When the Cats Are Away...

[Hira Mitsae]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Location: Mandalore, Mandalore.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Objective: Explore.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Opponent: [member="Matsu Xiangu"][/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Planes of frost, nothing alive for miles to come. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]The Big Empty.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]It was quiet within the mind of the Hoath, but said quietness was an illusion, it was a rumbling quietness. A still before the storm, a tide barely held back by the foundations of a steady embankment before the coast. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]And within those empty dead wastes was a tomb of hoarfrost.[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px] [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]For the Butcher of Druckenwell.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]A metaphysical structure made to contain the fury and rage of an old man who had experienced many lifetimes, lived many roles and was now blunting his anger with a drink, the fist and ice of his former homeland. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]“An animal.” Hoath would reply, following her circular motion in reverse. “Have you come to put me down?”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]She would find that instilling terror would be difficult, at least in a subtle way, the man had grown into his quiet for such a long time, had lived by the ice and made himself into it… that anything outside of those basic primal emotions?[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Would feel foreign.[/SIZE]

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

[SIZE=12pt]LOCATION: Streets[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12pt]OBJECTIVE: Fight[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12pt]ALLIES: [member="Reverance"] | [member="Vrag"] | @OS[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12pt]ENEMIES: [member="Shepard"][/SIZE]


[SIZE=12pt] She was greeted by the sensation of a biting breeze on her skin when she sank in to his head for just a moment, the crunch of snow under the soles of her boots. Snowflakes dusted her cheekbones, the piercing clarity of fresh air filling her lungs. A thousand memories flashed by her mind’s eye all at once – too many to assimilate him completely, but enough to grasp a picture of who this man might be. Once pirate, once slave, once slaver, always warrior. A man with dozens of years of life under his belt and dozens more to live. A man not old, but certainly not young. A certain reluctance regarding the current phase of his life though there was a yearning she couldn’t place.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt] She let out a low laugh when he asked if she was there to put him down, shaking her head and feeling a predatory thrill when he completed the circle. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt] “Hardly. Animals need only be disposed of if they are useless..and you are not.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt] He was nearly a foot taller than her and had at least a seventy-five pound advantage. These facts did not frighten her though she would take them in to consideration. She had ample experience against opponents much larger and heavier than herself, including those that didn’t find that a disadvantage in terms of speed. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt] She brushed aside the snow in his mind in search of frozen earth beneath, planting the seed of nothingness she hoped would grow…the question of futility, the wandering thought that perhaps he’d never find that satisfaction he’d been promised. What is the point? [/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt] She rolled her shoulders as she conjured an illusion borne not of the mentalism she’d relied on thus far, but something more dangerous. Sorcery made illusions real, made them deadly. The Vong that crawled from around a building behind the Mandalorian could truly have been there, a fact that leant them credence and made them even harder to spot as illusions though she’d woven them well to begin with. (She heard them screaming in her dreams at night, teeth gnashing in excitement, the clicking of their armor and thousands and thousands of little legs as thud bugs scuttled along with them.) An amphistaff lunged from practiced hands towards the Mandalorian, reaching to cut his left arm off at the elbow.[/SIZE]

 

[Darth Eversor]

Location: Streets
Objective: Be scary
Allies: [member="Vrag"], [member="Reverance"], [member="Darth Venefica"], [member="Sabik Dhami"], [member="Matsu Xiangu"], [member="Darth Valdra"], [member="Tanek Santii"], [member="Sage Bane"], Rose Kuhn
Enemies: [member="Titan"], [member="Solan Charr"], [member="Orick T'ane"]
Directly engaging: [member="Titan"]

​

//MAKE THEM BLEED; EXTERMINATE SPECIES.//​

​

//TEAR THE FLESH.//​

​

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SS_8pEBaPSk​

​

Flesh twitched impatiently, muscles hardened and teeth gritted together in an invisible contortion of facial expressions. The blackened gaze of Abraxas stopped for but a moment to observe Titan; his flesh would be more than enough to carve through. His rather large weapon would make him an exceptionally slow target as well. It would also appear that the more-muscle-than-man Mandalorian tried to intimidate the creation. It was a wonder, this species. They pride themselves in believing to be a warrior culture, yet, their intellect suggested they should be bound by chains and kept in a dark boiler room. Such erroneous genetics must be wiped clean for a more deserving race of sentients to be raised for the next slaughter.

Just as the crazed lab experiment was about to lash out, his heightened senses caught the sound of weaponized mechanics in the works. Without turning, Abraxas could feel where the presence of the assailant was. The creation shifted himself towards [member="Bjarn"] just as the rounds let loose. Using the Force to rip off a piece of a nearby vehicle to act as a temporary shield, Abraxas allowed the storm of bullets to collide with the thick durasteel.

Once the gunfire ceased, the creation soon-after launched the bullet riddled hunk of vehicle hide towards the upturned transport the man hid behind, trying to cause the very thing the soldier used as cover to squash him. With such high velocity and impact, this could ring true. After this, the creation turned back towards his main target.

Abraxas charged forward, his drug-fueled craze pushed his body to obscene limits that Titan would probably have trouble keeping up with. The monstrosity gnashed his teeth as saliva was sprayed all over the inside of his visor; he longed to be engorged with the flesh and blood that flowed through this man. His body would be home to a lightsaber, a cradle for the crimson blade that the creation wielded in a rather specific manner. Closing the distance between himself and the armored behemoth that seemed so bold, Abraxas managed to focus through his administered rage to bring up a piece of durasteel that had come off the crashed shuttle. Through the Force, the creation commanded the hunk scorched metal to attempt to impale the man through his backside.

Finally being in arm's reach of the giant, Abraxas brought up his crimson blade with the means of severing the sword-arm of the man. With the momentum of said attack, Abraxas would use it to his advantage in that given moment to bring down his lightsaber into Titan's thigh, attempting to ruin the ligaments and muscle in order to make his prey even slower and weaker than they already were.

Feeble were the minds of these grueling morons, and nothing more would remain of their precious planet in time.

 

[Naast'ika Laaran]

LOCATION: Keldabe
OBJECTIVE: Kill everything
ALLIES: The Mando'ade
ENEMIES: Everything not wearing a T-shaped Visor


Naast'ika could feel his body moving between skyscrapers as he entered Keldabe city, but he wasn't actively aware of complying with the orders of his Captain. Everything felt... distant.

<You don't need them.> The voice said.

<Who?> Naast'ika asked.

<Them. The humans, the twileks, the zeltrons. You need none of them.> The voice said.

<They are Mando'ade.> Naast'ika replied quietly. His head felt strange. <They are my family.>

<You're not one of them.> The voice said. <You are better than them.>

<They are family. They need me.> Naast'ika said, vaguely aware as his body shifted to turn down a new city street.

<Your family lives on Ord Cestus.> The voice said. <Your family travels the void between worlds... These things are not your family.>

<My crew is my family.> Naast'ika said, an odd bit of defiance finding its way into his words. <They are a part of me.>

<You don't need them.> The voice repeated.

<They are mine.> Naast'ika said, anger rising up against the mind that pressed against his own.

<You are their pet.> The voice said, the words stinging as they were spoken.

<I am no pet.> Naast'ika said, both sad and defiant in his tone. <They are my vod.>

<You are not their equal.> The voice said. <They do not treat you as an equal. You wear a leash that you cannot see.>

<There are no strings on me.> Naast'ika said, angry at the voice once again.

<Prove it.> Dared the voice.

 

[Aithne Charr]

Location: Streets of Mandalore
Objective:
Allies: [member="Titan"] [member="Orick T'ane"]
Enemies: [member="Vrag"] [member="Abraxas"]
Direct Opponent: None yet

He looked on at the area around him, two fights catching his eyes and he could not peel his eyes from the fights nearby. He cared not about those that moved over the grounds near him either, the shots of weapons around them were something that he didn't quite get phased by. The thing was it wasn't that he was not worried, because he wasn't to be fair. But he did take an interest in teh two nearest fights. Keying up a secure comm channel he made sure he was connected to his shadow legion at all time, spec operations forces that were kept in key systems that he frequents incase he ever needs them.

"I have a curious situation that will need the attention of those in the sector, meet me at the Mandalorian cafe near the crash site, about a quarter of a mile from the fighting... Make sure that you retrieve the weapons from the cache on world." If he remembered right, those on planet were about two squads, possibly three. He would know once they arrived.

Until then his eyes remained on the fights that he was given a front row sight too. Surely he would have to join in soon enough, but until then he would enjoy the tea that remained in his hands. It wasn't like either of the mandalorians that he saw would need help against creatures. But he was there incase they did and it was that fact that kept his hand at his chin while the other held the glass. He was alone while the rest of those who had been in the cafe were long gone. War tended to make Civies scarce.

 

[Nyos Val]

Location: Streets
Objective: Take out the Beast
Enemies: [member="Abraxas"]
Allies: [member="Solan Charr"] [member="Orick T'ane"] [member="Bjarn"]


With the beast distracted by his vod's supporting fire, Titan took that moment to charge the beast. When the creature turned to Titan, charging just the same, Titan would raise his blade in position for a strike, but instinct and a keen eye picked up movement from the creature. When it reached out for the chunk of metal behind Titan, he was already anticipating its arrival, dodging to the side, the metal slammed into a speeder.

When the creature struck, Titan deflected the saber with Kronos away and back-fist the creature in the face. From this distance and with his strength, it was sure to give the beast a taste of what was to come. A hit from Titan would make any normal man flip away from the power of the strike, even if the Thing was larger, it would know pain. As the second strike for Titan's leg came, it agian was deflected, down and away. The opening was followed by a straight kick to the beat's chest by way of a size 20 Beskar boot. He wasn't done yet, the goliath Mandalorian reeled back and stabbed forth the massive blade that was Kronos. Tank versus tank, who would come out victorious?

 

[Artemis Vahl'Nyx]

LOCATION: Crashed In Keldabe
OBJECTIVE: Watch. Observe. Intervene.
ALLIES: Sith {[member="Vrag"], [member="Rose Kuhn"], [member="Reverance"]}
ENEMIES: Those in the way.

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WleTE3Uq-HA[/media]​

I never wanted to leave, but the tides came and carried me​

Blaster fire cut through the air, explosions could be heard, and a dozen blades were ignited, bringing the sense of war to life. 'Twas not long before most combatants had found someone to duel with. Others found themselves holding their own against groups. Some seemed to cut down enemy after enemy, never dropping a bead of sweat, simply marching on to foe after foe. It was the way of the Mandalorians... and the way of the mindless Vong. Each fought with a fury otherwise unheard of. Swords flashed, punches were thrown, bodies crashed together. A chaotic symphony of the dying, the dead, the deathbringers. Music brought forth to be rejoiced by the damned, the doomed, the dangerous. Heartbeats mixed with the stomping of boots became the drums, blaster fire mimicked the violins, lightsabers formed the bass, and screaming transformed into singing. In the distance a cafe still played it's radio, the sound filtering out onto the road, sweetening the air it touched. But it was overwhelmed by the warsong. Everything was so... small compared to it's thunderous beat. The warsong enveloped all, consuming all that was put before it. Nothing was free from the thrum of conflict. Nothing ever really was. As the battle raged on, Nyx listened, hearing the melody that had filled her waking days. To be back within it's reach was odd.

Yet she loved it.

Stray bolts whizzed past the ghost, others passed through her, and a few souls tried to call out to her. Glances were given in small amounts. A look here, a look there, perhaps an inkling of a smirk once in a blue moon. With everything going on, she still found her gaze drifting back to the same person, over and over, without fail. Vrag. There were mixed feelings connected with that particular woman. Anger, of course, was one. Had the Dark Lord's Hand gotten Nyx's hints, or paused her assault for a few simple seconds, the Zorren could have revealed her true loyalty without breaking cover. Instead her head had been ever-so-rudely removed from her shoulders. It's that fool Corvus' fault as well. Ah, yes, the Grandmaster's interference had truly marked the end for the spy. Hence her ability to do more than simply hate her killer. There was some admiration in her heart. Few people had proven to be as bloodthirsty, ruthless, or effective as the Firrerreo was. How could someone who appreciated (and shared) those qualities not respect the Sith Lady? To think I was... lucky enough to be taken down by someone who's actually interesting. Quietly the spectre trailed the devil, watching her go after her foe. As the warrior strode on Nyx thought of the other feeling caught in her chest: Attraction. While the two women shared many personality traits, such as a love for bloodshed, they also shared another thing: An attraction to power.

Not that she'd ever act on it.

Without a word she floated on. Slowly. Surely. Simply drifting through the air, pausing only a few times to watch bits of other fights. None truly caught her attention. No one seemed as promising as the monster she followed. Maybe she was wrong, led astray by her memories, her need to believe her death had been wondrous in some way. Everyone needs to feel like their existence means something. That their life, or their demise, was more than moments scattered about time. To think otherwise... was to think there was no point to even breathing. Drapeam Nyx had done her share of meddling. Her actions had shifted the tides of battle more than once. Now she simply had to hope the one who stopped her could do the same. That Vrag could take her place in the galaxy. Already it seemed the woman was doing far more than her spiritual companion ever could. Already her mark had been left across countless worlds. Then again, the Zorren was far from over with her tale, even if she had no idea. There was much in store for her. Just as there was much to come to the Mandalorian who found himself a shield, and the one who found himself firing at the Hand. Consider life a puzzle. Every person is a piece. No two are the same, though some come close, and no two bare the same image. Alone they often seem meaningless. Together... something is created. From the way things seemed, Nyx's piece was quite close to that of Vrag's. Whether they were the same size or not... they could not show all of themselves, not really, without the other.

If only partially.

"Vrag, tell me..." The ghost started, moving to be just a few feet away from her killer. "How many people have shot at you so far? How many are gunning for the big bad beast? Ten? Twenty? Forty?" A pause was left for a comeback. For some sort of verbal acknowledgement from the woman. "Oh, I know... sixty-nine. What a coincidence! That's your favorite number, after all, right? To bad it won't stay at that number. Not here. Not ever. Everyone wants you dead." Let it never be said that the sniper was a kind soul. Nor let anyone say she wasn't a wicked being. Even if it means silencing half of those at the Ossus academy. I imagine those here wouldn't mind doing that, Nyx thought, moving to practically whisper in her ally's ear. "Don't worry though, being dead is rather fun, if you ask me." She vanished, reappearing on a nearby roof, smoking a cigarette that wasn't really there. She wasn't really there either. Not in the same way that everyone else was. In the end it all fit. A few scattered scraps of a puzzle forced together, glued at the seams, left out to dry. Nothing more.

 

[Vrag]

Location: Side street
Objective: Kick freelancing butt, revel in the irony
Allies: [member="Reverance"] | [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Hal Terrano"] | [member="Abraxas"] | [member="Darth Valdra"] | [member="Darth Venefica"] | [member="Rose Kuhn"] | [member="Drapeam Nyx"] | [member="Valens"] | [member="Sabik Dhami"] | [member="Tanek Santii"]
Engaging directly: [member="Orick T'ane"]
Gear in bio

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KB9biUXkWvY​

The legs of the Vonduun, greedy for the hot spray of arterial blood, scraped uselessly against the beskar plating of the man in her arms — a perverse parody of a lover's embrace — and Vrag ground her teeth as he struggled and buckled against her. Under different circumstances, the woman would have reveled in the feeling for reasons even more unwholesome than the cause of her skipping heartbeat in the given moment, but they were beleaguered by Malandorians from all sides, and even her skewed… persuasions did not twist that far.

"I," she spat out as she cut down another assailant, her words directed at the apparition that seemed to follow her everywhere. "don't care. Everyone dies in the end." A morbid thought perhaps — especially in the thick of battle — but true nonetheless. Death would come collect on them all, and if today was the day, so be it.

Progress was slow, but her strides were long, and even with the stifling crowd of friends and foes pressing in from all sides — like walls of flesh, writing and slick from the cocktail of body fluids — the Hand of the Dark Lord was inevitably closing in on her opponent. She'd been unable to pinpoint the shooter before, scrambling as she was to get her live shield in position, but now, with a few systoles of respite, her blue eyes had zeroed in on the rifle barrel bobbing in the shadows of a side alley.

As if to confirm her suspicions, the man barked a few words in a language she didn't understand and then suddenly the warrior in her grasp began pushing and pulling even more wildly than before, almost tearing free from the vice-like grip of her clawed fingers. As she sought to rein him back in, she felt another bolt connect first at her side and then further up, sizzling against the crab clinging to her shoulder.

The shots hit nearly in tandem, forcing her to dig her boots in just to maintain her balance against the barrage of bolts. The body in front of her was wont to soak most of the bolts, but the man himself wasn't likely to die, clad in beskar as he was, and so the firrerreo was forced to take matters into her own hands. Literally.

The legs of Skerr Kyrric covering her fingers reinforced the grip as she first found purchase at the edge of his buy'ce and then yanked it to the left with one sharp motion, adding the sound of grinding vertebrae to the melody of battle in the background. The second the Mandalorian went limp against her, Vrag swayed their collective weight from her back leg to the front, adding a touch of the Force to the bodily shove that would send the dead weight of a soldier and his beskar'gam careening towards the shooter.

Wasting no time at all, the Sith put on a burst of speed, moving to her right where her opponent would most likely dodge — if he managed to avoid his comrade's cadaver in the first place — for the wall on the left offered him hardly any room to maneuver out of its trajectory. It was there where she would acquaint him with the ravenous beam of her lightsaber, hopefully felling him quickly so that she could return to the main battle around the shuttle.

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Location: Mandalore, Mandalore.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Objective: Explore.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Opponent: [member="Matsu Xiangu"][/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Any Exonad had [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px]felt[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px] it.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]The feeling of despair and longing for something, [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px]something[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px] because they never knew what it exactly was that they desired. But they were all drawn to that longing all the same, a sense of camaraderie between those that they trusted, a sense of purpose that would unite them and a sense of accomplishment to finalize the bond forget.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Hoath’s age was one filled of experienced, betrayal, vengeance, pleasure and vice, ruthless murder and cautious love, in his experience a man could be capable of all of those and more. In his opinion a man could not simply be separated into black or white.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Good or evil.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]The Galaxy was a place of gray and black.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]But as she started digging, start removing the frost that made up Hoath’s entity, she would find that she needn’t apply much effort in seeding her seeds. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Because they were already there, and so it would be the easiest thing in the world to simply make them grow harder and stronger. To break through the ice and the alcoholic damper, to remind Hoath of all that which he lost and to underline that for which he fought.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Whilst she attempted her efforts… she would gain an inclining of understanding.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]A man of butchery, Hoath was. But behind that thin veneer of ruthless killing and simplicity, there was a man hidden of subtlety, gold hidden behind the stars and plans churning on and on beneath the clockworks, she would finally gain understanding of what it was that drove him now.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]And it was loyalty to a cause that had ensnared him during the stagnation.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Because Hoath - Shepard, was not a man who did well with stagnation. It was in his nature to break through it and instill changes, no matter the cost for himself or the civilization at large. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Then the illusions came.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]And they [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px]were [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px]illusions.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Because there were two set things that had to be known about such an application, one of which was that Yuuzhan Vong did not excrete the Force, they were a hole in that fabric of magic and yet… [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Hoath could feel these ones loud and clear.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Shotgun whipped out and Hoath managed to get two shots out, before the amphistaff hit him square on arm and it felt [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6666666666667px]solidified.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]The feth.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]Serock used the momentum - the stumble in his own pace as the Vong tried to proceed and cut his head off - by rolling to the side and putting distance between themselves. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6666666666667px]“Weaver of Lies, you touch things that should only be touched beneath the cloak of furs and sheets.” his voice would hum roughly. [/SIZE]

 

[Vilaz Munin]

Location: Streets of Keldabe
Allies: Vode
Enemies: Dar'jetti
Objective: Get off my lawn
Gear:

Spoiler

-Beskar'gam
-Two WESTAR 34
-Orar'bev
-Fett-Kal knife
-Bes'briik
-Flashbang 1x
-Force-breaker grenade 1x
-Thermal detonators 2x
-Ysalamir nutrient tube
-Crushgaunts

From every section of Mandalore Warriors came to the call of the alarm notifying them that some fools had come to dare to poke at the Mythosaur. It was a mere grave mistake from any fool that wished to have their sights upon the first out of many Mandalorian worlds and come and plant their feet on grounds that would be plagued and infested by any foreigner's presence just for not being a rightful Warrior of Mandalore. As it was a foolish error for one to come to the core of the Mando'ade it was also considered a grand joke for the Mandalorians to laugh at knowing of a raid. Nevertheless, they armed themselves with tools meant for the purposes of war and just anticipated the moment to meet the eye of the enemy and defend their home from such smell that only insulted them, greatly. To attack a home was to only bring anger, and hundreds of ironclads were filling themselves with such hate. Hate as one of a Sith, but utilized to defend themselves and their family.

But when more reports came of what force decided to come on Mandalorian Soil it only just motivated them even more and collect these heads as trophies symbolizing their duty to Mandalore. An ancient enemy, old and alive, had challenged the proud and respected Warriors by coming and attacking them here to see if they could damage and disrupt the vertebrae of the Mando'ade. It would be wildly surprising to see if the Sith had come to try to establish a new relationship with the Mandalorians and see if they could get a mighty advantage with the help of the Mandalorians to destroy the Republic and set out for their goal of ruling the Galaxy in their image. Brave and bold that would be, but it would only lead death. Never again would the Mando'ade work with the kinds of the Sith.

Pillars if smoke rose from all corners of Keldabe, the capital of Mandalore. An obvious place to stage an attack which would also have state of the art defenses against those who have come and destroy. And on these streets of Keldabe there masses of iron shifting to find any attacker and claim their life through any means and methods. On these streets a Rally Master with his fellow Vode found himself facing a Sith Knight that was immediately annihilated with a single bolt from Orar'bev. “Di'kut," the Redneck commented on the stupidity of the fallen Sith he had claimed. Knowledge of the Force he had, the dar'jetti, but little knowledge of combat when compared to Vilaz.

“Guess they didn't see the 'Beware of Mandos'," he said to himself as he reloaded his crossbow with a monomolecular bolt and continued walking the streets, but also stepped the face of the Sith corpse with a magnitude of force from his left beskar boot. The only thing Vilaz wished for the life he took was that he may rot in the hell made for him, as well as the rest of the aruetiise here on Mandalorian Soil.

 

[Orick T'ane]

Location: Keldabe, a dark alley with a beautiful stranger.
Objective: Don't think about how much of a mistake this was
Enemies: [member="Vrag"] [member="Rose Kuhn"] [member="Reverance"] [member="Drapeam Nyx"] @the One Sith big happy family.
Allies: [member="Azrael"] @Mando type folks and that weird guy sipping tea
Gear: In my Bio

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

There was a saying that people spat when they wanted to act all high minded, 'war is hell'. Of course it is, it's a brutal conflict where opposing forces are trying to violently murder each other. Regardless of goals, moral high ground or justification, it was just murder on a large scale. there was no right or wrong in war, there was the dead and the living. Survival was all that anyone strived for... Oh they talked about how noble they were because they had put their lives on the line, and that they would give it all up for their families to ensure their survival. In the end, everyone prayed to something for the chance to see their loved ones again, to survive another day, for one more breath.

Orick knew the real truth though, that once you stepped onto a battlefield you were already dead. Because war was a drug and only through the act of violence would you truly be alive. And once you have sipped from the well, there was nothing that quenched your thirst quite like another war. He had a happy little lie where he would retire to some deserted planet with the woman he loved to just live out his days. The reality was that he would probably end up face down and bleeding in an alley just like this one, moments away from the end, trying to bargain with whoever he could for just one more breath. One more war, one more chance to get the high that only the act of killing could evoke.

The monster was much closer now, and while he had scored a few solid hits, her advance barely faltered. The thrashing mando died with a simple snap of his neck, something that Orick, and the mando knew would happen. Death was honor for mandos, and while his death had been useful, he was still dead. The warrior's usefulness had run out for orick, but the sith had a use for it still, she sent it rocketing across the alley towards him. The alley gave him a smaller area to cover and it forced the Sith and her forces into a bottleneck, but it also worked against him. He didn't have many options to avoid the body, so he rolled to his right, the cybernetics implanted in his body pushing him to speeds only a life long athlete could hope to achieve. He caught just enough of her movement out of the corner of his eyes to see that she had anticipated his move and had moved to intercept him.

Timing was judged in milliseconds when fighting became this close, if he made one mistake he would pay for it with his life, and all of this work would be for nothing. Their paths intersected and he didn't stop his momentum, bringing up his rifle and firing off with the only weapon that he had left, the underbarrel disruptor. He wasn't even sure ti would connect, between his movement and hers, the shot would be one for the ages.

 

[H3xle]

Location: Ground
Objective: Defend Mandalore
Enemies: [member="abraxas"], everyone OS.
Allies: [member="Titan"], [member="Solan Charr"], @Vod

GEAR

Spoiler

Hjalta and Hugur (Link in Sig)
Ares MK5 Battle Rifle
Hyperion Advanced Combat Armor
Hyperion Squad Automatic Weapon

Bjarn blinked as the beast picked up a vehicle 'skin' that was able to deflect .52 caliber rounds and their attendant blaster bolts and remain intact. He must have lucked out into picking up a rich man's vehicle. A quick glance around showed that Bjarn had indeed walked into one of the more posh neighborhoods of Keldabe. The apartment buildings here didn't separate floors, and they were called condos instead. They all had nice lawns, or had. Burning debris from the crashed ship was ruining them.

Bjarn had ceased firing as he saw Titan charging the beast with his greatsword and only some of his armor on. He'd never met the gargantuan vod, but he had heard about him. The beast flung the car roof at him with a surprising amount of speed and accuracy. It was aimed directly at the car that Bjarn was propped up against. The intention was obviously to tip it over onto Bjarn.

Without collapsing the bipod attached to the SAW, Bjarn pulled his feet up to his chest and panted them on the side of the vehicle, using the force to aid the maneuver. The car top struck the vehicle like a bull finally making contact with the hated matador. The beasts aim was spot on, the car started to fall over onto where Bjarn had been. Bjarn pushed off the side of the vehicle, turning a sloppy backflip and hitting the wall of a nearby building with his back. He slid down and landed on his feet as the vehicle he had been behind settled awkwardly onto it's top, the other car top having sliced into it to make a kind of lean to.

Titan and Abraxis were now in the thick of melee combat. Putting a large amount of rounds down into that would not be advisable for the safety of his comrade, which meant that Bjarn had to aim carefully.

Bjarn stepped back onto the asphalt as he thumbed the selector from auto to semi-auto. He crouch-ran to another devestated land vehicle and laid prone near it. He aimed the rifle, on it's bipod, and his whole body at the melee fight going on between Titan and Abraxas. This gave him not only a stable platform to fire from, but his whole body now helped to reduce the recoil, allowing for better aiming. Bjarn put the aiming reticle onto Abraxis's back, aiming for the largest and least mobile aspect of the beast. He waited until he got a rhythm for the battle, then he inhaled and exhaled, pausing after the exhale and caressing the trigger in the space between heartbeats, the most stable moment to fire. He sent a single shot down range, though that single shot combined the blaster bolt and a .52 caliber slug. The aimed for point was center mass on his back.

 

[Valens]

Location: Cafe near original drop ship site
Enemies: Mandos
Allies: [member="Darth Valdra"] [member="Abraxas"] and the One Sith
Engaging: [member="Bjarn"]

Valens awaited with his finger firmly on the trigger of his rifle, prepared to blast anything that would come through the cafe window. That lumbering [member="Titan"] was not something you wanted to meet in an enclosed space, but it seemed something had taken his attention. Big brutes like that generally don't have much of an attention span, and this one was especially dimwitted, having the great idea of jumping into the middle of a Sith landing party.

Taking a second to catch his breath, Valens walked towards the wall of the cafe and crept towards the door. As he peered 'round the corner, he saw the humanoid beast entangled in hand to hand combat with [member="Abraxas"]. The Sith also found himself engaged with a wiry Mandalorian, who had been pestering [member="Abraxas"] with his light machine gun. As [member="Bjarn"] began to relocate, Valens reached to his belt and retrieved a fragmentation grenade. The Mandalorian's position would provide defilade from inaccurate rifle fire, but a grenade thrown past the vehicle he used for cover would prove quite effective. Furthermore, even if he did see the greande, the fact that he was in a prone position wouldn't give him any time to get out of the way. Frag grenades are rarely deadly, but they are quite violent and injuring and disorientating the Mando was all that was necessary.

Valens primed the grenade. His rifle in his left hand, he pushed open the cafe door and took aim. He hurled the live grenade in a high arc over the truck. As he let go of the grenade, he put his head down and ran parallel to [member="Bjarn"], slipping in to an alleyway nearby and diving behind a garbage dump.

 

[Vrag]

Location: Side street
Objective: Kick freelancing butt, revel in the irony
Allies: [member="Reverance"] | [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Hal Terrano"] | [member="Abraxas"] | [member="Darth Valdra"] | [member="Darth Venefica"] | [member="Rose Kuhn"] | [member="Drapeam Nyx"] | [member="Valens"] | [member="Sabik Dhami"] | [member="Tanek Santii"]
Engaging directly: [member="Orick T'ane"]
Gear in bio

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I4jO6Ytq9pI​

​

​

Like all important things in life were wont to do, this, too, happened in the blink of an eye. It was staple for combat even more than life in general, and the speed she was used to. That searing moment of blinding pain that followed, however… that was a taste she hadn't felt in a while. The copper blossomed on her tongue as she gasped for breath that wouldn't come.

She'd made to cut at the man when he came speeding from behind the body — moving far faster than she'd anticipated — but instead her hand had been met with a beam of pure agony, tearing through Vonduun like it were paper, disintegrating the armorweave bodyglove and greedily scorching away at the flesh of her palm. She didn't even have time to scream before her nerves were turned into subatomic dust along with the muscles and tendons of her hand, and the beam ripped the rest of the way through, destroying the lower portion of her lightsaber. Her own weapon winked out of existence once the diatium power cell had been made one with the ether, but the Sith hardly had time to notice any of this.

It had all happened so fast that the woman barely registered the fact that the bottom of her palm was gone along with the pinky — poor [member="Sage Bane"]! — and the ring finger — sorry, [member="Marek Starchaser"] — continuing on her path as momentum carried her forward and directly at the Mandalorian who had just made her the Half-Hand of the Dark Lord.

It became apparent, then, that she had no blade to swing at him anymore, and with perhaps a diastole left before they connected bodily, Vrag did the only thing she could think to do; she made a grab for the weapon in his grasp, hoping to bury it stock-first into his stomach while aiming the barrel away from herself to avoid a repeat performance of whatever that was. The rest of the man would hopefully become close friends with the spikes protruding from the angered Vonduun at various angles, returning the favor.

Flesh for flesh, blood for blood.

 

[Reverance]

Location: The streets of Keldabe
Objective: How far does the crown roll...
Allies: [member="Vrag"] | [member="Hal Terrano"] | [member="Abraxas"] | [[member="Darth Valdra"]| [member="Darth Venefica"] | [member="Rose Kuhn"] | [member="Drapeam Nyx"] | [member="Valens"] | [member="Sabik Dhami"] | [member="Matsu Xiangu"]
Enemies:[member="Azrael"]| [member="Orick T'ane"] | [member="Titan"] | [member="Solan Charr"] | [member="Kadala Skirata"]
Engaging: [member="Azrael"]
Gear: Vonduun armor, Voxyn Arm, Chom-Huun, Roecnar, Tsaisi, Yuuzhan vong toys (magma pebbles, plasma eel, Chitin Carbine)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Xd0NsDw​

He wondered if he'd be forced to play with the pups: bark enough and the big dogs might come out. With the empty Buy'ce in hand, he turned with a nonchalance towards the custom garbed Mando and all his big gear, including an ungainly scythe. He didn't know the man, not sure he wanted to, but he felt a presence there that drew the attention: enough to warrant his own. "Busy isn't the right word...though you may claim my focus...for the moment, Kane a bar." That last bit was spoken with an explicit Yuuzhan Vong accent, dialect of the Legion Yun'Do.

The Tsaisi quivered against the Chom-Huun against his back, the Ygdris felt a stir in communication with the Voxyn al'Do arm, quarreling over the position of greatest asset. At the epicenter of a conflict, Gabriel voided all attention he once put towards [member="Kadala Skirata"], instead focusing now on [member="Azrael"] and his many allotments. He had fought Mando before, a conflict between him and [member="Ijaat Akun"] was one that held significance in his heart. One that warmed him, even in the coldest of nights upon Arkania, to know that suffering continually resonated from his mere presence. That was the value of life: to know suffering. A thing that this Mando and his people would know, if they didn't already greet it so willingly.

Like a beast stalking a prey, he would allude to that very notion with crimson biots staring out from the helmet of the strength enhanced Vonduun Armor. Cracking his neck, he watched as the common mandalorians found different opponents, treating this confrontation for the zone of exclusion that it would demand. The tremors might shake Keldabe to it's knees as the Wrath flirted with the notion of withdrawing his weapons. Up until this point, it hadn't been needed: the mando's apparently enjoyed the feel of his fists against susceptible points of softness. Perhaps this might be different, perhaps there was a price to pay for this pain.

"You have a very nice home. It looks particularly homely, painted in such deep auburn tones..." Despite his lackadaisical approach to this figure, he was ramping up and prepared for a sudden strike. The words were idle, his force presence wasn't. It was something manifesting and derivative of the suffering incurred from this onslaught. Empty threats of death and demise wouldn't deter him.

 

[Orick T'ane]

Location: Keldabe
Objective: Try not to puke in my helmet
Enemies: [member="Vrag"] [member="Rose Kuhn"] [member="Reverance"] [member="Drapeam Nyx"] @the One Sith big happy family.
Allies: [member="Azrael"] @Mando type folks and that weird guy sipping tea
Gear: In my Bio

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VTT6picaCoQ​

The lightsaber blinked into nothingness as the beam ripped through her lower hand, armor and flesh benig ripped apart at the molecular level. There was no time to react to the pain as even the nerve endings were destroyed as well. There wasn't even time to savor the small victory before she was on him, her arm reaching out and grabbing the rifle by the barrel. His finger instinctively pulling the trigger a few times, blaster bolts slamming into the walls behind her.

Spikes punctured his clothing, and after a bit of struggling to free the rifle, his armorweave under armor. Biting down to keep from crying out in pain, he did the only thing he could do, he released his grip on the rifle and scampered away, most of his shirt ripping off into her spikes. Exposed armor and several leaking puncture wounds were visible all down his right arm, the coppery tang of blood hanging in the air. Blood flowed from half a dozen seeping wounds on his arm, the armor glistening with the sweet, sticky fluid. Pushing up to his full height, slightly shorter that she was, he reached behind him and grabbed the handle of his beskad. The knife was only 45 centimeters, but they were too close for either of his pistols to be effective. The only consolation was that she had lost her lightsaber in his attack.

His blade would be useless against her armor, but he knew that all armor had weak points, joints, neck seals, armpits. Figuring out how to get the blade into those portions of her body without getting killed, that was the challenge. the helmet drown out a lot of the background noise, the screams and explosions happening around him. Distractions were one of the few things that would get him killed faster than any of his own mistakes ever could. there wasn't time or need for quippy remarks or banter, this was a different fight with a different kind of opponent. He hated to admit it, but his remarks would be a sign of disrespect, and she was at least worthy of his respect as a warrior.

 

[Vrag]

Location: Side street
Objective: Kick freelancing butt, revel in the irony
Allies: [member="Reverance"] | [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Hal Terrano"] | [member="Abraxas"] | [member="Darth Valdra"] | [member="Darth Venefica"] | [member="Rose Kuhn"] | [member="Drapeam Nyx"] | [member="Valens"] | [member="Sabik Dhami"] | [member="Tanek Santii"] | [member="Sage Bane"]
Engaging directly: [member="Orick T'ane"]
Gear in bio

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d_UrZA97I3w​

​

She sneered, baring her teeth like an animal as every part of her body screamed at her to get out, a stark contrast to the glaring absence of pain in her right hand. There should've been something, at least a vestige of sensory feedback telling her that something was wrong, that she was missing half of her hand, but the nerves to tell her that simply weren't there anymore.

Thing was, it wasn't the first time. Vrag had done many other things before scribbling 'Sith' in front of her name, all of them of a similar amoral persuasion and danger rating. Huge gang firefights had a tendency to yield high bodycounts, and that was mostly due to illegal weapons that could blow a swath of death right through group of people with something as mundane as the squeeze of a trigger. It was one of those black market gadgets that had claimed one of her legs, more than a decade back, in some Force-forsaken cesspool of a city on the Outer rim.

She got better.

With that knowledge firm in her mind, Vrag licked her sharp teeth as the man jumped back, bleeding from multiple lacerations and still moving far too quickly for a normal human. Was he sensitive? Surely he would've employed some powers by now, unless perhaps he was saving the best for last. Only time would tell, it seemed, and as the Mandalorian drew his blade, so the Sith drew hers.

Or, rather, the Chom-Huun crawled into her waiting palm as she reasserted her footing, taking the short lull in combat to acquaint herself with her surroundings. There was nothing more foolish than forgetting one's environment during a fight, and it was a lesson that Vrag had taught many an opponent just before sending them to their early grave. Her cold blue eyes would sweep over the narrow alley then, her practiced mind taking in the details and assessing the distances even as she moved slowly to the side and away from the wall on her right.

The orange beam sprang forth from the rectum of the creature squirming in her grasp, and then she grudgingly assumed a mirrored seventh guard, her grip not quite as confident as she would've liked. Still, if there was any discomfort to be seen, it was buried under layers of armor and clothing, and ultimately beneath her fabled Sabacc face. The firrerreo was an experienced duelist, and while her right was certainly her favored hand, she'd never been a fool; falling back into her tight footwork, the woman finally pressed her attack, moving into the narrow measure with one quick step while maintaining her offensively-defensive guard.

She would dance with him like this, trying to get a feeling for his skill in melee even as she pushed her vor, doing her best to keep him on the defensive and maneuver him towards the limp cadaver, where the man would either trip or be forced to take a longer step, putting his balance at risk; it was then that Vrag would strike, relying on her far superior reach to go for his knee. The attack would keep her out of his range while still posing a risk to her opponent, and he would be further coaxed into sacrificing his stability, which is when the Sith Lord would finally call upon the Force, hoping to pull his leg from under him and send him sprawling on the ground.

 

[Darth Pyrrhus]

Location: Keldabe streets
Allies: [member=Sage Bane], [member=Darth Venefica]
Enemies: Maybe [member=Naimes Ahn-Dross], maybe [member=Rhen Asakaari]. You tell me!
Gear:

Spoiler

Vonduun Skerr Kyrric

Spoiler

Razor bug x3
Gnullith
Amphistaff
Chitin Carbine
Lightsaber

The Togruta turned to face the new Sith arrival. Darth Venefica. He felt the power flowing from her. Somehow he felt stronger in her presence, as if his senses were more keen, more alert. It was intoxicating, like a dark perfume that easily got him hooked after the first whiff. He gladly accepted, and drank in what she offered, letting her empower him. This was the first time he'd met her, and she made a good first impression. He could only hope that after the battle was over, she thought similarily of him. Tanek had had a good feeling about the battle to come before, now he wondered if he'd found out why.

Let us teach their children that their parents are not liars. Today... we eradicate the next generation of Mando warriors. That was a message he could get behind. It was a day of firsts, apparently, as this'd be his first run-in with the Mandalorians as well. How fitting, that it would take place on the planet of Mandalore.

It would seem they had company. Tanek observed as a group of enemy warriors moved towards their position, cutting through Sith lines. Well... They weren't true Sith. Those came after. If studying the history of the Sith had told the Togruta anything, it was that those were a breed that did not so easily accept death. Not for themselves, at any rate. "Where do you want me?" his voice sounded through Venefica's comm connection. The gnullith shoved down his face made speech a challenge, though thankfully he had the oggzil to communicate with. It was his way of asking if she'd want or need his assistance on this one. Both of the other Sith outranked him. It was not a problem, it simply meant that they took the lead. In whatever shape or form it arrived in, he was determined to execute the will of the Dark Lord.

 

[The Hound]

Deep in the Bowels of the Ship [member="Darth Venefica"] arrived on:

Wake my Hound.

There are things in this Galaxy that one should never be made to encounter. People say not to be afraid of the dark, but its things like him that people should be.

Walk, and take them for me.

In the darkness of the cargo hold, seated on a plasteel crate like some sort of Sith statue black eye sockets flashed yellow. He creaked as he stirred and gripped the heavy Sith sword with purpose. It stood, a growl coming from deep in his throat.

The Hound was on the hunt.

 

[Sage Bane]

Location: Keldabe streets
Objective: Seek out and engage [member="Rhen Asakaari"]
Allies: [member="Tanek Santii"] [member="Darth Venefica"]
Enemies: [member="Rhen Asakaari"] (claimed)

Spoiler

Gear:
Vonduun Skerr Kyrric
Lightsaber
Whipsting
Amphistaff biot

Sage felt Darth Venefica's hateful presence before he saw the Sith Lady in the flesh. It was as if all life around her became sorrowful, ready to wither and die like week-old flowers on a gravestone. Even hardened Mandalorian civilians ran to escape its stygian grasp. Sage drank in the power, letting it trickle down into his throat, filling out his lungs, and course through his body. His trio of tentacles, stirred by the boost of Venefica's malice, reared up and snapped at the air, riled like a rabid dog.

Off in the distance, Sage noted One Sith and Mandalorians beginning to clash, in the streets, between the buildings, and even in the rapidly darkening sky. The snap-hiss of lightsabers soon met with the shrill cry of blaster fire, but the sweet symphony would not be complete without the screaming of the innocents. A few moments later, out of the panicked crowd emerged a Beksar-clad soldier who calmly leveled a taunt at Darth Venefica, calling her "demon woman." Monsters, indeed. He seemed to be calling out the Dagobah swamp maiden with some kind of combat ritual involving a Beskar knife. Sage imagined that this would not end well for the soldier. Venefica was said to be capricious, unpredictable and cruel. Honorable was not a word he would use to describe her. Honor could be left with the Jedi.

Suddenly Sage felt a presence that was maddeningly familiar. It was not the aura of a Force user, but that of a person he had faced down before, long ago. The tentacled Knight tilted his head to look, just as an energy beam zipped right past his cheek. Her energy beam. They had a sniper in their midsts, a sniper he knew.

An urgent voice would fill Tanek's head. The handy thing about having shared a mind space with someone was the ease in which you could exchange secrets, hidden away from the enemy like a mental encryption.

Fight alongside Darth Venefica unless she tells you otherwise and remember your training. I've got a sniper to eviscerate.

Igniting his saber, he began to advance directly towards the sniper's position. With every footfall, his amphistaff arm got hungrier.