Unfinished Business [Mandalorian Crusader T2 Dom of Chiloon Rift]

[Lord Ajihad]

Just when he thought it was finally over, the Hutt sprung open a whole new can of worms. The vile beast took out a whip and began attacking [member="Orkamaat"] with it, while a trio of mostly dead-looking figures appeared out of the muck. He just then noticed a wicked heart sitting atop a high pedestal. Ajihad groaned aloud; he had been foolish to think it was so easy.​

​

He jumped off of [member="Zambrano the Hutt"], sheathing his sword and drawing his dual lightsabers mid-air. He landed next to one of wraiths, which looked to be more frail than the others. However, what it lacked in size it made up for in ferocity. It lunged at him, it's maw snapping and slobbering as it closed in. The assassin jumped to one side, sending the beast diving into the muck. With a quick swipe of his blade, the creature was no more.​

​

He made his way over to one of the bigger-looking undead beasts. As he neared, it would attack out of nowhere. It was a fast strike, and he wasn't expecting it from its previously docile nature. It tried to scratch him across the chest, but his Phrik armor stopped the blow in its tracks. He grimaced; if he had not been wearing armor then the zombie's filthy fingernails gouging into his skin would have probably given him some sort of flesh-eating disease. He would have to be more careful.​

​

He tossed the wraith over his head, slicing it in half with saber. As it fell to the ground, Ajihad began making his way to the pedestal. He'd leave the priest of Balagoth to deal with the Hutt's body and the remaining fragment of its soul. The Demon's Fist would have to go for the heart.​

 

[Vora Kaar]

"Mom, What is with all of these people in armor?"

A child around 10 years old was being clutched by his mother. A toy soldier in his hands with it's limbs in every which direction. Many people in armor ran by them as explosions, blaster fire, and people yelling in rage, or in pain were just around the corner. The firing from ships had missed their target just a little during the massive skirmish between the Primeval and the Mandalorian Crusaders. The building above the two didn't have the greatest integrity. Thus it began to fall.

Rubble fell upon the two. The mother protecting her child. As she pushed him forward, She couldn't speak as she was trying her best to hold up the weight on her back. Trying to hold her child's world together just a little longer. The child looked up to the sky. oblivious of what was happening to his mother for a moment. After turning around,

"Mom, You didn't answer m- Mom!"

Finally seeing the mother in her state, he rushed over to try and lift the rubble up. Wanting to save what he could.

In hindsight, he would fail.

(OOC: Performing the thread for the Personal Stealth field requirements. RP on as normal. Any questions PM me.)
[member="Miss Blonde"], [member="James Justice"], [member="Cyrus Falcor"], [member="Ghul Varad"], [member="Orkamaat"], [member="The Gray Assassin"], [member="Zambrano the Hutt"], @Anya Loma, [member="Jori Varad"], [member="Aera Varad"], [member="Patricia Susan Zexxel"],

REDACTED

 

[Zaiden Dean]

Axel stood midst the crew of the Beneficial, a non militant ship of moderate size. Against his hip rested Excelsior, and draped against a nearby chair was his coat. He currently was listening to the men in vharge as they prattled on and on, diagnostics shouted out, concern displayed over the situation they would soon arrive in. In the long run he didn't care about any of these issues, being overly sure of his ability to survive.

He had for quite a been in this body, since his return to the living situation, thanks to his father. But it did not mean that he was suddenly unaware that he was a Shard, a being able to control technological marvels. If needed he could find a ship with a droid mind, or some kind of like tech to gain control of so he could escape danger.

"Sir," One of the men started, but as said, he was only partially listening, so the man repeated the word, to which Axel looked at the lieutenant, "Sir, we should be there soon enough, ready yourself."

 

[Darth Metus]

M I S S I O N T O B L A C K H O L D​

If Blackhold were to be described in a word, it would be Quiet.

Not the soothing variety often advertised my real estate mogols, but the silence that said "something is very wrong here." In centuries past, this particular city had been home to some of Irn's most seasoned and vicious warriors. Their clan had declared war on all, and would have succeeded in dominating the planet had Irnfall not called for extraplanetary assistance. In the wake of their crushing defeat, Blackhold was mercilessly neutered. Its people were disarmed, its lands were diminished, and a dismal spirit fell upon the population. But. At least, back then, the streets of Blackhold had a population. You see, only a foolish victor would turn a blind eye to the home of its enemies; and Irnfall was no fool. On the regular would scouts be dispatched to make absolutely certain that Blackhold remained defeated.

But one day, a scout failed to return.

Then another. And another. And another.

Rumors began to circulate among the cities of Irn, especially in the wake of unconfirmed reports coming to light. Some said that Blackhold was on the rise - amassing weapons in a bid to conquer the planet once more. Whilst others...others said that the citizenry of Blackhold had seemingly vanished overnight. Needless to say, worry seeped into the bones of Irnfall and its neighbors; just on the heels of the Mandalorian Crusaders making first contact. Their coming was taken auspiciously, for the most part, as an extraplanetary force may be able to remedy the situation once again. An accord was struck: a bargain between the cities and the budding federation of Mandalorian worlds. Should the Crusaders solve the issue of Blackhold, then the planet of Irn would enter the fold.

And so did they come: a cadre of dropships dispensed from above. They breached the heavens in a matter of seconds before leveling out a few miles shy of Blackhold's walls. Dusk was upon them. And as the Sun began its final retreat upon the horizon, an ominous glow was cast upon the ancient stone. Blackhold was a stark contrast to the norms of the modern Galaxy, for the sole sources of illumination were by mere torchlight. High walls encircled the totality of the city, culminating with a single, monstrous entrance. Wrought iron and flaking wood composed the twin doors: a mundane obstacle for the Mandalorian warriors. Behind these laid the start of their investigation.

So much as breaching the city limits would expose a man to the first of many "clues." Although not as distinct as death itself, there was a terrifying stench in the air. It smelled similar to rot, but not of flesh. This would be coupled with the first of many options for the Crusaders to explore.

The INN was located at the first corner. The main entrance seemed to have been kicked down, and darkness clung to its interior. There was no light in the two-story structure; but one could assume that this was a local watering hole.

Surrounding HOMES came in a rather repetitive variety. They were small, single story, and each characterized by abysmal roofs. Some were straw, others rotting wood. Regardless, perhaps some inkling of what happened could be gleaned through searching them.

Lastly, a KEEP stood silent in the distance. Easily the largest of the city's structures, this fortification was clearly intended to be the last bastion of Blackhold. Its aesthetic greatly resembled the gloom-stricken walls surrounding the city. Typically, in the event of calamity, citizens would hole themselves up inside the Keep; barring all intruders. But the frontmost door was left wide open.

One by one, the dropships of the Crusaders settled upon the earth: and foreign lights shone upon the walls of Blackhold. As the warriors disembarked, an unspoken question hung in the air. What the kark were they getting into this time?

[member="Zephyr Carrick"] | [member="Reid Zambrano-Ticon"] | [member="Kaya Zambrano-Ticon"] | [member="Dagon Zambrano"] | [member="Zef Halo"] | [member="Aedan Miles"]​

 

[Zaiden Dean]

Axel stepped into the open air of Irn, his crimson irises looking skyward for a moment. The planet was one of those few he always called incredibly boring, but his father had said to come to the planet under the command of the Warmaster, and so he had. Now he would follow the commands that his fellow Crusaders heeded.

Placing his hat upon his head, the gentlemanly Mandalorian walked into the low mist of the Blackhold. The soft tap of a cane followed him he walked, the aforementioned walking stick swinging occasionally. It was not a necessity for his walking capacity, but rather a means of class appearance, bearing it's skull crystal head, the polished Songster shaft, the shining gold of the dials that swirled around the pole.

Heading toward the Inn midst the homes of the city, he began whistling a jaunty tune.

 

[Zef Halo]

Location: HOMES
[4]

Searching for a prey in the fringes of the galaxy was never easy. Most information gathered was false taking you to different locations, some even fatal. The hunt for Grane Lefin was issued by a notorious outer rim falleen crime lord due to Grane's forgery of documents that lead to the man acquiring a great deal of assets that the crime lord had and in turn liquefying them for tons of credits.

Now that man was hiding, obviously.

Hell, with all that money, Blackhold did not seem to be the destination that Grane would be at. With every step he took rummaging through the remains of homes, Dagon felt more sure that the information given to him was false. Despite the fact that the broker that he had bought the information from was famous for being very, very trustworthy.

It was when the humming of starship engines rang through the air of the eerie abandoned hold that Dagon frowned and leaned behind one of the walls of the derelict house. Only peeking through the glassless window at what was to come. In his right hand his carbine was held tight and ready for action.

 

[Vora Kaar]

Location: Keep
2/25

Standing at the door, it had been pulled apart. Markings suggested it was pulled hard, and aggressively. Either somebody was hiding in here, and whatever force this was wanted them, or someone really wanted to be inside. Holding up a glowtube, It illuminated the area in a bright blue light. Strong, and defiant of the star moving past the horizon. Soon it would be dark. Dropping the tube, I pulled my Rocksteady rifle. Turned on the flashlight attachment, as well as the dome lights on my helmet.

"Um, I am very tempted to just stay here."
"Alright let's go. Unless you feel like standing out here in the dark alone."
"Fine."

There were a few other guys with me. The place was large, too large, for one person to scout out, and so I needed to find a way I could get in, and survey the area. Our systems were hooked up so the mapping systems on our HUDs would update one another. Taking a grip of the door, I pulled it completely open with aid of crushgaunts, and made my way inside the darkness.

[member="Voice of the Crusade"]

 

[Zambrano the Starweird]

The three figures awaited Ajihad, as he created his path of destruction through the Lake of Bodies. The feeblest among them began to shuffle forward as the Assassin raced to the Hearts destruction. Meanwhile, the agonized roar of the Body turned around, either with Orkamaat or not, and propelled by the massive swarm of insects, spiders, and various other bug-like organisms, the weight of his body created a bloody sludge that lurched his mass forward, chasing after Ajihad with his organic lightsaber leading the charge. The Lake of Bodies cried before him, as it was absorbed into the mass of blood and guts forming below the monstrous being, gaining more and more speed. Though it would be some time before he would be on top of the Assassin, as he had other matters to attend to...

"Ramese? Is that you brother? You do seem quite angry today, perhaps I can sap that aggression out of you, at the foot of the blade of Darth Durablis! I am certain my rituals will grant me strength, as they always have..." The feeble figure suddenly was illuminated, carrying the face of Titus Zambrano, uncle to Kain Zambrano. Short and hunched, one hand held with it an ancient korribinian design of lightsaber... the exact replica of locally famous one in fact. The other hand outstretched, and fiery hexagons burned through the bodies before him. Though there was little to fear from the arcane symbols, other than the fear of being burned... Titus' power had never been realized, in all but lightsaber combat.

Thus, Ajihad was faced with a race against time with several obstacles in wait. Behind him, the mad and terrifying new form of Zambrano the Hutt raced towards him on a mount of gore-filled sludge, while before him three incarnations of the beast itself guarding the source of this nightmare come to life - The Heart. The death of the Black Prophet, was no laughing matter.

[member="The Gray Assassin"], [member="Orkamaat"]

 

[Reid Zambrano-Ticon]

Location: Outskirts, approaching the homes
Gear: Durasteel armor, holdout pistol, vibrodagger.
(1/25)

In comparison to the adult figures present, Reid was more like than not woefully underprepared for everything that was to come his way. After all, he was just eight, and armed with considerably less weaponry than was recommended for any potential battlefield, let alone a place where citizens had been disappearing without a trace. This was knowledge he was supposed to be unaware of, just as he wasn't intended to be on the dropship among the full-fledged warriors of the Crusaders. Then again, as a child he wasn't really supposed to be much of anywhere other than at home with his parents. But when one's parents were a Zambrano and a Ticon, things changed drastically. And that meant scenarios such as these.

Once the dropship touched down he remained within for the amount of time it took the others to disembark, finally doing the same himself once all was clear. It wouldn't have done well to get caught up in the stampede, and besides, he wasn't technically here. What his parents didn't know wouldn't hurt them, at least theoretically. Cautiously he stepped down the ramp, adorned in durasteel armor sized to his form, molded after the sort the Mandalorians often wore, T-visor and all. No weapon was immediately clutched in his grasp, though he did have both a holdout pistol and a vibrodagger on his person. Nothing that would do substantial damage, but he wasn't really here to fight.

His pace was slow as he walked down the street, keeping close to one line of houses, taking in the apparent destruction about himself with wide eyes beneath his helmet. This is just like the bad people Mom told us about.

[member="Dagon Zambrano"], [member="Voice of the Crusade"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

Location: Keep (Heading to)
[1]

"There's a rumor, my lord, about blood shamans infesting this planet. Beings so disgusting and vile they try to bend the will of life itself to their will. It is unnatural, wrong even. I cannot imagine why a business man such as yourself would want to go to a place like it." A single human stood before not Darth Ferus, but Lucifer Morningstar. The man stepped from his ship, letting his blue eyes rest on the one who would be his escort.

"I'm not worried about the idea of 'blood shamans'. All just rumors and superstition. I'm here to see how I can help the local villages stay communicated with one another via holocoms." That's what Morningstar Co. was about after all. But that was just a cover. Lucifer had come here for one single reason, to investigate the rumors behind a blood shaman, and the grounds they had traveled into.

[member="Zephyr Carrick"]
[member="Voice of the Crusade"]

 

[Darth Metus]

Skitter. Flutter.

The silence was slowly broken, but not solely by the boots of Blackhold's guests.

Skitter. Flutter.

Sounds in the darkness of the Homes would first reach the ears of [member="Dagon Zambrano"] and [member="Reid Zambrano-Ticon"]. What could this gentle noise be? Too soft to be footsteps. Too loud to be breathing.

Skitter. Flutter.

Simply following one's instincts would reveal the source of the sound. A creature...an unremarkable insect. A moth, no larger than one's palm, rested upon the open window sill. Its wings fluttered. Its body skittered upon the wood. Unremarkable. Wait. What was this? Green? A residue...dried...reeking of rot. What this a source of the ever-present stench? Where did it come from? Where did it lead? Dried was this green upon the window sill, and down could a trail be faintly seen.

A shuffled rug? A "trap" door? Vicious scratches upon the floor. The residue...a glimpse into the fate of Blackhold...led to the cellar below.

- - -​

Quiet. Darkness.

That was all that awaited [member="Darth Ferus"] and [member="Zephyr Carrick"] within the Keep. The door was opened: Blackhold's final bastion vulnerable to every passerby. However, inspecting the door would reveal a rather chilling truth. Crimson stained the door's interior, along with numerous scrapes upon the wood. These wounds into the entrance spoke of one thing: whoever once sought refuge within the Keep...desperately wanted to get out.

The light of one's helm would reveal more evidence of this ghastly scene. Stairs to the right, adorned with...the dead. Remnants of clothing could be made out, as could dried blood splattered upon the walls. Yet the corpses...the flesh was black. Sunken. Drained. And upon them rested moths. Numbering in the hundreds. The presence of light prompted a swarm of retreat: a grand symphony of frantic wings taking flight up the stairs.

What were they fleeing to? What refuge awaited them above the stairs? There was only one way to find out.

 

[cheshire_kitty]

[1/25]

The emptiness of the location did not faze her; it was the dust that had gathered that unsettled her. Ghosts did not exist, they were just stories made up by others to keep foolish and gullible individuals away for one reason or another but dust... Dust was a whole other monster altogether. Dust was deadly and when inhaled, it had the potential to trigger her asthma symptoms which could escalate into an asthma attack, leaving her at its mercy and moreover, it was an enemy she was incapable of dealing with. Everytime she tried, her every attempt had been futile, often resulting in her coughing and wheezing with the room being no cleaner than it was when she had first begun this fruitless chore.

However, unfortunately for her asthma, she was curious as to what secrets this place held. As she did not believe in ghosts or the supernatural, she concluded that presence of another person was surely the cause of the mysteries that plagued the area. There was no such thing as the supernatural. She knew had nothing to fear except the dreaded dust clogging up her lungs. Inhaler in hand, Astoltae entered the inn, the sound of her boots gently rapped on the hardwood floor with each step she took.

 

[Lord Ajihad]

[member="Zambrano the Hutt"] [member="Orkamaat"]

It this point, it was starting to become apparent that Ajihad was indeed stuck between a rock and a hard place. Three revenants shambled towards him as the massive figure of the Hutt roared towards him on a tidal wave of sludge. He knew he would have to slay all of these undead forms before he struck the Hutt down once and for all... but how was he to do so before Zambrano reached him?​

​

Closing his eyes, he reached out with the force to the sludge surrounding the zombies. The toxic refuse was made of some nasty stuff, but it wasn't what he needed. He touched the substance with his mind, altering its basic chemical structure down to the mere atom. He altered it to become combustible, reactive at the very notion of high thermal energy. He wasn't a god, he couldn't change the entire lake. Just the pools around the shambling zombies would have to do.​

​

A stream of golden magma would erupt from the palm of his hand and igniite the sensitive waste. The creatures would be engulfed in the superheated flame in a matter of seconds. However, he had never encountered abominations such as this. Would the fire destroy them, or would it make them stronger. Perhaps it would not affect them in the slightest...​