Dominion The Frontier War: Iron Dawn | Mandalorian Enclave Dominion of Kaddak

[Zlova Rue]

Once Talohn finished it was time for the Politicians to speak. Truly, a most horrible fate fell those forced to listen to the prattle. When a Dark Lord or Lady pretended to be something they weren't -- a caring, altruistic, pillar of the Empire -- you knew if you called them on it you'd be forced to fight for your life (or theirs). These people? All bluster, no backbone.

Take the first one for instance. Confident. No doubt intelligent. But he played the 'but you come here as conquerors' card. That nonsense worked on the clueless masses easily swayed by a few words. Not people that came to negotiate. Was this meeting being recorded? Who was this man talking to? Probably the cowardly members that shared power in this little Spire-world of theirs. Because if they had come here for conquest, they could be sure Zlova would have ripped their throats out with her teeth by now.

Then another voice made itself know. Eloquent. Polite. Ambitious. Yes, someone that could be used for their aims. Whether they in turn used the Enclave for their aims was immaterial, but something Zlova would accept without batting an eye. These things should not benefit a single party. Oh, yes, Zlova would take advantage of those that lacked the courage to push back, but that didn't mean she liked it. In fact, the Twi'lek only respected leaders that staked their own claim.

Something arguably either Spiremaster would do, but Bassam would be more easily swayed. Also more compatible with the Quartermaster's agenda, much as it pained Zlova to think that.

As for peace? Zlova would let Talohn or Mia field that nugget. The Mandalorians hadn't made 'peace' with 'the Force' (Sith), but obviously some people had heard that friction carried considerable bloodshed. Was that the recent friction of losing Mandalore, or some long, historical friction even the Rim heard of? Didn't matter. The more time passed, the more history repeated.

Zlova's golden eyes narrowed ever so much as her gaze fell on Al'yin and then the other counselors present. One become two became three... It was a gift. The practiced talent of following the strands of fate and time. To bear witness to history in the making and not miss a moment of it -- not one detail. Some likened it to a form of time dilation, or perhaps merely an accelerated form of thought or pattern recognition. The technical aspect of it didn't much concern Zlova, only that she knew how to utilize it.

A smile slid across the Twi'lek's lips.

In one moment the red woman whose presence none could miss was standing off to one side of the Speaker for the Enclave. In the next, gone. Except for those whose gaze turned aside to where the Torguta stood. Zlova would happily take firm grasp of any offending limb, casually swat a weapon out of the hand, or if needed be smack the loud mouthed creature aside. Whatever it took if it looked like they intended to carry through with what they began. If by some unholy miracle they weren't armed and were merely positioned? Then she'd stand there with a smile on her face daring them to do more. "To trade, one must have something of equal value. They offered you material goods for food. It's a far better offer than someone like me would have extended. You should accept it graciously, and cease pretending like the Old Ways of killing each other will survive the day."

Tag: Romul Saxon | Talohn Atar | Mia Mereel | NPC

 

[Obran]

Entrances were becoming his thing. Since liberating Tor Valum and purging the Vong holding it, he had been recuperating. Two short and extremely brutal battles had seen him laid out to recover. Mostly from a severe head injury in the first battle that had seen worsening in the second. But as soon as he could put on armor he was training, keeping muscles sharp and instinct honed and ready. When the call went out to liberate Kaddak, the former pit fighter and slave took it seriously and came in force.

As usual, he hitched a ride aboard a low flying patrol gunboat and inserted via his repulsor systems, landing in a small crater and cloud of dust, armor clanking as he immediately hefted spear to his back, drew the monstrous shotgun from Talohn Atar and began laying down cover fire for an evac team getting pockets of civilians to safety. Each shot was a bellowing automatic roar from the shotgun, and he kept the belt thrumming as he laid down firepower, eventually making his way to the same area as Jhira Mereel , homing in on an open signal with a slow, steady pace that could be described as relentless.

A blink on his pineal HUD command showed him available to assist with the coordination request from Jhira. Might as well be useful, or so he thought silently.

 

[Faison Kelborn]

OBJECTIVE: Gaddamoku Boogaloo
LOCATION: Level 60 - outside of hideout
TAG: Jhira Mereel Sergeant Omen Obran

Looks about right. Faison mused to himself as he peered at Gaddamoku's hideout from the relative secrecy of a maintenance catwalk about two hundred meters away and elevated up near the turbolift station. He didn't exactly look like a maintenance technician, given his copious blaster weaponry in lieu of even one hydrospanner. But he had thanked his luck that credits still bought a measure of discretion even on a world slated for... well, certainly the destruction of whatever way of life this was. The ocular zoom function of his helmet tightened in on the hideout, which was also a club known for its loud music and eccentric atmosphere. Under normal conditions, ths club would be alive with all manner of patrons lining up to get inside and have a good time. Today, however, it was not that type of place. A massive Houk stood behind a heavy repeating blaster emplacement set behind sandbag barriers protecting the entrance, supported by a Rodian and Nik'to on either side. Speeders stood idle near the rear entrance, with easily six or so other lackeys going back and forth with all manner of boxes & crates. Sounds of combat slowly began to grow in intensity as the fighting began to approach this level, which meant that Faison was running out of time. He had most of what he needed, he just needed to analyze his surroundings to enact a proper infiltration.

The club sat near the end of a main boulevard of level 60, which was flanked on either side with all manner of establishments - varying from 'banks' (more like money laundering fronts), restaurants (human trafficking sanctuaries), salons (also related to human trafficking, but... don't ask), with the odd cantina sprinkled within (oddly enough, among the more respectable establishments on this level). The vast majority of these businesses all lined the pockets of his target. The grubby Quarren would soon get what was coming to him, and Faison intended it to be from him. His attention was drawn to a square, normally unassuming metal grate in the middle of the street. A small smile lined his face from within his helmet. Where there was grating, there were sewers. Normally Faison wouldn't be so ready to crawl within a sewer to infiltrate a target, but if it meant forcibly installing a blaster bolt within Gaddamoku's head, he would literally swim through a Hutt's mud bath while in use to have this opportunity. Of course, it wasn't just about getting his revenge upon Gaddamoku. No, this wouldn't be complete unless he got a hold of that karking datachip the crime lord carried on his person. If he got away, or if the chip was stolen by another lackey Faison let escape, then this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

Not wanting to waste any further time, Faison reset his ocular zoom to normal levels and crawled back out of view of the club. He attached a magnetic anchor to the catwalk and rappelled himself down to the level durasteel floor below. His considerable weight settled down with a soft 'clank' before he quickly skulked off to a back street near the club that seemed less busy than the main drag the hideout sat at. He glanced around to make sure he wouldn't draw much attention, then quickly strode up to the grate. After taking a moment to secure a proper hand hold, the Mandalorian then heaved with as much strength as he could muster. Slowly, as if in and of itself opposing his efforts, the grate inched upwards with a groaning creak in protest. Several curses came to mind, as Faison was tempted to detonate the grate itself with an explosive before the weight shifted and pushed the grate down on its hinges into an open position. He heaved his body through the opening, and landed in very pungent liquid underneath. Thankfully, his boots were tall enough to prevent the odorous cocktail of waste from seeping into his socks, and his helmet's rebreather did much to filter out the otherwise noxious fumes, but that did little to make this an altogether enjoyable experience. Dim lighting was installed within the sewer, which made it barely possible to visually inspect his surroundings. He tapped a few controls on his wrist-mounted control panel, activating his visor's dim-lighting setting. As his surroundings brightened, he saw a rat astride a floating log of osik as it slowly floated by his right leg. The rat stared back at the Mandalorian, its tiny black beads devoid of even the semblance of fear as normal rats might have when encountering a human. Clearly, the rats were just as hard as the thugs on this planet.

Wordlessly, Faison lept up a few feet to the upraised pathway that he could have easily accessed if he had taken a moment to look for the ladder leading from the mouth of the manhole. He shook his head derisively at himself before continuing on, referencing the map in his HUD to ensure he was going in the right direction.

​

 

[Aves Wren]

"The boss is inside. Any funny business and you will have to go through me and two dozen tough guys, understood?"

The threat sent Aves into a sharpened sense of being; it was as if the fear and the nerves that had put her so on edge simply stepped out of frame, and all she could feel was confrontation and insult.

"Get another ten and we can call it a fair fight."

Her hand instinctually went to her blaster as she took a step forward. The stoicism afforded her by her helmet helped bring the short mandalorian's words home. The Rodian broadened himself with his arms and made a deep growl in response, but when the doors opened behind him, he slinked off to his post. Aves stayed and listened to him walk away, making sure he wasn't trying to hit her in the back.

"Thought so."

Aves looked into the revealed chamber before entering. It wasn't much, just a warehouse's loading dock attached to a small landing dock. All around her, parts were cut from old ships from every faction and system in the galaxy, all to be scrubbed clean and assembled into new black market ships and sold to whoever was stupid enough to buy.

Between the chopped vessels stood darkly clad figures. They stared down at nearby workers while keeping an electrical prod either on their belt or in their hand. There was a distinct animosity between them and those who risked their lives working like droids on these scrapheaps. One ship was different, however, as the tall figures were standing around it protectively while a team of labourers worked carefully to reassemble one of the rear engines.

Aves approached the finer ship, knowing that was where she would find her mark.

The watchful figures stepped up to block her path, but a voice stopped her and them alike.

"Stop right there, no further.

"Twi'lek, male, green skin and pointed teeth. Fergun. He was up on the mezzanine above, coming out of the apparent office while wiping something off his hands on a towel. Whether it was oil or blood, Aves could not quite decipher. With Fergun, it could just as easily be either. For what he lacked in power, he more than made up for in savagery.

Her mark.

"You are here for the ship, yes?"

 

[Sasha Kryze]

She had let her arm fall back to the ground harmlessly, Tracking the location of Garrus Garon on her own HUD, she would loose a slight chuckle; prepared to die, but also taking a fair amount of humor with her death as well. If she had another chance, she would at least know that the Hutts weren't just docile; or maybe not all of them were, who knew. Though as that spear dropped, her thoughts of the otherside were shattered, much like the spear the the Hutt held, not so much as remotely denting the Beskar on her helmet.

She took a hit, and would groan lightly from the kinetic impact, but was otherwise fine; both her and Zuga looked over then as the sounds of boot-steps drew near, Garrus appearing in the doorway and firing his micro-grenades at Zuga, There was an odd exchange of looks then. Zuga made a grumbling sound as he was hit, leaning over to look at the hold the armament had made, then looking to her as if she was supposed to give him an explanation.

All he would see her do however, is use her right hand to cover the visor portion of her helmet. And then... There was a sickening crunching thud, that ending with a series of wet sploshes. She was indeed covered in Hutt gut, and would slowly lower her hand, letting it rest at her side. She would remain quiet for some time, just breathing, and getting her bearings.

"Thanks..."

She shifted slightly, stil laying flat on her back, eventually forcing herself to a sitting position, although it was obvious it took a toll to just do that. She did it, stabilizing herself and taking tentative steps over towards the exit. Slow and steady. She wagered she could only move as well as she could right now because of adrenaline. No doubt when it left her system, that's when the pain would start... For now, instead of outright going outside, she would use a gloved hand to wipe a mass amount of innards from her visor, and take off both gloves, gently leaning back on one of the tables that miraculously still stood in the room.

"I need a drink..."

Garrus Garon

 

[Garrus Garon]

Location: Kaddak, Depot
Equipment: Beskar'gam, Beskad, Blaster Rifle

---

​

After the explosion and subsequent eruption of gore that showered the both of them Garrus had been watching as Sasha slowly picked herself up off the ground. While she made her way to one of the tables to support herself, removing her gloves and wiping some of the innards away Garrus moved inside the building, checking over the interior.

Most of what the Mandalorian found was inconsequential or covered in gore but moving into a side room he'd have looking back at Sasha Kryze after hearing her prompting him to respond as his voice crackled over the electronic comms...

"And a shower, you smell like Hutt."

...that's right he was ribbing her, delivering a little verbal jab just then before disappearing into the room that he'd been intending to search. At least Sasha could take solace in the fact that if Garrus was taking shots at her like that she had risen in his opinion, he already knew from her report that she was capable at Reconnaissance but now she had tested her mettle alongside him and come out clean at the other end. To him and many other Mandalorians it was no small thing.

Eventually he would return, stepping back into the central chamber where Sasha had been fighting for her life against the Hutt only moments before and he brought something with him. A Datapad was held in his right hand, he was trying to activate it but it seemed to be encrypted which wasn't altogether unexpected. Looking up at her he'd have said...

"Looks like a ledger of some kind. Zuga the Hutt may have other depots elsewhere on Kaddak or off world, not surprising considering his likely connections to one of several Huttese Cartels."

...Garrus tossed her the datapad, hopefully she would catch it despite her current state...

"Might lead to more beskar, we'll see. As is we have the ingots the Twi'lek let slip to you as well as a number of other bars of lesser quality for trade and redistribution. Not a bad days work."

...he'd been moving back towards the entrance, intent on leaving but he stopped next to her and turned to regard her from beneath his visor. The Warrior said nothing, just looked at her and offered a small nod before carry on content in the assumption that she would follow. The 'Depots' coordinates would be transmitted to other Mandalorians for retrieval of the beskar.​

 

[Shai Maji]

Objective: 2
Equipment: In bio | 1x Mandalorian Assault Walker
Tags: Vren Rook Tawnita Wren | Kranak Vizsla | Alora Vizsla | Thror Cal Vorn | Thonn Rokkal | Vulcan Krayt
Theme: War Pig

The cargo bay door opened and the Walker advanced. Before the ship even touched down, the metal beast lunged out and landed with a heavy tremor. A metallic whine rumbled as it rose to its full height and the hull rotated to inspect the surroundings. Inside the Walker, Shai and her crew studied their scanners and checked their scopes.

A number of gangsters and criminals were firing on them with whatever they had. The shots did nothing but dissipate against the deflector shield as the machine locked onto them. "Targets acquired, ready to engage." her gunner spoke up with his face glued to his scope. "Send it." Shai ordered and immediately the rotary cannon spooled up. The hiss was soon replaced with blasterfire tearing through the air and mowing down a bunch of them in a matter of seconds. A missile flew from a window of a building, catching everyone's attention, before the octet on top got rid of it just in time. "Gunner! Missile launcher, two o' clock. Second floor."

"Target acquired."

"Fire!"

The particle- and laser cannons roared, destroying the building in a fiery spectacle and leaving only a gaping hole with flames in its wake. "Target neutralized." She spoke as the commander's cupola rotated. The coast seemed clear for a moment. She opened the hatch and stuck out with her arms in the air. "Bring it, mudscuffers! There's only one pirate in this area and that's ya mutt right here! Bring it!" She barked as she took hold of the repeater, ready to fire. :: This is Wardog, ground units push forward. You see any targets, call them out. Let's put this hunk to good use. :: She spoke over the comms, glancing down at the rest of the unit.

The thermal scopes painted several life forms in the surrounding buildings. She had no way to know who were civilians or who were threats. The group beneath her were going to be crucial to her operation. :: Picking up several life forms in the buildings, stay frosty. :: The Walker advanced with the pace of the troops beneath, ready to fire at a moment's notice. The mechanical footfalls echoed through the streets as they moved up along the spiral. Another mando joined the group, asking for a ride. Shai leaned over, holding onto the repeater as she looked down at him. "Sorry, dude, ride's full! Though we can use some more boots on the ground any day of the week." She called out before returning inside the Walker. The comms reported a ton of information from on of their own who seemed to have spent some time on the planet beforehand. The information would likely come in very handy as they moved from the city entrance towards the heart.

Along the way, however, she noticed a food stall with some tasty snacks. "Hol' up. Lower." She ordered anxiously. The driver looked confused but obeyed as the Walker lowered to let her out. Without hesitation she rushed out and grabbed three sweet rolls from the stall. "Put it on my tab!" She called out to the stall's owner before disappearing back into the Walker and pushing forward.

 

[Alora Vizsla]

The Gambit swept in overhead as the Walker decided to stand up again after its commander grabbed a snack. Its ventral airlock cycled exposing the interior of the ship to atmosphere, which allowed an armored woman drop right out of the sky. Rockets burned as Alora neared the top of the Walker. With her departure, the ship moved off so it wasn't in the way of the Mandalorians at work -- and didn't provide a needless target for missiles.

As her feet rolled atop the metal skin of the beast, the fully armored woman posed with her fists atop her hips and her head turned aside.

Then a blaster bolt pinged her in the shoulder.

Alora's visor pivoted in the direction of the shooter as her synth voice cried out, "Seriously?!" With practiced ease, the disruptor at her right hip was drawn, aim, and shot right back at the pest that ruined a moment. A low, menacing hiss filled the air followed by the ever so brief cry of alarm and agony at being reduced to ash.

Then she struck up a post with the barrel of the gun pointed up at the side.

"So, nice Walker you got there," Alora addressed to the crew within. "Can I take some readings of it while you pulverize the non-compliant criminal syndicate goons? They really should have taken my offer. Credits, food, life. Seemed like a no-brainer. Some people."

Alora then leaned a bit to the side to peer down at the accompanying ground forces. "Oh, heya." A wave with her left hand followed the buoyant greeting. "My ship's decked out with sensors if you need a stronghold scanned. Accurate count of targets. Check for a building rigged with explosive. That kind of thing." Could tell them exactly where the bodies were too, but being hunters they'd probably complain about that taking all the fun out of it. Last thing Alora wanted to do was make things less exciting.

Tag: Vren Rook | Tawnita Wren | Shai Maji | Kranak Vizsla | Vulcan Krayt | Thonn Rokkal | Thror Cal Vorn

 

[Kranak Vizsla]

The Hunt Begins

Location: Kaddak, City Slums, Abandoned Apartment Complex, 104th Floor
Local Time: 11:53
Date: -DATA CORRUPTED-
Primary Objective: Eliminate Criminal HVT’s
Secondary Objective: N/A
Equipment: Loadout 2 (No Medical Backpack)
Tags: Vren Rook | Tawnita Wren | Shai Maji | Vulcan Krayt | Thonn Rokkal | Thror Cal Vorn | Alora Vizsla | Tae'l Vizsla

The light drizzle had turned into a downpour after some time while the giant had swiftly made his way towards the meeting site in the large factory complex. The skies above the slums were now completely blotted with dark, heavy clouds. Lightning struck thunderously in the distance occasionally. The heavy raindrops pattered on Kranak’s armor as the giant sprinted with a distinct metallic tang; small to large puddles on the dirty, narrow alleyway splashed with each stomp of his large armored boots. He was getting closer to the perimeter chain link fence surrounding the factory. It was just a few more streets down.

The giant came to a halt as he slowed down and crouched next to a large dumpster in the alleyway. His chest rose and fell rapidly, but he gradually managed to regulate his breathing as he slowly breathed in, catching a rhythm. He only needed two minutes to catch his breath. The raindrops on his armor, pauldron and kama slowly dripped as he remained crouched. His visor swiper disintegrated the raindrops on his white glowing visor occasionally, keeping it clean from any visual distractions.
In the meantime, thinking it was a good idea to get one last recce of the factory and its surrounding area before proceeding, the giant reached for his right butt pack on his warbelt with his right hand to retrieve his probe droid. He pulled out the probe after he loosened the pack’s straps and opened it.

The giant held the probe in front of him after pulling it out from his pack, and turned on the droid manually as he pressed on its small power button with his index finger. The droid came to life not a moment later; it’s short, telescopic antenna extending upon activation. The probe’s repulsor unit turned on with a very subtle hum a second later it was turned on. The probe was suspended in mid air, level with Kranak’s head. It’s optical cluster dimly glimmered blood red, looking straight at the Supercommando as it awaited directives from the giant.

The Supercommando grasped the Paranaor’s pistol grip with his right hand, with his trigger finger casually resting on the trigger guard. <”Annunciator, on.”> commanded Kranak , before he issued the directives and set the probe’s parameters. <”Engage stealth protocol. Designated Point of Interest,”> the giant paused for a moment as he fed the necessary tactical data to the probe droid using his interactive heads-up display. His helmet, his heads-up display and the probe droid were linked, so the Mandalorian provided the probe with the coordinates of the massive factory complex with ease.

<”Loitering altitude: Six hundred meters.”> continued the giant once again after he fed the necessary data to his probe. <”Loitering distance from Point of Interest: Three hundred meters.”>

The probe let out a swift series of long and short beeps in response to the Supercommando, confirming the directives and parameters given to it by Kranak.

<”Enable live-feed.”> said the giant as he stood up and continued his sprint towards the factory, navigating through the narrow alleyways and the empty streets of the filthy slums. The probe took it to the sullen skies above as the Mandalorian stood up. After a few moments, the droid could no longer be seen with the naked eye.

The live-feed opened up on a small tab on the top left corner of the Mandalorian’s heads-up display a few moments later. <”Switch to thermals on the live-feed.”> Kranak said. Upon receiving the command, a slightly grainy thermal vision was cast upon the environment in the live-feed. The buildings were all mostly gray scaled, with the patrolling thugs and the sentries within multiple elevated positions were all highlighted in bright white, as Kranak’s prefered thermal vision setting was “WHITE-HOT” on thermals.

He would have to remain concealed and out of sight of the patrols and sentries in order to catch the crime syndicate leadership and the arms dealer by surprise. If they were tipped off to his presence, the deal would be off, and he would only be getting some of the targets he wanted to eliminate, instead of all of them.

The giant stumbled upon the first patrol he would have to navigate around while remaining undetected at the end of an alleyway. He had studied their patrol pattern for a while now, thanks to his done in the skies, his all seeing eye. They were headed northbound from his position. The factory remained to his west. They were moving away from the Supercommando.

The giant kept his guard up as he approached the end of the alleyway, assuming a combat stance while keeping his rifle in a low-ready position. The alleyway opened up to the wide street, one of the last few he’d needed to cross to reach the factory. Cautiously peeking from the corner, Kranak observed as the two thugs affiliated to the Devils carried on with their patrol. They were about twenty-eight meters away from him, give or take. He would make his move and pass the street swiftly once they were out of his line of sight, all the while keeping tabs on their whereabouts -as well as other patrols in the area- using his probe.

One of the two thugs abruptly stopped and frantically reached for something in his pocket and pulled it out. The thug produced a hypo-syringe from his pocket. The contents of the syringe glowed with a vibrant purple. Without a moment's hesitation, the thug tilted his head to his left, exposing his neck. Even from that distance, the Supercommando could see previous syringe marks on the man’s neck. The thug then inserted the hypo-syringe’s needle into where his internal carotid artery would be in his neck and pressed down hard on the injection button. The thug visibly relaxed afterwards. The other one uncaringly watched him and casted his glance to the surrounding area before they moved on with their patrol again, going into an alleyway to their left shortly after.

The Supercommando watched him in disgust. They weren’t known as Spice Devils for nothing. They were usually on psychoactive spices of any kind they could get their hands on. From what the Supercommando gathered, all of them without exception used combat drugs to enhance their combat abilities in a firefight. He fully detested the use of mind altering drugs to enhance one’s capability to fight, but admittedly it was effective as he saw it for himself in the past two weeks. Their senses would become heightened for a period of time. Their reflexes would also be enhanced, as well as their stamina. Some were even able to shrug off a fatal hit or two. The drugs, whatever they were taking, made a “soldier” from even the lowliest of scum.

Kranak made his move once they were no longer in his line of sight, crossing the street swiftly as he kept his guard up, scanning his surroundings as he moved. He would be infiltrating the factory soon enough.

Local Time: 12:04


The metal doors creaked when the giant pushed them to the sides to enter the tall administrative wing of the facility. The thunderous patter of the downpour echoed in the abandoned structure, accompanied by the muffled grinding of rubble against the ferro-concrete floor with each step of the giant Supercommando.

The structure's exterior and interior was in disrepair, as one would expect. The facility was abandoned long ago, after all. And the thugs obviously had no intentions of restoring the structures they used as base of operations. The paint on the walls had faded away and was peeling here and there. A smell of mold wafted through the corridors and hallways. There was no lighting inside, it was almost pitch black, save for the natural lighting coming from outside through windows. The fluorescent lamps were all busted, some were hanging from the ceiling.

The giant cautiously moved towards the staircase to his right with his rifle raised. He was going to have to ascend several floors of the large structure to get set up for a marksman position, overlooking the loading bay where the meeting would be taking place. The probe had picked up a high concentration of heat signatures gathered by the large, spacious loading bay located at the rear end of the larger structure that contained the production facilities. The administrative wing of the facility was built separately from it, right across the loading bay, about three hundred meters away from it.

He was taking a risk by getting set up this close, but he didn’t want to leave anything to chance. He would be taking out the designated high value targets from a distance, but in case something went south, he would have to do it the old fashion way, up close and personal. He wasn’t going to allow any of them to escape alive if he could help it.

Ascending the staircase, the giant cleared each angle he came across while he moved to the fifth floor. He obviously did not have the time to clear each floor respectively, however. This was the best he could do with what limited time he had. He had to be cautious, but he also had to pick up the pace and get set up.

It didn’t take too long for the giant to find a broken window facing west, at the facility’s loading bay. The giant let go of his Paranaor blaster rifle and reached for his Verpine Shatter Battle Rifle slung on his back, but not before loosening the Battle Rifle’s sling to swap to it easier. The Paranaor was suspended over his chestplate, right above his grenade bandolier as he pulled the Battle Rifle from his back.

The giant slowly approached the shattered window with his Battle Rifle raised; his trigger finger resting on the trigger guard, with the weapon’s safety turned off. The fire selector switch was set to burst from semi-automatic. The giant crouched once he was near the window, and rested the rifle’s barrel on the bottom frame of the broken window for stabilization. He could have unfolded the grip-pod and rested the bipod on the frame instead but that would make him stand out with a bigger silhouette. The targets hadn’t arrived yet, so he still had to keep his concealment until the last possible moment.

And then the waiting began, once he was all set up. Ideally, Daromant would be drawing out Vrekh and several of his lieutenants for the arms deal, but the man hadn’t arrived just yet. The live-feed tab being fed into his heads-up display was still going. The giant started to take mental notes of the sentry positions he would have to take out, and in what order if things went sideways while he patiently waited. There were several of them positioned in elevated positions such as catwalks and on top of silos, which provided them with some advantages.

But thankfully, the waiting didn’t take any longer than ten minutes. The probe spotted seven ground based vehicles in different shapes and sizes rolling down the street, towards the factory entrance. The convoy halted once they reached the loading bay, in full view of the Supercommando. With a pre-recorded movement of his eyes, the giant turned on his MFTAS in response.

And there he was. A human male in his mid fifties, wearing a stylish tuxedo carrying a small, black briefcase, disembarked from one of the air vehicles, accompanied by a group of mercenaries. Daromant. The mercs were surely better armed and obviously better trained and disciplined than the low life criminals around them. His MFTAS counted twenty mercs in total, on top of the forty thugs dotted around the facility, mostly concentrated in the loading bay of the factory. Over half the mercenaries were holding security, while a few remained in their driver's seat of their vehicles. The arms dealer, accompanied by several mercenaries, was headed into the structure. Daromant held his briefcase above his head in hopes of sheltering himself from the downpour as he moved in a quick pace towards the loading bay, but it was to no avail. A thug greeted him -probably one of Vrekh’s lieutenants- and accompanied Daromant with a few of his thugs into the factory.

So, they were probably going to meet inside, discuss business and check the goods later, Kranak assumed. It seemed he would have to wait a bit more for the scumbag to show his noggin. <”So be it, then.”> muttered the Supercommando to himself. As a response to the The giant pressed the magazine well and pulled the magazine slowly, and pulled back the charging handle to eject the Armor Piercing round in the chamber, and inserted a Tracker Dust Round before driving the charging handle -and the round- back home. With a satisfying chink, the charging handle snapped forward.

The giant tilted his head to his right as he looked down his Battle Rifle’s optics. He gently moved the crosshair at Daromant’s chest and once he was aimed, the Supercommando gently squeezed the trigger. With a silent whisper, the rifle discharged and let out a hollow click afterwards. He had the fire switch set to burst fire. As he hadn’t inserted the magazine back in, there was no other round to cycle to after the one in the chamber was fired.

His target was shortly after coated with the Tracker Dust without Daromant’s -or the mercenaries guarding him, as well as the thugs accompanying him- notice. The arms dealer hadn’t even flinched, he continued walking into the loading bay. He soon after disappeared from Kranak’s line of sight.

But he could still track him using his heads-up display. He could see the path he took, as the arms dealer was highlighted in his heads-up display. The giant inserted the magazine topped off with AP rounds back into the Battle Rifle’s magwell as he observed the route the man was taking, making a mental note of the path Daromant was led by the Devils lieutenant.

He pulled back the charging handle, cycling an AP round, and released it not a moment later, chambering the bullet, and continued looking down the rifle’s scope, scanning the surrounding area of the loading bay as he occasionally spared a glance to the probe’s live-feed on his heads-up display. He would continue to wait for the opportunity to present itself. The targets would not be leaving this facility without his notice. He was ready for them.

 

[Leea Pandac]

Objective: Spiremasters

Allies: Talohn Atar Zlova Rue Mia Mereel Romul Saxon OPEN

Silence was Leea's weapon of choice this day. It was an odd fit, accustomed as she was to battle. Silence was a tool there, for similar purposes. The Mirialan anxiously shifted her weight. The tension in the room was stifling, any moment Leea expected blaster fire to erupt from somewhere. This was more nervewracking than many a battlefield.

The young pilot wore a simple garb of fitted shirt and pants. She hoped to paint an unassuming visage to those around her, having no desire to enter into the negotiations with these... people. There was a certain elegance to be found in the subdued colours and reserved design. Certainly, Leea believed this suit befit the occasion, a meeting with world leaders was not something one attended with casual streetwear after all. Her clothing afforded little protection, but a great deal of modesty and, more importantly, freedom of movement. After about half an hour back on the ship, Leea had recognized there was no hope in hiding even a compact hold-out blaster in her current attire, and thus had left her weapons behind. She trusted Talohn to speak well and work to stave off direct hostilities in this place. Yet, on the flip side, she was confident that her Cathar captain and his Twi'lek friend could handle a firefight if one arose.

Upon first arriving, Leea had been impressed with the massive Mandalorian that had arrived in full splendour. Cutting an intimidating figure, the man was clearly a powerful and quite visible reminder of what the Mandalorians were and what they could be capable of. His stalwart silence reassured Leea that there were those who understood the power of a quiet presense, at least for those with intimidating build and stature. Mia struck Leea as a warming act, one who was trying to prepare the audience for the main attraction, like a ring entertainer to bring the crowd to a jovial mood for the following performers. She listened as first Mia, then Talohn, and finally the Spiremasters spoke. It seemed that the natives were restless. And for good reason.

Although the exterior noise remained muffled and distant, transformed into simple pleasant sounds, Leea knew what was to be heard. Urban warfare. 'Purification.' The soldier was uncertain whether she agreed with the methods of the Enclave in this situation. Clearing the streets of crime was one thing. But there was such chaos in this and it clearly injured their attempts at diplomacy.

Leea turned abruptly as the locals spoke of the Force users and Mandalorian purges. She couldn't conceal the smirk that came forward and she coughed lightly to cover the laughter that threatened to be loosed. These people ask whether the Mandos were accepting of Force users? They would be hard-pressed to find a group with more Force users than the handful of Mandalorians before them. However, that momentary mirth soon turned to a burning anger as they dared to accuse Talohn and the Mandos of endangering them and 'their' people. They are the criminals. They are the ones that take advantage of the innocent. She dared not turn until she mastered herself, lest her eyes betray her black hatred for these wannabe rulers. Leea wished this meeting would end swiftly, now desiring nothing more than to be rid of this place. These people... they must think we are idiots, that we do not know them for what they are. She didn't need evidence to prove her assertions, though Talohn had been quite careful in pointing out the potential danger of these people due to their illicit activities. These cowards proved themselves in their actions and words. They prowled and strut like well-fed scavengers, accustomed to life as they willed it. She had seen it before, in commanders and generals.

How her hand itched for a blaster...

 

[Ket Cros]

Ket steadied his weapon as both Garrus and Sasha bushed into the Hutt's home. The two seemed like they could handle the rest of the job on their own. It was time to help someone else out. Just as his mind asked that question, a coordination request came through his hud, from Jhira Mereel herself. Well, this was an interesting proposition and not one Ket would easily pass up.

As the Merc looked down from his little perch, he saw the next rooftop a couple of stories below. Well, this couldn't be done without some help. Ket quickly inserted the drugs that he held in his suit into his veins. He needed it to survive and probably would till the end of his days. This little thing in his veins would give him the confidence to do what he would never do without the drug. The merc would jump through the air and crash into the roof below, not caring for his own life. He only cared for his colleagues and friends and making sure he could talk to them again.

Without another thought, he jumped from the Tower and flew through the air like a bird. He was walking on air until he wasn't, rolling against the rooftop before rolling on boxcars and moving onto his feet. A roll after a couple of seconds became a walk which became a jog which became a full parcore campaign as the Mando jumped over the ledges of buildings. It was freeing, not having to walk among the masses down below on the street but being in his own flow. Soon enough he was on top of a lift to Level 60 and a little bit after, masked by pipes and steam vents, he jumped onto the roof of the building beside the club where all the action was happening. At least that's what it seemed like with all that security. Now all that was needed for the action to start, either that be from ground level, below, or flying in from above.

Jhira Mereel , Faison Kelborn , Obran

 

[Vulcan Krayt]

Location: Kaddak Market
Objective: Sell edibles
Equipment: Cookware, Ovens, Ingredients, stall, R2 Astromech Droid
Tags: Open

Oven mitts have been equipped and the Sweet Rolls were ready to be taken out of the Oven and placed on the stall. With a flourish, Vulcan transferred the fresh Rolls onto the stall. Adding to the large variety already on display. Vulcan had to deal with a few Karens now and again. Nothing too obstructive. Many brought a loaf and a sandwich and had apparently sent more market-goers to his stall. His small tin soon filled with well-earned currency.

The meat was cooked and transferred to a glass-topped tub. Everything was ready for a new batch of customers. Although the rapidly increasing commotion had caused them to scatter. He really should have known, alas he didn’t. He tended to do his own thing and stay out from under people’s feet.

As the sounds of something very large with legs drew nearer, he ducked out of sight, keeping his eyes above the stall. It stopped and lowered, and he was a few Sweet Rolls short in a space of a few minutes.

The Ubese didn’t get a good look at the Sweet Rolls pilferer, but he did make a small note to add it to a tab. As soon as the walker left, he got back behind the Oven/Cooker to begin replenishing the Sweet Rolls again. But now a lot more aware of his surroundings. Because it would ruin his day if he got caught in the crossfire.

<"Ah, this batch smells better than the first."> He says to himself with pride at his work. Although he had to also keep an eye out for Wasps.

 

[Jhira Mereel]

​

LOCATION: Kaddak
Equipment: Cybernetics | Jet Pack | Beskar’gam | Weapon load out | The Echoy’la Sun
Allies: [ @Ket Cross ] [ Faison Kelborn ] [ Obran ]
Engaged with: NPC the Quarren Goddamoku Boogaloo and his forces. (Lvl 60)

Assault craft could serve two purposes, and most of the Enclave Craft were doing just that. Dropping off troops, but evacuating everyone with the courage and sense to do so. Some Shop Keepers and home owners would not so flee; about half out of stupidity, a third from shear stubborn determination to protect what was theirs, and a third because they had the skill to do so.

It could be tricky, knowing which was which. There no uniforms, on the other side; no standard gear or flags or heraldry. Every single encounter weighed the deadly mistake of letting an enemy get the drop on you versus the shattered honor of killing an innocent.

Haran.

Jhira hated urban engagements.

Waving civilians past her, towards a newly landed assault craft, she dodged incoming fire and put a single round through the skull of an exceptionally pretty woman with a rifle trained on a squad of Verd’ika getting the civilians to safety. Young warriors could be stupid about a thing like that and she wasn’t about to let them learn that lesson the hard way. She’d passed the incident on to Romul Saxon so he could look up their training sergeant. The kids wouldn’t know what hit them, when they got home.

A second ping along her HUD told her a squad mate had volunteered for Hunt; at the sound of his weapon progressing along the street, a smile flared.

Vode an.

Then the Tac Comp synced with the first vod she’d found, and her vod shot off towards the indicated trouble without a word being spoken. They were three now, and closing in on a target of high priority. Tracking his movements, she recognized the armor even before she checked the IDs. A low laugh rippled free, and she keyed her encrypted COMMs

COM to All: ⌁ This is Falcon-1. Good to see you again, Archangel. And welcome, Vod; I look forward to fighting with you. ⌁ While aware their synced system shared ID’s, she liked to let folks choose their own call sign, if they chose.

⌁ Our target is clever, ruthless and dangerously good at black mail. Complete data purge is considered even more crucial than his death. Secondary objective is to disrupt his communications. He is known to have blackmail information upon the Council of Elders here. Tactical command requests we blow out his communications, to keep him from interfering. ⌁ And yes, she knew this planet just had to call their leaders something else, but a council of elders was a council of elders no matter what planet you were on.

 

[Romul Saxon]

N E G O T I A TE

Objective: Bring Kaddak into the Enclave
Tag: Talohn Atar | Zlova Rue | Mia Mereel | NPC

Among the four Mandalorians that had been sent to negotiate, Talohn had been chosen as the one to begin their 'sales' pitch. He was easily the most diplomatic of their group; the old veteran was brusque and indifferent to political nuance, while Zlova Rue had yet to be fully accepted as Mandalorian, and the young Mereel -- he'd learned that she was related to the Mereel he'd met at the Solstice -- was simply too young. Talohn started off easy enough, launching into a spiel about the benefits of joining the Enclave. Romul found himself nodding along, only semi-aware of what the Catharese was saying.

He was more concerned with what the Spiremasters were doing, and his eyes flicked back and forth between the elderly beings in their fine garments and robes. Romul was the closest thing the Mandalorians had to a guard, though in truth they would all be able to defend themselves if necessary. The veteran just had. . . a little more experience in that regard. A beskar two-handed greataxe was strapped to his back, while a KSTR-20 Borealis Heavy Blaster Pistol was holstered at his hip, though it was left unstrapped for easy access should he need it.

Despite Talohn's best efforts it didn't take long for the situation to quickly devolve. They had not been the most receptive, so it was to Romul to lay it plane. "Your planet is ridden with criminal scum, who exploit what civilians still live here and use you as pawns in their schemes," he stated, his voice echoing loudly throughout the chamber. "The Mandalorian Enclave offers you protection from them, a chance for Kaddak to become a respectable world. We will raise Kaddak out of the dirt, and you would support us in return. We do not ask you to fight our wars for us, merely that you allow us to turn Kaddak in a world that can protect itself from future threats." He flexed a beskar gauntlet, the gold and red gleaming strangely in the purple light, the scars from past battles plainly visible. "We are no Jedi, nor are we Sith. If we came here to conquer, Kaddak would already be ours. Instead we come as equals to propose an unity between Kaddak and the Mandalorian Enclave, for greater prosperity for all."

He barely had time to breathe when a new face stepped up behind the Togruta Spiremaster, loudly proclaiming that Kaddak would never be traded to anyone and denouncing his colleague as a traitor. Romul's eyes narrowed. His hand flashed. And the report of a blaster set to stun rang through the chamber. A Mandalorian of lesser skill would've likely hit the Togruta with the wide stun bolt, but Romul's decades of experience and service allowed him to directly hit the assailant. His blaster pistol remained leveled, smoke issuing from its barrel; the chamber was silent. He slowly, deliberately holstered his blaster pistol before looking around at the other Spiremasters, as if to say plainly: this one was considered your peer. "It appears that you are not even free from assassination in your own gilded hall," Romul observed unamused. "What say you?"
​

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[Obran]

LOCATION: Kaddak
Equipment: Stock standard bad-assery
Allies: [ Ket Cros ] | Faison Kelborn ] | [ Jhira Mereel ]
Engaged with: NPC the Quarren Goddamoku Boogaloo and his forces. (Lvl 60)

Verd'ika ushered folk onto craft, and one took a ping to the shoulderpad as Jhira Mereel took down a striking woman with a sniper rifle, causing her shot to go wide. Obran advanced in front of them as small arms fire rippled, and the man in mythosaur bone, terentatek leathers and beskar merely laugh as the low calibers plinked off harmlessly. The younger ones looked at their sudden guardian angel in half disbelief as his heavy repeater whirred and whined, and opened fire.

The support squad for the sniper was effectively pinned, and in moments dealt with be sheer dint of firepower being laid down. A further blink, and he shouldered the gun via it's carry strap, letting the barrel cool as he drew a heavy pistol formed blaster in his off hand and limbered one of a pair of identical beskad and followed the Mereel woman like a shadow, snapping off shots to keep her covered and cleared.

Eventually, they began making progress, and the bard smiled, humming to himself a tune that was almost lilting but with a deep bass on the downnotes. A perfect backdrop for composing the ballad of the warrior woman in front of him, who stalked like liquid fire and death swirled in a lethal grace. This time though, he kept the words to himself. The last vod who figured out that the word 'sinuous' was describing her form had nearly broke her jaw, and this one looked even more capable.

A charging brute raised a vibroblade, having somehow found his way through the net of security. But the victory was short lived, and Jhira safe, as he suddenly gurgled and fell to the ground, clutching the haft of a thrown spear that that bloomed from the center of his guts. Half a moment later, a single pistol shot rang out, and the man's head bounced from permacrete brick wall to slump forward, a smoking hole in it as Obran stepped forward and freed his spear, wiping the viscera off on the deadman's coat.

"Close one. Buggers are getting daring. Lets keep it up and press on out. I've got your six."

 

[Faison Kelborn]

OBJECTIVE: BYOO - Gaddamoku Boogaloo


EQUIPMENT: Standard Kit on CS, except for New Beskar'gam (Factory Post Pending)

TAGS: Jhira Mereel Obran Ket Cros


Unlike the rather loud thugs Faison had encountered on level 62, who were not shy about discussing idle topics while tending to their posts, the only indication Faison had that guards were up ahead were the slight noises of sighing and groaning up ahead, which were carried by the sidewalls of the sewage pipes. Faison slowly pulled one of his DE-50's from its holster and slowly proceeded forward, the barrel of the pistol held parallel with his helmet.


He neared a break in the straight pathway of the pipe, where the pathway branched sharply to the left around the corner. He slowly approached the corner, and ever so slightly peered around. Two thugs stood guard by am access door, leaning against the walls while attempting to remain focused on the task at hand. Faison was a but relieved that his hunch proved true - namely that Gaddamoku was that paranoid to have a subterranean means of escape (even though such a way of putting it was dangerously close to over glorifying a maintenance hatch to the level's sewer).


He paused a moment, as if preparing himself. He had no idea what manner of security equipment that could be mounted at the door, given his very quick peek around the corner. He also had no idea what exactly was on the other side of that door. For all he knew, more guards sat on the other side and would instantly be triggered by sounds of blaster fire. But, it was also highly possible that he was giving them too much credit. Plus, he really didn't have a choice. He didn't have time to trudge all the way back and try a different means of infiltration. He needed to be swift and decisive.


Without further delay, the Mandalorian quickly rounded the corner, the barrel of his pistol leveling at the thug on the right. Two pulls of the trigger resulted, thankfully, in two hits center mass on the thug, who wore little more than a few stray pieces of ceramite mixed in with a hide jacket and rough-spun clothing. No sooner had the unfortunate gangster fallen to the ground did Faison's blaster train onto the leftmost thug, three more pulls of the trigger catching him in the upper chest cavity and collarbone as he attempted to level his own blaster in response. A burst of shots let loose as the thugs grip tightened in the throes of his demise, the weapon shortly falling alongside his body as both hit the floor. Faison paused a moment, as if waiting for the door to burst open with a trio of additional thugs to investigate the source of the attack.


But none came. Instead, the only sound to be heard was that of the tainted water flowing past behind him. He slowly approached the bodies, confirming they were both dead as he searched them both - eventually finding a keycard to presumably open the door so as to gain entry. To prove his half-hunch half-educated guess correct, he approached the door with pistol in hand and card in the other. He swiped the card, and after a moment's pause, the door slid abruptly open to the side. The only sight to greet him would be a staircase leading upward, an empty staircase no less. Keeping his pistol ready, Faison continued forward - relieved that his hunch proved true but cautious for what lay ahead of him.


He was close to achieving his goal, so close on fact - that he swore he could almost smell it. Maybe it was stray fumes working their way through his rebreather...

 

[Aves Wren]

​

"Yeah, the ship."

Aves stepped up to the twi'lek. Her shoulders squared as she looked up at the taller alien.

"Then you better co-"

There was something, like a throb of pain that shot through Aves' head. She tried to hide it, squeezing her eyes shut and gritting her teeth.

"Put the gun down!" -Aves felt her finger squeezing the trigger.

The blaster bolt turned green to red and scattered the savage scavenger across the floor. Panicked, she turned the gun on the others, firing out of fear and a sense of self-preservation. It was her training that aimed, that squeezed the trigger. Aves was entirely focused on the body spread-eagled before her, his mangled hand and cranial wound.

His end at her hand.

Another throb of pain forced Aves to grasp her own head.

Darkness- She heard something, unintelligible, a sharp sound, then nothingness.

Aves eyes opened to air touching her face. She could feel the weight of her helmet in her hand. Where was she? What was she doing? She couldn't remember how she got there, only that shooting pain. Wait, today was- Oh no. Had she forgotten? Had she missed her chance? She looked around, her heartbeat quickening. Only then did she realise what her surroundings where like.

She remembered coming there, but what had happened?

Aves was on her knees, bloody helmet in hand. A body was beneath her, and several others were strewn around the room. They lay twisted, broken, shot and mangled.

Pain shot through Aves' temples. She rubbed her eyes and felt the blood-stained gauntlets smear red on her face.

"Not again."

 

[Thonn Rokkal]

Tags: Vren Rook Shai Maji Tawnita Wren Kranak Vizsla Andras Garon Alora Vizsla Thror Cal Vorn Aves Wren Tae'l Vizsla

---

He watched on as the Gambit lowered a rope down towards Alora, who took hold of it to be hoisted back up towards the ship, rising steadily away from the stage in her vertical departure from the scene. Not a motion came from him stood among the audience yet not really part of it. The message was not for him, but for those gathered denizens there; and it had been delivered for their own good. Granted a lot of folks – particularly the criminal sort – probably wouldn’t take to well to the message, but Alora had given them their chance. If her words would not be registered as wise by their ears, may his blaster bolts be registered as lethal upon their impact.

Of course they had brought much more than just words. While he remained tucked away behind the crowd and out of sight, the Walker remained on full display for all to see. An armoured woman clad in beskar dropped atop it, bringing attention to the vehicle of war with her daring display, only for a daring fool to fire a blaster at her from the crowd. The blaster bolt landed square upon her beskar’gam, but caused no injury; it was beskar, after all.

Alora had made her point and delivered the message in full. Whomever had fired that shot already been warned, and now whoever loosed it would serve as a further warning. It was good that there was a crowd gathered to witness their next actions, and to see firsthand the example they’d make of whomever this impulsive idiot happened to be.

Thonn turned to look at the crowd in search of the shooter, but before he could find his target he heard the shot loosed by Alora, followed by the scream and sizzle that signaled his last moments. But there was bound to be more – there was never more than one, and he doubted that there was only one lowlife dumb enough to try and pick a fight with them.

Now, he was left wondering where these others were. Thonn was itching to bring a fight to those who foolishly requested it.

“Yeah, how many we got? Are they spread out or gathered up close?” He asked. They’d been daft enough to start shooting, it would be a boon if they were daft enough to stand so close together that he could shoot everyone simultaneously. Hopeful he was, he wouldn’t count on it. It wouldn’t really matter; Thonn had brought plenty of blaster bolts for all.

 

[Sergeant Omen]

N/A

 

[Ket Cros]

Ket listened to Jhira's words and nodded along. It did make sense. No one had this much-hired muscle around without at least being a little shady. His ears perked up when he heard the communications array needed to be taken out. He could differently do that at least.

The Merc quickly slide down the roof connected to the building, hoping he wasn't spotted by the muscle who were too busy checking out pretty ladies across the street. Now was that communications tower with the big antenna ontop of the club. Yeah, that must be it. In acouple of seconds, a HE wrist rocket collided with that same tower, sending it to crash to the ground as the hired guns looked around in shock for who had done this but Ket had already relocated, ready to strike again.

Jhira Mereel , Obran , Faison Kelborn