Gilamar Skirata
The most important step is always the next one
~Several Hours Earlier~
MandalMotors Hall
Sweat dripped down Gilamar's brow as he tossed his helmet to the corner of his office in MandalMotors Hall. His cape tattered and his face dirtied, he slumped into his chair. His fight with Verz had been exhausting, physically and mentally, but he knew there was more to do now. Taking his flask from his desk he began to remove the cap. Tipping the steel container forward into his mouth, he let the cool drink fill his throat. His moment of peace was interrupted by his com beeping. Intrigued he put the flask down and answered the com. "Skirata speaking, what is it?" His eyes widened as the message was relayed to him. Before the messenger could finish he had thrown the com down and begun making calls. The Sith were leaving. A whole lot of them. This was the perfect opportunity, unique in its circumstances. Standing and grabbing his helmet from the floor he sprinted through the tower to get aboard a shuttle calling everyone he knew.
The Mandalorians were on the move.
He would show Verz that the Mandalorians could still fight, still wanted to fight the Sith who murdered their brothers and sisters. He knew this attack was last minute, and he knew that he would not be able to muster as many forces as he would normally be able to, but this? It didn't matter. Several of the Sith's most infamous ships and the Masters that owned them had been spotted leaving Sith space, leaving the capitol more or less weakened by their absence. The emperor himself...was gone from the throne room. He didn't know why, and he did not care either. But he knew that there was work to be done, and quick work.
~Currently~
Dromund Kaas
Gilamar and his crusaders were ready. The plan was shoty at best, but for now it would have to do. Three ships exited hyperspace above Dromund Kaas, the introductory force, all ready to drop hundreds of Mandalorians into the city streets. All around him alarms went off, the captain in charge of the ship calling out battle stations. Fighters were emptied into space from the Invading force as well as the defense forces that had been left around the planet. "Alright, fighters out! Commandos, get ready to drop!" The old man's voice was loud, even over the alarms. All around him Mandalorians stepped into their six-man pods, all of them aimed at different points in the city.
Gilamar was leading the initial force, he knew others were right behind him...He had heard that even the witches were making an appearance. With a heavy sigh the old man stepped into the pod. The doors hissed closed and there was a rushing sensation that shot throughout his body. From the small datapad that was in the wall of the pod he could track the progress of the others. All around him pods were shot down by starfighters, but it seemed like a majority were hitting their mark.
He hit atmosphere, the pod began to rumble, alarms went off as the mechanics of the drop pod worked to keep the inside cool. Citizens below looked on in terror as they were evacuated from the city. Who wouldn't? Their sky was on fire as the flame of embers of vengeance fell onto their city. The pod screeched through the air, slamming into the permacrete, sending chunks flying. The pod secured itself into place, a mechanical whir emitting from the base of the pod. A loud hiss erupted from the pod as the doors slammed down. Gilamar stepped out of his pod and looked around. All around him his HUD was picking up enemy IFFs. They had been caught off guard, and now hundreds, soon thousands of Mandalorians would fill their streets and buildings.
The Mando'ade had arrived.
MandalMotors Hall
Sweat dripped down Gilamar's brow as he tossed his helmet to the corner of his office in MandalMotors Hall. His cape tattered and his face dirtied, he slumped into his chair. His fight with Verz had been exhausting, physically and mentally, but he knew there was more to do now. Taking his flask from his desk he began to remove the cap. Tipping the steel container forward into his mouth, he let the cool drink fill his throat. His moment of peace was interrupted by his com beeping. Intrigued he put the flask down and answered the com. "Skirata speaking, what is it?" His eyes widened as the message was relayed to him. Before the messenger could finish he had thrown the com down and begun making calls. The Sith were leaving. A whole lot of them. This was the perfect opportunity, unique in its circumstances. Standing and grabbing his helmet from the floor he sprinted through the tower to get aboard a shuttle calling everyone he knew.
The Mandalorians were on the move.
He would show Verz that the Mandalorians could still fight, still wanted to fight the Sith who murdered their brothers and sisters. He knew this attack was last minute, and he knew that he would not be able to muster as many forces as he would normally be able to, but this? It didn't matter. Several of the Sith's most infamous ships and the Masters that owned them had been spotted leaving Sith space, leaving the capitol more or less weakened by their absence. The emperor himself...was gone from the throne room. He didn't know why, and he did not care either. But he knew that there was work to be done, and quick work.
~Currently~
Dromund Kaas
Gilamar and his crusaders were ready. The plan was shoty at best, but for now it would have to do. Three ships exited hyperspace above Dromund Kaas, the introductory force, all ready to drop hundreds of Mandalorians into the city streets. All around him alarms went off, the captain in charge of the ship calling out battle stations. Fighters were emptied into space from the Invading force as well as the defense forces that had been left around the planet. "Alright, fighters out! Commandos, get ready to drop!" The old man's voice was loud, even over the alarms. All around him Mandalorians stepped into their six-man pods, all of them aimed at different points in the city.
Gilamar was leading the initial force, he knew others were right behind him...He had heard that even the witches were making an appearance. With a heavy sigh the old man stepped into the pod. The doors hissed closed and there was a rushing sensation that shot throughout his body. From the small datapad that was in the wall of the pod he could track the progress of the others. All around him pods were shot down by starfighters, but it seemed like a majority were hitting their mark.
He hit atmosphere, the pod began to rumble, alarms went off as the mechanics of the drop pod worked to keep the inside cool. Citizens below looked on in terror as they were evacuated from the city. Who wouldn't? Their sky was on fire as the flame of embers of vengeance fell onto their city. The pod screeched through the air, slamming into the permacrete, sending chunks flying. The pod secured itself into place, a mechanical whir emitting from the base of the pod. A loud hiss erupted from the pod as the doors slammed down. Gilamar stepped out of his pod and looked around. All around him his HUD was picking up enemy IFFs. They had been caught off guard, and now hundreds, soon thousands of Mandalorians would fill their streets and buildings.
The Mando'ade had arrived.