Rebellion Operation Beskar Falls

[Shai Maji]

Allies: Aloy Vizsla | Talon Richwood | Darsch Vizsla | Jaster Awaud
Enemies: Kytana | Aerith Castiella (unidentified) | Sith
Equipment: Blitz'gam armour for this fight | weapons in bio | Mando vambraces in bio | Crushgaunts included | Jetpack included
Current objective: Hold the line

As Shai helped Joti recover, shots sounded off from outside. Her particle pistol was instantly drawn but immediately lowered as Darsch slid in along with a medic. "Thank kriff, I thought you were those monsters." she muttered as she scooted up, letting out a sigh of relief. She was about to explain Joti's condition when Darsch suddenly pushed her aside. She quickly regained her balance but was taken back by the action. "Hey, you could just ask." she scolded Darsch as she stood up and glanced around. There wasn't much she could do now that they were there, so instead she kept her eyes peeled for any sign of those monsters. With one ear she listened in on what they were saying as she walked around the place, glancing around the building for the enemy. At least they had support on top as well but that sniper was still out there...

Her ears perked at Joti's words. She turned and watched the moment with pursed lips. Though through the awkwardness, there was a pang of jealousy. If they both made it out alive... they could live a normal life. Something that Shai really hoped to have with Aerith...

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of doors getting broken down. She slung her rifle around her shoulder and drew her SR-17 as well, taking aim at the door where the sounds resonated from. Whatever was coming was really strong and really angry. Her heart rate started to climb again as her breathing picked up. Finally the entity arrived and knocked down the door, however once Shai took note of the fact that they weren't Mando, she opened up. Both trigger fingers spammed the weapons and poured gunfire onto the creature, not even giving her time to speak. The rounds likely would do some damage... hopefully. She wasn't sure what to do if her sudden attack didn't work or the creature's armour simply tanked it like it was nothing.

After a few seconds of firing, she stopped and leaned closer to inspect the damage as smoke trailed from the barrels of her weapons. "Oh kriff did I just kill a midget?!" she asked with concern as she took a step closer. To make matters worse, she heard more shots from outside and a quick glance confirmed that another Sith soldier was nearing them. "We got more company!" she called out as she backed up against the wall next to the door, reloading her SR-17. She was being overwhelmed, with the immediate danger in the room with them and the other one approaching. To make matters worse, that soldier's rifle was just as much as an immediate danger as the midget was. She finally boiled over and made a judgement call, though whether it was good or bad was beyond her capabilities of answering. "Take care of the midget, I'm taking that one on." she said to Joti and Darsch as she activated her jetpack and flew out of the building, immediately opening fire at the new arrival with her pistols before tossing a thermal detonator close to them. At the very least, she wanted to distract them while the other members of the assault force can catch up to help them all out...

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

N I G H T S I S T E R S​

The Nightsister reveled at the success of her little trip. It always humored her, how her people were met with a particular expectation for being the blight upon the galaxy as a most heinous unnecessary evil. The witch is the eternal bad guy, and the persistence of her challenger only supports the Nightsisters' innate bigotry against nearly every other culture in the galaxy. So many of her people have toyed with their notoriety and fed into it. It is exactly how the Nightsisters choose to be perceived, and on the most part they are left alone for it. But is this Nightsister actually trying to murder her opponent…yet? Is she brutalizing anyone…yet? The personal revelation has ever been that this Nightsister is not the monster on trial. The enemy's hatred without personal justification makes them far more dangerous than she who they fear. Worse yet, is the enemy on a self proclaimed holy war. She is profiled, marked for extinction, and still she isn't reacting in violence…yet.

Collectedly she stood, her mental faculties about her, touching down and teleporting away. There really is a crucial aspect to all this. See, the galaxy is multidimensional. The physical realm we all experience is measured by three, length, width and height. Then there is the forth dimension representing space-time. Ten, according to String Theory. The Nether, however is a singular plane. It is strategically tilted and rotated across the galaxy to meet coordinates x and y where the witch lands herself upon the physical realm. It requires mind over matter really.

The pace of her teleportation magnified with her intense focus. When the detonator was flung her way by Stardust Solus Skirae , the departed Mandalorians dwelling among the Nether here and who are obligated to serve the whim of their Mistress, lurched forward and quickly piled on to absorb the blast. The Nightsister broke concentration and growled.

She quickly plotted the trajectory of her next drop, when another of her servants bashed into the side of the witch, taking the spear hurled by one Venku Bralor who had been snatched into her porthole unsuspectedly. The Mistress plummeted.

The following tear in the porthole resulted in the inhabitants being inadvertently dispatched from the Nether into a nearby reservoir. This Mistress resulted in shock, taking a mouthful of water. She violently gripped hold of the buttons of her collar. As her body slowly drifted towards the lakebed, she slipped from consciousness, her mouth propped open and from her body produced twelve individual black plumes. The Wanica Coven appeared to rescue their Matriarch, tugging Potions from her vest to revive her.​

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[Kytana]

Location: Southern New Gratos, Unidentified City
Objective: Kill Mandalorians
Allies: TSE
Enemies: MU ( Aloy Vizsla Talon Richwood Darsch Vizsla Shai Maji ), Ragnar Syndicate, The Rancidus Order

For most soldiers, be they Mandalorian, Graug, Sith, Imperial, or some other variety who served within the vast, seemingly endless armies of the great galactic powers, death did not come in the midst of a heroic sally. Instead, it came for them when they least expected it, whether it was delivered through a well-spotted artillery shell, an AA gun shooting down their dropship, a mine cleverly concealed within the earth, or a precise sniper shot. In spite of all the tales of resilience stemming from battle, stories of brave men and women fighting to take back their home even in the face of long, nigh-impossible odds, things were different for most of the valiant souls who took up arms for one cause or another.

In entering the room, intent upon finishing her kill, Kytana saw the pair of pistols from the Mandalorian, raised and pointed directly at her chest. However, for all of her strength, bravery, and lust for blood, there was no power, beyond that of the supernatural, that could save her from whatever grim fate awaited her as the Mandalorian squeezed the triggers of the twin-headed dragons upon recognizing Kytana as a hostile presence.

Up until that moment, Kytana had overcome so much in spite of the circumstances of her birth. She had been born a runt within the breeding pits of New Gratos, having been so small in comparison to her siblings that her mother had thought to expose her in order to put her suffering to an end.

Nevertheless, the diminutive child had fought.

She had fought for food, for survival, and finally, for the right to be given her name, Kytana. She had fought so well that she had been inducted as a warrior of the Dark Legion, one of the few female Graug to be given the honor.

And now, her fight came to an end.

The superheated slugs came for her, imperceptible angels of death moving faster than her mortal perception could process. The few projectiles struck her in the chest, yet failed to punch through the beskar, which had been mined in grotesque abundance from the ravaged earth of New Gratos. However, it only took a single lucky shot to end it all, and the Mandalorian achieved two of them via unrelenting volume of fire. The mortal blows took her in the throat, with the first slug breaking the integrity of the armorweave and the next punching through, burying itself in Kytana’s windpipe as yet more continued to punch at her beskar-clad form.

The diminutive Graug warrioress fell to the ground, clutching her throat in a futile effort to stem the bleeding as her life’s essence continually spurted from her lips, staining her visor a crimson red, and rendering her almost entirely unable to see the outside world in the throes of her last moments. Nevertheless, a warrior to the end, Kytana didn’t stop fighting, refusing to close her eyes to embrace the Mist-Beyond, even after sensing that her battle was coming to its end.

The last thought to cross her mind before the Netherworld took her soul, was of home.

 

[Aerith Krayt]

// LOCATION // Mandalore
// OBJECTIVE // Terminate Mandalorians
// ALLIES // TSE Forces
// ENEMIES // Shai Maji
//EQUIPMENT// In Bio; Armed with CF6 Concussion Rifle as primary weapon.

Seeing as how she had acquired some destructive materials for her work, Aerith secured the packs of Detcharges to her belt, intent on putting them to use. Seeing as how she was going to be cleaning up the area before withdrawing, she might as well warn her fellow operatives to pull out. Switching to a local frequency, Aerith would broadcast her message to the local area, perhaps if there were survivors they could regroup at the anti-air guns for pick up. "If anyone is in the area, respond. Deploying heavy explosive ordnance into the field." She warned, turning back to face the sound of blaster fire, only to find another Mando looking to join the fray, they were so kind as to hurl a grenade at her. Lovely.

"I'm torn, not gonna lie!" she admitted with a chuckle as she sat forward again. "I'm gonna have to say that it's a tie. I absolutely love my particle pistol... but at the end of the day, throwing thermal detonators around always manages to make me giggle."

The fragment of a memory emerged, but Aerith quickly shoved it back down. There was no time for daydreaming, especially not now.

The Mandalorian had opened up with pistol fire, as two of the shots washed over her armor, and spurring the cyborg into movement. Her right eye locked onto the falling grenade with her rifle and squeezed off a shot, knocking the grenade off course or potentially breaking it, then turned her attention to the Mandalorian. She followed her attacker, her jetpack kicking on as the pair were now both airborne. The rounds from their gun chipped away at the therma-gel of her armor, but the Cyborg held strong. Switching to full auto, Aerith unloaded in quick three round bursts, intent on using the concussive force to knock the Mandalorian off balance, possibly damaging their jet pack, and if that was achieved, she would follow up with firing off a grapple line to snare them. If she succeeded in this, then the fun could really begin.

Mandalorian armor was typically too strong for most blasters and melee weapons; which personally was Aerith's preferred method to engage. However, they were exceptionally vulnerable to sonic weaponry. It wasn't a pretty death, but in her mind it was the only way to do her job. She could kill the Mandalorian, set their body with Det-charges, and throw it into a whole pack of them; good efficient extermination, according to her owner.

She would have loved to just stop fighting, to lay down her weapons and leave, but that choice had been taken from her. If she attempted that, she might have gotten a day before her 'subjugation' software would bring her back into the fold, and 'reconditioning' could begin. It was futile to resist. There was only kill or be killed.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The tremors which vibrated the soil seemed almost imperceivable comparative to the cacophonous din of war which engulfed Mandalore over the past several hours, but as the minutes ticked over into the next the rumbling from below seemed to overshadow that of the fighting. ​

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All at once, that trembling ceased.​

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And then a large tract of earth ruptured near one of the southern hemisphere cities, thrown upwards with such explosive force so that soil and stone rained down for miles around. Out from the gaping wound blown in Mandalore's earth emerged entire ranks of Graug warriors, arranged in marching columns, with Glycons and Dread Spiders spread evenly throughout their advancing ranks. This kind of event happened everywhere across the southern hemisphere, the Graug tunnels buried deep beneath the earth now being used to burrow up into the relatively idyllic southern lands of Mandalore. Each unveiling of Graug soldiers coincided with their immediate attack on nearby Mandalorian warriors and those unaligned with the Union. Winged creatures also poured from deep beneath the earth, filling the skies with great clouds of beasts that thirsted for blood and hungered for flesh.​

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The Dark Lord of the Sith emerged from the darkness of the subterranean labyrinth into the blood-soaked light of the surface world, a repulsor-chariot having been summoned for his convenience. He mounted the chariot and directed it towards the southern hemisphere, where the fighting was just now reaching a fever-pitch.​

 

[Siv Dragr]

V E N G E A N C E

Objective: Avenge Clan Dragr
Allies: Sidiqq Ordo
Enemies: Cara Dorniarn | Ingrid L'lerim

Siv's eyes narrowed as what had seemed to be a hapless, yet overconfident lab rat slapped the blaster bolt from Siv's pistol like it was just a bolo-ball. Her hand was encased by some sort of metal device -- or was that her hand? Siv couldn't tell, nor was he able to exactly get close enough to get a better look. More suspicious was her other hand, which was left in the pocket of her coat and Siv took note of that fact. Knowing some sort of unknown weapon was coming toward you was better than being caught completely off-guard.

Yet that cocky arrogance was gone, replaced by a wave of anger that burned from the woman's eyes. That was one of the disadvantages of not hiding your face, Siv knew; it made it easy for your opponents to read your emotions and intentions. "Don't make me hurt you before it gets here," she spat before raising her foot and fist and bringing them down in one fluid motion, sending reverberations throughout the floor.

Siv was prepared for an attack, but his eyes still widened slightly as the floor seemed to buckle in a line heading straight for Siv. Nevertheless, a cool head prevailed as his survival instincts kicking in, he instantly looked up for some kind of ledge or extended bar, and saw what he was looking for; a docking clamp that had previously held a TIE fighter, situated halfway between him and the woman. He raised his gauntlet and launched a grappling line, waiting for it to coil securely around the clamp before executing his plan.

Instead of running away from the rippling floor, he ran toward it. At the last second before collision with the buckling metal panels, the Mandalorian dashed to the side, light on his feet as he vaulted up a pile of debris and jumped. He let the momentum of his dash propel him forward as he swung on the grappling hook, disengaging in an optimal position that sent him on a downwards trajectory, feet extended in an elongated kick as the grappling hook slid noisly back into his vambrace. On his other, free hand, he drew his Skira dagger, planning to use it to finish the job.
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[Teyn Gratiir]

No World For Tomorrow

"They don't understand."

The voice was low, deep, and disappointed. The Sith Empire had diverted its attention to the worlds of Myrkr and beyond, to quash a Jedi and rogue Mandalorian threat - leaving the Mandalorian worlds ripe for the taking. And took they did. Pretenders in their metal masks, riding their stolen metal beasts, fighting for a cause they didn't believe in - dogs of an Empire that desired not freedom but slavery under another master.

"They never will." A voice over a communicator replied. "Why don't you just come home?"

"Mand'alor does not rest. Nor does its people. Not while they bleed."

-

The fighting had raged on long enough, and Teyn had understandably expected a swift end to the uprising by the likes of Lirka Ka or the Sith Darth Carnifex himself when he received news of his approach, but it appeared that there was a facade of an attack by anarchists under the leadership of Darth Assimilus that were to serve as little more than scape-goats for the Sons of Mandalore in disguise to rally the will of the Mandalorian people under while the Mandalorian Union sought to rebel against the Sith. "Leave the infected to me," A voice in his helmet's communicator said, "meet the rebel element and push for a duel by the terms of Mandalorian Code. You will have the advantage."

"Understood."

-

It would have been surprising that those that came to intervene in the internal conflict between the Mandalorian Union and the reign of Mand'alor the Conciliator did not come seeking out the Mand'alor had it not been clear from the onset that they didn't care for the people of Mandalore, that there was no integrity coursing through their veins - he marveled at the fighting as he watched Amon Vizsla drop to approach Venku Bralor and Kreslin Westwind , that so much focus was put on those that stood opposed to the Sith rather than the Empire and their own Mandalorian allies. A large, shuk'orok-covered, hand reached down for the hilt of the beskad at his thigh while the blaster in his other was raised and trained on Meshla Detta .

"It is always the blood of our brothers that stain the armor of the Dar'manda." He scoffed as he slowed his approach. "If you seek out Mand'alor then you have found him."

"Invoke the code - let me face my challenger."​

 

[Darth Assimilus]

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Location: Mandalore: Infested Gruag encampment
Objective: Draw them out and get left behind.
Enemies: Rynn Vizsla Loske Treicolt Maynard Treicolt Trajan Fett Isaiah Priest Amon Vizsla Meshla Detta
Engaging: Rynn Vizsla

The emergence of umber hulks. Through the strangling mist arose a new breed. Their frantic movements of desperation to breathe was an entire generations attempt at keeping a legacy that they could call their own. They dropped to the ground like flies to a shield wall. Their bodies limb and devoid of color. There after one by one a new army rose. Newly infected to join the hive. Though neural pathways no longer functioned normally as many interested in biology could observe, there was undoubtedly a new connection and awareness that took over once transformation was complete. What one knew the others knew and what the others knew the one knew.

This was demonstrated in full apon the arrival of war droids. As the mechanical machines scouted the area and responded to what Khornelis assumed was the distress beacon, His head turned & staring at a singular vehicle the blackwing horde fell in synchronization. Mishapen visages displayed hungering toothy smiles. Slowly in unison the shape grew deeper and wider till saliva dripped from their maws. Among the newly infected gruag, Khornelis, tall and slender that he was known to be, dwarfed in comparison to the size of his new brothers in undeath. For a mere moment his only distinguishing feature in the mass of still bodies was the lightsaber his relentless grasp clung to. A red crimson blade burning through the sheer of smog left over by the blackwing canister. Assuming-ly taking command and the role of leader Khornelis spoke up. His words barely a whisper and yet heard by those like him. The Undead.

" Spread out." He hissed in an arrogant tone. The crimson blade of his lightsaber retracting and fading back into the hilt. " We move out-" A shove interrupted the Miraluka giving him a startle and look of confusion. The large gruag fist that swatted him aside was host to the enigma that was the source of the Sickness just as the rest and yet this one challenged him and none of the others obeyed. A scream erupted in the undead mass as the horde slowly began to break part into different directions. It was a warning. The horde retreating back deeper into the gruag camp under the spray of plasmatic fire. Sprinting about like animals. Screams and growls became the camp. Charred lines of black scorched the earth below and bodies were torn asunder lay about the area from the strafing run of a Mandalorian warrior, Rynn Vizsla . For the first time in a long time Khornelis felt fear not only from the lack of air superiority but also the loss of command. Blackwing had given him everything and he had devoured the gift that was given but it was not free. This was what he had forgotten. The singular gruag stared down at Khornelis with a smile. And even though he knew the beings thoughts, the voice that spoke was not of its own self will. Oh no the gruag had been assimilated by the "virus" this voice was the source manifest. A mouth for a self-aware virus to speak.

Even as Khornelis backed away attempting to ignore the physical voice, He could still hear it within his mind. It nagged at him and lectured him like a child. The oscillating screams of the dead could of meant many things, but in this case the meaning of obvious. Danger. In line with the strafing path of the war droids rotary cannons, The miraluka hissed breaking into a sprint to the right. The heat following the blasts apon mandalore was a mere testament to what he had avoided. Looking back the gruag that "challenged him" or better yet lectured him was naught but ash and desecrated limbs flayed about. As the war droid flew away Khornelis honed his focus apon his driver. There was little he could do to harm him lethally from his position but what if the driver came down to him? A surge in the force spurred within him. A wave of invisible touch-less energy scanning over the Mandalorian. Deeper the energy focused down to the none other than the ear, then again it went further. Attempting to disrupt the function of the semi-circular canals and the connected oltolith organs. The result being, if fully successful, a horrid case of vertigo, ringing in the ears and sensation of nausea.

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The Blackwing Horde
Location: Gruag underground caverns -> Moving to the action
Objective: Attack in Overwhelming force.
Engaging: Aerith Castiella Shai Maji Aloy Vizsla Darsch Vizsla Talon Richwood Darth Carnifex
NPC's: Growing in mass.
Current number
x95 Infected zombie Gruag
x12 Infected zombie humans

They ran over one another to seize their destination. Was it naught for the convenient play of events that ocurred on mandalore today, the Rancidus Order would not have been able to act and spread as quickly as initially anticipated. The strafe run was merely the beginning of momentum. They (The Horde) clawed their way into the earth in desperate attempts to escape. An escape they found. Somewhere on mandalore a tremor had been caused. Activity deep within the planet effecting the deep cavern systems of the Gruag to be exposed. Creatures of the deep sprawled out sweeping infected zombies away in force. Winged beasts. As quickly as the monsters struck so too were they over whelmed with a clinging embrace. Soon the skies would belong to the Rancidus Order.

In time.

As the fissure opened wider the whole lot of the zombie horde fell down meters into the earth. Limp bodies crashing down into entire underground roads. A surprise to the Gruag running into battle. Much of the horde was trampled in the wake of movement and yet still they arose. Smiling grimaces from ear to ear. Growls, screams and breathy exhales silenced by the gruag war machine.

A buffet to feast on. As one the horde ripped and teared its way through caverns. Intercepting and infiltrating midst the chaos. Transmitting the virus into their own kind till cover was given away. Gruag fighting gruag. That was the picture from a birds eye view and only the victors of the conflict got to move on with a never ending blitz of motion. Emerging from the earth, contorted bodies twisted and turned squeezing their way out of cracks too small for bigger species to fit. Still it occurred and it was wrong. The very air and force gave off a sensation that screamed wrong. This is WRONG and not meant to be. The first wave of infected came in full force apon sith and mandalorians alike. Claws spread out seeking to dig into flesh, maws open to sate a never ending hunger and eyes catered to rage itself. Relentlessly they sought to from themselves at those in the battlefield and those also not. Eager to take on prey just as dangerous as them a splinter group of seven undead turned their gaze toward the Dark Lord himself in his repulsion chariot. The darkside that emanated from his being called to the "Sickness".

It hungered for more.

 

[Shai Maji]

Allies: Aloy Vizsla | Talon Richwood | Darsch Vizsla | Jaster Awaud
Enemies: Kytana | Aerith Castiella | Sith
Equipment: Blitz'gam armour for this fight | weapons in bio | Mando vambraces in bio | Crushgaunts included | Jetpack included
Current objective: Survive

This sith was very accurate, she couldn't deny that. They shot down a thermal detonator and caused it to detonate prematurely, but the jetpack managed to keep her out of the blast radius. "Ah come on!" she shouted with mocking disappointment as she floated around her target. She switched her rifle to full auto and let loose, spraying blaster bolts at her opponent as she wove through the air to keep her opponent tracking. Though the Sith's attitude was unsettling. They didn't even try to dodge or avoid getting shot. They let their armour absorb all the punishment which made her wonder whether they were even human. She unclipped another detonator and tossed it at them before she started to make distance between them. For some reason she had no doubt that the Sith soldier would manage to avoid it.

The Sith launched a few missiles at her and she managed to weave around two, but she halted as an overwhelming explosion tore through the air. Way up in the air, she could see the monsters from earlier pouring out like ants. Her heart sank as worry crept into her soul. She was too caught up by the nightmarish sight that she completely lost track of her current fight.

The last missile impacted against her right side, hurling her out of the air as an agonizing yelp escaped her. She crashed into the ground as her jetpack shut off but the pain didn't let up. A scream erupted from her as her left hand let go of the rifle to try and clutch at the pain. With tears in her eyes she looked down at her body. Her right arm was a bloody mess and the armour on her side was shattered with blood showing through. She wasn't a stranger to pain... but this was something else. She looked around to find her opponent when she noticed them flying around in the air. The tears in her eyes obscured her vision and welled up in her helmet, causing her to yank it off to get a better visual. Her left hand grabbed hold of her rifle and brought it up to try and track what was looking more and more to be her killer.

Her whimpers didn't cease for one moment but she fought like hell to shove aside the pain. She didn't want to die. Not on this planet and not already. She just got her mother back and she still needed to help Aerith.

No, she wasn't going to die. "Bring it, queen!" a pained scream erupted as she let loose with another volley of blasterfire.

 

[Telis Taharin-Zambrano]

Aagenti’s face contorted into a stern mask of bitterness at the words thrown back at him from the pair of Mandalorians, his eyes set on Venku Bralor , the first target of his ire now present, as the Togorian let their anger funnel into lightning that danced across their stave. Holding his sabers out in front, one towards Kreslin Westwind and the other towards Venku, Aagenti was readying himself for the approach of the feline Mandalorian despite the warnings of the Warmaster. The Sith tensed his body for a blow, ready to catch the staff within crossed sabers-

But within a flash of light and a faint smell of brimstone, Venku was gone, leaving the arena solely to Kreslin and Aagenti. Squinting, just briefly, as the sudden absence of where Venku once stood, the Sith Lord allowed a smile of spite and malice to grow on his face, his yellow eyes turning to Kreslin as he began to circle his opponent, baring his teeth, his claws glinting in the passing light of a blaster bolt striking against the walls of the Beskar net. Here he was alone with the Mandalorian that led this rebellion, the one who sought to rip the Sith from their rightfully-gained territory, and the one who dared to stand toe-to-toe with him. ”You are alone, now, Mando… you death will be forgotten by the aeons, and the Sith will be the lords of Mandalore forever more. That… is my promise.”

There was nothing vain or glorious about Aagenti in that moment, covered in mud and soot and ash, once pristine white fur now doppled with the filth of war, and armor no longer gleaming as the world around them continued to rock with hellish armaments and brutal, bloody warfare. Mandalore was ripped asunder, two false claimants vying for the seat while Aagenti, leading the Sith to protect their rightful land, met eyes with the one who led the campaign of vengeance. The air around the Sith Lord seemed to cool, energy crystallizing and dancing through the earth and sky, static and stagnant yet ready to snap and release like a spring. There was something to his taunting, as though he was waiting, delaying, gaining time to make sure that Kreslin couldn’t be anywhere else.

Aagenti couldn’t help but let out a single breathy chuckle at Kreslin, once more letting the lightsabers spin as he continued to circle the Mandalorian, before… he stopped. Without any warning, he simply stood still, holding his sabers out to his sides, before letting the weapons dull into nothing, flicking the venomous weapons back into his dark sleeves, his eyes still glowing the malignant red, a draconic, serpentine color. ”It’s cute that you thought I would actually level myself down to face you. You’re just another one of hundreds and hundreds of brutes that are vying to claim some fanciful title… hundreds and hundreds of brutes that are on this planet, with no place to run.”

Aagenti let his hands come to meet together, fingers interlocking, as across the capital city a strange rumble resounded, foreign and out of place with the fighting that rocked the capital city of Mandalore. It was something subterranean, ancient, and very, very big. The Sith Lord looked at Kreslin with a sudden darkness in his features, his humor fading like the switch of a whip, turning from humored to deadly determined. ”Tell me, Kreslin… are your kind as brave as you think them to be?” The words were whispered into the quiet of the cell, the walls suddenly pulling themselves apart like flesh ripping from the bone, tendrils of metal curling back to lash now violently at anything that moved, indiscriminately, with animal instinct.

And all through Sundari’s streets, a roar echoed like the thunder before a maelstrom, a chorus of deadly voices all together in horrible harmony.

The beast had awakened once again.

The Akwasiarsosûta iw Muinsimi: The Emperor of Serpents.

Pulling itself up from beneath where the Sith built over its chasm, once more it reared itself from the chamber it had first emerged, rising above the skyline of Sundari like a colossus, a testimony to the immortal power of the Sith Empire. All marks of the previous war restored by Aagenti’s Command, it demanded presence, fear, and awe, as it breached the ruins of Sundari and the horrible myth showed itself once again. A body clad in dark, nigh-impenetrable scales that made Beskar seem like tin, and already a furnace glow gathering in the central-most head, it set is gaze down to the heart of the fighting, towards where Aagenti, Kreslin, Amon Vizsla, Meshla Detta , and O Omegon had gathered, it’s focus drawn by the presence of the Sith Lord.

Unleashing another world-shaking chorus of screeches, the beast exhaled a gout of plasma-fire, cutting through from where it stood in Sundari to where the battle was commencing, leaving nothing but twisted metal and crumbled stone as the force and heat of the blaze destroyed the city in its path. For those in the area, there was enough time for a choice to be made - to dodge or be consumed by the flames. Aagenti, as the beast awakened, took no time in making his escaping, giving one last cruel smile as he leapt up onto one of Omegon’s walkers, leaving a small plume of dust in his wake as he nimbly flew, before leaping deeper into the city, his Sith magic beginning to fade from the systems as his trap had been laid, catching Kreslin and Amon together so that they would be caught in the bitter path of the hydra’s fire.

Aagenti’s plan had been set in motion, his preparations of the full force of every Mandalorian not fighting on Myrkr arriving on Mandalore falling into place perfectly. Here, he would scourge every last Mandalorian stupid enough to try and wage war within Sundari, making an example in bloody ash and fire that the Sith would never fall and ensuring that none would survive with the belated arrival of Teyn Gratiir. As Aagenti fled to the rooftops, clutching a single crimson vial within his palm, anybody within Sundari could see the rising of the Emperor of Serpents from its chrysalis slumber, awakened to once more drive back the Mandalorians. Now the true hunt had begun, as the Hydra, after its initial blaze, set its eyes against the Union who had set down first upon Moridinae as false reclaimants.

Stretching, standing to its full height and swiftly slamming its tail into the buildings nearby, the Emperor of Serpents blinked red-slitted golden eyes, and the primordial edict sang in its mind as a command from on high, divine and whole: consume. Standing its ground as a monolithic Titan, fire glowed in the throat of its leftmost head, as with beady eyes it searched for its prey, pushing through the stonework to make sure that anything nearby could be unable to hide. It would not let down the chance to feast again, only this time, with a finality that could not be questioned. This would be the greatest feast, a bloodbath that would be sung on forevermore by the Sith or the Mandalorians, immortalized. Now began the Great Hunt.

And none will be spared from the Great Hunt.

 

[Kreslin Westwind]

Kreslin smiled beneath his helmet as he circled Telis Taharin-Zambrano in the small circle that had become their world, his Beskad brought to rest against his upraised left arm. The disappearance of Venku Bralor had been...disturbing, to say the least, but he had not allowed himself to become distracted by it. He faced an opponent that could not be taken lightly, and even a momentary lapse in his focus could bring about his end. Dying on Manda'yaim would not be the worst thing in the universe, but he would prefer to do that on a liberated Manda'yaim, when he was quite old and with many more stories to tell. Today, he would start working on the newest of those stories.

"I may look alone, Sith, but the spirit of all true Mando'ade stands behind me this day. Should I fall, I will be in good company. Can you say the same?" He came to a halt then, turning his whole body to face Telis straight on, and took a single step forward. The Beskad in his hand did not waver as he lifted it up, resting it in an overhead guard position as he prepared for the fight ahead.

Or so he thought.

He tilted his head to the side slightly, confusion halting him as the Sith Lord spoke once more. Before he could even respond, the shell that had trapped Kreslin with the Sith Lord began to dissipate, followed shortly after by the Sith Lord himself. One moment, he was standing before Kreslin, and the next he was gone. Kreslin only caught a brief glimpse of the Sith Lords form vanishing into the distance before his eyes were drawn, as many others he was sure, to the beast rising in the ruins of the capital. Against his will, he took a step backwards, his eyes widening as he attempted to contemplate the threat that they now faced.

He was brought out of his shock by the words of Teyn Gratiir nearby, though he only caught the ending of his declaration. Snapping his head around, Kreslin locked eyes on the Mand'alor of the subjugated Mando'ade, the Tyrant put in place to keep the few Mandalorians left inside Sith space in line. The confusion and fear he felt was drained away as he began marching towards him, his Beskad dragging in the dirt behind him as he advanced up the crater, and out of the area formerly blocked off from the rest of the war.

"By the tenants of the Code, I declare myself your challenger. By right of Justice and Honor, I, Kreslin Westwind, Warmaster of the Mandalorian Union, declare myself your opponent this day, Mand'alor."

 

[Adenn Kyramud]

Location: Orbit, near Sundari, the Unknown City
Allies: Fellow Mandalorians
Enemies: Sith and their allies
Vehicles: | Hellwalker | Titan Tank | Protectrak | Assault Speeder | Heavy Walker | Hell's Angel |
Troops: | Beskad Warriors | Beskad Elite | Tracyn Mirshko |
Fleet: | Keldabe Battleship (x1) | Kanjiklub Deceiver (x2) | CR90-Corvette (x4) | Black Death (x1) | Kom'rk (x6) |
Tags: | Kreslin Westwind | Jaster Awaud | Severous Augustus | Telis Taharin-Zambrano | Darth Carnifex | O Omegon | Teyn Gratiir | Talon Richwood | Aloy Vizsla | Darsch Vizsla | Shai Maji | Kytana | Amon Vizsla | Meshla Detta | @anyone else in Sundari

Sitting on his command chair in the Aegis Mortum, Adenn snarled at the response he received from Jaster's tactical droid. This coincided with one of the escort ships being blown to smithereens, thanks to concentrated fire. Voice filled with anger, Adenn responded to the tactical droid, hiding none of his contempt.
"And I never requested them, I requested your support fleet and the medical one. You wanted a hole punched through, well here's your damned hole, but you're too scared to take it." Turning shortly, Adenn barked out several more orders to his crew, then returned his attention to the comms. "Chakaar, that's what you are, an absolute chakaar."

With a smash, Adenn brought his fist down on the comms button, disconnecting the call entirely. They wanted a hole in this damnable fleet, so Adenn had come to bring them one. Left there, alone and without support, Adenn simmered in rage. Adenn turned to his bridge crew, most of whom had heard what was said, and all who agreed with their alor.
"If they contact us again, ignore them. The chakaar wants to play that, then he'll learn what it means to cross us."

Simmering where he sat, Adenn remembered another ally who was present, one who had offered support. Turning, Adenn opened another call to Severous Augustus. The man had offered his help prior, perhaps he could and would help now.
" Severous Augustus , you had asked some time prior where you were needed. My fleet could use your aid, we are the ones currently inside the Sith fleet, the ones that rammed one of their own. Alone we'll be ripped to shreds eventually, so we could use support. Oya, Severous"

Hopefully his call for aid would be answered, if it wasn't then Mors Classemque, the fleet of Clan Mortui, stood little chance of surivivng in its entirety. All these concerns washed away though, just as the new threat on the ground emerged once more, well two new threats. Reports came rushing in from Clan Mortui forces that they were engaging Graug forces wherever they could, forming a wedge to advance further into the Sith. Reports also stated that a high ranking Sith lord was spotted towards the Graugs center, someone very important. While Adenn hoped to face this soon, his attention was more on the beast that had emerged from the ruins of Sundari.

Grinning at the beast, Adenn muttered under his breath, even as he stood and made his way to his ship.
"So we meet again beastie, this time you won't be so lucky." His fleet would live or die without him, but the forces on the ground would need him. Aside from that, his officers were better suited for space combat than he was.

The last time Adenn and Clan Mortui had been here, the beast had just been freed. They hadn't expected it, and it was one of the reasons why there were eventually repulsed, though not after several days of fighting. Now though? Now they had the full might of Clan Mortui's formidable arsenal to bring to bear. Reaching the hanger, Adenn paused momentarily to watch as several more landers flew out, each carrying soldiers, supplies, or vehicles. Smiling, Adenn made his way to his own mount, a Tracyn Mirshko by the name of Calyr. Hopping on with a pat, Adenn flicked the reigns and dashed out of the hanger, flying down towards his clans landing zone, and towards the furious battlefield.

Adenn's departure from the ship coincided with the arrival of a titan. The super heavy lander came to the ground with a dull thump. Its doors opened and from its depths emerged a titan, a vengeful god of war, Hell's Angel. Each step shook the earth, rocking those standing in a miles radius. Other support walkers that had been deployed shook under its every step, for they were as children to Hell's Angel. The titanic god of war stood as tall as a mountain and was on equal footing with the Hydra that the Sith had unleashed.

With a roar that could deafen, Hell's Angel gave its challenge to the Emperor of Serpents. Its first attack was an initial bombardment with the A7 artillery, even as the assault laser canon spun up to bring death to their enemy. This day, titans would clash and all that stood in their way would be destroyed.

 

[Stardust Solus Skirae]

Venku Bralor Pom Stych Tivé

When she came back she saw mandalorian being vaporized by the blast, that damned witch! Stars blood boiled as she attempts to charge again and roared out in anger before once again she was pulled in but not before she saw venku throw his staff....that fool! That young fool! She reached dout to him and it seemed the three were whisked away

Gravity returned, seeing blue before her she cursed

nonononono! Feth feth feth!

She smashed into the water, her armor sealed just in time as she started sinking like a rock, stardust hated swimming, she couldn't at all! She started flailing around wildly as the light began to fade. Controling her breathing she looked around and finally closed her eyes as she let the force become her eyes, looking about she spotted a body...the witch...stars face scrunched up before she sighed to herself. As much a enemy as that witch was no one should die so dishonorably...but sadly honor was a thing right now

Turning towards where land was she started using the force to push herself along, eventually however she did touch the bottom and started walking around it, following the uphill rise underwater, it took her a good 20 minutes before she came out and unsealed her helmet and took it off as she took a depe breath and fell to he knees panting. She was so glad for solid ground...now she had to...was that a...she spotted the hydra from where she stood and blinked in awe and fear

great sith, a giant lizard, and radical mandos....

Least that witch was out of the fight...so she thought at least

 

[Ra's]

Need a hand you Monster ?

Objective: Help Darth Assimilus kill the Mandos
Weapons: Double-bladed lightsaber

Coming at extreme speed on a speeder the Kaleesh force-jump in the air once he is near the area of the fighting just to land behind Darth Assimilus his double-bladed lightsaber, a new weapon already ready for battle in his right hand.
"Let's make sure the work of your attrocities is done here. Let's butcher some Mandos. " what is best in life after all ? As Ra's always said a true Sith need to follow only one goal during the war "To crush your enemies, to see them driven before you, and to hear the
lamentations of their women" Approaching the Mandolarians position slowly Ra's use his weapon to deflect any blaster-bolts coming in his direction and if he is aim by missiles or rockets he will use the force to send them right back to the Mandos. Today blood will be spread, today those pathetic dogs will understand how foolish it was to dare oppose the almighty Sith Empire.

 

[Aloy Vizsla]

*S O U T H E R N - S U N D A R A I
(My OOC intel was a little off <3)​

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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: True Mandalorians \\ Darsch Vizsla Shai Maji ​

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Enemies: The Sith \\ False Mandalorians(Sith aligned or otherwise) \\ Aerith Castiella ​

​

The roaring flames emitting from her vambraces slowly die, The previously bright flame turning to a dull golden glow around the dimly lit room just before all light went out and the only remaining light came in the form of silver rays through the shattered windows. ​

She releases her breath in a single drawn out exhale as her arms fall limply to her side, Her pale blue eyes widening as she takes in the scene, Her opponent laying on the floor with charred skin and a bullet in her throat, Spitting up her own blood. ​

​

"A Bullet for a Bullet."​

​

Putting a hand over the wound on her back, She grunts while forcing herself to her feet, Glancing away from Darsch Vizsla .​

Being called a drama queen wasn't really the response she had hoped for. But, At least it wasn't the response she had feared. It had been three years since EllieEx died, But Darsch had been unconscious for all three, Only waking recently. "I was a fool to say it" she thought, Knowing that for Darsch, Vhei "Wasp" Naudir, Was still a fresh memory. One that would haunt her for years to come. A love, And powerful pain that she could never get in the way of.​

​

Kriffing Hell... I wouldn't have said anything if I didn't think I was dying...​

​

"Chit... We got her back huh?" She makes her way to the fallen Graug woman, Kneeling beside her and slipping her own helm back on.​

​

<"Good shot... One Warrior to another."> ​

Enemy or not, She was a tool of the Sith, Though she may have been spat on in life, She should be in Kytana 's honour.​

Joti would wait till the woman had breathed her last before activating her Knuckle Plate vibro blade, Using it to carefully cut away a single lock of the Graug's Spring Green hair, With the intention to turn it into a trophy braid later.​

​

With that done, It was time to get back on track. >"Commander Joti to platoon five... I'm fine. Your new orders are to advance ahead of the Deathtroopers of Krieg, Find them a way in and hunt down any snipers you find. Joti Out."< She orders, One on the button activated commlink on the side of her helm, Which soon reaches around back, Drawing the scatter blaster magnetized to her back.​

​

<"Blue, Where do you want me?">​

​

She flicks the lever and marches past Darsch, Eager to rejoin the battle and make up for her momentary shock. ​

​

* Click* * clack* ​

​

<"There's fighting outside and Hell to pay!">​

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​

​

​

 

[Venku Bralor]

Allies: The Mandalorian Union
Enemies: the Sith Empire

Light flashed beneath the waves, depositing three forms into its depths. Water wrapped around the togorian’s armor, pulling him further into darkness. Though the skin suit protected him from drowning, his air supply wouldn’t last much longer.

He had to get out. He had to live. Even as he struggled to swim, he knew it was pointless. His armor, the very thing that saved his life dozens of times, would kill him. It was too heavy, and the water’s grip on it was too strong. Fingers twitched as he watched orange and grey greaves sink. Still it wasn’t enough. Gloved hands hesitated over his gauntlets. In the end the will to survive overcame any hesitance. Red and orange gauntlets, with their multitude of tech and weapons, followed shortly after the greaves. Such a waste of armor. The cursed liquid continued to tug at him, pulling him down and latching onto his chest plates and pauldrons. It was barely enough, but he could swim and that was all that mattered. He began to make headway. Inch by inch and foot by foot the surface drew closer.


Water sloshed as the togorian dragged himself onto land. The ruined city of Sundari sprawled out around him. Smoke and ash surged into the sky, contaminating the air. Coarse sand - streaked with blood and stained by fire - arched into the air as the sparsely clad togorian came stumbling out of the pool. Comms crackled with the voices of his battlemasters, bringing with them a shocking clarity.
“Kark. I’m here! What are your coordinates?” Upon receiving an answer, the young rallymaster shot towards the position, leaving the two combatants behind him. Wind pushed at his back, driving smoke past his face and forewarning those ahead with his scent. He smelled of smoke and fire. He smelled of the Nether, that rotten stench that pervades one’s senses and heralds the scent of ozone and the tingle of electricity on one flesh.

The fighting had long since begun and the blaster bolts flying past his head brought with them an acute reminder of his lack of protection. His helmet lay in the Nether, abandoned in his sudden escape. His pauldrons and greaves were lost to the weighty grip of the reservoir. All were unreachable.

The mandalorian took his place beside his battlemasters. It didn’t take long for them to catch him up to speed. Nor did it take long to find himself a helmet. It was a round thing, made for a human’s squat face and flat ears. The close quarters of it pressed against his jaw and flattened his ears. His legs and arms felt much too light. There were few togorians on the battlefield, and even fewer that were dead and required no armor.

The helmet was one of the few upsides. His forces were surrounded, pinned in with the graug on one side and a hydra on the other.

“We need to secure our flank. Have the troops engage the graug as we fortify our position.” And so it went, with Venku formulating plans and directing troop movements. This was not how the mandalorian had envisioned the battle. He knew it would be bloody, he knew it could cost him his life and the lives of his people, but never had he expected a hydra to rise out of this city of rubble and ash like some vengeful phoenix. Neither had he expected to find himself with the enemy behind them. If the hydra wasn’t there, then perhaps he could have dealt with the graug, but they were trapped between a rock and a hard place.

 

[Aerith Krayt]

/ LOCATION // Mandalore
// OBJECTIVE // Terminate Mandalorians
// ALLIES // Kytana
// ENEMIES // Shai Maji Aloy Vizsla Darsch Vizsla
//EQUIPMENT// In Bio; Armed with CF6 Concussion Rifle as primary weapon.

Going from pistol to rifle, Aerith found herself amused as she exchanged fire with the Mandalorian. Her target was a jittery sort, moving, weaving, dodging. Their aim suffered for it, as what few shots managed to land on her armor, didn't bother the cyborg in the slightest; the armor could take it, though it disrupted her flight actives. Dodging out of the way of another loosed grenade, the cyborg was starting to grow annoyed. She disliked drawing out her killings, especially in something as over the top as this. Factoring in the speed of the target, Aerith let her cybernetics guide her, correcting her aim, and squeezed off a shot; sending the Mandalorian crashing into the ground. Before a mercy killing could be delivered however, Aerith's eye caught sight of the Sith counter attack, the signal she had been informed would come. The unleashing of the Sith monsters from their selected places caught her attention, as they swarmed forth, a blight upon the land to destroy the insurgents. Their fight would be finished. Their hopes quenched, no matter the numbers that fell in the battle, the Sith would reclaim their trophy world. No matter the cost, they always got what they wanted in the end.

"I will remake you. You shall bend, and you shall twist, and you shall break. And you will arise from the ashes, Girl. Just like me."

It made her want to cry, knowing how they must have felt all too well. But she couldn't afford such luxuries.

Turning to the task at hand, Aerith found her quarry, wounded and screaming out in pain; though she had thought the voice sounded eerily familiar to her ears. Touching down, the weight of her form caused a 'crunch' on the roof she impacted on, her steps guiding to her newest target. Though as she approached, she felt a sense of foreboding, a sense that she needed to pull back; though her augments identified no viable threat. She ignored the alien thought, setting down to finish the poor creature off, spare it the pain and humiliation of a slow death; it was the least she could do. With her weapon trained on the warrior, Aerith's finger began to pull on the trigger; but was stopped as the identity of the warrior was revealed. Though covered in blood and beaten to a pulp, she knew that face anywhere. Shai?

A mix of relief and disgust hit her at once, seeing the state of her friend, and knowing that she was the one who had inflicted the damage upon her. How could she let this happen? After all the woman had done for her, and this was how it would play out? There was so much wrong here. Shai shouldn't be here, they shouldn't be fighting. It never had to turn into this, and yet here they were. She wanted to throw down her rifle on the spot, dropping to her knees and beg for forgiveness, try and do anything that might show that she was sorry. But there was no time for that.

Aerith couldn't control herself when she was in combat, and Shai being as stubborn as she was, it seemed likely that there would only be one conclusion to this encounter. It was something that Aerith couldn't abide by.

Aerith fought to stop herself from firing, the red in her eye fading, but it was in vain. Shai moved to fire upon her, and Aerith found her options to desculate the situation shrink. A torrent of blaster fire struck her visor, cracking it the process, and her body reacted accordingly; her blue eye flashing back to red in the process. Her implants took hold of the situation, as her current actions were endangering her being. Rolling to the side, Aerith raised up her left arm, firing forth a line launcher from her wrist. Intent on snagging the left arm of the Shistavanen, Aerith hoped to disarm the woman, hoping to try and talk this out, but things didn't go quite as she planned. As the line would take hold, the cyborg found her gun arm moving to take aim, the index digit moving to fire from second nature. A shot at this distance would kill her, of that Aerith had no doubt, so she elected to miss. She pulled the barrel down, the aim shifting from Shai to the floor beneath them, as the concussive force blew apart the roof, sending the pair tumbling into the confines of the building.

She couldn't take her helmet off to show Shai who she was. The safety switches on the suit prevented that. Shai would keep trying to attack her, and her combat implants would demand she put an end to the fight. She was going to kill Shai, or Shai was going to have to kill her. There was no way out of it. Not one that Aerith could see.

Aerith wasn't a religious person. Never was, in fact she out right denounced it. But in times of desperation, she found herself giving into the practice in a vain attempt to stem the tides of fate when they had aligned against her. So, as she tumbled into darkness, as muttered prayed a silent prayer. Her eyes shut tight as she hoped whatever entity out there would stop this cruel twist of fate. As if to taunt her even further, the stream of memories came trickling into her mind, the guilt stabbing at her like red hot vibro-knives.

"You must be https. Cuz without you I'm just ://"

I will kill anyone else without question.

"This isn't a date. But don't worry, you're not missing much. Dates are overrated. You want romance? Have them come over, watch a movie and simply enjoy the company. Dates are high maintenance. As for the whole cyborg thing...tell people to kark off! They can't handle you being a super awesome 'borg soldier, they can go fly into a star! All that matters is the personality and so far you're karking adorable."

Just please.

"I really care about you. I don't wanna see you suffer like this, or forget anyone else again. I... I just want to help you."

Please.

"I'm not your enemy, Aerith. I'm probably one of the few people you know that really cares about you."

Don't make me kill her.

 

[Bridger Axii]

​

Allies: The Mandalorian Union
Engaging: Darth Assimilus 's Zombie Horde
Location: Infested Encampment

Before his brain could catch up to the movement in his body, Bridger surged forward towards the Dar'manda relentlessly, moving with deadly precision. His opponent, attempting to draw his blaster on the Mandalorian was stopped as Bridger's palm slapped up against his opponents forearm, causing the blaster to come flying from his grip, following suit with a swift and powerful punch to the gut, the Dar'manda keeling in response. Arms wrapped around Bridger's waist as the fight was soon on the ground, kicking up dirt and debris, the pair struggled for control. The scout made his way on top during the engagement, with a vibroknife in hand, as he tried to bring it down on the exposed portion of Bridger's beskar around his neck. His hands remained out in front of him, gripping the knife with all his strength as he kept the blade from reaching his neck, the contest continued on until a swift kick was met directly to the Dar'manda's backside, causing him to lose control and fall over. Capitalizing on the moment he had to spare, the Mandalorian swiftly made his way to his feet, extending his arm out unleashing a single whistling bird, the high-pitched hum found it's way to the Dar'manda's throat, detonating on impact. The scout slumped to the ground like a sack of meat, unmoving.

Bridger didn't have much time to think as his attention was soon diverted to a large chasm in the earth swallowing up what appeared to be a mass of.. undead? He didn't have time to process what he was witnessing, instead he made his way back into his ship, finding and grabbing his DE-10 Blaster pistol, his scatterblaster, as well as grabbing his AMR-4M rifle and E-11. The Mando made a single leap before the momentum from his boot thrusters sent him flying ahead, covering a decent amount of ground as laser bolts flew by him wildly. It wasn't long until Bridger made his landing on the encampment site, a mass of humanoid zombies filled the space once carrying life, ideals, hopes and dreams, was now replaced with the guttural sounds of death and mindlessness. Bridger was on a war path, determined to kill every last one of these creatures if it meant supporting the rightful owners of Mandalore restore the planet to its former glory. Readying his rifle and flamethrower, the Mandalorian charged straight into the jaws of death.

​

 

[Rynn Vizsla]

​

Location: Mandalore's Surface; Infested Graug Encampment.
Primary Objective: Cleanse the Surface. Stop the Rancidious Order.
SURVIVE.
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: Darth Assimilus and the Rancidious Order, as well as the Sith-Imperial Blackwing Graug Infestation. ​

Rynn’s senses were focused solely on destruction. He thought of nothing else but cleansing the surface of the infestation and the plague of undeath that was starting to sweep across the despoiled terrain. While the Mandalorian cared little for the world that sired his Forefathers, the man couldn’t leave its Fate in the hands of the Unworthy, or the Forces of Evil. Not while one Trueborn Son of Mandalore still had breath in their lungs, and the power to change even Fate itself. The Young Vizsla was still breathing. His fingers were still gripping the controls of his War Droid. He could rewrite Mandalore’s destiny and sought to do so by raining death upon his collective foes from above.

Countless Graug, be they alive or undead, were being gunned down in a near-ceaseless and explosive torrent of plasmatic hellfire. The despoiled earth was soaking in the blood of his enemies, at least what wasn’t flash-fried by the superheated discharge of the War Droid’s weapons. This caused a savage grin to peel across his lips. He salted the earth with their remains and felt his pride begin to soar. Sure, the youthful Mandalorian was slaying his foes from a distance - but he would’ve been a fool to do so otherwise. Who in their right mind would face the numerical superiority of the Graug head-on and expect to emerge victoriously? Let alone their Undead and Infectious kin? Only those whose bones would be mocked by the pages of History.

That was a fate the Young Vizsla only wished upon his most hated enemies, not himself. So, with renewed purpose, the mounted Warrior continued to rake the surface of Mandalore - killing whatever Graug found themselves betwixt his War Droid’s crosshairs. However, something began to seem off. He noticed that one of the creatures on the surface brandished a crimson sabre, only to fade from his sight as the arterial-hued blade extinguished. There was a Sith amongst their number, Rynn mused. With the deductive reasoning that seemed wholly uncharacteristic for a Mandalorian of the modern-era, he determined that this man was his target. And, likely, the very one who released this undead blight.

As the slim figure vanished from his swivelling point of view - Rynn would have to reorient his Iron Beast to find his Quarry. He’d be forced to swing around to make another pass, but that was of little concern. The Graug didn’t have any weapons in the immediate vicinity that could punch through his Warbeast’s deflector screen, let alone rip him from the heavens above. That didn’t stop them from trying, however. As they were being torn apart by their infectious kin, there were a few who sought to bracket his shields with small arms fire. He laughed at their pitiful attempts to pull him from the sky but admired their feral tenacity. At least, Rynn thought, these creatures would be remembered for their bestial tenacity, before their infestation would be scoured from the planet’s surface.

He was about to laugh, as his shields flared under their bracketing assault. However, that was cut short by an odd sensation worming in through his ears. He… He didn’t feel like himself. With his attention directed towards the Graug beneath, Rynn didn’t notice that the Dark Sorcerer had repositioned himself - and sought to attack his mind from a distance. It was a factor that the Mandalorian didn’t consider as he reorientated his War Droid, nor was it something that he could genuinely protect himself from. Dark magics had a funny way of defeating even the most capable of wards. The Young Vizsla’s vision began to swim, as his mind succumbed to a strange affliction. His ears were ringing incessantly, and the sudden sensation of nausea took hold. It was a horrid case of Vertigo. One that would certainly spell doom for the youthful Mandalorian should he remain mounted aboard his mechanical Warbeast.

Although clouded, his mind believed that his best chance at surviving was to make for the surface. While it was a terrible fate to be met with, at least the Mandalorian would be capable of fighting off this feeling and rejoining the fight once Order was restored. Sadly, that wasn’t meant to be, as the sensation - bidden forth by another’s will - overthrew his mental defences and forced his body into action. He couldn’t think, nor could he control the Beast between his armoured thighs. It fought against the Young Vizsla, as the War Droid tried to remain in the air with every ounce of its artificial sentience. But, like the Mandalorian, the Iron Beast was struggling against something it couldn’t control.

The War Droid impacted the despoiled surface of Mandalore. It threw up chunks of rotten earth as the Beast made its mark upon the desolate world, and bathed their surroundings in a billowing cloud of particulate debris. Rynn was thrown from the War Droid’s saddle when contact was made. The Young Vizsla hit the ground, hard, and kept rolling until his momentum was spent. His vision swam with the conflicting sensations of fading Vertigo and the blossoming lights of pain. One of these sensations sought to lead him down a dark path. Where he would be forced to remove his helmet and defy the tenets of his creed. The other sought to painfully remind the Young Vizsla that there was still life in his mortal shell and that he was capable of suffering.

Between ragged mouthfuls of recycled atmosphere and the sudden introduction of a chemical cocktail into his system, the Mandalorian felt numb. His body ached everywhere and was incapable of moving thanks to the hardened impact gel. He felt like he died and was forcibly ripped from the jaws of oblivion - only to cast back into his wounded frame. The man was lucky, as nothing was broken. But, there was so much pain. If the armour he wore wasn’t sentient in its own right, the Young Vizsla would have died this day. His system would’ve been forced into shock, and as he was alone - without a Healer nearby - there would’ve been no way that he could’ve recovered. However, as his armour was equipped with the essentials - the Mandalorian was capable of remaining conscious. At least, until he could stand on his own, and his suit’s processes could return to normal.

That was when the hardened gel reverted back to its aqueous state. Rynn, even though ensnared by fresh agonies, was capable of moving his body once more. With a tilt of his head, the Warrior was able to see that his War Droid was gone. The impact with Mandalore’s rotten surface hadn’t been kind to the Iron Warbeast. Several of its limbs were shorn from the central fuselage, and the Repulsors were crushed. Rynn swore, loudly. The Warrior needed to get back into the fight, and the only way that he’d see tomorrow’s rising sun - as if he was aboard his mechanical war machine. Yet, in its sorry state - it wouldn’t be going anywhere, anytime soon. He was now trapped on the planet’s despoiled surface and likely surrounded by enemies on all sides. Sure, he wasn’t alone - as others of the Oathsworn strafed the surface nearby. Still, they were focused more on quarantining this infection, rather than safeguarding one of their own.

Rynn grimly accepted that fact. His life would’ve been well spent if the day was won through the actions of his comrades. He would meet his death with a smile on his face and a blade in his grasp. The Warrior couldn’t ask for a better way to meet his maker.

Thus, with dull aches reverberating throughout the entirety of his limbs, Rynn roused himself from the rotten earth. He breathed out a string of curses as his hands grasped the all-too-familiar hilt of his Beskad, alongside one of the pistols magnetically affixed to his armour. These bastards, be they living or undead, wouldn’t find easy prey when they came for the Mandalorian. He would meet the encroaching Horde head-on like the fool he was, and would likely die after his energy was spent. But, that didn’t concern Rynn now. He wouldn’t care if his name was forgotten or mocked by the pages of History. Let them say what they will, Rynn mused.

At least the Young Vizsla wouldn’t take one step back as he came face-to-face with his destiny. He wouldn’t be a coward or a vulture seeking to steal another’s glory. It was in moments like this that Legends were forged, and the threads of Fate were rewoven.

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

 

[Sidiqq Ordo]

Location: The Foundry

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

Auxiliary Objective: Give Sidiqq's dance partner, a "date" to remember

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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 X7 (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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Just as the mission oriented A'lor had thought he was about to rally to his men's help, a sassy and feminine voice would clearly refute the fast moving individual. Suddenly with no control over the movement of armor clad being, Sidiqq would be begin to fly backwards and land on his back as the doors were also shut. It looked like his companions were also stuck outside while this affair would play itself out, seething and hissing angerly his tongue would also move in the mannerisms of his species when speaking in his bucye's comm. "sssssssssth hisssssssssssss What are you fools , hiiiiissssssttttt waiting for? Sidiqq will handle this." . Tho a bit rash, such bravery against an obviously advanced and deadly assassin would be respected among the mandalorians. Unknowingly, this younger and inexperienced A'lor would be putting himself at the limit, by fighting some of the best that the eternal empire has to offer.

While a trained marksman and sniper, the mandalorian was not afraid of these close encounters. A chilling stare and gaze would be exhibited as the dexterous and agile being rolled to his feet. There was no response and smart response to counter the regent's words of a dance, just an analyzing and dead silent stare. All the life of the bounty hunter's existence, there was no need for an excess of words, action was the language of this calculating combatant. From what the duelist could gather, whatever armor his foe was wearing had some sort of filter, a filter strong enough to block the toxins that could cut her ability off from the force. Whatever strategy would be employed, the pale orange eyes would stare intently at the enemy in front of him through his T-Visor.

There were too many lights, too many ways to spot the shadow warrior, something that was not acceptable. The physically imposing and cold blooded being wanted to fight in the beautiful shade, the great shade where his eyes would have the advantage. Seething quietly and calmly the individual would reload his side arm with quick precision. After doing so, without hesitation, the deadeye would start shooting light sources from the ceiling or anywhere that could help spot the light footed mandalorian. The feet of the silent and deadly combatant would continue moving with speed, choosing not to engage his "dancing partner" . Others at this point would choose to just go into the attack, but this one, was careful, and had controlled aggression. As if the strategic thought of the hunter was intelligently waiting for the correct outcome to fight.

While Ingrid L'lerim may be able to sense her attacker, at the very least it would buy time to make finding him a lot harder. With her state of the art armor, their had to be a way to disable her night vision system that it likely had. The best guess was to get her near the various destroyed material exhibiting sparks of electricity. Then her ability to see the lurking and ravenous being physically would be gone, and the success of this fight would likely start to tip in the favor of the rogue's chances. Right now with superior armor and weapons, there was no chance to win this engagement. So the scaled being would need to slowly wither down the advantages she currently had, one step at a time.

However, the enemy has a say as well , obviously exhibited by forcing this fight on the leader of the Ordo's. The desert warrior would hopefully have enough ability to adapt to whatever she would decide to do. The scale was still in her favor, and it would now be her move.