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

[Taeli Raaf]

Equipment: In signature
Allies: Carnifex
Enemies: Siv Dragr Taru Cadera Vren Rook

"And enter the irritants," she sighed, rolling up the rubbing paper she had been using at the sounds of battle above. The Temple of Sacrifice had been a major Sith site back in antiquity, one that Kaine had revived its use of for executing Jedi and draining them when the Sith Empire held the planet. Now, the temple itself was in ruins, but its history still survived. Taeli had come to preserve of it, and admittedly, to study some the ancient runes the Sith had etched into the altar.

Some of her Sith Adepts had accompanied her mistress and were now busy gathering up their research materials and artifacts they had recovered for transport back to Ziost. Turning her senses to those above, she could make out Darth Carnifex , present as always to oversee the construction, and Darth Empyrean and plenty of self-righteous presences obsessed with revenge.

"Mandos, just lovely," she sighed again, stretching her shoulders with a long shrug. "Use the tunnels to get what we learned to safety. I'll join the others in putting down the Mandalorians."

Something she had a particularly relish for after Australis and what he did. Checking her lightsabers were at hand, she called the dark side to her and disappeared in a whirl of purple and black smoke and mist, traveling to the eclipse horizon in the force that was Kaine Zambrano. She rematerialized a moment later, a frown etched on her face.

"They just won't take the hint will they?" she said in irritation.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

K O R R I B A N​

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"No, they do not."​

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Carnifex watched impassionately as the Mandalorians began to make their presence fully known, one of their shuttles crashlanding down near the temple's fragmented entrance. The Sith guards and armed workers responded with a volley of blaster bolts, peppering the ship and the land around it without pause. But as all who had fought Mandalorians in the past would know, not even such fury would be enough to give these ancient warriors pause.​

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While the lower dregs formed a defensive perimeter around the excavation site, more seasoned warriors were being called forth to defend the homeland of the Sith. Of these mighty warbands, the most ferocious were the dreaded Blackblade Guard. Comprised of hardened killers and bloodied veterans, the Blackblade Guard had been the sword by which Carnifex had prosecuted his many atrocities across the galaxy. There was no line they wouldn't cross, no code they would not take, in their dogged pursuit of violence in the name of their Master.​

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A triad; two soldiers and a commanding officer, approached Carnifex and Taeli Raaf. All fell to one knee, though it was the officer that rose when bidden. "Great One, we are assembled." From hidden alcoves and fresh bunkers, the warriors of the Blackblade Guard geared and steadied themselves for battles against one of their most tenacious foes. The Guard's reputation as Mandalorian slayers was well earned, for they had accumulated many trophies from the sons and daughters of Mandalore throughout the decades.​

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"Good," replied Carnifex, not even moving to look at the soldier. "Wake the Golems, they will be eager to face their siblings once again."​

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"As you command," spoke the Guard, showing the proper signs of obedience as he and his two comrades departed the overlook. Even as they had moved the leave, the order had quickly spread through the Guard's ranks. From within their shadowy redoubts, the Guard produced a series of ornate coffins clamped tight with magnetic locks and ray shielding. Now they ritualistically unlocked these boxes, setting aside each safeguard as the coffin lids disengaged with a burst of pressurized air.​

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From within emerged towering metallic figures, their polished chassis gleaming in the blinding light of Korriban's sun. Their photoreceptors acquired data of the world around them, a constant stream of information that allowed them to quickly acclimate to their environment. One director flashed through their processors above all others; that the enemy had come and they had been awoken to once more ride forth and slay. The Moridinae Golems, tombs for the souls of those who had betrayed their faith in the Manda and turned against their living brothers and sisters of Mandalore, rose eagerly to the task set before them. Metallic digits clamped tight around vicious weapons, the same weapons wielded by those of the Guard.​

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Out they marched into the frigid air of the valley, their march a sinister dirge of doom for the enemies of the Sith.​

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Carnifex watched this all from afar, his eyes moving between the disparate groups as they converged for battle. "The temple may suffer more damage, Taeli. Perhaps irreparably." He shifted his body to face her, "Have the artifacts been secured?"​

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Taeli Raaf | Darth Arkanus
Siv Dragr | Taru Cadera | Vren Rook ​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

"Do you think our legions of administrators don't understand that?", he said with a cock of his brow, his voice taking on the tense edge of a knife.

"Should I use my political weight to drag you before them so you can explain economic theory and a civilian economy for them?"

He raised a leg onto the edge of the roof and leaned over, staring at the ground as he let a moment of silence hang between them; perhaps not even at her own fault for his quip. In war, Sith found strength in emotion, and on the precipice of an attack he was no doubt on edge. While he was not as much an animal as the Sith berserkers who lost their mind to strength, he was as likely to attack her or the Sith below them, as he was the Mandalorians.

"Until you are Sith, your opinion means nothing, Jorii. Understand that, internalize it; you work for the credit, we are bound by its sticky nature. While it holds the galaxy together, it does not give you the pull to offer advice. Shoot your gun, kill who we tell you to kill - and until you convert, mind your place as a mercenary."

He did not ordain her with a glance to back.

Jorii Vizsla

 

[Cerar Vizsla]

With all the Mandalorians on the shuttle now safely disembarked Cerar leapt from the boarding ramp and took cover behind an assortment of crates, relaying orders over his comms to the Si'kahya under his command. Without the sheer numbers required to crew any of the Sith's ships that might be big enough to deal damage, sabotaging the shipyard's reactor sounded like the best bet. But first they would need to clear the hangar.

Blaster in hand, he leapt over the crates with surprising agility and charged at a group of Legionnaires, bearing down on them with a torrent of blaster bolts and a mountain of beskar. "Push forwards! Once we establish a beachhead, we move towards the reactor," Cerar shouted over the Si'kahya comms channel. With any luck, the chaos being sown by the more hot-blooded Mandalorians would allow the Si'kahya to carry out their mission with a bit less difficulty. Pumping a charged shot and unleashing it into the nearest Legionnaire, who collapsed to the hangar floor with a clatter, Cerar ordered his fellow Wardens to form up on his position in preparation to push forward the assault.

Bright1 @Anyone else who wants to join (please)​

 

[Firrerreo]

"Beskar. Quite handy. Quite.. Impervious. Hmm.."

A lone figure stood over the body of a lone Mandalorian. Away from the battle, for now. An idle skirmish that hand ended poorly for the soldier. The acolyte looked over the smoldering figure, dull ember eyes as ever studying his work. The soldier wasn't long for this world. Where his armor had protected him from a lightsaber, it did little to protect him from a fire started within the suit itself. Burned from the inside out, unable to speak, see, hear.

Dying, alone.

The acolyte idly wrote own in his journal, humming to himself. The process wasn't easy, but it worked well. As the Mandalorian fell still once again, the journal would snap shut. There were others to purge.