Azrael
RETIRED
Location: Airborne over Cinnagar Rooftops; nearby Ordo
Allies: The Mando'ade
Squad: [member="Navio"] | @Neskar A`toll | [member="Anastasia Rade"]
Enemies: Dar'Jetti: [member="Mya Munro"] | [member="Laufeia Carzi"] | [member="Lieutenant Kir"]
Objective: Avengers Assemble!
Even in the depths of darkness, the lit flame of hope still could shine preventing the closing shadows to fully encompass and control the situation. The Mando'ade were facing the force and full fury of such a darkness, and they were standing their ground. Pound for pound, everything they had thrown at the One Sith had been met with unrelenting resolve. Their Mand'alor fallen, the Leviathan slammed into the ground, and bodies of Mandalorian soldiers and Red Legion infantry sprawled across the wasted ruins of Cinnagar in a horrific horror show that cast a grim shadow over the planet. Much more, those clouds overhead of a force born storm that had taken hold of itself, and now no longer reigned under the control or will of the Sith. A fitting scenario to such a cataclysmic battle. The tides of war had shifted back and forth, with neither side conquored or relenting. The Sith had pressed their advantage with impressive and deadly displays of utilizing the Dark Side to pummel obstacle after obstacle in defending this pivotal world in the great galactic map. The Mando'ade had answered back with tireless resolve, grouping together to provide strength and dose out assault after assault. It seemed as if the landscape changed every few minutes, and Azrael for one was angered that a decisive victory to show the Sith that their victories over the Republic and the Omega Protectorate were nothing compared to fighting the legendary warriors of Mandalore.
Ordo had been the key - or so he had thought. The reigning Dark Lord of this conglomerate of Sith, Infantry and the dreaded Vong - he was supposed to be the fulcrum on which the entire leadership rested. The big man's shoulders were weighted with the burden and responsibility of directing the Sith in their war across the stars. All in the name of peace, ironically. One of the greatest lies ever told from the lips of a disfigured Chancellor; 'Once more the Sith shall rule the Galaxy, and we shall have peace.' Peace did not come by driving out every enemy, and stamping them into dust beneath your boots. Peace was never an option, this was subjugation, and tyranny at it's finest. The Mandalorians hadn't come to Teta to destroy this notion however, they had come for Ordo to reclaim their vode and remove his reign from the Sith. He had caused this, and now he would end it, so again, Azrael thought.
"I will honor my word Ori'vod...this day will not be your..." His words caught as the sound of a blaster bolt pierced the air, red hot plasma sank deep into the rear of Ordo's neck, below the base of his buy'ce and the next thing he heard was the knees of the big man meet permacrete before he face planted in front of him. Smoke rose in tendrils up from the wound that had felled his brother. Smoke from the barrel of the weapon held in the hands of a woman who had removed her helmet and showed what manner of villain had destroyed the hope of saving Ordo. Gray eyes widened beneath the crimson visor as he stared at the face of Mia Monroe, hearing her cold dead words speak to him like something out of a nightmare. He was at a loss for words, the shock of it all overcoming his ability to communicate while the woman's expert shot had taken down that which he had intended to try and save, to salvage. Mia was dead - he knew this, he'd watched her day, he'd brought her body to Keldabe and he'd watched it burn. This was not Mia, this couldn't be her standing there demanding that the Mando'ade depart after gunning down a man he knew the real Mia loved. "Imposter.." His lips peeled back to lash that word out like the crack of a whip.
"You dare tread on the name of the Liberator and murder my brother in cold blood?!" Azrael snarled and raised his hands to the heavens letting out a cry of anger and rage. Anastasia had seen him angry, but she had never seen Azrael truly pissed off. He kept a check on his emotions, even in the heat of battle, but this day had been too much for the half-blood to handle and reign in. Call it luck..or call it a stroke of fate by the Manda itself - but whatever it was that caused that bolt of force born lightning to rip from the heaven and strike Azrael - it happened in an instant snap. The white blinding light of the flash flashed out in all directions as the entire searing bolt met his bionic arm with a thundering crack of power. Electricity charged down his arm and with the alchemized properties of his modified appendage, the energy channeled into the housing mechanisms as servos whirred to life charging up a weapon he'd only used in training aspects. "DIE!!!" The next word to loose from the lips of the Field Marshal as his hand shot forward and the palm opened to release a magnanimous blast of concentrated force lightning to hurl at great speed directly towards the chest of Monroe's cloned body. Azrael however wasn't simply satisfied with that one attack as he shifted the war-droid into battle positions. What came next could only be described as a Maelstrom.
Mechanized weapons roared to life, the first of which were the Shockwave generator rods that tore from the Besu'liik, ripping sonic waves across the chasm of air and into the surrounding buildings. The vibration waves would decimate duracrete and plasteel structures like an explosion had gone off in each of the still standing constructs. The fate of the power armored Royal Guard closing in on his location would most certainly collide in that path if he was not incredibly skilled with those jet boots. Compounded to this attack were the release of shatter-missiles that tore from the war-droid's serious reserve a weapon's cache. Their release was a targeted approach to fire angled down towards the base of the buildings especially at the amassing army of Royal guards flooding the streets below. As the crescendo of the twin attacks echoed for kilometers in every direction Azrael did a hard turn on his controls and spun the droid around letting loose a stream of deadly yellow death from the beak of the droid itself. A sickening hum of energy drummed out in angle that cut a horizontal line in the orbital three-hundred and sixty degree rotation of the droid. The entire image of the destructive nature of the Besu'liik was a sight to behold and to be feared. They had been a staple of the Mandalorians for sometime, and had only improved with age. There was nothing left for him at this juncture - no cause to stay and bear the lash of the Sith, and after the last, a directed burst of pulse wave energy directed itself along the path to blaze a trail he could follow. Thrusters ignited and launched the beast up into the atmosphere.
Allies: The Mando'ade
Squad: [member="Navio"] | @Neskar A`toll | [member="Anastasia Rade"]
Enemies: Dar'Jetti: [member="Mya Munro"] | [member="Laufeia Carzi"] | [member="Lieutenant Kir"]
Objective: Avengers Assemble!
Even in the depths of darkness, the lit flame of hope still could shine preventing the closing shadows to fully encompass and control the situation. The Mando'ade were facing the force and full fury of such a darkness, and they were standing their ground. Pound for pound, everything they had thrown at the One Sith had been met with unrelenting resolve. Their Mand'alor fallen, the Leviathan slammed into the ground, and bodies of Mandalorian soldiers and Red Legion infantry sprawled across the wasted ruins of Cinnagar in a horrific horror show that cast a grim shadow over the planet. Much more, those clouds overhead of a force born storm that had taken hold of itself, and now no longer reigned under the control or will of the Sith. A fitting scenario to such a cataclysmic battle. The tides of war had shifted back and forth, with neither side conquored or relenting. The Sith had pressed their advantage with impressive and deadly displays of utilizing the Dark Side to pummel obstacle after obstacle in defending this pivotal world in the great galactic map. The Mando'ade had answered back with tireless resolve, grouping together to provide strength and dose out assault after assault. It seemed as if the landscape changed every few minutes, and Azrael for one was angered that a decisive victory to show the Sith that their victories over the Republic and the Omega Protectorate were nothing compared to fighting the legendary warriors of Mandalore.
Ordo had been the key - or so he had thought. The reigning Dark Lord of this conglomerate of Sith, Infantry and the dreaded Vong - he was supposed to be the fulcrum on which the entire leadership rested. The big man's shoulders were weighted with the burden and responsibility of directing the Sith in their war across the stars. All in the name of peace, ironically. One of the greatest lies ever told from the lips of a disfigured Chancellor; 'Once more the Sith shall rule the Galaxy, and we shall have peace.' Peace did not come by driving out every enemy, and stamping them into dust beneath your boots. Peace was never an option, this was subjugation, and tyranny at it's finest. The Mandalorians hadn't come to Teta to destroy this notion however, they had come for Ordo to reclaim their vode and remove his reign from the Sith. He had caused this, and now he would end it, so again, Azrael thought.
"I will honor my word Ori'vod...this day will not be your..." His words caught as the sound of a blaster bolt pierced the air, red hot plasma sank deep into the rear of Ordo's neck, below the base of his buy'ce and the next thing he heard was the knees of the big man meet permacrete before he face planted in front of him. Smoke rose in tendrils up from the wound that had felled his brother. Smoke from the barrel of the weapon held in the hands of a woman who had removed her helmet and showed what manner of villain had destroyed the hope of saving Ordo. Gray eyes widened beneath the crimson visor as he stared at the face of Mia Monroe, hearing her cold dead words speak to him like something out of a nightmare. He was at a loss for words, the shock of it all overcoming his ability to communicate while the woman's expert shot had taken down that which he had intended to try and save, to salvage. Mia was dead - he knew this, he'd watched her day, he'd brought her body to Keldabe and he'd watched it burn. This was not Mia, this couldn't be her standing there demanding that the Mando'ade depart after gunning down a man he knew the real Mia loved. "Imposter.." His lips peeled back to lash that word out like the crack of a whip.
"You dare tread on the name of the Liberator and murder my brother in cold blood?!" Azrael snarled and raised his hands to the heavens letting out a cry of anger and rage. Anastasia had seen him angry, but she had never seen Azrael truly pissed off. He kept a check on his emotions, even in the heat of battle, but this day had been too much for the half-blood to handle and reign in. Call it luck..or call it a stroke of fate by the Manda itself - but whatever it was that caused that bolt of force born lightning to rip from the heaven and strike Azrael - it happened in an instant snap. The white blinding light of the flash flashed out in all directions as the entire searing bolt met his bionic arm with a thundering crack of power. Electricity charged down his arm and with the alchemized properties of his modified appendage, the energy channeled into the housing mechanisms as servos whirred to life charging up a weapon he'd only used in training aspects. "DIE!!!" The next word to loose from the lips of the Field Marshal as his hand shot forward and the palm opened to release a magnanimous blast of concentrated force lightning to hurl at great speed directly towards the chest of Monroe's cloned body. Azrael however wasn't simply satisfied with that one attack as he shifted the war-droid into battle positions. What came next could only be described as a Maelstrom.
Mechanized weapons roared to life, the first of which were the Shockwave generator rods that tore from the Besu'liik, ripping sonic waves across the chasm of air and into the surrounding buildings. The vibration waves would decimate duracrete and plasteel structures like an explosion had gone off in each of the still standing constructs. The fate of the power armored Royal Guard closing in on his location would most certainly collide in that path if he was not incredibly skilled with those jet boots. Compounded to this attack were the release of shatter-missiles that tore from the war-droid's serious reserve a weapon's cache. Their release was a targeted approach to fire angled down towards the base of the buildings especially at the amassing army of Royal guards flooding the streets below. As the crescendo of the twin attacks echoed for kilometers in every direction Azrael did a hard turn on his controls and spun the droid around letting loose a stream of deadly yellow death from the beak of the droid itself. A sickening hum of energy drummed out in angle that cut a horizontal line in the orbital three-hundred and sixty degree rotation of the droid. The entire image of the destructive nature of the Besu'liik was a sight to behold and to be feared. They had been a staple of the Mandalorians for sometime, and had only improved with age. There was nothing left for him at this juncture - no cause to stay and bear the lash of the Sith, and after the last, a directed burst of pulse wave energy directed itself along the path to blaze a trail he could follow. Thrusters ignited and launched the beast up into the atmosphere.
OOC: Mya's writer approved the attack, and the video is to add some levity and awesome to a very long fight.