Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Accept it, there's always a bigger fish.

The Valkyrie swooped swiftly downward into the lower atmosphere of Duxn. The Matador had received a transmission from The Keeper, Tol Varen's clan elder. Without a second thought, the Matador returned home without a second thought. The Matador gathered his equipment, throwing his long black fur cloak over his shoulders as the Valkyrie's landing pad extended downward to meet the familiar wet, green earth of Duxn. White fumes exploded in a violent storm from Valkyrie's exhausts. The black visor of his helmet protected his face from irritation, however the violent fumes made his cloak bustle and shoot upward as his boots thudded slowly downward. The small town that housed Tol Varen was empty as the entire populace gathered round the Valkyrie. The Keeper stood between the Matador and the rest of his people, silence was like a dark shroud over them all, it made the Matador uneasy.

He was sure his familiar Flayer armour and Greataxe would be a comforting sight, however all faces seemed anxious and worried with the exception of the masked faces of the warrior class. But the children and the elderly informed the Matador of how his people felt. "Keeper." The Matador spoke, his heavily augmented voice was electronic and artificial; however his thick Mandolorian accent was apparent even then. He gave The Keeper a courteous bow, and then turned to observe his people. Who, at this time all fell to their hands and knee's, pressing their foreheads against the wet, green, earth.

"My people, you may rise. I am not here to be subject to your humility. I am here for your protection. I have heard, of the foreign Mandolorian pretenders. I will deal with this, I promise you. But first, I must speak to the Keeper in private. Return to your homes, my beloved people. The Blade, with us."

The Matador followed the Keeper to his home, which was known as the Library of Thought. "Keeper, Blade. These pretenders, how many are they in numbers?" - "More so than our own, and more advanced, technology years ahead of our own, Matador." The Blade replied, he was the leader of our soldiers. His militia known as The Shield counted in the hundreds. Roughly 300 highly well trained men from what the Matador could recall. "Have we came into contact with them?" The Keeper and Blade exchanged looks quickly, the Keeper shook his head. "No, however we have been monitoring them. They've been patrolling the local area. They'll find us. Eventually." The Matador took a moment, reviewing his options carefully. "The Shield have set up a perimeter of breach charges and small guard posts to ensure we are not ambushed."

"I, suggest we meet them before they happen upon us. These pretenders will not last long. Of that I am certain." The Matador spoke calmly, however deep down he was uncertain. But, he needed to act, for his people.

[member="Keira Ticon"]
As much as she typically despised routine, Keira had to admit that it was nice to settle back into a rhythm again. She needed some form of normalcy to return to, even if nothing about her life would ever really fit neatly into that definition to begin with. For one like her normal meant a return to the military lifestyle that she had never really left behind, and that meant going back to Dxun. In a matter of no more than an hour she had arranged patrols into the jungle, one of which she would be leading. Sometimes the cut-and-dry aspects of life were welcome, or at least, they were after what had happened on and above Myrkr. Better to only have the creatures native to the planet and potential trespassers to worry about as opposed to another bombardment.

There had been no reports that gave cause for concern, and no signs of any unwelcome presence on the planet since she had dealt with the last incident months ago. But what had happened with the Imperials had set everyone on edge, and so regardless of any perceived or actual threats they were running patrols as if something was out of place. They had all learned to be cautious long ago, and something about that paranoia never left old soldiers like her to begin with. No matter how reckless she appeared outwardly vigilance had been ingrained long ago, though it didn't manifest in ways most would find typical. It was about acting first, and that was just what they were doing.

"None of the other patrols have reported any unusual activity, and my scanners aren't picking up anything." Thalia spoke from within the confines of her helmet, the petite figure of the AI materializing in the upper corner of her HUD.
"They didn't on Dathomir either, and besides, you're the one always telling me to be careful."
"That was dealing with a Sith, this is home territory." She didn't seem to have a retort in regards to the second comment.
"So was Echoy'la."
"I'll keep an eye out."

That was a final statement Keira knew meant that she'd won that particular bout of verbal sparring, but there was no doubt another round would begin anew soon. It was all about keeping her mind sharp, Thalia liked to say, but half the time she had a feeling it was just an excuse to annoy her as well, not that she minded the extra company. "One of the other patrols reported an anomaly, but they've yet to encounter it. Keep an eye out." Without a word she reached back to unclasp her EE-3 - Delilah, as the rifle had been dubbed - the magnetic locks that held the weapon in place releasing, the weight of the blaster in her grip reassuring. Here we go.

[member="Jaryn Rhane"]
"Haha, do you remember when you took the white ox's spear and threw it in the river?" The Blade smirked, taunting the Matador with tales of the past. "He shouldn't have lost at Kulkra then. I told him I'd do it if he lost." The Blade smiled, shaking his head and sipping deep of his ale. "Kulkra just isn't Kulkra when it's up against you friend." The Matador rolled his eyes, sighing. "That's why I'm the leader of the Tol Varen today and not any of you." The Blade nodded, offering to toast to him with a clattering of glass. "Indeed, to you Matador. Shepherd of Tol Varen." The Matador chuckled; "Maybe I should've picked the Shepherd instead!" They both began to laugh, the Matador slapped Blade hard on the shoulder and downed his drink. "I shall have...another!" The Blade moved behind the oak bar to retrieve further ale. "Yes you shall, it's been too long." Both had smiles on their face.

It had been too long, simply too long. Being home once more, made the Matador realise just how much he missed it. His thoughts were interrupted as the door was knocked on. "Come in!" The Matador called, standing up on his own two feet and grasping his Flayer Helmet in his hand. The door swung open, one of The Fist group within the Shield Walked in, a scout. "We've detected an upsurge in the pretenders movement. They have scouting parties dangerously close to the village."

The Matador was sprung immediately into action, taking to his feet. "Blade, ready the Shield. Ensure that the keeper is safe. Fist, take me to them."

A few hours had passed and the Matador was on his own turf, Duxn was where he had grown up and someone was tresspassing. He wasn't exactly thrilled that his first return to the Tol Varen was to aid them in defence. However, he was their sworn protector and leader. They were deep in the heights of the Duxn jungle, currently overlooking a small group of these pretenders. They did indeed resemble Mandolorians, such as those of the Praxi Clan he fought on Colla IV. However, they appeared much more advanced. There was a total of eight warriors in their group, all male by the looks of it. The Matador and a total of three Fist Shield Brethern stalked their prey; they seemed on edge. They knew something was watching them.

One of them was holding a scanner of some sort at the head of the group. "Captain, there's unusually high biometric readings in the area. Got some irregular movement and heat signatures nearby." The group continued to move forward, "It's likely just wild creatures that followed us from camp too far into the wild." The Captain took a small grey box from his utility belt, pressing it against his visor. "This is Patrol Captain Lux. We've detected an anomaly, searching now."

The Fist Shield Brethren and the Matador continued to stalk this group for a few minutes before the Matador gave the signal. ​NOW. ​Two warriors of the fist swung downward, holding onto thick loose branches; using them as ropes to swing. The Matador leapt down alongside the third Fist, both using the force to soften their fall. Immediately, the warriors took to their weapons. However, quickly there numbers dwindled as the two swinging Fist's used their momentum to thrust their blades into the open spaces between the warriors armour. One of the two carried their opponent high into the trees, and let their body fall with a violent crack as they landed, snapping their neck on impact. The Captain drew a short sword and swung at the Matador, he used the length of his Great Axe to his advantage, he caught the blade within the open slits in the duel blades of the Axe and with his superior size thrust his weapon sideways and delivered a blunt strike with the long shaft of the weapon, knocking the Captain down to the ground; attempting to remove his weapon from the Axe. Two down, their leader immobilised.

The group of warriors were soon drawn away from their Captains needs as the three Fist's engaged them in close quarters combat, unfortunately for them they were all carrying rifles and were at a severe disadvantage as the Fist's kept them at bay with their broadswords and brutally gutted them with their short blades. However, one of the warriors did turn his attention to the Matador. Whom, outstretched his hand and used the force to wrap a telekinetic hand around the warrior and launched the warrior towards himself. Using the force to increase his speed, the Matador grabbed the Captain, crushing his hand in his metal clad fist to free his weapon. As soon as the warrior came close, swung as hard as he could with his Great Axe in his free and, snapping bones and knocking the warrior back several feet. The Captain took a small dagger from his thigh and plunged it into the Matador's waist, were his body was exposed.

His fellow warriors had been finished off by the Fist Shield Brethren. He yanked the blade back, and swung once more. The Matador dropped his Great Axe, and caught the Captains hand in his own, he then released his other crushed hand; placing his palm on the back of the Captain's head and thrust the dagger he held with such force towards his face that it shattered his visor.

[member="Keira Ticon"]
As if the sound of blasterfire wasn't enough, Thalia gave her own warning. "The coordinates of the conflict are as follows. Casualty reports are unknown. Proceed with caution." The origin of the fight was painted in red on the map in the corner of her HUD opposite the AI, its location not far from her own. Speaking through in-helmet comms, she gave a single order to the others in her squad. "On me." And with that their patrol gained more purpose, every one of them now on edge for what was to come. The familiar thrum of adrenaline began to hum through her veins, preparing her for the fight ahead. Trespassers were rare in Mandalorian space, but they were not unheard of, and they were dealt with swiftly.

"Thalia, thermal scanners." Her world was then painted in colors ranging from cool blues and greens to red and orange, hues that signaled life. It was through the trees that a gathering of strangers became apparent, and with nothing more than a hand signal she indicated for those following her to have their weapons at the ready. Slowly her vision shifted back to normal, her steps and those of the others slowing in a bid to continue onward unheard. She had been unable to get an accurate reading on just what numbers they were facing, but she wouldn't dare approach if she wasn't confident in her ability to handle the situation. "Thalia, put out a notice. I want all squads on alert and converging on this position." It was better to be safe rather than sorry.

Holding up a closed fist she indicated for those with her to freeze, and with an open palm she raised her arm to a forty-five degree angle before lowering it, and like clockwork every one of them found a cover position from which to fire, herself included. "One squad confirmed down. I assume your new friends are responsible." Keira didn't respond, but the simple knowledge that these outsiders were responsible for the deaths of any number of the vode meant they had properly earned death in her eyes. Nonviolence and a peaceful resolution were no longer in the cards here today. The only fitting retribution for what had been done was to return the favor tenfold, and remind the trespassers what it meant to cross Mandalorians.

"Fire on my mark. Shoot to kill." Raising her rifle she sighted through the scope, picking out a target among the aruetiise indiscriminately. The crosshairs settled on center mass, a shot that would put someone down for quite some time regardless if it proved deadly. Taking in a breath she released it slowly, counting down from three. The second she hit zero she squeezed the trigger, firing the first shot to put an end to this.

[member="The Matador"]
The Matador calmed himself after his fight, trying to balance his rage as to remain focused. Adrenaline was high, however his battle precognition was still in effect. He felt, as though a presence was gathering around them. "Be ready Shield Brothers, there is most violence to come!" The Matador spoke loudly, he felt as those eyes were watching from all sides.

A sudden bolt shot out from the Duxn jungle, striking the Matador directly in the centre of his chest; knocking him down to his hands deep in the muddy ground. He was gasping for breath, one of the Fist brothers immediately took a horn from within his cloak and blew the horn. They scattered, using the force to throw themselves into the jungle towards the shot. The Matador roared in equal pain and fury as he pushed himself to his feet, the Beskar plate neglected any real damage, however the blunt force of the shot sent his nerves reeling.

He leapt into the air and into the jungle above their attackers. The Tol Varen were bonded with the Duxn jungle, using its vines to cover them temporarily as the three Fist's dropped down above their supposed attackers, more warriors.
The Matador outstretched his hand, unleashing a torrent of kinetic energy in the direction of his enemies throwing two up from their, two of their other warriors smashed into their respective cover. There was a total of nine warriors in this group, however one of them was notably smaller individual wearing a light weight cloaked armour, unlike her counterparts. He quickly surmised that she was likely their leader, and the one that shot them.

The Fist were engaged once more with their enemies, the Fist brutalising these pretender warriors in close quarters. "PRETENDER!" The Matador roared at the woman, snapping the neck of one warriors with a swing of his Great Axe. The Matador stared her down, and charged forward. "Face me!" The Matador taunted, readying his weapon. The Matador heard the horn, the Fist were coming in numbers as he was sure these pretenders were as well. He would end their leader, now as a show of strength.

[member="Keira Ticon"]
"What the ruddy kark, Keira." The groggy, feminine voice belted across the comms. "I leave you on watch for two hours and the only armed force in the entire sector shows up to pass on my doorstep. Can you, I don't know, bring something helpful with you to the colony?"

Asha muttered discontentedly to herself as she pulled her buy'ce overhead and looked out to scan the horizon. What the hell was attacking them?

Time flowed differently between planets. Echoy'lan days were Dxun nights, and Asha had adapted to the nocturnal lifestyle without much enthusiasm. The collapse of the Crusaders had driven a wedge between the woman and many of the people she considered family, forcing them across countless worlds.

When [member="Keira Ticon"] came calling on Dxun, she had lit up. Unfortunately, they had rarely seen each other- Ticon was busy, and so was she- but they were focused on totally different tasks. Running the colony took every bit of brain power she had, but she had never been much of a leader.

Keira on the other hand was a fighter, and she was doing what she was good at.

"Tell me what's going on," the woman called out as she shouldered her sniper rifle. "And give me an idea of what we're dealing with." Her HUD blossomed to life with a technical readout of the jungle as it scanned for heat signatures.

Even as Asha lectured her on the finer points of just what she was supposed to be doing out in the jungle, Keira couldn't help but flash a smile. It meant she had covering fire, and that was sometimes all a warrior could ask for on the battlefield. "Some group of shabla aruetiise apparently think we're dar'manda. And here I thought the Clans died off a long time ago." The both of them had been around for the blunder in leadership that had nearly turned brother against brother, and ever since that day those that had once called themselves Crusaders had only become an even more closely knit group. The other woman's complaints was just her way of showing that she cared.

Instead of moving from cover as he charged towards her she calmly sighted down the scope, letting off a three-round burst before sidestepping past him, slinging the rifle across her back and taking up her tomahawk. Immediately she noted he had reach on her with the size of his weapon, but that meant little once one got in close. He may have had strength and size on her, but she knew how to play the battlefield to her advantage. Calling across the comms, she spoke to Asha, "Don't worry about this one. Pick off the rest of the shabuire. I can handle him." And if she couldn't, well, improvisation had always been her strong suit, no matter the lecture her old friend would give her later.

"Come on, burc'ya." She raised her voice to be heard, speaking to her would-be opponent, "Face me."

[member="Alkor Centaris"], [member="The Matador"]
The Matador anticipated another voly of shots as his opponent raised their rifle, he spun the blunt of the duel blades of his weapon to ready himself. Instead of parrying the blasts with his weapon, he took on the full attack as a show of power directly to his centre of mass. This time he was ready, The Matador did not relent, he did not allow the stinging pain to make him flinch. As his opponent side stepped, he ground himself to a halt, maunevering himself as he raised his most foreward foot until the heel grinded into the earth to offer some minimal resistant, he turned on his other leg, bending at the knee and using the power of his leg to thrust him forward towards his now eager target. He swung with the long shaft of his weapon, intending to knock her back with blunt force and off her feet.

"Gar Kelir ash'amur olar pretender!"

[member="Keira Ticon"] [member="Alkor Centaris"]
"Tion'ibic shabuir kebbur jorhaa'ir Mando'a?" As her comm unit picked up scrambled traces of the dialogue far below her position on the ramparts, Asha wrinkled her nose in blatant disgust. "Kaysh jurkadir sha ner'kovid."

The woman raised her weapon and hurried about target selection. For a Mando, it was second nature. Swords and plowshares alike were the chosen tools of her culture, and she'd had a gun in her hand since she was first able to walk. They hunted as a family, and when the time came for her to leave home, she had learned to hunt alone.

She watched several of the notably skilled warriors dance across her crosshairs, but she waited patiently. They would inevitably slow as they waited for better opportunities. That was when she would execute the first target.

"Tettar kaysh o'r'te sa'ilr." her emphatic and less than kind suggestion was born out of her lack of sleep, but she would have stood by it under any other circumstance. After all, who was this guy, and why was he attacking them? Was he screeching like an autistic monkey in disjointed Mando'a as an insult? Did he have a deathwish?

"Ret'mhi liser gotal'ur meshurok'e teh kaysh'orikih verd, 'lek?"

Her finger coaxed the trigger backward as one of them slowed, and she took a clean shot center mass. No wasting time on unclean headshots. She shot straight for the heart, or close enough to it that shock could wreak havoc through the warrior's central nervous system. Keira had given explicit instructions to pick off the excess. Asha was more than happy to leave the big one to her.

The gun was quieter than most sniper rifles, albeit still loud enough to be heard. They'd have a warning after the first shot was fired. Hopefully, of course, the first target wold fall victim to the surprise attack.

[member="Keira Ticon"], [member="The Matador"]
"Kaysh di'kut." Keira waited until Asha offered covering fire, and it was in that same moment her opponent decided to move. The first thing she noticed was that he was attacking with the non-lethal side of his weapon, which seemed both inefficient and nonsensical. The second was that he was, in her opinion, relying far too heavily on his reach and not considering the other implications of the fight. Both gave her an advantage, and so she wasn't complaining, merely being observant. "They have sensitives among their number, so watch for Force tricks. I haven't seen anything noteworthy so far." They had merely been supplementing their own ability, something any good rifle and marksman could bypass easily.

When he swung she ducked low, kicking out in an attempt to take his legs out from under him and land him flat on his back. Should she succeed she would immediately follow up with a cut from her tomahawk meant for his throat, no doubt a finishing move. Her patience with trespassers had been in the negatives since the Crusaders, and that this one had the audacity to declare himself Mandalorian only made things worse for him. Hopefully this would be over soon, then they could forget about the aruetiise who was the epitome of ori'buyce, kih'kovid.

[member="Alkor Centaris"], [member="The Matador"]
The Matador's opponent ducked with impressive speed beneath his attack, delivering a powerful kick towards his leg; however the significantly smaller warrior had little chance to topple or even stagger the massive armour clad mountian of muscle that stood before her without the full weight of her body behind it.

The Fist Shield Brethren used their battle precognition to stay one step ahead of their opponents, quickly more opponents joined the frey. An nearby assisting patrol of Mandolorian scouts arrived to aid his enemy, pushing in from behind them. The Fist brethren were outnumbered massively, fighting two to three Mandoliran soldiers by themselves, however one was knocked off his feet by a powerful sniper blast; colliding with the Beskar plates underneath their heavy leather curiass'. The soldiers were able to pin him down, and fire a bolt directly through his throat. Killing him, instantly. However, the other two remaining Fist warriors faired rather well, managing to kill their opponents in close quarters combat.

The Matador gave no response this time, instead used the momentum of his attackers attempt to immobilise him. The Matador with a flick of his wrist spun the bladed end of his weapon with frightening speed downward, directed for the waist of his attacker as he swept under her leg with his own much larger armoured leg in an attempt to set his opponent off balance and to ensure the success of his strike.

[member="Keira Ticon"] | [member="Alkor Centaris"]
Over the years, Keira had learned to take hits gracefully. Now, that didn't necessarily mean she enjoyed doing it by any means, but she knew how to turn just about anything into an advantage of a sort, and in a warrior that was an invaluable talent. When he swept under her leg she didn't offer any resistance, allowing herself to fall and roll, avoiding the cut downwards narrowly as the axe presumably tore into the jungle floor instead. Instead of jumping to her feet right away she drew her pistol, firing three shots, two for the chest and one for the head. He may have been able to absorb blaster bolts with seemingly little effect, but the rounds she shot and the workings of the firearm itself held more stopping power than they had the right to.

Holstering the pistol she once more took up her tomahawk, finding her feet once more. She hadn't resorted to using the Force yet - she tried to avoid doing that as much as she could, these days - but he was pushing it, the idea of breaking all his bones a vague but persistent temptation. This was still the beginning, however, and he hadn't pushed her nearly that far.

[member="The Matador"]
His opponent rolled away, dropping their tomahawk in exchange for a small pistol; The Matador's axe had sunk a few inches deep into the Duxn grass, however it was easily removed with an effortless yank, however he could not rely on his weaponry or reflexes alone to provide a sufficient defence against what appeared to be a slug thrower. With the momentum of his weapons removal he leapt backwards in reaction to his opponents volley of projectiles; extending one hand he used force deflection to reflect the incoming projectiles back to their source. However, upon feeling kinetic force the projectiles exploded between the two, shrapnel and explosions ricocheted between them. However, the Matador grunted heavily; steadfast, he ran forward as the shrapnel scraped his Flayer armour and some cut into his less armoured tarentatek body glove, the thick material however prevented any serious damage to his organs, however the pain was a scorching hot and turned his waist nearly numb with his abdominal muscles tightening in response to the pain. He gritted his teeth in agony, in his mind; this was nothing. He had suffered like this many times over at the hand of the Butcher. This was not stop the Matador, nor could he allow it. However, he did realise this was already a losing battle. His forces were becoming surrounded.

He sprinted forward, swinging with his Greataxe in a controlled diagonal arch in an attempt to hit his opponents weapon.

[member="Keira Ticon"]

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