Mandalore with a ceaseless stream of plasmatic hellfire.

An act that would be doubtlessly joined by what remained of his warriors, and fellow comrades in arms.

| Isaiah Priest | Amon Vizsla | Trajan Kurze | Maynard Treicolt | Loske Treicolt | Meshla Detta |
| O Omegon | @Union Forces near the "Infested" Encampment.​

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

O U T R I D E R
THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE
THE RAGNAR SYNDICATE
104th BATTALION 'WOLFPACK'
B L A C K _ P A R A D E

Reckoning. These infected beasts would see it as anyone else would today. He anticipated punishment for this. Demotion, court martial, exile. He was putting the lives of the men and women of his unit at risk over...what? A personal vindiction, a crusade. A crusade for a home long deem irrecognizable. But so wasn't everyone on this shattered world today. Such was the nature of the sons and daughters of Mandalore, Concord Dawn and the rest of it. There was no molding them elsewhere, only here. Only these abrasive lands and choking winds could've made them just as only the early sunsets, rugged hills and golden fields could've ever made Maynard. The Core was a newfound home but he was cut different from them, those in the Alliance, his contemporaries. They understood a different upbringing, different struggles. But in the end it was all just that, different.

He'd not live on his knees any longer, at the will and mercy of the man with the gun pointed at his head. Whatever marred his person would be reared back to assault the enemy with every fiber of his being.

Just as he said with Ryv at the onset of the Siege of Ravelin. It was time to make war. He would not let this day transpire the same as the last however. He would not fall so easily, he would not be caught off guard. If he was going to die today it would be choking in the ebon bile of the Blackwing infected Graug he'd piled up past his mortal height in a fruitful result of his retribution.

Where Loske was long to unsheath her blade, Maynard's snapped to life immediately after leaving the transport. He wanted to kill, more than any other time in his life. And for a Jedi, killing came far too easily. The Blade of Ruusan gifted to him by his brother after it'd been yielded to him by the very master of both his now wife and Ryv would be no where to be seen in Maynard's panoply. It had no place here. Ultimately, he wasn't sure it had any place with him at all. He was far rougher around the edges than any Jedi should well and truly be. He never had the resolute discipline of Lanik, the selflessness of Ryv, the patience of Auteme or the grace of Loske.

His light shined different than any other. Where theirs was a smooth and blinding incandescence.

His light was the fire.

He had the fury. The will. The means to endure. A mettle not so easily broken.

The very same blade he'd cut down the Sith who'd laid his kin down low would be the same he'd wield against these Graug today.

<"Treicolt, make yourself useful - Lusk must be stopped. I wouldn't trust a jetii but Priest vouched for you.">

<"Then I'm not going to let Priest down. Leave the Blackwing to the Wolfpack, Vizsla."> Maynard uttered through the comms to the once Antarian Ranger and now, Mandalorian Crusader Amon Vizsla.

<"Wolfpack. Equip incendiary. Flamers hot. No quarter."> Incendiary, disruptors. Means of making war banned by the Galactic Alliance at large now in the hands of their troopers. After all, those infected with the Blackwing didn't inherit the same rights as sentiment men and women. There was one singular approach to defeating them and the Wolf Pack would herd these chattle unto the killing fields.

<I can try and prevent the spread.>

<Just a matter of how close to the source we want to get, or if I start at the perimeter. How do you boys want to play this?>

​

<"We're gonna move to envelop the horde...and we're gonna burn 'em out. All of them."> Maynard orders through the t-visor of his helmet.

It was time to make war. The Wolfpack began to move in and choke out the Blackwing, whatever lethal means at their disposal under the full deployment in the field. As he should've anticipated, that armor made him feel invincible.

ALLIES | RAGNAR SYNDICATE | MANDA'YAIM | Isaiah Priest | Amon Vizsla | Loske Treicolt | Meshla Detta | Rynn Vizsla
ENEMIES | SITH EMPIRE | RANCIDUS ORDER | MANDALORIAN UNION | Khornelis Lusk | OPEN

[/div]

 

[Lucien Dooku]

UNTIL THE WORLD GOES COLD
KAL'ORITSOR | JEDI ARMOR
ALLIES | ENEMIES
OBJECTIVE - DO AS WE PLEASE

Spoiler: REINFORCEMENTS

STRIKE GROUP DOOKU
Nebula II-class Star Destroyer - NIV Myrmidon
REC-LC01 "Negotiator"-class Light Cruiser - Four Vessels
REC-LU01 HAAT - Five Squadron of Twelve
V-wing Heavy Interceptor - Six Squadrons of Twelve
Eta-2 'Midnight' Jedi Starfighter
-
173RD. STORMTROOPER LEGION - THE MYRMIDONS

​

---

---

The modest grouping of vessels slipped from hyperspace uninterrupted, thanks to the chaos that already ensued over the world of Mandalore. It was a planet whose legacy had been cemented into the fabric of the galaxy for thousands of years, with its people being romanticized in history and myth for the many tales of valor, bravery and daring that it's heroes had produced.

From the viewport of the Myrmidon's bridge, Luc couldn't help but appear befuddled, whilst his second-in-command stood readily next to him to disperse his orders to their forces moving forwards. It would seem as if the air across the vessel had been brought to a still for those moments of waiting and anticipation. His most loyal companions, Imperial and Mandalorian alike, patiently awaited for their deliverance upon the world, poised to spill blood where hostile targets had been marked on their huds.

Yet the order did not come- not at first, anyway.

Instead his gaze would shift from the view, only to settle upon the Imperial Admiral with a mischevious expression settling on his face.

"I wasn't aware that Mandalore was such a veritable shithole."

The Admiral didn't share Luc's amusement on the state of Mandalore, it seemed. "It has gone through alot, even before the Sith occupation." Rexton replied, only to receive a pat against the shoulder as Luc reversed from the viewport, moving his gaze across the personnel staffed on his bridge.

"It almost makes it hard to believe that this Union of Mandalori-"

"The Mandalorian Union."

"...Yes. Semantics aside, it's still mind-boggling to believe that these Mandalorians are willing to shed blood over a desolate world. This Mandalore is not the one of legends, or history, for that matter. The lives to be lost this day will undoubtedly be for nothing, even if this wayward group of Mandalorians does manage to steal this world from the Sith. Strategically the removal of the Sith from Fortress Imperious would've been the optimal choice for them to throw away their lives."

"Foolish as it may be, these Mandalorians take much pride in their culture, and the symbol that is Mandalore itself."

Luc shifted his eyes back towards the aging Admiral, a smirk cleary sitting on his visage by then. "Their culture, or any defining culture for that matter, is much like the Graug and pollution that currently is the state of their homeland. To live within it, you must breathe some of it in and, inevitably, be contaminated. If Mandalore is their culture, then these Mandalorians by default are just as contaminated as their brethren who live and die for the benefit of its Sith overlords, Admiral Mandela~"

The admiral moved to reply, only to be cut off by a final interjection as Luc began a slow pace to the turbolift. "Inform all vessels to hold a defensive posture in orbit of the world. Give the greenlight for my Myrmidons to deliver every individual not aligned with our Syndicate 'allies' to their gods and masters. Give no quarter to any who even appear hostile- those are my orders."

An affirmative reply exited the admiral's lips, just as the turbolift opened and revealed the cadre of Mandalorians who formed his personal command squad within his Legion. Mandela had already assumed that Lucien intended to do his own thing on the planet, much like Warlord had did during their covert defense of Weyland.

"And don't worry, Admiral, i'm just headin' down there for a little bit of fun." He called out, entering the turbolift with that familiar grin still plastered on his face as a lazy salute was shared for the few seconds that remained before the hydraulics shut the lift closed. To the hangar they went, and already the forward elements of his Legion were beginning their descent onto the surface of the worthless world beneath them. Shuttles would disperse and congregate around areas concentrated with Ragnar-aligned forces, with Lucien and his retinue of Sons of Mandalore companions touching down right into the thick of the sterilization of infected Graug at the hands of Maynard Treicolt and Rynn Vizsla .

Boots hit the ground within an instant, the shuttle taking off seconds later, leaving Lucien and the dozen Beskar-clad veterans to fend for themselves on the ground amidst the chaos. The killing field that the two parties had produced would find its lethality further amplified from the inclusion of Mandalorians and their accompanying gunships who strafed generously from overhead. A simple message was delivered towards the two leading men, in between the cleansing through death that his retinue was currently occupied with ahead of him.

"This is Lucien- a friend of a friend, in a manner of speaking. Anyway- I've brought a few friends to crash the party if you don't mind our presence."