When the Cats Are Away...

[Vrag]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FWSPHu53IXc​

There are several levels of interpersonal relationships.

Acquaintances are for braggery, shameless rivalry, a pinch of envy and the occasional brazen pick-up line.

Colleagues are for friendly competition, cooperation and evenings at the local joint with the cheapest Juma juice on tap.

Friends are for support, Sabacc games of dubious moral quality, crying about failed marriages and sometimes adventures between the sheets.

And allies? Well, allies are clearly only good for one thing; one calls on them in times of war.

In this case, the one in question was the Primeval, and the allies were possibly one of the most frightening military forces in the Galaxy. The Host Lord, [member="Anja Aj'Rou"], had arranged for a little treat to be delivered at the Mandalorian doorstep while the beskar-clad warriors themselves were busy fending off the invading forces of the northern zealots. [member="Reverance"], as the Wrath, had recognized the chance for what it was, and so they were here. Now.

Mandalore.

As always, Vrag would salivate at the very thought of coordination, and no self-respecting Sith could resist the opporunity to deal such a crippling blow to an ally — heh, ally — of the crumbling Republic. Further emboldened by the knowledge that whatever remained of the defending forces would be concentrating on the other side of the planet, where [member="Catalys Maijora"] was leading an assault upon the fleets of their home planet, the Sith was nearly giddy at the prospect of the damage they would be able to dole out before the Mandalorians even realized what was going on. Spread thin across two conflicts, they surely weren't expecting another attack, not so brazenly close to their home, to their very heart.

Who would dare?

Covered in Vonduun from head to toe, the Hand of the Dark Lord was as ready for the incoming battle as she would ever be. Other people in her boots might have been disgusted at the feeling of a living creature reeling against their skin, but to the firrerreo the feeling was night comforting by now. The cool weight of Skerr Ygdris upon her person brought a smile on her face, already hidden behind the mask.

All was as it should be.

They were set to land in a few minutes, brought undetected into the atmosphere by the stealthy nature of their ship, courtesy of one [member="Darth Carach"]. For all his humming, secrets and bouts of right boorishness, the man was mostly useful.

Dismissing the affection-laced thought with a small scowl, Vrag cast one last glance at the warriors lining the sides of the small hangar — all loyal and skilled members of the Legion Yun'Do — and then turned to the rest of her Sith companions.

'Twas time.

 

[Aithne Charr]

​

Cafe on the streets of Mandalore, Five minutes before the arrival of the Primeevil Ships.

Solan drank from the glass infront of him as he looked out over the skyscrapers of the planet. It was a unique city, one he had never quite experienced before and he was curious about its people as he had come to be working with them. He was a mercenary for the Mandalorians, much like he was an ally of the Republic's and the Vitae's. Not a truly devoted Mandalorian himself but someone who admired, hell even wished he had been a Mandalorian a few times. But his devotion to others would never have worked out had he been one so he was happy he shiedaway from that path.

Admiration was still there as he was to explore the culture a bit more this day... well was used to be the key word as he thought to himself and leaned back in the the chair he was in. He would need to get in contact with some old people. hell he had even sent a message to Aedan Miles to see if the two of them could get into a meeting over the fact of the son he handed off to Solan. That kid was more than interesting and Solan found himself thinking about how to train that boy more than others he had come into contact with.

But his eyes now turned towards the sky, knowing something was coming and so he drank from his glass and waited.

 

[Nyos Val]

[member="Solan Charr"]

A man of many talents, Titan had taken up volunteering at the local arts center and was in the middle of helping with rehearsals when the site of evil ships descended upon the planet on the news. Titan had younglings cuddled under his ginormous figure and screamed at the sight of Primeval and Sith vessels.

Across the street sat a known ally at a cafe, a mister [member="Solan Charr"] sipped on a cup of tea or Caf, but then appeared disturbed by something unknown. Titan looked up to where Solan's eyes pointed and saw something that made all the younglings scream.

[member="Vrag"]

 

[Azrael]

redacted

 

[Rose Kuhn]

Rose stood quietly behind Vrag.

Her eyes were cast down against the ground, her hands hung at her side, and her lips were thin. There was no shame in her body language, only a bite of anticipation. She had never been in a warzone before, had never been in a battle.

She had fought pirates, she had trained with her mother, with Vrag, and she had even beaten up an entire bar filled with people, but she had never been in a war before. She frowned slightly, her eyes looking up to observe one of the screens. They were getting closer and closer to the surface of the planet, inching towards Mandalore.

The tight Asheran Armorweave that clung to her skin itched slightly, and with long fingernails she scratched at her ribs.

Her lightsabers hung on her belt, both of the hilts having been freshly polished. There was a vibro-knife on the small of her back and another stiletto dagger sitting within her boot. It was probably unnecessary to have that many weapons, but she didn't know, she'd never been to war.

Bright blue glaciers watched the viewport as they inched closer and closer, her heart racing with excitement.

 

[Azrael]

redacted

 

[Serah Oricion]

Yusan cross his hands behind his head as he leaned back on one of the roofs of the planet's buildings within the dome. He was watching the far off ships engaging with a rather advanced scope he had with him before feeling something very weird about the world around him. The planet was on high alert already and it was kind of amusing that any landing force would be attempted by the Primeevil ships above them. Though he never actually thought that a Sith group would come. Granted he had no knowledge of Vrags little expedition but landing on the home-world of a red alert world with only stealth forces would become amusing to him. Its almost like the tactical thought put into invading the capital of the Mandalorians was non-existent. But who was he to judge the tactics of the Sith, it was obvious they were pure geniuses of warfare to such a high level he didn't even begin to understand.

So he laid there, watching the far off skirmish of ships far beyond the atmosphere, waiting for the Primeevil to launch what ever force it was they could hope to muster. Even if it was not a Primeevil force that was to come.

 

[Arrbi Betna]

[member="Rose Kuhn"] [member="Vrag"]

"Alright, now, boys," was Betna's only comment.

Stealth ships worked well. Stealth ships worked great. There was only one real problem about them that no one had really taken into account. Sure, you couldn't see the ship itself with the cloak up.

But you could see the contrails when it entered atmosphere.

"Program your computers to track the heat wash from the thing in the atmosphere as it goes. We can't see it or target it, but we can sure as hell hit the thing," he added to the flight of bes'uliik starfighter pilots accompanying him.

There were 24 and they were on a routine training mission when the hyperspace signatures had popped up. Most on one side of the planet, the other on this side. Two and two made a feint, and so Betna had decided to try and set a trap, especially as his sensors picked up nothing.

"Blasters only, boys. We can't lock on to it, so we can't fire torps with any accuracy. Show off your gunnery skills."

With that, Betna opened up where the heat wash and contrails told him the ship was placed. Three heavy blaster cannons and one heavy mass driver cannon opened up from his custom fighter, stitching light and flame across the skies of Mandalore. Behind his seat, a single Ysalamir nutrient harness sat, it's occupant snoozing silently as combat raged all around. For the rest of the wing of 24 starfighters, they did likewise. More blaster cannons opened up and behind each pilot sat their copilot: another little Force nulling lizard in a harness.

 

[Naimes Ahn-Dross]

Keldabe
Street Level

​

...the Rally Master had returned to Mandalore after completing a long range patrol throughout the outer reaches and taking part in activities occurring on Gallos. Now that all that was done time refuel his ship of various items seemed appropriate which is why as this was set to occur Naimes took time to center himself, find his composure and expand his senses through a regime of meditation and practice of Teras Kasi. At the moment he wasn't sure where [member="Cennika Hawk"] was however the Rally Master was confident she would make herself known when it was most beneficial or she believed it to be prudent. On the streets of Keldabe he would feel a disturbance, like a scratching in the back of his mind which caused him to tilt his head backwards and look skyward as his senses tingled aware that something unholy was coming to the planet...

...Naimes wore his Beskar'gam, the black matte finish of shadowskin ensuring it appeared imposing alongside its other qualities, underneath that was a Terentatek Body Glove the completed his attire. On his back Longtooth was slung, its hilt extending up over his right shoulder ready to the be taken in his grasp while the remainder extended diagonally across his back and beyond the back of his left hip. A Kath Hound Shotgun was also slung over his right shoulder via a strap. A Soldier to the end he remained prepared in peace time and in war and as any good Mandalorian would let the others know this was a constant state of war. Naimes held his helm under his left arm, stuffed into the crevice of his armpit as he continued to look skyward, narrowing his eyes and pressing his lips against one another as though he were in deep thought...

..."No good comes of this."...he remarked to no one in particular, Naimes was a force sensitive regardless of never having had any official training however he still felt an inkling in the back of his mind now and then, then he roused himself with a quiet rendition or verse he had heard once before..."There is no flying hence nor tarrying here. I begin to grow weary of the sun. To arms so that wickedness be undone."...then he moved down the streets of Keldabe once more, awaiting this great calamity so that he could drive it in half like the stone on the beach breaking the tide as it comes in hard and heavy...​

 

[Azrael]

The Call of Mand'alor​

There was no fanfare parade - no holovids circulating the galaxy to be played at sporting events and city planets the Galaxy over. This was a time of battle, a time to sink their teeth into enemies so brazen that they would dare approach the fortress world that was Mandalore. Their borders were littered with hundreds of fleeting vessels; their naval command numbered in the tens of thousands. This was a legacy planet, one that was written in legend and talked about the Galaxy over. For thousands of years it had stood without contestation enough to break the spirit or the veracity of the Mando'ade. It would not fall, it would not yield, but it would strike back.

Standing in the command center of the Mandal Motors war room, Azrael witnessed the information streaming to him on the holo table. One hand closed into a fist, and a smile began to play over his lips. They had come, they had called in their allies and come to strike at the heart of Mandalorians the Galaxy over. This however was not a moment of fear or panic for the half-blood. This was a moment he would remember, as he opened a secure encrypted channel and issued something he'd only heard about before. The Call went out - across all the regions of the cosmos. The call of Mand'alor.

:: Mando'ade!​

​

The time of war is upon us, Mand'yaim is being positioned for war, as the Dar'jetti scum, and their half-breed allies have decended to test our metal. ​

​

Come to Mandalore and fight for the vode. Bring with you the scourge of the Galaxy, and destroy the interlopers. ​

​

For Mandalore! ::​

The message shot across the Galaxy on the backs of secured S-threads rocketing to every pin point of the Galactic map. All supporters of the Mandalorians, all Mando'ade in other regions. Everyone was being called in to deal with this threat. To every faction that bore friendly influence with the Mandalorians, the message also reached out to the heads of state and government to provide support in the call.

​

[member="Coci Heavenshield"] | [member="Thurion Heavenshield"] | [member="Sarge Potteiger"] | [member="Seydon of Arda"]​

 

[Alexandra Feanor]

Emilia walked with the tail dragging behind her, her sabers hanging from her sides and her eyes scanning over the message on her datapad, laughing. It seemed that her visit to MAndalore was more than on time with what seemed to come as a good time. The enemies of the mandalorians were now at the doors and she could not help but smile as she looked out through the worlds eye at what was happening here these days. She stared now though as she walked through the streets. She was suppose to meet an old friend in the Mandalorians, one [member="Nolan Detta"]. Where they were suppose to meet though was another matter as she had no idea how to get around the city. She felt something off though and with the city on high alert, she felt today was going to be a strange one.

 

[Orick T'ane]

Orick didn't have time to think as the ship exited hyperspace, he had heard there was a battle in the space around Mandalore, and he wasn't disappointed. The last he had heard, Ana was visiting family, which meant she would be with her people defending the planet. He knew she didn't really have the aptitude to fly a fighter, even though she had gotten very good with the Ranger, she wouldn't put herself in a spot that would play against her strengths, which meant she was on the ground. She was probably getting the troops ready to repel any landing force that this new fleet may have been silly enough to drop on the planet.

He saw the two fleets in the distance squaring off, turbolaser fire splashing against shields and fighters swarming like bugs over a carcass. the Ranger wasn't equipped for combat of any sort, but it was wonderful for getting into places it wasn't supposed to be. He had codes that would identify it as a friendly vessel for any sensors coming from the planet but he didn't want the enemy fleet picking up any signs of him so he engaged his stealth drive and his ECHO system to ensure that any sensors that happened to flash his way would miss the small ship as it moved towards the planet. He pushed the stealth engines to full, he needed to get planetside very fast, the engines only has so much fuel and he didn't want to get caught out in the open. He had to push the ship to it's limits to get far away from the space battle to make sure he stayed out of the engagement area, the last thing he needed was to fly through a stray laser or hit an undetonated warhead. He wanted to get to the planet alive.

His pistol belt was tucked into it's cubby by the pilot's seat and he knew the weapons were good to go, what worried him was his armor situation. His battle armor had been severely damaged in the fighting on Geonisis, and he hadn't had the time to repair it properly. So he was going with a different approach, something with a little less armor, but a lot more mobility, an advantage he hoped he could exploit if the time came. The planet grew larger in his view ports and he sighed, he had a bad habit of wandering from one war zone to another. A habit that would get him into more trouble than he could get out of some day.

He checked his sensors and smiled, apparently having an enemy fleet knocking on your door made people less likely to worry about a smuggler and his ship slipping into the atmosphere.

[member="Vrag"]

 

[Sage Bane]

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qKxDzyHPo0o[/youtube]​

HYPERSPACE OVER MANDALORE

Sage Bane's Sugjugator-Class Corvette, Arcanus Obscurus drifted slowly out of hyperspace in the space over Mandalore. While Mandalorian armies were busy defending the jungles of Wayland from Primeval Warlords, the One Sith decided to strike while the iron was hot and hit the lush homeworld of the warlike people. The Sith Knight had arrived to support his Master [member="Vrag"], the Hand of the Dark Lord and her Legion Yun'Do warriors. Some among the upper echleons of the Sith, including Vrag herself, had begun to call Sage the pinky of the Hand. Sage really wasn't sure if the pet name was a compliment or an insult, but let's face it, the young Knight would let the fiery Firrerreo call him anything she wanted.

Usually before battle, Sage would meditate on the dark side, but right now he just wanted to pester Vrag. It had been the incorrigible Knight's pre-game ritual. As he made his way to a waiting dropship, primed and ready to take him dirtside, he called his Master over a secure comm channel.

"Hey. Vrag. Hey. Hey, Vrag. It's Sage. Baby, has anyone ever told you that if you were words on flimsiplast, you'd be fine print?"

He laughed way too hard at his terrible pickup line and clicked off the comm before she could answer. He was going to pay for that later, but right now, it was worth it.

Whirling on his heel, he gave the orders for his squads to hustle to their dropships and as klaxons, blared, he took his place in one himself. Commanding some of the most skilled soldiers the SIth military could train, was a new but intoxicating feeling for the Sith Knight, and Sage was a natural at it. The dark side would serve them all well today. In his head he could almost hear the sorrrowful cries of the Mandalorian people as they were slaughtered in the streets.

 

[Kadala Kotyc]

LOCATION: Keldabe, Street Level
OBJECTIVE: Show 'Em Hell, Kids
ALLIES: Warriors of Mandalore
ENEMIES: Children of the Dark Lord

Spoiler: GEAR

x1: Standard yellow lightsaber.
x3: Forcebreaker Gas Grenade

Spoiler: GEAR

x1: Hyperion Beskar'gam
x2: Mandalorian Ripper MK-II
x1: Standard Beskad

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?t=420&v=dLKTkC6TpF4[/media]​

"So here we were, in the middle of a firefight, and Illen comes up to me, worry all over his face, and, haha, he's like 'Winter is coming!'. I tried to tell the kid, ha, I tried to tell him it was the middle of spring, because, you know, it was, and there was no way it was going to start snowing out there. Oh boy, here's the best part, he just looks at me and-" Kadala paused, a message coming in via her helm's comm unit. Was she hearing things right? No way they were attacking Mandalore!... But the tone of her friend's voice told her that he spoke the truth. With a devilish grin she slammed her drink onto the counter, turned to her vod, and gestured widely. "Verda, mhi slanar at akaan! Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur! Par Mand'alor!" Without a moment's hesitation the group of soldiers (who had been on a briikasak) grabbed their weapons and started moving towards the door. If their world was in danger they would fight until the very end. Together the vode rushed to take positions, each getting ready for a fierce fight. They knew not where the Sith were going to land. They simply knew that they would come. And when they got there... the Mando'ade would be ready for them.

 

[Darth Vaildra]

Darth Valdra sat on the bridge of Vrag's ship looking at space before him. Since joining the Sith he had seen more action than his time with the Grey Jedi, Jedi and Vitae combined. He twirled a lightsaber between his fingers like a drumstick as he listened to the commotion. He had waited a long time to meet the great Mandlorians in battle, a true test of combat prowess.

He continued looking out the window, but his words were directed towards the Hand, Vrag, "So do we have the numbers to pull this off or is this a suicide mission wrapped in a nice red bow?" Valdra kicked his feet up to rest on a nav computer as he waited from the response. He wasn't much for waiting around and really wanted to get to the fighting, but patience was something he needed to practice at some point.

[member="Vrag"]

 

[Reverance]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xWnVeRj7zhQ​

Who was he to resist the temptation? To about face and find trouble in every corner that stared back, the thought sent a shiver down his spine. He walked through the crowds of his Legion, rubbing vonduun against vonduun as he gave wavering glances. Finding home upon Selvaris, amidst friends and warriors who looked for that tinge of blood akin to his own desires, he knew there was nothing better in the universe than those who stood now waiting. For Yun Yuuzhan, for the One Sith, for themselves. 'Twas time, indeed.

Ygdris upon his back, helmet between his arm and chest, he cleared the distance to find Vrag far ahead of his own footsteps. A smile, a crimson eye, he rubbed armorweaved fingers through his hair and felt the jump and bite of his Voxyn arm. Hand and Wrath, Sadist and Masochists, they but needed the small Atrisian to finalize the trio. Ralltiir tigers in the blood covered snow.

Cutting through the crowds of men, prepared to spill it all, he stepped up to the plate next to Vrag. Scratching the gray beard slowly taking over the lower edges of a haggard face, Gabriel gave the woman a piercing gaze that would bring memories of a time long ago - in a Grashal, a match befitting warriors. "The Price of pain..." he said as he smiled, turning from her towards the viewing window towards the planet before. It was past time for this engagement. The war machine felt safely hidden within harbor but that wasn't what the machine was for, it was for something far more important. Destruction and calamity and order, born from what remains.

Buildings would bleed, armor would seep and run down the carcasses left behind, and the Legion would find their honor and purpose today. Perhaps some of them would survive, perhaps not. But they would find their grace in the taste of Mandalorian blood and their warmaster, their brother, couldn't help but shiver with the slightest hint of excitement. As his crimson eye pierced through the view, whether the ship be landed softly or abruptly from impact in resonation to the war drums of the Mando'a, it wouldn't matter. There was a dance to be had and everyone here had a part to play.

"...The price is never high enough." He cracked his neck, pulling the helmet on over his head and locking the hermetically sealed suit. Turning, he awaited the chance to dance. And the vong saber squirmed in anticipation, twirling about roecnar, it's predetermined partner.

[member="Vrag"] | [member="Darth Valdra"] | [member="Sage Bane"] | [member="Azrael"] | [member="Orick T'ane"]

 

[Artemis Vahl'Nyx]

LOCATION: Hyperspace above Mandalore
OBJECTIVE: Annoy the person who killed you that one time
ALLIES: Sith {[member=Vrag], [member="Rose Kuhn"]}
ENEMIES: None.

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=17-o2vhGXSs[/media]​

You are not the one I need, you are just the one who found me​

One moment there was simply air. The next a spectre had materialized in the thin space, her form shimmering, a glowing blue mass that slowly took shape. Drapeam Sahara Nyx scowled, looking over the others present. Only one interested her. Only one ever did. Vrag. A monster not unlike the ones from her past. No, something... worse. That intrigued her. Who had known that something more horrid than her Grandfather could arise? One must wonder how Drosk would have reacted. Oh, what an amusing thought indeed. Soon the scowl slipped away and was replaced with a patient smile. The she-devil had been spotted. Within the armor stood a beast with a void where her soul was supposed to be. She was a grim reaper, a walking emblem of death, the personification of Chaos itself. Why else would the Zorren pay such attention to her? None of the others she had met were anywhere near as interesting. Some could be called as dark. Others may be as strong or stronger. It was the dreams, nay, the visions that made her special. If only the ghost had understood what she had seen before... Perhaps then her plots would have been smoothed over. Maybe she'd even still have a body. At least she's managed to keep her head on, Nyx thought, started to glide over towards her killer. They had certain subjects to discuss. Especially the invasion to come to the Mandalorian's homeworld. The one a certain blue-eyed creature was leading.

"They will be ready for you. They always are," the apparition said, white eyes locked on the Dark Lord's Hand. Did the woman know what was to come? Was she aware of the danger that lied ahead? Nyx didn't know. Nor did she care. She was here for one reason: To make sure her plans were not ruined by a foolish move. "These are people of death. Of war. Should you underestimate even a single one of them... I shall not pity you. Every true Mandalorian will fight harder than anyone else you have fought. They have tricks piled up under their sleeves- ones they are not afraid to use. Today you either die or enjoy one of the greatest battles of your life so far." Once upon a time a Nyxai had lived long enough to face off against four Mand'alors. He lost his left arm twice, ruptured both of his lungs, and had his legs broken in a dozen places. Only once did he truly win the fight. Each of the other duels had ended in him being pulled away by a medic. Underestimating a culture of war was a death sentence. "I have no doubt you'll come out of this alive. Whether or not you lose a limb in the process... well, that's still up for questioning. Now... let's go have some fun."

 

[Darth Eversor]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RsnWAlNpMjU&list=PL1FBB096A57A4F426​

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//SSS-----FAILURE, FAILURE, FAILURE; REBOOTING//​

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//YOU WILL DIE............................................//​

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//ERROR FOUND//​

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//GET UP//​

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Violent surges of thought coursed through Abraxas' mind as he thrashed around in his stasis-crypt. Images of grotesque murders committed by his hand was all that he could see within his own mind. The formation of a crooked, twisted smile took place upon his typically expressionless face. The creation witnessed his own flesh deform and twitch as it began to fuse with the bodies around him. It was as if a new creation was birthed right before his eyes, yet, it was him at the same time. An out of body experience, more or less. The abomination howled with the lungs of his own and many other absorbed souls; red static polluting Abraxas' vision of himself as he was jolted awake from his stasis-crypt.

Paying no heed to the obscure dream sequence he had just witnessed, the monstrosity geared himself for the upcoming thrill that awaited him. Perhaps the dream was a calling to what crimes Abraxas had committed against morality and all that is humane, but then again, who was he to actually care? If there were to be some afterlife beyond this sole purpose, then surely the creation could be judged then. For now, not a care was given towards anything superstitious.

The Mandalorians and those that aided them were soon to find a different kind of businessman rapping at their door, and rather firmly at that. Placing his helmet upon his dome, Abraxas was ready. Just as the creation walked towards the viewport of the shuttle he had dispatched in, his vision was once again blurred by another flash of grotesque messages and images. What's even more peculiar, he could feel his combat stimuli administer itself without his given consent. Things were about to go awry.

Feeling his body temperature rise and his two hearts pump subsequently with an almost painful series of palpitations, Abraxas slammed his fist into the center console of the shuttle, busting the manual control module. Red lights flickered on and a single alarm blared as the vessel began to descend planet-side. All Abraxas could do was breathe heavily and await until he made contact with the surface; however, given his condition, there was no guarantee that he would be friendly towards anyone at all. Even if the Sith were his allies. Listening to the ship's systems malfunction, Abraxas found some peculiar sense of peace. But as soon as a soothing white noise was found, insanity struck again and caused the monstrosity of a man to further destroy the interior of the shuttle.

A single cry of pain and the longing to slaughter resonated within the small space, and possibly throughout the Force for the other Sith to hear and feel. The cry of a monster.

WRRRRYYYYYY!!!!!!!!​

War was coming, war was here.

Abraxas was ready to kill.

Be warned.

//........DIE.......//​

//........DIE.......//​

//........DIE.......//​

//........DIE.......//​

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[member="Drapeam Nyx"], [member="Vrag"], [member="Reverance"], [member="Darth Valdra"], [member="Sage Bane"], [member="Orick T'ane"], [member="Azrael"]

 

[Valens]

Location: Stealth drop ship above Mandalore airspace
Allies: One Sith ([member="Darth Valdra"])
Enemies: Defenders of Mandalore

Valens sat on the cold floor of the drop ship, his back to the hull wall halfway between stern and bow. He took another draw from his cig-- one minute and he was already halfway through it. He wasn't nervous, the smell of the tobacco did a fair job of covering up the stench coming from the drooling Vong horde amassed in the compact hangar staging area. His eyes shifted up towards the ship's small bridge. Two Sith Lords stood calmly at the helm: Darth Valdra and the legendary [member="Vrag"], it seemed. Truth be told, Valens was not an acquaintance of either of these men. He had heard of this dangerous raid through the grapevine and volunteered his services to Darth Valdra, who begrudgingly accepted. Perhaps the Sith Lord believed Valens was too naive to understand the risk of this mission. On the contrary: Valens needed this danger to live.

But which is more dangerous? To attack the homeworld of some of the greatest warriors in the galaxy, or to be in the presence of the Wrath of the Dark Lord himself? His presence at the front of the ship demanded attention. His aura grabbed one's conscience and pulled it in, while every cell in your body tells you to look away. Valens had just only been offered to serve under [member="Reverance"] 's command, and now he was on the same ship flying towards the same planet to kill the same enemy.

The ship began to jostle, which meant they would be landing soon. Valens grabbed the rifle laying beside him and inspected it for a final time. He groped for the grenades on his belt and the blaster pistol tucked in the holster under his arm, confirming they were there. His vibroblade sat snugly to his thigh. Valens savored a blade kill more than any other type, the feeling of the squirming and struggling of the victim gave one a grim high, almost like a drug. He looked up again, towards the three Sith Lords. He had joined the Sith because of the opportunities it gave one; the opportunity for power and the opportunity for danger. He took another drag on the cigarette, and savored in his mind the fight to come.

 

[Via Dolorosa]

Location: Hyperspace above Mandalore
Objective: Take the Sith War Machine for a Walk (Unleashed Mix)
Allies: OS
Enemies: People with Funny Names

​

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l2iQ0NSWNV8[/youtube]​

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The warship, Meshuga, dropped out of hyperspace , and began hovering over the planet of Mandalore like a carrion bird circling the battle field of the dead; seeking to find the ripest flesh to feast upon. The Mandos, busy fighting the Primeval, had half-expected the Republic to watch their six. Unfortunately for them, they had chosen a washed-up and broken down old man with fleeting vision and shaky hands to be their ally. The Republic could no more help them than a three-legged dog could help keep the foxes out of the chicken's coop. Now for their lack of insight, the Sith had arrived to kick down their back door; and lay waste and carnage to their precious world.​

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Cold and calculating eyes watched as several warships began to encircle the planet; each housing Sith of all ranks coming to test their meddle against the famed warriors. The time had come to for the Dark Lord's unforgiving hands to reach out and clutch his fingers around the the throats of the Mandos. The owner of those eyes knew that [member="Vrag"], [member="Sage Bane"], and the wrathful one [member="Reverance"] would all be in attendance to dance the night away on the backs of the broken Mandos. And so would Darth Venefica, Voice of the Dark Lord.​

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The Queen of Madness spun around on her bare heels and heading toward the docking bay, eagerness and anticipation her only companions. She had fought Jedi. She had fought Sith. But she had never fought Mandos. And frankly, their reputation meant nothing to her. They were just one more skull to add to her growing macabre collection. Perhaps if fate would decree it she would leave this planet with a chained Mando as a pet.​

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"Let's not keep our hosts soiling themselves further," she spat entering the vessel that would take her planetside.​