Weekend Treasure Hunt Infinity: At Last We Will Have Revenge (Open to All)

[Sal Katarn]

Velok's Maw

The figure turns and fixes me with eyes of molten gold. His skin is as red as the blood sloughing off my armor. I pause at the sight, unsure whether to open fire, and glance over at the Jedi. He’s drawn his lightsaber now. The reassuring hum slows the growth of the despondent fear weighing on my chest.

Over the hum, heightened senses hear the slick sound of razored metal ramming into meat. My head snaps back to Red-Face just as he lets go of a dagger buried hilt deep in the chained man’s belly. Fast as thought, he sweeps a sword from a scabbard at his hip. The blade cuts down through the empty air, casting off a web of forking radiance from its length.

Synthetic nerves have me moving faster than any human, but I barely get a step back before the thunderbolts from his blade lance into me. Bolts the size of fingers shrink exponentially the closer they come to the black sheen of my chest plate until they are just incandescent threads. They snake out and touch my armor. North of 50,000 volts course through my body and I go to my knees. To the right I see Kiens. Kiens does not have a mechamiri pack. He takes a billion volts of dark side electric discharge center mass and goes flying backward to land somewhere behind me.

Smoke chokes the air. I smell burning plastic. Our duraplast body armor isn’t meant to take that kind of punishment.

Hot saltwater trickles down my cheek. I let out a gargled laugh that tears at my constricted throat. All these cybernetics shoved into my body, but they can’t even stop me from crying.

I can no longer hear the peaceful hum of the Jedi's lightsaber. Nothing but the harsh crackle of lightning cascading through the room. All I wonder is when it will stop.

[member="Gabriel Sionoma"] | [member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

He recalled the Festering Cairn like he had been there just yesterday. The old architecture, the protruding rocks, and the smell of blood in the air. The fight that ensued, both before and after the ritual, that had brought his enemy back to life. He had been so confident, so stalwart in his defense in that fight, that when he lifted his hand to intercept the red arks of lightning, he had thought nothing of it. But the way tutaminis had work, the corruption seething through the current, had impacted him in ways that he would have never expected. Next thing he knew, he had been pinned to that stony wall, left for dead, and nearly so...amidst a torrent of dreams and nightmares.

He wouldn't make that mistake again, he would be more cautious.

Those were thoughts he had as he lifted the saber to intercept the lightning. But the plume of electricity dispersed beyond him, dancing and leaping across the current of his blade. While he remained almost entirely defended against it, with the small scorches across the forearm of his armor that revealed the devastating power of the attack, those around him hadn't been treated so kindly. Grimacing at the pure kinetic force beyond the attack, the Marshall put one foot forward and urged all the strength he could into his right hand. To sustain the hold for just a moment.

Lifting his left hand, the force poured out from the metallic armor. A shimmer of blue and sparkling transparency took form as it spread before him, like paint poured down an empty canvas. It hit the ground and flickered upward, water violently crashing against the cliff-side shore, as it formed a dome around him. He revealed the white of his teeth and the furrow of a brow, focus entirely fixed on what he could only assume was a Sith Lord trapped within the confines of this asteroid. The man hanging from chains, dead or dying, held no interest in the heat of this moment. His hazel eyes drifted from the arch of lightning back to the wielder, gaze fixing upon the man with renewed resolve.

But his attention was divided. A man was flung into a wall. The other, the 2nd Lieutenant, got hit with the full force.

"Behind me...Stand behind me!" He let out the command for those who were left standing, who managed to survive the aperture between release of lightning and the Marshall's interception. With the way the darkside emanated from this place, they should have expected this. But it was a rabbit hole and they were steadfast in their tumbling.

"Coward..." He nearly yelled through clenched teeth. The force was infinite, but the wielders weren't. The lightning would have to stop eventually. And then, they could get to the bottom of this place and discover it's origins. In doing so, he hoped to understand the ship that hovered in it's orbit. But first and foremost, survival was key.

[member="Raph Thule"] | [member="Jorus Merrill"]​

 

[Arla Ordo]

Location: On the ship waiting to arrive

Arla finally donned her armor checking each strap and brushing off any dirt that had remained from the last battle. She was proud of the armor it made her feel a part of something larger than herself, and she was. The Mandalorians were a large group making their traditions and thoughts known across the galaxy.

But now what lay ahead she did not know she would board with the others. She made sure she had everything, pistol, grenades, always her favorites even if when she trained with Arrbi she couldn't throw them very far it was effective to take out the enemy. She ensured she had a full round of missiles to be launched her knife was cleaned and put away.

On this trip she was bringing the small group that had volunteered to become force pike users, how well they did she would have to see.
She breathed again and began walking, the soft clink of her boots hit the deck. Soon the sound would fade as others came into the halls heading towards the hangar waiting.

Where were [member="Cole Dagos"] and [member="Verz Horak"] in this, she had not seen them prior to this call. She prayed for their safety. She had word that Verz had joined some cult, she didn't know why he had done that. They had not talked much lately.

Avrum did not understand why his mother seemed so quiet at times, he would just sit quietly with her as they watched the rerun of How to train your Dragon.

 

[Verz Horak]

Location: Boarding torpedo, heading for enemy vessel
Allies: Mandalorians, [member="Arla Balor"] [member="Cole Dagos"] [member="Draco Vereen"] [member="Gilamar Skirata"] [member="Ordo"] @Stardust Raxis @Ronan Vizsla

It was time. The alert had sounded over the comms, signalling all warriors to enter the boarding torpedoes. The Cult's warriors and their fellow Mando'ade squeezed into the pods, waiting for the launch. With a shudder, the pods had launched, pushed free from their home vessel by the powerful engines mounted on them. The fire between capital ships engaged in battle was deadly, but the pods were too small to be targeted by those guns. Point defense and debris would destroy some, but the pods would make it through. They always did.

A shudder. The pods had burrowed through the shielding with disruptors. Within a moment the pods impacted against the hull, their sharp prows and speed forcing them through the metal and armor of the hull. The portal opened, lights flooding the area in front of the pod to disorient attackers. The Mandalorian warriors quickly exited the pod, securing the area with covering sightlines. Helmet computers talked to each other and created shared maps of the immediate area. It was time to fight.

 

[Kenrath]

Location: Target
Objective: Sweep and Clear (Group 3)

[member="Stardust Raxis"] [member="Gilamar Skirata"] [member="Draco Vereen"] [member="Jorus Merrill"]

Spoiler: Equipment

http://starwarsrp.net/topic/4949-vornskr-mark-8-scattergun/
http://starwarsrp.net/topic/10961-mandalorian-ripper-mk-ii/
http://starwarsrp.net/topic/91889-westar-rogue-armor/

Once the signal had been given Cole and a few of the other climbed into their assigned torpedo. This was not going to be a comfortable ride by any means but one of those quick ones where it would be over before the suck of it really kicked in. During the trip Cole could hear the fire, he could hear pods all around him exploding as they were hit with the concentrated firing from the ship, and Cole could hear debris pepper the pod he was in. The impact with the ship was jarring. Not being used to it Cole needed a few seconds to get his wits and bearing before making it out and into the ship.

As soon as Cole cleared the boarding Torpedo he was in a glide the Mark 8 up shoulder and sweeping the room. It took a few minutes to do so but for the moment they had gotten on board with out a fight. Cole looped back center towards the torpedo jumping on the comm.

"Charlie Delta to all units..............we have made successful entry........negative contact." "Beginning sweeps now."

Cole turned to the group as they scanned the ship itself. Cole was the first one to break the silence.

"Anybody recognize any markings?" "This doesn't look like the same design from the Omega....................could this be a different group?"

Whoever they were Cole knew this was going to be a bad day. The sheer size of this thing made him shudder to think what they would be facing. Cole shook it off and turned back to the group.

"Alright let's get this done and get the feth out of here." "Place gives me the creeps." "Ok sweepers on me." "Once we clear a section our heavy gunners will hold the ground." "Our job is to keep the hallways clear so the other teams can take critical objectives."

Cole and the other formed up while the second group got ready. Once the last man was ready he hit the shoulder of the guy in front of him until it reached Cole on point. Cole would pop the first door and push through sweeping left to center, right back to center, then up to center and down to center. All the while his feet kept moving and gaining ground. Once they hit the first corner Cole held up a closed fist halting them for just a moment to set on the corner.

 

[Naast'ika Laaran]

While Metal starships pondered in strait lines, energy and projectile weapons racing between them, Naast'ika Laaran danced through the void on a curving, angled approach. He drew ever closer to the massive starship as he raced towards the thing. He was approaching from behind the ship. With wide ion drives taking up most of the ship's aft facing, that was where the ship would have the least protection and the fewest weapons.

Another lesson he had learned from his crew.

Already there were powerful energy weapons that raced to kill him. Naast'ika rolled left and right, keeping his body rocking, rolling, juking, and feigning in random directions as his Dovin Basal kept him moving in his desired direction. It was, as his crew had taught him, the best way to make himself frustratingly difficult to target. The incoming shots streaked through the void as they raced past Naast'ika and into the depths of space where they would eventually sputter and die, their light spent. One lucky shot splashed against Naast'ika's hull, his shields flaring as they took the impact.

Naast'ika's own weaponry emerged from their armored places, tracking the massive ion drives of the lumbering starship. Only a few more moments and he would be close enough to repay it for the shots it had taken at him.

 

[Sal Katarn]

The Jedi takes on the full brunt of the attack, collecting the lightning as if he himself is the rod. I grit my teeth and agonizingly push myself to my feet. I'm not sure what the electrical current did to my cybernetics, my left leg doesn't seem to be functioning properly, but there's no time to stop and do a physical.

The other Marines are recovering. The Lieutenant raises his rifle and fires a concussive blast at the hostile. I follow suit. We squeeze off shot after shot feverishly. I hope the soundwaves rip the Sith's body to pieces. Can't imagine the others are thinking any different. Vacheads believe strongly in an eye for an eye.

[member="Gabriel Sionoma"] | [member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Raph Thule"] [member="Gabriel Sionoma"]

Eventually the lightning ran to a halt, not because of exhaustion -- it took power to command a battlecruiser full of the ancient Sith -- but because of those gorram hard-sound guns. Blast after blast staggered the Dark Lord, burst his eardrums, cracked bones. Still he stood, but the lightning faded and was gone. Only then did he fall to his knees, and only because the concentrated fire of Deathrattle carbines had shattered his shinbones.

The powerful reverberation of the sonic weapons would, however, prove devastating for anyone not wearing comprehensive sonic protection. Even the injured Massassi in the cavern behind them lapsed into deeper unconsciousness from the pain. As for the tortured Sith, quite near the weapons' field of fire, he writhed against his restraints. "Nuyak'qoqorit!" he roared, audible over the guns' lingering reverberations. "Taral'ari, nunwon!"

He collapsed, sagging against his chains, bleeding from belly and eardrums.

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

MANDALORIAN CLANS
Clan Munin | Boarding Action Near Polis Massa

If you wanted something done right, you did it yourself.

If you wanted something done with extreme prejudice, you called in the Clone Troopers.

...and, if no Clone Troopers were available, and you wanted it done with copious amounts of explosives, there was the few, the proud, the clone cadets. The boarding plank had nearly shattered as the little trooper had erred on the side of too much explosive and packed about a high-yield proton torpedoes worth of catalyst against the hull plating. In the grand scheme of things, too much explosives was never a bad thing. Look, there was a gaping hole in the side of the ship. That's what people wanted, right?

If people were that concerned about pounds versus grams, they'd have never sent a 9 year old to breach the ship in the first place.

But they had. And Three had been promised that [member="Vilaz Munin"] would be in this thread. Instead, he was stuck backing up [member="Lok Munin"], who still hadn't explained Shockboxing to him. Or gone camping with him again. Or ever finished that bedtime story.

It was starting to be a laundry list of grievances with his arch-nemesis and babysitter, Lok Munin...

Meanwhile, back at the Legion of Doom, the young clone was stepping off the boarding ramp and taking his first steps inside the alien ship. In his child-sized eukgar'gam, he definitely looked a little short to be a Clone Trooper.

 

[Choli Vyn]

GALACTIC ALLIANCE
Rogue Squadron
[member="Zark"] [member="Asmus Janes"] [member="Allyson Locke"] [member="Owen Holst"] [member="Aerion Ivelisse"]

[ All hands, action stations! Set alert status throughout the ship! ]​

​

The klaxons began its familiar wail. Down in the belly of the Alliance carrier, all pilots were well aware of what that meant. Time to buckle up and hit the air.

Choli went running into the hanger, barely struggling into her orange flightsuit. A rather gaudy color, but what else where they supposed to do? Something about a safety thing.

"Everyone at their stations! Get into your fighters now!" she cried out, slipping her right arm into the sleeve and zipping it up in short order.

"Arr-Four!" a hoot and a beep welcomed the dark skinned woman as she came to her starfighter. "Yeah, I got it. Sorry i'm late." A push of her hands and the woman jumped up to get into the cockpit. Grabbing her helm, she slipped it on over her head, making sure to tuck in the dark strands.

Flipping up a toggle, her voice crackled through the Squadron comm. " This is Rogue Seven, working at preflight and moving fast to deploy."

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="3X744"] and his compatriots would, in short order, find themselves facing tough opposition. Your average Massassi warrior was seven or eight feet tall, and armed with an alchemical polearm/razor-disc-launcher that could make a serious dent in Mandalorians. All the beskar in the world won't save you if an eight-foot bodybuilder rams a forty-pound halberd into your solar plexus, or puts a couple of lanvarok discs through your bodyglove.

The Force was strong here, strong but strange. The Dark Side clouded everything (at least if you were the sort to put your trust in the Force).

[member="Choli Vyn"] and the Rogues would discover a good-sized fighter screen launching. Like their mothership, however, the Sith starfighters were of ancient design, their weapons reduced in power relative to modern guns. They could move very quickly, they could take a hit, but they would struggle to keep Rogue Squadron from making a serious attack run. Perhaps more of an obstacle would be the battlecruiser's heavy batteries. As the Mandalorian boarding ships had discovered to their chagrin, the gunnery officers appeared to be strong in the Dark SIde of the Force, allowing them to use the heavy weapons with deadly precision even against small craft. Should the Rogues make it through all that opposition, though, the wavering holes in the battlecruiser's ancient shields might offer all kinds of opportunities.

 

[Lok Xiangu]

Location: Polis Massa
Objective: Hijack
Allies: [member="3X744"]

They arrived at the scene of battle, both Mando and Alliance soldiers annihilating those that were affiliated with Sith on this magnificent vessel. The Munin had no idea that the Alliance were here as well. Was this a joint task by both factions? Lok doubted it very much as Gilamar didn't informed them about Alliance coming over to provide more firepower. Still the teenager wouldn't fire at those belonging to the Galactic Alliance as there was no beef between the Clans and the Alliance. But if they did gave Lok a reason of why he should point his blaster at him, then he would defend himself and consider them as enemies.

With the young Fett clone that was part of the Munin Clan, Lok would follow him with his dual pistols, a slugthrower, a Fett-Kal knife, two flashbangs, and two thermal detonators as they boarded the Sith ship through a hole in the vessel's hulk.

"Alright, Three. Stay sharp," was all he could say to the Munin Cadet.

Not long after they boarded the ship, they encountered a Massassi warrior that was taller and stronger than the two boys.

"Crap."

The Mando raised his rifle and began to fire regular slugs at the Massassi Warrior, noticing he was dressed in armor that was resistance to kinetic projectiles.

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

Obligatory MMORPG Boss Monster music​

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3cKy5Qk0QMM​

MANDALORIAN CLANS
Gean: Eukgar'gam | Blaster Pistol | Knife

The small Clone Trooper took two steps inside of the ship, and then looked up.

And then looked up some more.

...that was one big Bith. Not as large as [member="Joza Perl"] mind you, but a close second. About as equally pink though. So there was that resemblance.

"Crap."

That was one way to describe this. Three wasn't really certain if that was Mando'a or not, but he didn't think that it was. A situation like this called for Mandalorians to be tough! A situation like this called for Mandalorians to be brave!

...a situation like this made the boy wish he'd gone to the bathroom before he'd boarded the alien ship.

In any case, staring up at an eight foot tall monstrosity, and realizing that he needed to pee, this seemed like a time for Mandos to be Mandos. And that meant Mando'a. And that meant.. "OYA!"

Yep, still the only word in Mando'a that he knew.

Seriously, though, if [member="Jorus Merrill"] thought that these were 'sposed to be scary, he'd clearly never done the training simulators with a pissed off bunch of Super Battle Droids. A quick series of steps, and then the child threw his legs out in front of him -- sliding across the deck like a base-runner making for home plate. As he shot between the legs of the Massassi warrior, the boy angled a shot from his right gauntlet.

A burst from a paddle beamer integrated into the child's armor would test out whether the Massassi's armor extended to agrinium athletic supporters or not.

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="3X744"] [member="Lok Munin"]

Slugs thudded into flesh and spanged off plate armor. This particular Massassi -- for there were several -- roared and flung razor-discs at Lok with a wave of his polearm. His attention remained on the diminutive rifleman. It should perhaps have been more evenly distributed.

The paddle beamer would have ignored shields if the Massassi had worn one. It certainly ignored his armor. And as paddle beamers disabled whatever extremities they encountered, the Massassi immediately found his nether regions paralyzed. His numb bladder disgorged stinking liquid in quantity. Duty was heavier than a mountain, after all, and he'd gone into battle despite a need to pee. The Massassi widdled profusely, to his rage. He turned to swing the polearm at the metal-clad youngster who'd just slid through his legs, but his claws slipped on the urine-soaked deck plating.

Eight feet of Massassi bodybuilder hit the deck hard enough to dent it.

His head was toward Lok, his feet toward Three. He scrambled to get up, but the deck was slick. An opportunity existed here.

 

[Lok Xiangu]

It was hard to know that the warrior threw a razor discs at the Munin since they were silent and thrown in an arc like a frisbee. The first few ones would impact on his personal shielding that could take on both blasters and slugs; however, its power could be drain at a rapid pace if barraged crazy like right now. Lok's shields were then disabled and a razor disc hit him right on the helmet which caused him to fall down, due to a lost of balance. The impact on his helmet was enough to give him some symptoms of a concussion: minor blurriness, losing some balance, and a little bit lightheaded.

Nevertheless, he could still stand and fight.

A big thud quaked on the deck and there was their giant opponent, on the ground and trying to scramble up to his feet. What did Three do to the poor Warrior? Scattergun? Sonic weaponry? He didn't know, but he did care. Signs of Three transforming into a Mandalorian Warrior. He still had some years to tackle before becoming an adult in Mando traditions, but he wasn't the first or the last Mando in getting some real combat at his age.

The teenager pulled out a MT-14 pistol and held at the trigger, charging up for a devastating attack that would be pretty harmful to anyone even if they were tough and durable as the Massassi. His patience paid off, and released a charged blaster bolt at the Warrior which impacted him on his right torso. He'd either be dead or critically injured.

[member="Jorus Merrill"], [member="3X744"]

 

[Sal Katarn]

"Let the Jedi handle the hostile. Thule, cuff the one in chains. We're taking him back. Dax, check Kiens."

I nod numbly in response to the LT's orders, body running off reflex and ebbing adrenaline... and I guess the countless micro-fiber wires threaded through me too.

Seven steps and I reach the tortured red thing hanging from the chains. Looks like he is barely alive. Those words he said didn't mean anything to me. We'd have to show a protocol droid the helmet footage later. They speak a million languages.

We only speak one.

Fingers that don't shake find the chains and unfasten them. They don't shake because they can't. Humans get jitters. I'm not sure I am anymore.

I pull a pair of binders out. They snick into place around the prisoner's wrists. Only then do I jam a bacta/stim needle into his red flesh and hope he pulls through.

I hear a different kind of snick and turn. Dax has slit the Sith from ear to ear and whatever's left of his life is pumping out ontp the ground. Dax did it because that's what you do when somebody kills your brother. I get it. The Jedi probably disapproves, but he must not speak our language.

Funny, I thought violence was universal.

[member="Jorus Merrill"] | [member="Gabriel Sionoma"]

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

And the Clone Trooper tanking continues...​

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qAp8U5z9cjQ​

MANDALORIAN CLANS
Gean: Eukgar'gam | Blaster Pistol | Knife

Coming out of the slide, the small clone kicked his lower half up.

As his legs swung down, the boy used the momentum to propel himself up from the deck just about the time that the Massassi behind him was hitting the deck. He was young, but well trained from his time at Kamino. Nonetheless, he hadn't quite traveled far enough and, as the Massassi splayed out on the deck, the warrior's leg struck the boy and shoved him forward roughly.

Flailing wildly, the boy dropped down to one knee.

Within his helmet, the targeting computer was tracking two more incoming Massassi. As he started calculating a firing solution on the one to the left, the boy came up from the crouch with his blaster pistol drawn and firing down on the one to the right. The rocket dart launcher on his shoulder was cycling through the start up sequence.

Incoming.

The boy dove forward, then rolled left. Now between the two Massassi, the boy twisted as he came up. A small jump pushed him up from the deck, his feet going against the bulkhead behind him as he pushed off the wall to propel himself out of the way of the charging brutes.

They'd have to demonstrate a fair amount of grace to avoid clipping one another.

As for Three, the boy did a roll as he made the landing and came up. The targeting computer chirped with a lock, and then first one... then two rocket darts went sailing out at the two Massassi that were tangled up in an impromptu embrace.

[member="Lok Munin"] | [member="Jorus Merrill"]​

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Raph Thule"] [member="Gabriel Sionoma"]

The protocol droids would make much of the helmet footage, and of the torture victim's ramblings while under medical care. He was, it transpired, a heretic of sorts, calling to unspecified 'brothers' to rise up and save him. He exhorted them to wait for the promised 'protector lord,' who should 'set his face as iron' and lead them to the perfect truth which would set them free. He gloried in his torment, saying he had chosen this path, that he could not deny his dream or vision of the protector lord who would show his people the 'true way.' The other Sith, he insinuated, had chased and captured him to eliminate his heresy, but a portion of the crew had believed him. Those, presumably, were the 'brothers' he called. All of this came in broken, mumbled Kissai. He showed no sign of understanding Basic.

[member="3X744"] [member="Lok Munin"]

Surrounding the immediate context of the fight, a

disturbance in the Force​

rolled through the Dark Side-tainted battlecruiser. Shouts rose, and the sound of violence: personal disagreements becoming riots between the Massassi, all throughout the ship. The shouting was in the tongue of the ancient Sith. A mutiny was in progress, or the first rumblings of a civil war.

 

[Sal Katarn]

I stare at Kiens' armored form laying out on the table. The surgeon told us he couldn't be removed from the armor because the plastic had fused with his skin. So here we are, gathered around his corpse, knowing we won't ever be able to see his face again. All that's left under the helmet is melted wax.

The Jedi say what we brought will make a difference. I hope its true. I hope Kiens' life is worth something other than the mad ravings of a half-dead lunatic.

LT is talking to the red, although I guess the correct term is Massassi. The protocol droid translates.

"I don't know any protector lord, but I do know a former Lord Protector." Dallows glances at the protocol droid. With his helmet off I can tell he doesn't make much of this cultist. "Dax, get on the horn to [member="Ayden Cater"]. Ask him if he knows anything about a Kissai warrior cult waiting for him to lead them to salvation."

Dallows looks back to the Massassi. "Your brothers, where are they now?

[member="Jorus Merrill"] | [member="Gabriel Sionoma"]

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Raph Thule"]

The protocol unit translated the question into the hard-edged, guttural sounds of Kissai. A touch of manic clarity came to the dying Massassi's eyes. With effort, he growled a response.

The droid's head tilted. "'My brothers are those aboard the vessel who have believed my words, whether or not they have heard my voice. I have shared my vision or dream with them. They have dreamed of the Protector Lord as I have dreamed, and they have kept the secret oath. Now all have detected or experienced the death of the commander. Soon they will detect or experience my death also. The Protector Lord will come. My brothers will obey him.'"

The Massassi struggled to rise up onto his elbows. The medical bed creaked under his weight. He snarled something else.

"'Three strands to the future. They diverge, but weave together again. Three of the paths of what is to come can bring the whole of the ship to see the light in time. These three paths are those who have set their faces as iron, those who are called Protector Lords and have sanctified that title in blood. My brothers will listen to any one of the three. Each can...answer the dream.' Idiomatically, he may mean 'fulfil the prophecy.'"

By the time the protocol droid fell silent, the Massassi shuddered...and vanished.

***​

​

OOC​

ALL DMing COMPLETE​

​

The ship is now in a static situation that can be resolved by, and between, the Mandalorians and Galactic Alliance. It's now within the GA's power to end the civil war within the crew. However, the Mandalorians have boarded in force. Both factions can claim the vessel.​

​

Do as you will.​