Suddenly Mandalorians! [Kilaado Raid - Mando v FO]

[Silas Mantis]

Friends: [member="Beskadala Ordo"], [member="Liset Vereen"], [member="Atin Alo'ran"], [member="Preliat Mantis"], [member="Yasha Mantis"], other ME
Enemies: FO, [member="Kyrel Ren"], [member="Varas Kyrel"], [member="Therran Graush"] directly
Location: KEC Logistic Platform

Like that, a dear friend was gone. The droid was blasted to pieces, torn to bits by the force, the aging machines centuries if not eons of wars finally coming to an end. A well deserved rest he supposed, but all Silas could feel was anger, and desperation to get away from the storm of jagged metal. He'd already lost an arm to besu'lisk debris, he wasn't keen on losing anything else. His legs shot forward to slow himself down, his pack cutting for a moment the reignited as he tried to escape the storm of twisted steel and metal.

Tried he did, and while Silas wasn't currently encased in the metal remains of his mount, he did not escape unscathed. A shard of metal caught him in the side, punching in through one side and out the other. Nothing important was in between the two points, but it knocked Silas down forcefully, aided by two larger fragments which hammered his chestplate leaving nasty bruises beneath the Mandalorian iron. Blood spattered against the duracrete and his pistol clattered away, sliding down the shifting platform and out of his reach. But he wasn't done, far from it actually.

Despite the searing pain the Mandalorian stood himself up, the beskad finding its sheath as he extended his prosthetic and fired a grappling hook from his gauntlet, targeted not at Therran, but at his lightsaber. The device would take hold of the ancient weapon of Jedi and Sith alike and attempt the pull it back into the Mandalorian's grip where he would crush the emitter should it reach his grasp.

He would leave the dar'jetti with nothing but his tricks to defend himself, then they'd see how the dar'jetti fare up close. Assuming Therran didn't stop him of course.

 

[Zef Halo]

KEC LOGISTICS PLATFORM
KILAADO

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The Mandalorian proved too stubborn for death. His attempt at ensnaring him led to failure as the armored man used his jetpack to escape the makeshift coffin Therran had planned for him. Panting, recuperating his strength, the Sith observed as the warrior snatched his hilt from the ground and easily crushed it into pieces in his hands. Unlike most Sith, Graush barely relied on his saber.

Therran's earlier demonstration of ripping the war droid to pieces had drained him, despite the surging boost of energy from the negative emotions both fighters shared. The force was limitless, he was not. Gathering his strength, observing the opponent and contemplating his strategy.

"Your goal will end in failure today, Mandalorian." The Sith spoke, his voice echoing tones of confidence.



Directly Interacting with: [member="Silas Mantis"]

Others:
[member="Beskadala Ordo"] | [member="Atin Alo'ran"] | [member="Preliat Mantis"] | [member="Yasha Mantis"] | [member="Liset Vereen"] | [member="Quoron"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"]

[member="Malcolm Denwich"] | [member="Luther Ando"] | [member="Robogeber"] | [member="Astoria Vero"] | [member="Kyrel Ren"] | [member="Orin Valk"] | [member="Kru Zruyk"] | [member="Karl Rippach"] | [member="Emilia Ravel"] | @idkwhoelse​

 

[Vilaz Munin]

Location: Orar; Interdictor
Allies: [member=“Koda Fett”]
Enemies: Backpedaling, [member=“Robogeber”]
Objective: B U R N

Had the shields of the Interdictor been online, the crew of the Orar would have detected it and do something else besides boarding the Interdictor in the fashion they had done. But no shields were online as their sensors picked up nothing. With that the Orar was still cloaked and continued to slice. But somehow they were detected when no First Order vessels had the capability to spot them. How was such thing possible to accomplish?

Who knew, but that wasn’t Vilaz’s problem.

With that the gunners of First Order vessels opened fire at the Interdictor as it tried to hit the Orar. What genius tactics of the First Order officer to open fire on their own Interdictor that didn’t had its shields on. Completely genius. The Orar successfuly sliced through the Interdictor which allowed the Mandalorians to board.

”Did the Imperials fired their own ship?”

”Imperial idioticy, Kolt. Keep focus,” the Akaan said to a Mandalorian that was dumbfounded with that the First Order had done.

Now that isn’t to say some lucky shots hit the Orar which did, but was still functional. After activating the ray shields of the Interdictor to seal off any vacuum from space, the Orar disembarked from the Interdictor moments before TIE bombers made their way and bombed not the Orar, but their own Interdictor with ion ordnances. Vilaz was a bit surprised by the supposed great tactics by the First Order as he led his warriors into the corridors of the Interdictor, ready to greet any force that wasn’t between them and the ship’s bridge.

 

[Kito Askmar]

Location: Lanteeb | FOSB Safehouse "Mynock"
Objective: Protect the safehouse
Nearby allies: [member="Emilia Ravel"]
Nearby enemies: N/A

His first assignment actually working for the FOSB, and it was escorting Emilia Ravel as she went through some documentation. Needless to say he wasn't exactly pleased at the idea, but there was nothing to be done about it and he would make sure it was done right.

Kito was stationed just down the hall from where Emilia was working, while the increased number of troopers coming to her door put him on edge, especially when she left her work to go to the radio station. It wasn't unheard of for there to be urgent messages coming in, so he let it be making sure that he was ready to spring up. Which he did almost startling himself at the sound of Emilia's voice over the loud speaker

:: "Attention operatives in safe-house Mynock, this is Bureau Chief Emilia Ravel. We have received reports of a possible Mandolorian attack from a ship approaching Lanteeb. I am now placing this facility under lockdown. FOSB operatives are to stand by and await further orders, security personnel report to the armoury and prepare for attack. That is all." ::

"Dammit" Kito cursed to himself. He was going to be spending a long time locked in this bunker while there were people fighting for their lives out there. A small part of him hoped that the Mandolorians would break into the safehouse, it'd been too long since he had been in any really action. Pushing the thought aside he moved towards the radio station, seeking out Emilia. If he couldn't participate he would at least know what was going on.

 

[Astoria Vero]

Location: Outer Rim || Lanteeb || Kilaado​

Designation: KEC HQ​

Allies: [member="Malcolm Denwich"] || First Order​

Enemies: Mandalorian Empire​

Stay right behind me, he ordered – but Astoria didn’t need the injunction. “I have a bad feeling about this,” She murmured dubiously, feline gaze narrowing up at him just before her blonde head disappeared under the dome of her helmet.

Instantly, the glowing information screen of her HUD burst into frenetic activity, as dazzling to her rounded eyes as the first time she’d seen the stars. There was neither time to play with the new toy nor to revel in the novelty of the moment, however – Malcolm, as Astoria noted was his habit, had already begun to move. She would be right behind him.

[“Wait!”] Her voice piped from somewhere below his left shoulder, cutting through the static of her vocabulator. [“Don’t we need a plan? A strategy? Anything?”]

If motivations and intent weren’t Malcolm’s game, they were certainly Astoria’s. The girl, in spite of her insufferably puerile antics, was first and foremost a thinker. She played life like a game of Sabacc, where she held the Queen card. To her, everything was a game – and not only that, a game that she could win. All she had to do was outthink the opposition. What would a heathen band of Mandalorian screamers want with KEC HQ?

Astoria felt a rise of indignation as her internal lightbulb dinged.

Those meddlesome muppets want our stuff.

She never did care much for sharing.

A metallic rush of air and blinding stream of light severed her thoughts and returned her to the moment – the blast door to the safe house now gaped wide open. What lay beyond its threshold froze Astoria dead in her boots.

The whole world seemed to burn.

It was the smell that hit her first. Astoria had never smelled death before, but even through the filter of her helmet, its sulfurous aroma was unmistakable as it radiated from the ashes and flames of burning infrastructure. Something hideous twisted in the pit of her stomach. It told her that it wasn’t just ships and buildings that were burning. Beneath the howling whine of blaster fire and bombs, she could just barely make out the mangled cries of victims – sucked into the vacuum of destruction that ravaged the city all around them.

It was a horrible sensory experience, her very first taste of war, but Astoria couldn’t look away. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. The erratic flash of explosions glimmered like fireworks in the reflection of her upturned visor as she stood, paralyzed, watching.

BOOM!

Astoria snapped to attention like a doe in a thicket. How long had she been standing there? Where was Malcolm? All it took was a quick scan to find him down the street – there was no more time to waste. No more room for girlishness. Mimicking her mentor’s movement patterns to dodge falling shrapnel, the Intern threw caution to the wind and plunged forward, reemerging at his side just as he turned to check on her and offer further instructions. She nodded silently, chest heaving from both adrenaline and exertion. Could she really handle this?

The squeeze of his hand to her shoulder assured her that she could. Astoria took a deep breath and drew close behind him as they advanced, preparing to infiltrate KEC HQ. When he raised his weapon, she followed suit. Once inside the building’s lobby, Astoria took a moment to survey the perimeter.

[“Where do they store the valuables here? – any important data or materials? That’s what the Mandalorians want.”] The girl paused thoughtfully, then muttered, [“Boneheads.”] She turned back to Malcolm. [“If we can find the reserves and secure them, then we can –”]

The sentence broke off abruptly. They weren’t alone.

A strange voice addressed them, seeming to materialize out of nowhere. It belonged to [member=Whisperer].

Astoria took a meaningful step backward to hide behind the broad wall of Malcolm’s back. She whispered pointedly against his armor.

[“I think she’s talking to you.”]

[member="Malcolm Denwich"] | [member=Robogeber] | [member="Therran Graush"] | [member="Xavier Payne"]​

[member=Whisperer] | [member="Kru Zruyk"] | [member="Kyrel Ren"] | [member="Emilia Ravel"]​

[member="Malika Mantis"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Preliat Mantis"] | [member="Silas Mantis"] | [member="Liset Vereen"] | [member="Jor Kvall"]​

[member="Yasha Mantis"] | [member="Shia Kryze"] | [member="Atin Alo'ran"]​

 

[Robogeber]

Allies: [member="Karl Rippach"] | [member="Orin Valk"]
Enemies: [member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Koda Fett"]
Objective: Destroy.


The Mandalorians of the last twenty years had one problem in Fleet Admiral Carlyle Rausgebers opinion. And that was envy. The Mandalorians were, admittedly at one point in their societies development, advanced warriors. Scourge of the Old Republic. A force which had at one point been reckoned with. Mandalore now sat, largely inept as the peoples who inhabited the beskar laden wasteland now continued to fight each other as primitively as pre-space faring civilisations still did. Little more than tribal brutes, who clung to the successes of the long dead, and now found themselves little more than opportunistic. Scavengers and wasters. Who spent what little time not fighting each other, copulating with each other in a primal fashion to create offspring, who in turn would have more chromosomes than both parents combined.

No, the Mandalorians issue now was they had no capable leaders. There had been what? Four, five Manda'lors in the last four years alone? Hollow men who clung to the ideas and the fabled stories of warlords past. Real men. Not these pretenders, who used their beskar as a crutch, rather than identity. Who used cunning and tact rather than the brute force Kilaado currently felt. And that would be the end of them. Their lack of vision. Lack of faith. Lack of understanding of realpolitick. Of the real issues which plagued the Galaxy. Instead, the Mandalorians preferred to hide, and attack like the cowards they were. They would return to their sacred world, only to destroy it in, what Rausgeber calculated was six months. And then rebuild. With their same old clan system, now riddled with incest and other degenerate activities, which ran rife with a culture which revered violence.

Although scholars would argue both the imperial and Mandalorian outlooks on politics were similar. Rausgeber disagreed. While both were geared to war, and revered authoritarian figures, Ra Viszla for the Mandalorians, Sieger Ren of the First Order, there were distinct differences, The First Order saw war, overarchingly as a tool of defence, and one of liberation. The Mando'ade saw it as sport. Exercise. Ritualistic. The type of barbarity which did not exist in the Galactic order, and rather in history books. While Carlyle naturally saw the Galactic Alliance as corrupt, and ineffectual, he saw their place on the political stage as one which was vital. They reminded the Galaxy of the natural conclusions of democracy; a lapse in social order, the disintergration of a representative and a complete superseding of sovereignty in the name of political gain (things which existed under the First Order, but he believed the governors a little better representative and classy than his classical opponents). The Mandalorians were little more than pirates. Raiders, and mercenaries who flaunted little more than beskar plating, and nothing else. No capable weapons. No real leaders. Just a bunch of boys high on their own adrenaline, and wanting to prove their testicular fortitude.

Meanwhile, the First Order was filled with honest to force heroes. Men and women who banded together to create something greater. A message of unity, law and order. A lasting legacy in the face of those who would otherwise jeopardise it. Who would dare to take away from the way of life of the working man. The honest man ravaged by the Ssi-Ruuk. The terrified women, dismembered by pirates. And the children who fell prey to the other dangers which lurked within the Unknown Regions. That was the difference. They weren't raiders. They weren't opportunists. They stood strong. With conviction. With loyalty against the murderers who tried to defy their peace. Their order. Their homelands.

The Mandalorians had nothing but hollow words and the tales of ancestors to live by. They had no grand industry to speak of. No specialty in this new Galactic order. Which was why when the unfortunate Vilaz Munin arrived aboard the Holdfast, he was greeted by a platoon of stormtroopers armed especially with Deep Fryer rifles. Rifles designed to wipe out those who identified with heavy armour. Who instead of using it as a tool, were weak. Were vulnerable in the face of resistance. For this current crop of Mandalorians, from Mantis to Kryze. Munin to Ordo, The beskar'gam they were so proud of. The armour which had been forged to defend against the righteous justice of the Jedi, and fury of the Sith, now was tested against the weapons of the First Order.

Technology, and tact. The Mandalorians' crude and bestial tactics didn't work against troopers like them. Loyal and prepared men. Men who were ready to give their all for Empire, people and Leader. Men now armed to the teeth with state of the art weaponry, designed to tear apart their precious beskar. Designed to superheat the metal which they declared protected them, which was their supposed birthright. Instead, it became a death trap, as blasts of microwaved laser, now impacted against their armour, in massive volleys. The amount of which, should be able to peel a man's skin, and cause his flesh to boil. A weapon which now turned their praised and revered armour, which shielded weaklings clinging to idols, into what they truly were.

Boys who had stirred the bear, and would now cry when mauled.

As Munin's fodder were mauled by the precise aim of stormtroopers, Koda Fett's men were able to attack the hangar, with little resistance. The garrison there was scant. Small. However armed with the same rifles which now melted the innards what must have been assumed to be Mandalores strongest and bravest. TIE fighters, which had been refuelled, now scrambled, and began to blast the new threat. Their boarders being pounded by the dual weapons, and missiles deployed by the TIE Space Superiority, Mark Three Fighter. Concussion missiles and proton torpedoes were launched from these fighters, as the hangar technicians took up arms, and locked the hangar bay down, with their army allies digging in. Those in the hangar faced one hell of a fight.

From the bridge of the Malice, Rausgeber watched all. The FIV Bunsenbrenner with its advanced sensors now had a lock on a Mandalorian transport attempting to depart the hangar, and was now peppered consistently with kyber imbued fire, and TIE fighter blasts. With the Mandalorians having so recklessly thrown away their advantage, the First Order now looked to surround the traitors and thieves who had collected around Kilaado City, and its Engineering Corporation Headquarters. It had all been for nothing.

Even now if Munin was for some godknown reason, successful in destroying the Holdfast, the FIV Ravager spun up its gravity wells, and projected yet another gravitational field around the system, and now filled any gap the Holdfast left. Escape was futile. Those on the ground, whether they knew it or not. Trapped. There would be no escape. No glorious return. No. Despite their bravado. Despite their boldness. These raiders were dead men.

And for the Fleet Admiral, who watched with a smirk as Munin's transport was destroyed. There was only one word which could articulate his feelings on the whole affair.

"Pathetic."

 

[Progflaw99]

Outer Rim \\ Lanteeb \\ Kilaado​

Obj: Locate & Eliminate Threat​

Loc: KEC HQ Lobby \\ Main Floor​

Alert Status: High​

Just as he'd stepped off again, grinding ground under boot, the woman's voice broken up by the vocabulator reached his ears. He grunted, gripping his weapon tightly as he ducked into a shallow nook of an entryway. They were almost to the main lobby of the KEC building. Debris from above came clattering against the ground as weapons fire continued. :: The plan. :: He said gruffly. :: Is to figure out who's doing the shooting and put them down. :: With that he pushed off once more, rounding the corner and breaking into a full on sprint. Malcolm arrived at the doors quickly, the glass panes long since shattered and a sea of sharp crystalline shards splayed out across the tile. Initially he'd scanned the room with his eyes, nothing drawing his attention. For a moment his focus shifted to the HUD within the helmet he wore. They'd need to figure out where the weapons fire was coming from, from there they could figure out where their presence was most needed. The lobby was empty, if anyone had been unfortunate enough to be there when the shooting started they were long gone now. At least he'd thought at first.

It was startling, and just as fast as he'd realized his mistake the barrel of his weapon came back up, They didn't have time for a meet-n-greet. As he was about to issue the order to vacate, the woman spoke. Behind him he could hear the intern shift, her whisper heard. Once more he found himself cut off just as he was about to speak, this time by the woman further into the lobby.

"Colonel Demek, Advanced Reconnaissance."​

*Advanced Reconnaissance?* It wasn't something Malcolm was familiar with but he figured given the explosive nature of the terrorist attack if the woman had wanted him dead, she would have fired by now. He replied in kind. :: Agent Denwich, FOSB. You got any intel on what the hell is going on? :: The vocabulator did a wonderful job at covering up Malcolm's irritation, instead a rather robotic and neutral tone relayed. They didn't have time for a meet and greet, they needed to get to where the action was so they could end this madness before it got worse. Looking over his shoulder, he checked back on the intern. *Still there. Good.* Given the circumstances she seemed to be holding together well enough so far. Shifting the weight of the Ion Disruptor slung across his shoulder he stepped forward, closer to the turbolifts that could bring them up to where the action was.

=O=

[member="Astoria Vero"] | [member="Emilia Ravel"] | [member="Robogeber"] | [member="Therran Graush"] | [member="Xavier Payne"]
[member="Whisperer"] | [member="Kru Zruyk"] | [member="Kyrel Ren"]

[member="Malika Mantis"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Preliat Mantis"] | [member="Silas Mantis"] | [member="Liset Vereen"] | [member="Jor Kvall"]
[member="Yasha Mantis"] | [member="Shia Kryze"] | [member="Atin Alo'ran"]
​

 

[Lemon]

Koda Fett​

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Holdfast, Lanteeb, Bri'ahl Sector, Outer Rim Territories​

Interacting With: [member="Robogeber"]​

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The musings of Admiral Rausgeber held a certain degree of truth to them. The Mandalorians did fight themselves in their Civil Wars, however that was their form of politics. Nothing was sorted through words, but instead fists. It was action that the people desired, and it was what they got no matter how backwards it may seem. Perhaps tactics had suffered over the years, replacing statistical effectiveness with the boldness of a leader. Though these men weren't boys in heavy armor, they were Mandalorians. Mandalorians were known, even now, for being unmatched in combat and their ruthless desire to win. Everyone knew that, for when you faced a Mandalorian you were in for a fight, and the crew of the Holdfast certainly were.

The sound of pained screams, attention grabbing yells, explosions and blaster exchanges echoed about the hangar as the Mandalorians clashed with the First Order. It was unorganized chaos to begin with, Fett's men scrambled about the hangar for cover whilst laying down fire themselves. Meanwhile two soared towards the area that was hangar control, and with any luck they would succeed in reaching it before everything locked down. Perhaps locking themselves in with the warriors was a poor choice, but if Fett knew anything about tactics, it was buying time. The men here were merely a road-bump, one that would hopefully delay the Mandalorians whilst reinforcements arrived.

Fett persisted with intensive and precise fire, a trio of red bolts departing his blaster with every squeeze of the trigger. Many fell beneath the boot of the infamous bounty hunter who would normally be all to recognizable, but among a sea of near identicals, it became difficult to point him out. He wielded his weapon with one hand, allowing the left to flow freely if any of his plethora of gadgets was required. The First Order crewman would definitely succumb to the might of the Mandalorians, but they still had a trick up their sleeve. One, two, three, four Mandalorians disintegrated, turned to ash as the beam struck them.

A scowl formed across his face at the mere sight of it. If anyone had painted themselves as a target, it was those that fired such a dangerously effective weapon.

 

[Luther Lewis]

Location: Kilaado - Ruins
Resources: Pair of "Deliverer" Carriers, 3 members of Luther's crew.
Allies: First Order - [member="FN-2826"]
Enemies: Mandolorian Empire - [member="Quoron"]

- - - - -​

The kid was screaming. Screaming for his mom. Screaming for his dad. They couldn't hear him. They were buried under a 100 tonnes of concrete and durasteel.

Luther and and another medic hauled him away from the wreckage. The boy kicked and bit, screaming to let him go. He couldn't have been more than fourteen. Deciding that he was a flight risk, he sedated the boy as the others held him down. His eyes fluttered in panic, but slowly drooped to a close. His struggling movements became weak, and his breathing steadied out. Luther felt a pang of guilt, and looked at what remained of the house. It wasn't pretty, he could safely say that the mother and father hadn't made it. He felt sick, but shook off the feeling. Care, but not too much. Focus on the mission. Or you are dead.

- - - - -​

The kid was safely aboard his deliverer and Luther was heading to the next location. FN-2826 (a medic told him his callsign was Tempest) had radioed in a request for medical assistance. Luther had responded promptly, saying that he would head there immediately, and that there was no need to wait for him. Thomas and the rest of his carrier agreed to stay behind and look for more civilians.

The area was a mess, the dead troopers weren't a pretty sight. He found the injured trooper, much to his amazement. He didn't really believe tempest when he said one was alive after a war-droid attack. She was propped against a concrete barricade, looking like hell.

Three of the medics stood guard while the other three checked the bodies. Naomi got out of her driver seat and manned the gun, keeping a wary eye on the direction of blaster fire. Luther crouched by the wounded soldier and motioned two medics over.

She looked bad, her eyes were pained, her chestplate was red with blood. Despite that, Luther figured she could be worse. Her breathing wasn't particularly labored and she had stayed conscious while Luther rode over. The two other medics wasted no time, and started removing her chest-plate. She glanced down as they worked, her eyes going wide at the sight of blood. She made a strangled noise in the back of her throat, and started to panic.

"Hey, hey, look up here. Look at me" Luther said. Her head snapped up, her eyes wide and bright. "You're going to be okay" he reassured her. "Just keep looking a me". The other medics ignored him. "I'm Luther" he popped his helmet off, so she could see that he was calm. "I just need you to take deep breaths for me, we're going to get you out of here in no time" he resisted an urge to check on the treatment. "Does it hurt to talk?"

"A little, but I think I can manage it" she croaked. "I-I'm Horizon". Luther broke into a genuine smile. "Looks like I'm the only one who missed out on choosing a cool nickname, huh?" he chuckled. Horizon gave a small smile, quickly erased by a look of pain. Seeing that the medics were done, Luther stepped away.

- - - - -​

​

"She had broken ribs" the medic explained. There were a few cuts, but it looked like most of the blood was from another trooper. "My guess is that she was hit by rubble and went down, so the hostile thought she was dead". Luther agreed. The woman was out of her armour, bundled in a blanket and carried on a stretcher. There seemed like there was no spinal damage, but they were being careful.

His comms crackled to life. "No rest for the wicked, eh?" Luther complained. He answered the comms. "This is Sergeant Ando, medical division. Go ahead."

 

[Beskadala]

[NOTE: I think it's time we wrapped this one up. Due to some out of RP difficulties and the Mando-ORC Invasion taking the greater efforts, instead of letting this raid stall out, I am going to finish what I started and initiate the end game I had prepared for this raid.]​

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Location: KEC Building Roof
Objective: End Game Part 1
---------------------------------------------

Beskadala had been watching her horde do its work. While the best of her heathen army had been occupied engaging the First Order, her other brothers and sisters had begun the work of sacking the city and taking what was needed, strapping it to their basilisk war droids and continuing the task set by Mandalor. Meanwhile, inside KEC Tower, Beskadala decided it was time to begin the end-game to this little escapade. Setting assist her combat rifle, she drew her two M27 Charging Rhyno heavy pistols.

Breaking from the fight with the Ren’s she activated her jet pack and blasted out the holes her war droid had created. “Come!” she shouted, and her war droid followed bursting from the corridor through the destroyed façade of the KEC building. While ascending, her war droid flew under her and Beskadala mounted her war droid once more. While flying upwards to the roof of the building, she activated her HUD comms to create a secured private frequency with [member="Liset Vereen"].

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0_3sdIEhkNA​

“Liset, leave the Ren. And return to the cargo freighter.” Beskadala’s usually cold tone called out with a hint of mischief. “I have a job for you.”
Beskadala atop her war droid flew over the roof. On the roof some security forces had pooled, having been commanded by local garrison to secure what they can. Beskalada’s war droid thundering down and landed on them without warning. Those that survived were executed by Beskadala herself as she leapt off her mechanical stead and manuevered around her opponents combining close-quarters-combat with short and precise gun firing movements. Once the security forces were dispatched. She opened a secondary line to Dejk in the cargo freighter’s pilot cabin.

“Dejk!” She howled, “Remember that time you and I had to hardwire a YT-Freighter?”

“Ye—Yes?” Dejk said over the calms wary of what mad plot Beskadala was planning.

“Good, because I want you to hardwire the comm’s signalling wiring to the hyperdrive’s confirmation activation signalling.” Beskadala replied. Dejk said nothing at first, before questioning her longtime battle sister’s plan. “You want me to jerry-rig the comms so a call will signal the hyperdrive to activate?”

“Exactly.” Beskadala retorted.

“What are you planning to do?” Dejk said.

“I’m generating an exit strategy, now do it.” Beskadala cynically spat back.

Beskadala then order her war droid to follow her as she ran over to the roof entrance. Gesturing to the entrance the war droid galloped over and stood guard as Beskadala herself crouched and took cover behind it. Changing to the secured private line to Liset she called in once more, “I want you to head to the freighter and splice its wiring so that if it is activated it will go into a catastrophic meltdown. No time to explain just do it. Once you are done, meet me on the roof.”

Beskadala paused and then whispered to herself. “Now for the fun part.”

“Dejk, you done?” Beskadala called once more. “Yah, yah almost there.” Dejk said, his feed rattling with the sound of parts and metal. “Done. What you want now you crazy monster!”

“Still tapped into the space traffic frequencies?” Beskadala said.

“Yes?” Dejk replied hesitantly.

“Send me the frequency of whoever is running the show in the stars.” Beskadala laughed.

Dejk said nothing. Now it made sense. This would be one hell of a hostage situation. Dejk smiled and laughed to himself. Getting up from beneath the front panelling of the cargo freighters piloting array Dejk forwarded the frequency to a First Imperial Vessel, with its broadcasting I.D. as FIV Malice ([member="Robogeber"]).

Beskadala receiving the frequency then thanked Dejk. “Now get out of there, and take Yorg with you. The poor man has had a bad day.”
Cutting off, she holstered one of her heavy pistols and retrieved a miniature holoprojector which would transport her image to the deck of the ship. Activating it, she sent a message to the communications of the vessel.

“My name is Beskadala Ordo, I am the commander of the Mandalorian force that is currently sacking your city. If you would be so kind, I would like to speak to your commanding officer.” Beskadala introduced herself with a sultry and cool voice.

[member="Astoria Vero"] | [member="Emilia Ravel"] | [member="Therran Graush"] | [member="Xavier Payne"] | [member="Whisperer"] | [member="Kru Zruyk"] | [member="Kyrel Ren"]​

[member="Malika Mantis"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Preliat Mantis"] | [member="Silas Mantis"] | [member="Liset Vereen"] | [member="Yasha Mantis"] | [member="Shia Kryze"] | [member="Atin Alo'ran"]​

 

[Zeradias Mant]

The chaos was compounding by the minute, and despite the sizable naval presence, there seemed to be little that could be done from the skies. The Vermilion had positioned itself in formation with the Malice and stood by for further instruction. The fleet admiral's flagship had begun opening fire, though Valk wasn't able to discern the target. It couldn't have been in the city though, no sensible officer would risk such collateral damage. He turned to his comms officer with an expectant look in his eyes. He needed information, and he needed it now. Aside from what he already knew, the comms officer would be of little help.

"Enough of this.", he groaned as he marched to the CIC once more, projecting a holographic image of the city. "Lieutenant Askyn! Mister Forscythe!", his voice boomed over the bridge. With haste, the two officers quickly made their way to Valk's side. The TAO and cyber officer respectively would have a large role to play in Valk's plan.

"Civilian freighters have remote pilot options for port authority to help guide to docks, correct?", he asked of Forscythe.

"Aye, sir.", he responded. He didn't sound confident though, seeing where this was going. "Port authority has special equipment to boost the signal as far as low orbit. We don't have that kind of equipment on board."

Ignoring his concern, he pressed his idea. "If we got you close enough, could you do it?"

"In theory, ye-yes. But...", he began before being cut off.

"Go, prepare.", he said. With a defeated nod of acknowledgment, he went. Now the commander's attention fell to the tactical action officer. He'd have to coordinate the action. "You'll have a two shuttles and a squadron of interceptors. Coordinate fire from the Vermilion as needed, but final approval lies with myself or the XO. Make it happen."

It was happening. Bold, to be sure, but fortune favors the bold. They would not fail. Orin continued to monitor the hologram in both wonder and curiosity.

"Patch me through to the Malice.", he ordered. Within moments, he was on the line. On the other end though, was the comms officer of the Malice.

"Get me the admiral!", he barked with a scowl. Once his image in the hologram appeared, he'd brief the admiral of his plan.

"Sir.", the TAO interjected. Lieutenant Forscythe is inbound now. ETA 60 seconds."

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As the shuttle screamed through the air with its escort, Forscythe's heart pounded. Normally cyber was behind the scenes, but this attack saw him on the front lines. He couldn't fail though. Once he was in, he could patch the Vermilion in.

"Ten seconds!", the pilot shouted. 4...3...2...1... "NOW!"

With a rapid pattering on the keypad, Forscythe's fingers raced faster than a podrace on Tatooine. His technical prowess served him well - with one pass, he'd managed to remotely access the freighter's controls. He began taking the freighter skyward, slowly furthering it into the range of the First Order gravity well generators.

"Vermilion, this is Forscythe. We're in.", he said with an excited laugh, almost in disbelief. "Local control is restricted, the freighter is ours. I've set course to the interdiction fields, it should be clearing the skyline momentarily. I'm patching access over to the Vermilion, handover should be complete within a couple minutes."

He should have known better than to expect more than the response he was given.

"Seal the doors, hatches, windows, any point of entry or exit. The next time they'll open is for a boarding party.", the commander's voice hissed through the radio.

[member="Robogeber"] | [member="Karl Rippach"]
[member="Koda Fett"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Beskadala Ordo"]
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[Robogeber]

Allies: [member="Orin Valk"] | [member="Karl Rippach"]
Enemies:[member="Beskadala Ordo"] | [member="Koda Fett"]
Objective: Relieve these Mandalorians, the duty of their lives.
Theme: Imperial March; Slow | John Williams; SpringThatTrap

Rausgeber watched as the Comms Officer patched through the Mandalorian commander. A man of stronger stature than he had imagined. Carlyle believed that years of war, and malnutrition and starvation cultivated from such conflicts would somehow create a lesser being. A weakling. Yet the man whom he now had received communications with, was an intriguing figure. One whom the Fleet Admiral regarded with contempt. Concealing his identity, by using his cord, linked to the comms terminal, Rausgeber now faced his adversary.

"Beskadala Ordo," Rausgeber began calmly, managing to correctly pronounced the guttural Mand'oa tongue. What appeared on Ordo's was not a man in his robotic form. Instead, what the Ordo was transmitted was a ghostly figure. A spectre of the droids being, when he had been flesh, blood and bone. "I must first impart my congratulations on your little raid." The Fleet Admiral coldly began, "You must be proud of the damage you've caused." He continued, his voice dry and taut, "However commander, you must realise that any negotiations we begin here, will not result in any favourable solution." The Fleet Admiral continued, "You must realise that-" There was a pause, as Rausgeber was pinged, "Excuse me."

The Fleet Admiral was paused, and put the Mandalorian on hold, he had been unceremoniously plugged temporarily, "What is it?!" Rausgeber thundered, flustered that his moment in the sun had been taken from him.

The Comms Officer quivered beneath Rausgeber, and then gestured to his terminal, "Sir, Commander Valk wishes to speak with you." Rausgeber sneered a little, and returned to standing to attention, "Shall I plug him in for you, Admiral?"

Rausgeber nodded, he would have to take these two calls at once, "Get me both at once." He commanded. The Fleet Admiral now returned to both transmissions, the first being to Valk, "Commander Valk, good to see you have arrived." The Fleet Admiral coldly began, "Now, tell me, what is the purpose of this intrusion?"

As the Fleet Admiral began to negotiate the ending of these hostilities, the FIV Holdasts hangar crew failed in their endeavour to hold the hangar controls. Although the stormtrooper units managed to keep down and bolstered themselves with reinforcements arriving from the rest of the vessel. However the hangar crew retreated as TIE fighters now peppered them with strafing fire. The fighters concussive missiles having run out, and caused massive damage to the deck, sending equipment slamming towards where the boarders had come from.
At the same time, Rausgeber continued with the Mandalorian commander, "Apologies for that." The Fleet Admiral continued, returned to his visibly fleshy form for the "You must realise commander, that we will not sit still and allow you to leave this system alive." Carlyle informed the Mandalorian quite plainly, "There is no situation which no sits where you somehow manage to escape. The only question then becomes, is what you do about it." The Admiral continued, quite pointedly, "Do you surrender, with honour and dignity, or do you defy the law, and give into your primal instincts? Acting out. Killing as many as possible and then find yourselves warranting execution."

"The choice is yours."

 

[Lemon]

Koda Fett​

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FIV Holdfast, Lanteeb, Bri'ahl Sector, Outer Rim Territories​

Interacting With: [member="Robogeber"]​

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The crew of the FIV Holdfast fled from the hangar as the Stormtroopers arrived. Exchanging a lesser force for a greater one, but it went without saying that the Mandalorian Warriors outclassed the cannon fodder that were Stormtroopers, even if to some they were considered cannon fodder themselves. The lines of combat had become muddled, infused with each other to create a blob of close quarter engagements, something that the Mandalorians had most definitely excelled in, but that wasn't to say they suffered casualties of their own.

The two within hangar control had seized it, and unlocked the doors to the hangar, giving ease of access to the Mandalorians who sought to enter the bowels of it. Although once the TIE Fighters began unloading their barrages within the hangar, the previously successful duo had been caught within it, and as a result perished. Explosions rocked the deck, and perhaps it was cowardly to flee within most scenarios, it certainly was not now. It was to the halls and such that they ran too, moving in large groupings whilst doing their best to combat the remaining Stormtroopers. Although now the Mandalorian boarding force's numbers had reaching approximately half of their original number. If they were to be successful, they would have to be fast.

Fett moved throughout the ship with the ever-pressing thought of becoming trapped, and the accompanying punishments that came with it. Either death, or perhaps worse, imprisonment. It would be deadly to his reputation, that much was certain. A reactor detonation would provide the means of destruction he sought, and so with that in mind Fett moved about the halls with the intent of reaching the reactor. Yet their escape was so far undetermined. It mattered not, Koda Fett was a great improviser.