Skirmish A Red Dawn

[Djorn Bline]

S N A K E
CONCORD DAWN
CLOSED INTERACTION | Loske Treicolt

It had been years since he showed his face to the Galaxy. For years he had been hiding, recruiting bodies for his ranks and furthering his agendas. Keeping a low profile to not attract unwanted attention to his machinations.

They came unexpectedly, and rushed out to Concord Dawn’s surface. The sect of Mandalorians within this sector declared open hostilities with any element of Imperial. To all his enemies he’d be thorn in their paw; a slight nuisance that would bear more pain overtime until that pain would cause even a mighty lion to cry in frustration.

Like a snake with a venom that would kill its prey slowly, yet surely.

Their objectives were simple: cause enough damage to the agricultural infrastructure of Concord Dawn and bring a plague to afflict their ability to grow crops. A swift and easy operation as it should be before Mandalorian reinforcements arrived to contest the small fleet he arrived with.

Whatever garrison of Mandalorians was stationed on Concord Dawn would be countered with his own mutual allies of Mandalorians, warriors hailing from Clan Munin as Djorn and its chieftain both had aligned hostilities with the current Mand’alor and his sect.

Water was the key source to an established civilization. Every major source of water was targeted and every ranching installation nearby would be burned down.

Bline touched down with his guard of Stormtroopers, a squad of them as they trespassed a local ranch indifferent to whom its inhabitants are. There would be no trouble, so long as they didn’t interfere in his affairs.

 

[Arla Rodarch]

Mandalore
Oyu'baat Tapcafe

Enjoying a drink in Oyu'baat, the message alert was almost something Arla could ignore. Buy'ce on the table, she was sipping her first Netra'Gal of the day. Her mind was about to relax, but the rest of the galaxy had other ideas. Someone was causing trouble on Concord Dawn. Sighing, Arla opened a secure comlink to Mig Gred

"Ner vod. You seeing the report from Concord Dawn?" It was the ancestral home of his Clan, and he would want to know. As Marshal of the Journeyman Protectors, she had more than enough remit to intervene on her own behalf, officially or otherwise. For now, she'd keep things unofficial.

Unofficially, she was going to help what she expected to be a number of interested Mandalorian Protectors who would be intrigued by the prospect of an outside force attempting to throw its weight around the Mandalore Sector. Especially on Concord Dawn, which was as old a Mando'ad planet as Manda'yaim itself.

Co-opting a ship was no issue at all, and there would be no shortage of volunteers for such a mission, she was sure. Dispatching a strike force would take little time, assembling it none at all. Whatever response was necessary, would come quickly. But she'd let Alor Gred take the lead, for now. She would provide and organize support.

And kick the shebs of anyone that wanted it.

Djorn Bline Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Loske was not in the mood.

Her home was under threat from all sides. Her youngest had just flown the coop prematurely, and she didn't know where they were. Talin Treicolt and Tansu Treicolt had left a message that they were with Auteme , but when she reached out to their old friend, Auteme had not seen them. Her devastation and anxiety were tenuously held inches away from something she was used to—something angrier. Anger was easier than despair, hurt, or grief. And if she'd had less rage building up from somewhere deep within, she might have smirked at the irony that the girls left home for adventure, and yet the worst part of adventure was now at their former doorstep.

And anger came easier now as Frank filled her space with incoming reports. She looked out at the shadows speckling the skies of the planet she'd fought tooth and nail to return to and had spent years rebuilding.

Maynard Treicolt and she had arrived as exiled Jedi and had grown into warlords. Protectors. The two of them, as husband and wife, had rebuilt Concord Dawn to be prosperous again and less a dustball. Harvests yielded year over year.

Protectors, clad in blue-grey armour, took to their roles to meet the assault. By land or by sky, they had the equipment to contest threats and the network to ensure support across Concord Dawn's crust.

An alarm on the perimeter of one of the bantha paddocks tripped, and Loske panned to the image Frank projected. A jolt wrenched behind her ribs and her fists clenched.

"Activate defensive protocol in section B1. Queue all connected perimeters to follow sequence if tripped."

Frank beeped once to confirm.

The stormtrooper dispatch trespassing on Treicolt Homestead would soon light up. First, drones would suddenly appear from seemingly out of nowhere, locking on targets and firing. Second, the sudden noise and light show startled a handful of bathas who, when scared and disoriented, moved remarkably quickly with little consideration of who or what they crunched underfoot.

____________________________________________________________
FOES: Djorn Bline | INTERACTION CLOSED
FRIENDS: Arla Rodarch
____________________________________________________________
​

 

[Djorn Bline]

S N A K E
CONCORD DAWN
CLOSED INTERACTION | Loske Treicolt

LAKE OF FIRE​

A pillar of smoke could be seen in the distance with another forming in another set of coordinates. Fire would consume anything in its path until interrupted or its hunger finally sated, and the yields of crops would do well to expand its touch. The sky seemed depressed as clouds blocked the rays of the sun, allowing a few beams of sunlight to grace the earth; almost as if Concord Dawn wailed from the man made fires scorching its terrain.

The troop of Stormtroopers walked with swagger, confident that they’d meet no resistance from the farmers of this great homestead. There would be the angry patriarch with his rifle, no doubt, but that was something easy to neutralize. What was a bunch of bantha herders compared to trained, hardened soldiers?

It was best to be a warrior in a garden than a farmer in a battlefield.

Their confidence betrayed them when blasters hailed from above. Small drones blitzed at the Imperials, making quick maneuvers that made it difficult to hit accurately. Djorn could’ve devised quick tactics to counter, but the stampede of banthas caught him by surprise.

“Shit!”

Cursing in frustration, seeing a few of his men pinned down by the salvo of light blaster fire and being trampled by the herd. He fired a flurry of blaster bolts at an incoming bantha, the fur of the beast dissipated the first hits only for the high heat to eat through its fur and impact on its tough hide. It cried in pain and changed course from Djorn.

<“Hurlen!”> he yelled to one of his lieutenants nearby, having a sudden idea. <“Toss incendiaries! We’ll make a perimeter to avoid the damn animals!”>

Whether wild or domesticated most animals feared fire. A set of incendiaries were primed and tossed, brilliant flames sparked alive and sending fear into the banthas. The bulls and cows no longer charged directly at Djorn and his men, doing everything they could to avoid the licks of fire. The remaining Stormtroopers rushed into the flames to be evade the stampede, allowing all of them to focus on the drones. Droid poppers were thrown into their directions, thus disabling their electronics.

A few seconds of respite was offered, before again marching to the homestead. It was clear that these farmers would die on this hill. The Imperial warlord stopped in his tracks to kneel down and yank off the dogchains of a fallen comrade, before resuming his march.

Another name fallen, another reason for him to continue his war until death or victory received him. It was the duty of the living to carry on the will of their dead.

A Galaxy united under one banner; the Imperial banner.

 

[Mig Gred]

Mig looked at the reports, his hands shaking a little as his memories flashed back to that day. Running. Losing Ilik. Watching his planet and people burn. He heard his comm, quickly listening. Arla Rodarch . He took a breath. "Yeah. They've been coming in all day." He wasn't wanting to just stand by if he could help it.

Mig looked out aboard the ship, sharpening his various blades as he prepared himself for this fight. Concord Dawn wasn't his clan's home anymore. So much had changed over the years. He wasn't about to sit by and let someone else wreck the world though. It was still his homeworld. His home at heart. He was ready for a fight if need be, and would look over at Arla as the ship continued. "Ok. What's the ETA?"

Djorn Bline Loske Treicolt

 

[Arla Rodarch]

Mandalore
Oyu'baat Tapcafe

Mig was clearly plugged into the goings-on at Concord Dawn.

"Yeah. They've been coming in all day." He wasn't wanting to just stand by if he could help it.

"Ok. What's the ETA?"

His response energized Arla to join in the response to the incursion.

She looked around, Oyu'baat was packed. Arla caught the bartender's eyes and held up four fingers. He caught the signal and changed the channel of the holo, where Arla linked a live feed from Concord Dawn. It was clear that a battle was developing between raiders and locals. The mood in the cantina changed noticeably. Arla stood up and yelled over the din and the news report.

"I'm going to Concord Dawn. Anyone want a lift?" The roar that met her was appreciable and very much in the affirmative. The cantina quickly emptied, the Mandalorians spilling outside into the street.

Arla had dropships waiting just outside to take them to their ships. Their ships were already in orbit, fueled and ready to launch. Many locals took up the call, joining the Journeyman Protector and the other units who would make up her ersatz but powerful task force.

"We're on our way." She commed back to Mig. Minutes later she was aboard a dropship heading up to the Restoration-Class Battlecruiser Ijaat's Hammer. Its sister ship, the Mia's Blade sat alongside, also ready for departure. Minutes later, the ground forces aboard, the two big ships set out for Concord Dawn, jumping to lightspeed.

Djorn Bline Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Perimeter after perimeter would light up and respond to the trespassers. The homestead was well-guarded. But booby traps and secondary defences were hardly as intimidating as a Jedi Master hellbent on protecting her property.

A speeder was the quickest way to intercept the oncoming squad. She wouldn't dare let them cross the halfway point. Wind and wheat were the only resistance to the hyper-focused rider.

"Frank, feed me the video again. I'm two clicks away from their last position." Her dashboard lit up with silhouettes, she refocused and zoomed. Loske clenched her jaw.

Djorn Bline.

The feed closed, and Loske let the anger build. She wasn't confused, she wasn't caring, and all her thoughts narrowed to a point.

In no time at all, her speeder stopped dead parallel to the collection of stormtroopers. It was dust and wheat heads that curled around her, pluming out and obfuscating anything beyond her silhouette. Narrow and calculative, her eyes were steady on the painted visor she knew well. Even if he'd changed his armour over the years, she'd recognize his presence. The way he idled in The Force was like a grey, heavy, angled thing.

The silence between them was charged. She hardly looked past him at the retinue of support. They were lives either to continue or end. She couldn't evaluate them more than that. They didn't matter more than that—not on her home turf, not when her family life and dream were threatened.

There was a part of her that wanted to start off with a plea or a bargain. Appeal to the man she'd known. The man who still held onto the keepsakes of his rebel father. The man who warred within himself which side he should carry the flag for. The man who'd once pledged to claw through the galaxy to bring her back to her Maynard.

"Djorn,"

But it had been so many years. And the face beneath that visor might belong to a man she didn't know as well as she thought she did. The galaxy was tricky, and the way time played had teeth.

"Concord Dawn is not the planet you want to start problems with."

The matriarch started strong, threatening. The Warlord the world had crafted her to be. And then, without adjusting her posture or softening her expression, she said why.

Like all those years ago, when she'd masqueraded as a holovision starlet, only to give up her disguise needlessly. She could still remember the first time she'd met him and how they'd laughed.

That felt so far away now with him this close. Like this. Where yellow and plumes of black were all the eye could see.

"This is my home to protect. Take your fight somewhere else."

____________________________________________________________
FOES: Djorn Bline | INTERACTION CLOSED
FRIENDS: Arla Rodarch | Mig Gred
____________________________________________________________
​

 

[Djorn Bline]

S N A K E
CONCORD DAWN
CLOSED INTERACTION | Loske Treicolt

SNAKE​

Every yard gained something else sprung out to attack him and his men. A reflection of the life he has lead as war will always bring strife no matter who the soldier was. It was all a matter on how to cope with it, how to survive on and off the battlefield. Unfortunately, finding a reason to fight and never retire his blaster was Djorn’s coping mechanism aside from his other ambitions.

Finally, a few moments of peace before braving another storm to not wear down their morale.

Only until a speeder flew and stopped meters away from Djorn with a familiar blonde dismounting from the vehicle. His men had their weapons trained, natural as it was second nature to prepare for any potential threat. Though to their surprise they lowered their weapons when their leader motioned them with his arm. Sudden chills rushed over his arm, even down to his knees when his eyes focused on the woman. While mixed emotions stirred in his core, he mainly felt…content. Content to know that an old friend was still alive and well.

Of course, the moment wouldn’t always last forever this way as the air between them became mildly bitter.

"Djorn,"

The silence shattered, and the Jedi stood her ground unmoving. She had a right to that just like the rest of their farmers and residents defending what was rightfully theirs. Whatever came next would obviously be dependent to what Djorn would say and do. His guard fanned out, moving away so they would not hear whatever dialogue shared between the two. It was unlike for her to be angry, then again he had never seen her angry before.

She had changed, as did Djorn.

Behind her stood the serenity of her homestead and farm, the few rays of sun gracing the land and even putting her in the limelight of it. What stood behind the Imperial, however, was the polar opposite. The destruction of fire spread and Stormtroopers engaging with potential hostiles, the ringing of blaster bolts could be hear from the distance. The sky was meek with clouds and smoke blotting out the sun. It all represented the natures of their own individuality.

“Loske,” he began, it was years since he pronounced her name. He then went to remove his helmet, unveiling the scarred and aging face that didn’t belong to a man of his age. The toll of war shaped him, physically and mentally. He was a far cry of the man Loske knew years ago; once whole and more…alive.

“I didn’t think to find you here, honestly. I wouldn’t have trespassed if I’d known.”

“However,” and turned to observe his surroundings, the Treicolt homestead being in better shape than the others, “the rest of Concord Dawn will burn, after the Mandalorians declared open season on any Imperial. So I thought to return the favor to them. They should’ve thought twice before opening up their mouths, not that they’re unfamiliar with Imperials occupying and humbling them,” a smirk etched on the corner of his lips at the thought of the many times Mandalore and its systems were drove out by the might of the Imperials.

“I’ll be out of your hair once the damage has been done.”

 

[Mig Gred]

"We're on our way."

"Good. Meet you there." Mig would get up, prepping a team of his own before leaving the planet. Soon, an assault carrier modified Neebra-class and Sur'haai-class scout frigate left the system, their aim being to arrive at Concord Dawn about the same time as Arla's forces. The smaller ships aimed to leave hyperspace in a high orbit, hopefully allowing the scout frigate to run scans before getting too close without support, and try to use its comms system to contact the planet.

Djorn Bline Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"The damage has been done." Loske inserted firmly. There was an edge of disciplinary impatience in her tone. One that came more readily after raising five children.

As usual, Loske didn't fully believe him. Djorn had built a lifelong legacy of snaking around the truth and using cunning to his advantage. Whether or not he'd known of Treicolt Homestead didn't seem to matter because he was here now. The action could not be undone. She didn't say anything, but a hardness set into her countenance that looked sharp and calculative.

It stung that these invaders that swept in and wreaked havoc on their community were under the command a former ally. And a would-be friend if it weren't for their constantly warring ideals.

"Leave now. The Mandalorian Protectors have little presence on Concord Dawn." She gestured up to the skies. "Those ships are ours meeting yours.

Command a ceasefire and spread your message elsewhere."

She couldn't help but pull at that one string that had unravelled years ago.

"Do you still wear your father's chrono under your Imperial armour?"

____________________________________________________________
FOES: Djorn Bline | INTERACTION CLOSED
FRIENDS: Arla Rodarch | Mig Gred
____________________________________________________________
​

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

T H E _ W O L F
Lone Pine Hill
Loske Treicolt
Djorn Bline​

A faint curse escaped the man's lips when a faint static shock shook through his hand, the Concordian waving it up and down to shake it out and away before he continued his work on the harvest droid. Waylon waited just behind his father, crouched down in a similar manner to the older man as he tinkered away at the droid, glancing once toward their landspeeder before back to Maynard. He cursed again with another shock, too stubborn to get someone else better at the task to do it for him. For all the heights he'd reached in policing Concord Dawn as its de-facto ruler for some years, he relished in completing simple tasks like this, as rather inconsequential as they were, or as simple as it was to dispense accountability for them to either of his twin sons, what with his daughters having since marooned from the world.

He was initially furious with them up and running away but had since relaxed his stance. He knew at some point they'd want to sprout wings and flutter off, make lives of themselves away from the homestead.

He just wished they didn't steal his lightsaber.

As much as Maynard thought to build the dream here, he knew just as well the call of the Galaxy was strong, as much as he'd seen the deepest, darkest underbelly of it, it made him into the man he was now, it gave him Loske and everything else he had here. Until then, he maligned this place as much as they did.

He could tell his boys wanted to make way down a similar path, they were getting antsy, questioning more and more about where their sisters could be and what they could be doing.

"Still just gonna keep shocking yourself or do you want me to take over?" Waylon asked, lofting a brow to his father who shook his head.

"I'll get it eventually- it usually isn't this-" And with a final crank, the harvester droid powered back to life, Maynard pulling himself up from the hatch, closing it before he dusted his hands off and tossed Waylon the tool bag.

"See- toss that in the back, would ya? We got a couple more to check and then..." He said, mouth agape slightly as he saw the arrival of the Imperials. The scorched earth beneath their arrival and the fires that tread in the wake of their path.

"Wh-what are they doing here? I thought-" Waylon began to speak before Maynard hopped over the hood of the landspeeder to get into the driver's side.

"Get in, come on. Get the commlink up, get your mother on." He said before he flicked the various control panel switches of the landspeeder to life, grasping the control yoke before twisting it in the direction of the main homestead. Sentry drones were already flying overhead as he doubled back across the sprawling fields of grain, raking through them with the mass of the landspeeder easily cutting through them.

Waylon was working the commlink on the dashboard, tuning into the homestead's channel only to find static.

"They're- they're jamming...they're fucking jamming!" Waylon said, desperately fumbling with the device.

"We're almost over there, what about Waylon?" He asked, nudging for his son to switch the channel of the commlink.

"He's on shift today, with the Protectors." They both worked to fill in gaps in the nearby patrol schedule. Crime wasn't often beyond low life criminals they'd string up. It was a good, low risk way for his boys to get experience.

Soon enough, he had eye sight of Loske, Djorn. He parked the landspeeder behind one of the storage units on the homestead. He turned to Vyrin, pulling the scoped rifle from the storage trunk of the landspeeder and tossed it his way. "Watch my back, any of those imp beeline it for me or your mother don't fuckin' hestitate, you understand?" He asked, making his way to the homestead proper as he unclasped the holster of his blaster rifle, glancing over his shoulder for affirmation.

He made his way toward them in a brisk pace, his teeth grinding against one another in some aggravation. He glanced over his shoulder again to see Vyrin posting up atop the storage unit, aiming down the scope of his rifle as he braced it up against the durasteel vent of the structure, scanning for nearby targets as Maynard walked toward the figure opposite of Loske.

His eyes narrowed as he recognized him.

"Djooooorn- Bline." He said, grasping the pistol belt as his hip as he eyed the man up and down. He knew well that Bline loathed in seeing Treicolt again.

"I'm sure it was me you were missing, huh?" He asked to the man, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What business do you and your men have here? Other than causing needless trouble? Last I heard us and yours were on decent enough terms, able to talk at least...and now here you are burning up all that good will. Among other things...for what?" He asked outright, some bitterness seeping into his tone.

 

[Djorn Bline]

S N A K E
CONCORD DAWN
CLOSED INTERACTION | Loske Treicolt | Maynard Treicolt

SNAKE​

Both his eyebrows raised, finding this side of Loske so interesting. She was always calm in the face of hostility, never losing her cool and always had a positive attitude in any situation. He didn’t see that in her this very instance, and part of him admired that; however, things were a straw away from turning ugly as she was inexorable in her stance and so was Djorn.

No one would deny his destiny; carving the Galaxy in his image. All the men he lost and all the blood he spilled had to account for something.

"Do you still wear your father's chrono under your Imperial armour?"

He frowned, taken aback by her words. His left cybernetic hand reached to his right wrist where the chrono wrapped around his flesh. He had spoken about his past, though in half truths and lies remaining an enigma to her and to others but he had never dared mention about his father. He did his best to keep that buried within him.

“Who told you that,” with a demanding tone, almost offended to know his past and secrets were uncovered. Hypocritical of him to feel that way.

“Loske, I cannot-“ and was cut off when his eye caught sight of him. Maynard. The man rushed before slowing down in his steps as he came close to Loske, he too staring down the Snake.

"I'm sure it was me you were missing, huh?"

He glared at the man and lightly snorted. One thing he was surprised to see was the fact he didn’t unholster his blaster and started blasting, though perhaps in the old days he’d resort to that.

"What business do you and your men have here? Other than causing needless trouble? Last I heard us and yours were on decent enough terms, able to talk at least...and now here you are burning up all that good will. Among other things...for what?"

“As I was saying…the Mandalorian Protectors declared open hostility with any Imperial sect. These are the consequences of their actions, fellas. They reap what they sow. They and any associate of theirs are my enemies…with exceptions,” referring to the two.

“Hurting the agricultural sector here will cause a food shortage against them. I’ve instructed my men to apply any tactics to make sure Concord Dawn becomes infertile, but I won’t let that plague here on your land as a token of goodwill to you,” though they were sure to bite back as tensions soared.

“I hope you two can sympathize with me.”

The ball was in their court, anticipating to see what they’d do next.