Skirmish Scourge of the Past | Enclave Skirmish of Sith Eternal-held Korriban

[The Quartermaster]

K O R R I B A N
T H E M E​

Mandalore burned.

The inferno had not been lighted at any one, specific moment. It had raged for centuries now, first fueled by inter-Mandalorian conflicts before the Sith even set their eyes on the heart of the Mandalorian Empire. When the Sith Empire had struck against their former brethren, it had been the knife in the back. . . but Mandalore was already dying. The Sith had just finished the job.

Since then, the homeworld of the Mandalorian people had been broken. Claimants had attempted to retake it, only to lose it from their grasp when their weakness had been put on display. Thieves had nearly come to kinslaying as they had pillaged the remnants of ruins, vultures among the carrion and bones. All the while the Sith had continued their campaign of genocide against the Mando'ade, with blood traitors wearing beskar and fighting under the banners of the religion that murdered their people. Mandalore was no longer a world of peace, an island of calm in the galactic storm. Idyllic pastures, open fields. . . they were all gone now. Chewed up in orbital bombardments, Sith magicks, and monstrous creatures that burrowed through its surface.

The Enclave's official position had been to steer clear from the conflict. In the eyes of their leader, the Quartermaster, rebuilding their people was more important than vengeance that would just get more Mandalorians killed. But they had been rebuilding for quite a while. And when Mandalorian forces had finally subdued the Yuuzhan Vong presence on Kestri, thye'd experienced a taste of their former power. And it was exhilarating. After that, the Quartermaster had finally acquiesced. The crimes of the Sith would no longer go unanswered, unpunished. The warriors of the Enclave would finally bring justice.

And so they set their sights on Korriban, the birthplace of the Sith. Mandalore was dead. It was time that the Sith lose the same.

Juvntirka par juvntirka.

Spoiler: Objectives

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The Temple of Sacrifice is hallowed ground of the Sith. None but members of their Order are allowed to step foot inside. And now, we will break it. Destroy their holy temple, and spare no Sith inside. The Sith know not the meaning of mercy -- and we will not teach them.

​

The war effort of the growing Sith Eternal must be sabotaged. To that end, a strike team will be attacking one of their precious shipyards in Korriban's orbit. Fight any way you know how whether it be in starfighters or in the station itself; so long as the shipyard is destroyed, this mission will be considered a success.

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[Darth Carnifex]

K O R R I B A N​

The Temple of Sacrifice, a structure that had endured the unending ages of time and erosion that had shaped the valleys and barren dunes around it. A repository of ancient Sith culture and history dating back to before the establishment of the Sith Order, its walls engraved with that history in exquisite detail. Pits lain deep and piled high with the bones of countless sacrifices made over the millennia, shrouded in darkness and forgotten by the wider galaxy.​

​

Brought to ruin by Alliance bombs.​

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What remained of the Temple was smoldering wreckage, the majority of the sub-surface catacombs having collapsed in on themselves as the support weights for the Temple itself were blown apart. Nothing remained of the antechambers, the sacrificial pits, and the altar room. It was speculated that even deeper chambers and corridors existed that could have survived, but the excavation of the Temple was arduous and meticulous. There was a great concern of potentially damaging surviving elements of the Temple if they rushed, so they did everything slowly and incrementally. ​

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Not that Carnifex minded the plodding pace, he was one of those who advocated for it. He watched from an elevated platform down at the excavation site, dozens of workers moving hither and yon to complete their monumental tasks. Surrounding him were advisors and archeologists, their eyes cast down to datapads and other devices as they directed the efforts down below from afar. ​

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Carnifex's eyes moved from the workers down below and up to the sky, which only had sparse clouds covering the golden glow of Horuset. His eyes narrowed as he stared beyond those clouds, looking at something which none of the others around him could perceive.​

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Then he turned his attention to one of his attendants. "Cease the excavation, and have all of the workers take up arms." The attendant bowed deeply, their reverence total and uncompromising. "Of course, Great One, your will shall be done here as it is done across the stars." Then they turned away to relay his commandment, which would quickly spread throughout the camp as the workers put down their picks and spades for blasters and swords.​

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He then turned his attention back towards the sky, scanning the farthest horizon as clouds began to gather.​

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The Quartermaster ​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Korriban
In Transit...
865 ABY

On some level Maliphant couldn't help but to be annoyed. Armies were preparing to deal with the imperialistic behavior of Vulcanus on Chandaar, only to be interrupted by the misplaced vengeance of an Order who's time had long since passed. Even as reports came in across the planet of various lootings, skirmishes, and the inconsequential tallies of deaths on both side he could at least find some relief in two aspects;​

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First, that the Sith were born in conflict. As far back as King Adas fighting back the Rakata, it was their way - and so too was it the way of the Mandalorian. Battles like this had long since proven the superiority of one ideology and culture over the other, but it was never too late to show them the error in their ways. The second, was that their fleets were already prepped - with almost no civilian economy present, the martially of various forces to attack the Graug, the Mandalorians faced greater odds that they hopefully expected.​

​

For Maliphant, however, he was in transit to an ancient temple he personally didn't actually care about. Qual'Al-Selim, however, did - and demanded him seek it out and defend it. Not for anyone specific within it, or matieral one could grasp; but the image of it. To lose a culturally significant temple would be a blow to their credibility as Sith; no doubt making some of those bordering on immigration into the Order to hesitate. He could not deny her that, so he acquiesed and flew on the Adonish Transport to the Temple.​

​

Whoever was there, they'd at least face the strength of one true Sith Lord; one who had very likely developed much of the technology they now relied on. He smiled at himself at the thought, knowing the pervasive nature of Jaeger to end up in the hands of militants - and kept it even as the ship began to land near the upper levels.​

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The Quartermaster​

 

[Jorii Vizsla]

Maybe there was an irony in her accompanying a Sith Lord to Korriban in order to stand against an imminent Mandalorian attack, but Jorii chose not to see it. Her being here was motivated by profit, just as every other job she’d done for and on behalf of the man she stood on the transport with. She’d just as soon shoot him in the back given the chance, but at the moment he held the cards and the credits, and her loyalties fell in tandem. Her being here was neither more or less complicated than that, nor was it personal.

It was her feelings on the culture she’d long since divorced herself from that were another matter altogether. If you asked her, the vode had abandoned her and her kin long ago in favor of ideals that did little to serve them in the long run. It was the reason she’d fallen in with the first iteration of the Death Watch alongside Vizsla and Munin, and why she wasn’t ashamed of being cast out as dar’manda. They could call her soulless all they wished, but in her eyes the soul of their people had left long ago.

To that end, maybe everything about this was more personal than she would admit.

The jolt of the shuttle entering the atmosphere freed her from her own thoughts, and she seemed to straighten in that moment, gathering her wits about herself before they landed. Once more she was grateful for the armor that separated her from the rest of the galaxy, along with her lack of a presence in the Force to clue her companion into what had been going on inside her head. She said nothing as they prepared to land, not knowing what to expect once the shuttle doors opened to the planet below.

Darth Empyrean | The Quartermaster

 

[Bright1]

.​

O B J E C T I V E: KEEP UP APPEARANCES​

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LOCATION: EN-ROUTE TO KORRIBAN

It was a strange thing to don the armor of traitors and fight against the interests of your own people. By her own people of course, she meant the Sith. Of course, with it came a risk, that she could be found out, she could be killed, perhaps even found out and killed by the other side. The danger was intoxicating. Clad behind her armor however, was a young woman who wasn't sure how exactly the next few hours were going to play out. Best keep cool, go with the flow, and let her 'Vode' think she was one of them.

The shuttle was silent, either warriors were focusing on the conflict ahead, or saying quiet prayers to whatever faith they believed in. It was a trite thing for Tatiana to believe in. She lived for the Emperor, she would die for the Emperor. If in the skies above Korriban she was to die for his will, then so be it. She smiled behind her helm, perhaps a bit of the sadism from her training was coming to the surface. She flexed her bicep, as the blade within her elbow deployed, the warrior giving an experimental motion with the weapon, before stowing it, seemingly satisfied. She was experiencing pre-combat jitters, indicating to her she had been too long without a proper fight. Her eyes went back to looking to the rest of her peers, her hand tensing and flexing, trying to work the nerves out. She didn't like it, just a reminder that she wasn't meant for this 'espionage' stuff. She wanted to throttle the life outta someone, not stand behind them with a knife like a coward.
​

 

[Cerar Vizsla]

Bright1 ​

Cerar's armor had been decorated with some new dents and scratches during the fighting on Kestri, but still the heavy infantry plate held strong. As always, he went through a dozen pre-battle diagnostics tests, making sure every system was online and operational; the last thing he wanted was a blaster misfiring or a magno-lock failing to adhere. His blaster cannon was fitted with new conductor cells, and the refrigerant tank had been freshly refilled.

Cerar had his own misgivings about the upcoming battle, but he kept them to himself as the shuttle hurtled itself towards its destination. The Enclave was supposed to be protecting Mandalorians, not jeopardize their future by reigniting past conflicts. He was surprised when the Quartermaster had capitulated to the cries of the war hawks and authorized the attack, but as a sworn Si'kahya he was duty-bound to join in the raid on the ancient home of the Sith. His eyes moved over the other Mandalorians around him, wondering if any of them had the same thoughts he did, and landing on a warrior testing out their arm blade.

"Su cuy'gar, ner'vod. You Karjr or Si'kahya?" He didn't recognize them by their armor, but if they were a Marshal that wouldn't be too unusual for him. There were far too many Mandalorians in the galaxy to memorize every suit you see, after all. The large Mandalorian cracked his neck, gripping the 'Staccato Lightning' cannon firmly with both hands. His nerves were unusually high, and as the shuttle drew closer and closer to their destination he couldn't help but wonder if some conflicts were best left buried. But now, now he must dig.

 

[Tae'l Vizsla]

M U T I N Y​

Desecrator-Actual: Tayl Vizsla
Enemeis: SE\\ Celeste Demici
Allies: Enclave \\ Wingman: Vaux Gred
Location: En route to Korriban sith academy
Equipment: In bio
Vehicle: Mk IV Fang-class Starfighter

​

The be-speckled void of space always seemed so soothing to Tayl, She couldn't help but take a deep breath in awe of it's Majesty, As if breathing in the very stars themselves, That blue and white dust that shone so brightly. Sadly, That void would not be her battlefield today.
Her comms crackled to life within the cockpit of her Fang-class starfighter, And the day began.
::Viper 1-4, This is Viper 1-Actual. I'm pulling you from your squad with a special task in mind::

Tayl's ear-cones perked up at that, Listening intently to the commanding officer of Task force viper; A joint effort between the death watch crusade and the enclave's House Vizsla to create a fast and hard hitting multi-purpose unit.
::1-4 reads you Actual, Over::

::Copy, 1-4. Your objective is to hit the sith academy on-world. I know you wanted to hit the shipyard but you're the only one available right now and we need 'er hit. Your job is bomb it to hell and leave, Send a message to their acolytes that the sith aren't as powerful as they think::

::You're new callsign is Desecrator-Actual for the duration of this mission. One of your mother's enclave buddies is providing backup. Your new wingman is now Desecrator-1, Copy?::

:: Desecrator-Actual copies, Loud and clear! Wreck their chit and leave with Desecrator-1::

::Good luck, Desecrator. Viper out::

Tayl quickly punched in the coordinates to her nav-display and took off, Leaving the hanger of a makeshift Enclave ship and searching the stars by eyesight for the ship piloted by Vaux Gred , Who had just been marked "Desecrator-1" on her HUD.

Once they linked up, They'd be ready to bomb the academy down below.

​

​

 

[Siv Dragr]

V E N G E A N C E

Objective: Deal out what has been Dealt.
Allies: Vren Rook | Taru Cadera | Reeve Bralor | Keldab Dragr | Cerar Vizsla | Tae'l Vizsla | OPEN
Enemies: Darth Carnifex | Darth Empyrean | Jorii Vizsla

Korriban.

In his life as a bounty hunter, Siv Dragr had journeyed to many star systems across the galaxy. There had been 'popular' destinations; Coruscant, Onderon, and Nar Shadda; and more 'fringe' destinations; planet-sized space stations in the far reaches of the Unknown Regions, the cold and wild Kestri on the edge of Wild Space, just to name a few.

But of the ancient Sith homeworld, the birthplace of their wretched order? Siv had only heard legends and dark stories. The Sith had never been friends of the Mandalorians, at least in the tales passed down by Clan Dragr's elders. They were a power-hungry order, and no matter what sort of alliance the Clans might have with them, the Sith were not to be trusted. If only Clan Dragr had been in charge, then perhaps disaster might have been avoided. But then again, fate worked in mysterious ways, and the downfall of Mandalore seemed almost destined.

That didn't mean Siv wouldn't make the Sith pay for every drop of Mandalorian blood that had been shed.

The CVT-22 Outlander rocketed through the lower atmosphere of the forsaken world. The interior of the cockpit was silent but for the hum of the engines, the vibrations of the thrusters that shook the ship ever so slightly as it buffeted against Korriban's atmosphere. His hands gripped tightly around the control stick as he shifted it forward, angling the nose of the starcraft even further down as he descended past the cloud cover.

He had one target: the Temple of Sacrifice, holy ground of the Sith. It had been partially destroyed, or was in some state of disrepair, but Siv was looking to complete the job -- and avenge his fallen brothers and sisters along the way. The Outlander slowed its forward velocity as afterburners ignited, allowing it to hover down into a discreet landing spot within a ravine only several klicks from the temple. Better his ship not get found and strafed by Sith starfighters, Siv reasoned.

He jumped from the cockpit, landing roughly on the surface of Korriban. A gloved hand brushed against the clay-like dirt, and Siv examined the red stains left on the leather. The air smelled putrid, dirty, unclean, even through the oxidizers and rebreathers built into Siv's Mandalorian helmet. He inhaled, then exhaled before unclipping the top strap of his blaster holder, switching the safety off with one hand. A tap onhis gauntlet, and his heads-up display converted into a real-time tactical display, providing navigation through the mountains to his target. Another tap, and he was into the Enclave comm network. "For any out there," he spoke briefly, "I'm en route to the temple. Keep your eyes out for the Sith --" a dark shuttle rocketed above Siv's head, spewing out black exhaust. "-- because they know we're here," Siv finished before signing off and drawing his blaster.

Justice was nigh.
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[Vaux Gred]

Ship: Mk IV Fang-class Starfighter
Allies: Tae'l Vizsla , Enclave
Enemies: Celeste Demici , SE

This was a fairly new experience for the Gred pilot. She'd usually be behind the controls of her custom TwinTail. Heck! This Fang Fighter brought her back to being a Viper jocky, and coincidentally that was her callsign for this mission, which was another new thing for her. She was use to her own callsign, and not mission specific once. She'd also gotten use to VK riding along with her, but there was no slot for him on the Fang. She flipped a couple of switches to open the comms.

"I'll admit the amount of tech packed in this small of a frame is impressive. A bit of a tight squeeze though." Vaux would continue running through a quick check of her munitions as she thought. Honestly she'd gotten use to the less hi-tech systems of her clan's fighters, but she could handle this. She then heard the transmission come in, and took a breath. New mission, new callsign. The Mandalorian took a breath to calm herself as she thought about what was ahead. She knew Mig wouldn't like this tactic that much, but Vaux never understood it. They were Sith. That was that, and now she had orders. She looked around at the others as another fighter flew up. She checked the callsign and smirked.

"Desecrater-Actual this is Desecrater-1. Aren't you a little young to be flying missions already, ad'ika." She would chuckle a little before making final mission preparations. "I'm forming up on you Actual. Ready when you are."

 

[Bright1]

.​

O B J E C T I V E: MAINTAIN APPEARANCES​

​

To Tatiana's surprise, one of the warriors spoke with her. His armor suggested he was a rather bulky man, indicated by the weapons he held, and the frame of his armor. Would be good to have a heavy weapons user as support, kept peoples focus off of her most of the time. He inquired about her loyalties, if she was a marshall or some other sort of Enclave lackey. Thankfully, for herself, she was just another 'loyal' warrior for the cause. She wasn't sure what his position was in truth, though she knew the symbol of his armor meant something. Perhaps something akin to a commando, or political officer. She'd have to look into that at a later date.​

​

She responded in their native tongue, giving him the privilege of holding her attention for the time being. "<No, formerly part of the Death Watch. This mission is my MO, and I figured a little extra work will go a long way to finding my Vode once again.>" She gave the briefest nods, signifying she found him tolerable. "<Tatiana, Clan Ordo. May you earn glory in the fight to come.>" All the glory that a grave could offer.​

She could feel the ship shift, lurching forward as it had come out of lightspeed, and was now accelerating towards the target. Soon, the attack would start. Then she'd have to get to work.​

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Cerar Vizsla​

​

 

[Celeste Demici]

Hyrva Vh'akli
Truthspeaker, The Prophet, Lady of Throdog N'ghftor, Witch Elder​

Location: Meditation Chamber, Sith Academy, Korriban
Equipment: Shield talisman | Shadow's Folly || Empyrean gland
Tag: Vaux Gred | Tae'l Vizsla | Closed

[ Listen the Voices ] ​

Ah'legeth, ah'legeth hup nog nilgh'ri ahagl, f' ymg' ahmgr'luh n'gha!

Hyrva sat in one of the meditation chambers, trying to interpret and analyze the sounds, pictures and whispers. As usual. Various relics, ritual instruments hovered around the woman, light sources and candles. Although these were not really needed, the woman was in her real form at the moment, in which she was blind. She only saw through the Force, but now she needed exactly that, nothing else.

Ah'legeth, ah'legeth hup nog nilgh'ri ahagl, f' ymg' ahmgr'luh n'gha!

Hyrva saw metal monsters stepping out of the stars and bringing warriors hidden in metals into this world. She recognized the patterns and armour from the archive. Mandalorian warriors. She hadn’t met them live yet, but she saw holorecords of them. They seemed fearful warriors, ones worth transforming. Well, Truthspeaker was practical, so she tried to think accordingly.

Ah'legeth, ah'legeth hup nog nilgh'ri ahagl, f' ymg' ahmgr'luh n'gha!

Now everything was different in the vision, in the voices, not about the future, but about the present. She was about to speak telepathically to the authorities when the first missiles hit the building and shook it. She immediately shape-shifting, blinked a few to get her eyes used to the lights, and then walked out of the meditation chambers.

 

[Cerar Vizsla]

​

Cerar nodded in response to Tatiana. "Ah, an Ordo. Illustrious clan, that is. Long and storied history to that name. I'm sure you honor it well. I'm Cerar, of the Si'kahya." Once you joined the Wardens, Clan and House no longer mattered, so he didn't bother with those. "Me, I fight to protect our people's future, not its past. If glory is to be found, so be it, but its not my duty to seek it." There was a brief pause, before he added "but thank you. Fight well, and may you find the vode you seek." In another life, he might've joined Death Watch like so many Vizslas before him, but his protectiveness and selflessness led him to join the Wardens instead.

Cerar felt the ship lurch as it exited hyperspace and heard the sublight engines firing up, and he gave a final nod to Tatiana before positioning himself closer to the shuttle's exit, planning on providing covering fire once they landed. Like he said, glory wasn't the goal here, completing the mission was. He just hoped their actions here today wouldn't make things worse. He raised his cannon, preparing for the moment the shuttle's hatch opened, each second feeling like an eternity.

Bright1 ​

 

[Taru Cadera]

A V E N G E
​

OBJECTIVE: Deal out what has been Dealt.

ALLIES: Siv Dragr | Tae'l Vizsla | Vren Rook | Keldab Dragr | Reeve Bralor | Cerar Vizsla | Bright1 | Vaux Gred | OPEN

ENEMIES: Darth Carnifex (Duel)

EQUIPMENT: X

LOCATION: Currently above Siv in an imperial shuttle, coming in for a "hard landing".

THEME: Y

​

Arrival to Korriban

Adara's chain code always came in handy when dealing with Sith, but Taru surmised that this would probably be the last time he could use it to any effect, especially one such as this. He had entered an imperial facility a few hours ago using it and came out with a shuttle pilot hostage. Taru was no pilot, never had been one, and had tried many times over to learn how to pilot even the simplest speeder bike, but each failure only incurred longer training exercises in the use of his jetpack and personal armor. This was common knowledge among Mandalorians that Taru couldn't pilot anything he could only crash. He had been transported through his criminal contacts to the facility, and now he had his own pilot.

It did not matter to Taru that the pilot was in a state of shock, after what he had seen and the situation he was in now it made sense. Almost. As if a tall Mandalorian in red and black armor with sharp horns wielding an ax and blaster pistol entering an imperial outpost was supposed to be calming. As if the sudden death of numerous stormtroopers was supposed to be commonplace indoors. The ones dismembered by the ax having their remains beginning to petrify. Because that was just nothing. To the scared pilot, it surely wasn't.

But to Taru, this was nothing, nothing to get shocked by or to lock up about. He had seen war, he had seen pain. He was a Cadera, the adopted son of the former Manda'lor, Manda'lor the Infernal. He knew what it meant to be a Mandalorian, the struggles that his people faced throughout the galaxy at the hands of the Sith. The ones who his sister was with, studying and learning how to control her powers. For that was all Taru thought of the Force—it was just another power to him. There was power in strength there was power in accuracy. And then there was the Force. He didn't understand it, what Adara tried to explain to him on how it worked, nor when Skorvek showed him it either. Taru just didn't feel it. He had always seen the room darken and the others around him back off in fear when Adar'ika had shown off, but all he saw was darkness. He did not feel the Force. It would take some explanations later and medical testing to conclude that Taru was devoid of the Force aka Force Dead.

​

Korriban

The Target was the Sith Temple of Sacrifice, one of the holiest sites of the Sith. Adara would be furious, but Taru was not worried, she had her own life to live and could be upset at him as much as she wanted as long as she stayed a Cadera and didn't break the Resol'nare.

He had an ENCL Repentance Blaster Pistol pressed firmly into the back of the pilot's head while standing upright behind the pilot's seat. Even with his boots magnetically gripping the floor, it was hard for Taru to keep his balance during the descent as no matter what he was not allowing the imp to decrease their speed. Korriban's atmosphere was nasty to both high-speed travel and rebreathers, and the pilot was beginning to cough as the shuttle's ventilation failed against their entry speed, the engines spewing thick black smoke as they kept the shuttle hurtling towards his mark.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden alert through his comms.

"For any out there, I'm en route to the temple. Keep your eyes out for the Sith -- because they know we're here"

It was Siv's voice he was sure of it, and so he quickly let the older Mandalorian know of what Taru had been up to. "Su cuy'gar Siv, let the others know not to shoot me down, I'm coming in hard in an imperial shuttle number C378F. Plan is to make you all a big doorway so that any air support can strafe the insides with heavier munitions." There were the sounds of a cowardly yelp and refusal from the pilot as he understood what was happening, that he was never meant to land safely or escape this armored demon behind him. Taru squeezed the trigger indifferently and continued, his tone remaining as youthfully excited as it had been. "Guess I'm the pilot now..." Pushing aside the body of the pilot, its head still smoking slightly where the pistol had been hard-pressed into the back of the skull during and before the shot.

Taking a look at the controls, Taru pushed the throttle down, placing the dark shuttle into an irreversible crash-course with the Temple's broken entrance and the excavation camp surrounding it. A smile formed on the Zabrak's face as the shuttle nosedived towards the camp.

Today, the Sith would suffer.

.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

As Maliphant glanced about the roof of the building, he could see that only some progress had been made in the reconstruction effort. Mostly destroyed by the efforts of the Galactic Alliance, it had become one of Qual'Al-Selim's fascinations; but Maliphant couldn't see the point in wasting Frumentarii assets on rebuilding this poor excuse for a historical site. Archeological efforts on a well treaded temple were pointless, after all, since any of worth would no doubt already have been taken.

His gaze, however, motioned up to the enroaching Imperial Shuttle that blazed towards the Temple. A frown formed on his marble features, and were it not for the thin and cold air of Korriban, he would have even given a heavy sigh at the exhaustive efforts of Mandalorian's and their need for destruction. A shame they didn't realize that any fear they caused the population of the planet only made the Sith stronger.

Oh, who was he kidding, of course they never read his diseration on such theories. Mandalorians couldn't read.

"Typho'jem -", he said to the planetary defense AI.

"Please deploy interceptors to my coordinates."

It was likely too late to stop the ship, using an Imperial shuttle at least got them through the upper atmosphere - but he would no doubt stop anymore from coming into the area. Atmospheric fighters were already being deployed across the planet, and if the Mandalorians wanted to center their strength here for some reason - then Maliphant would ensure it was met with their own strength.

His gaze moved to Jorii, his feet bracing to the temple with the Force imperceptibly;

"How does it make you feel, Mando, to be fighting your own?", he said with a cock of his brow.

Jorii Vizsla │ Taru Cadera

 

[Jorii Vizsla]

His question remained unanswered for moments longer than standard, the look Jorii gave him from beneath her helmet best described as somewhere between apathetic and disdainful - or maybe some combination of both. But she quickly brought her attention to bear on more important things, namely the temple they now stood in and what defensive positions, if any, would be most viable. It wasn't clear at this point if she'd simply ignored him, or if she was working through an answer that wouldn't be too personal.

"They aren't my people." Her response was made flat and nearly emotionless by the vocabulator of her helmet, for the better if it would stop his prying into matters that shouldn't have concerned a man who had hired her for a single purpose. If she'd known this contract included peering into her personal life and relationship with a people she'd long since turned away from, perhaps she would have reconsidered.

Her walk through what had been reconstructed was different than his own, punctuated less by silent commentary on wasted resources and more on why they were bothering to defend ruins that would no doubt be torn up in the crossfire at the end of this. The Sith had a strange idea of what was valuable to preserve, and they didn't make it any easier to protect it. He could think what he wished about Mandalorians, at least their architecture was defensible.

She tracked the shuttle just as he did, nearly taking up her blaster rifle but thinking better of it. Plasma rounds did little against beskar, she knew that as well as anyone. This was work better suited for the sort of combat that let you take advantage of the gaps in armor, or for weapons that could punch through the thickest of armor - her pistol included. "I hope your masters know this place isn't going to survive this battle."

Darth Empyrean | Taru Cadera | Siv Dragr

 

[Darth Empyrean]

"Do you think they care?", he said with a cock of his brow, watching her with a testing gaze.

"Most of the upper echelons of the Eternal are rather pragmatic. Zealots, sure, but pragmatic nonetheless. I think it's about posturing more than anything - but besides...", he said with a glanced down below.

Those of Carnifex's personal legions and Kainite members motioned for the workers to cease, to retreat to safer grounds with what artifacts they could carry. Perhaps some cared about this temple, but it wasn't the Eternal - it was very likely just those who once held Korriban.

He hummed slightly as the blackened eyes of his corrupt gaze wandered back up to you;

"A collapsed building is a public works in waiting. We do these things for jobs, if you listen to the Consul - nothing better than some violence to invigorate a war economy after all.", he chuckled.

Jorii Vizsla

 

[Jorii Vizsla]

"Hm." That noncommittal noise was her only retort for a moment as they both watched the workers leave, seeking out safer ground than the future battlefield that surrounded them. It wasn't something she'd ever understand, but then, it didn't seem he entirely grasped the point of the reconstruction either. That, at least, they could agree was a waste.

"Pragmatic, sure, but their tactics need work. Even if there was more to defend," Jorii gestured to the half-ruined temple and what the workers had managed to restore, "None of it is defensible." Far be it from her to tell those who signed her paychecks how to do their jobs, but so long as she was on their payroll she'd have something to say about the work they threw her into. There was an art to war, a sentiment she thought the Sith of all people would share.

Her eyes met his, helmet turning just so in his direction. Not a challenge, no, but an understanding: he might have hired her, but they stood on equal ground here.

"You need more than war, even Mandalorians understand that. If you rely on it too much, your nation will fall from the inside out." Her gaze broke from his then as she considered the prospective battleground. "Not that you or any of the rest care much for what I have to say, and I don't get paid to prop up whatever you have going here."

Darth Empyrean

 

[Vren Rook]

ALLIES: Siv Dragr | Ruus Kote | Taru Cadera | Keldab Dragr | Cerar Vizsla | Tae'l Vizsla
ENEMIES: Sith all around | Anyone else want to line dance?
ENGAGING: Darth Carnifex | Taeli Raaf
GEAR:

Spoiler

2x Ripper Pistols
Battle Rifle and optics system
Rocket Pack
Rocket boots
6x DetPacks
Beskad
Kal

Vambrace fitments:

Nano-missile launcher
CryoBan Projector
Tractor-Pressor Beam Projector
Plasma Caster

GHOST RIDERS​

The time had come.

They had been waiting for it for a while. Been preparing. Been cultivating the stroke of vengeance. And now, finally The Quartermaster had sent them forth. Sent them to the heart.

Korriban.

The Rust Bucket was on a headstrong course towards the Dark planet of the Sith. Not that it was quiet in the cockpit. Vren's head and fingers were bobbing along with some good music, singing at the top of his lungs. The Karjr was many things, but no one could say that he was boring.

Usually to Siv Dragr 's annoyance.

Speaking of the man - just as Vren approached the planet, his fellow Karjr's voice rang through the comms, interrupting the song that was playing. Vren rolled his eyes
"You trying to be ominous, Dragr? Or do you just want to sound important?" Vren teased back over the comms, but routed the Rust Bucket to head to his friend's last location.

Vren's boots crunched onto the red dirt of the planet as jumped out of the Outlander. The Mando'ade scanned the area as his HUD went through a series of settings before settling on combat ready. He caught sight of Dragr a ways in front of him.
"You trying to decorate this chit hole with your crappy presence, Dragr?" he teasingly asked, walking up to his friend. As he came to a stop next to Siv, his own hand went to rest on one of his pistols. "Let's get to dancing, Vod." he then said in a more serious tone.

It was time for payback, after all.

 

[Cerar Vizsla]

​

Cerar heard cannon fire through the hull of the shuttle, a sure sign that they were within range of the station. The vessel lurched and shook, doing its best to evade incoming fire from the shipyard's point defense systems and squadrons of enemy starfighters, and the whole shuttle shook as a blast impacted its starboard side. He muttered a curse in Mando'a as the ship realigned itself with its destination and he regained his footing, reaching out a huge arm to help up a vod who lost their balance. Cerar gave them a nod as they got to their feet, which they returned, before gripping his blaster cannon with both hands again.

Soon the passengers of the ship felt the shift as the shuttle entered the gravity of the shipyard, and heard the landing gear below them deploy. Then the ramp lowered, and with it followed Cerar. Vizsla's finger squeezed the trigger of his blaster, spraying a volley of bolts on a squad of Sith troops. "Move, move, move," he bellowed, beckoning his vode to disembark the shuttle while he laid down suppressive fire. Occasionally he would pump out a charged shot at a Sith trooper he saw shouldering a launcher, unmoving from the ramp until all of the Mandos aboard had been safely unloaded.

Whether he supported the Quartermaster's decision or not was now irrelevant. He had a job to do, so it was time to get to work.

Bright1 ​

 

[Adi'ka Awaud]

"Oh my fur and whiskers! I'm late, I'm late, I'm late! For a very important date!"

Cursing the slowing tides of hyperspace in the Stygian Caldera Adi'ka Awaud finally entered realspace.

"Here the Parsniper Mork! Ready to engage bombing run! Pleeeeease do not already have levelled all targets, vod! Spare some crazy brain ticks for me!"

Locking on multiple targets the centuries, but old beskar alloyed Krayt gunship of the Lepi Mandalorian roared toward the gloomy necropolis world of the sith.
Concussion torpedos were primed and ready to rain destruction on the old stone structures of the accursed planet.

It was payback time!