Adumari Incursion (Mandalorian Crusaders Dominion of Adumar Hex)

[Alkor Centaris]

Adumar​

In the wake of several major galactic events, the Crusaders have found a new leader in Keira Ticon, who has called on them to bolster the ranks and strengthen their holdings. Since the fall of the One Sith and Galactic Republic, the threat of stagnation has plagued the Mando’ade, and morale has all but dwindled. Warmaster Ticon has heard the plea of her people for war and taken action.​

Not far from the newly acquired worlds of Borosk and Ord Canfre, a call for aid has come from the secluded world of Adumar. With the fall of the Sith from power, their governmental systems have destabilized and rebellion broke out across each independent nation.
​

In the midst of the insanity, Cartann used its massive size and numbers to make a grab for absolute power over the other nations. As they did shortly after the Rebellion ended, the other nations of Adumar came together to form the Adumari Coalition.​

Cue the Dynamic Entry.​

Cartann. If you thought the frontlines were the most straightforward objective, you'd be wrong. If you choose this objective, you're working behind enemy lines. Do what you can to weaken them and help to ensure an allied victory. This is a more stealthy mission, based in intrigue and storytelling. Pick this objective if you want to play investigator or write a thrill ride.

Yegadon. Diplomacy. You want the leadership of Yegadon to throw in with the Crusaders. If they can be convinced, and victory can be achieved, they will inevitably bring the entire planet into the fold on the coattails of your great deeds alone. If you like building rapport or have designs on building strong relations with the leadership of the Crusaders, this is the objective for you.

Halbergardia. Cartann has invaded. Soldiers of Fortune needed to force them back and restore the fragile peace that existed before all hell broke loose. Combat heavy.

or

Bring your Own Objective.

 

[Garza]

Post 1/20
Objective 3
Members: [member="Alkor Centaris"],

All out warfare.

In this scenario, it was literally five to one. This was not in our favor. THe flying of ships overhead told me that pilots could be hit from the ground, as well as the air. The siege engines of war raced to us with armies of men standing between a wall. Standing among hundreds of thousands of men, I made damn well sure that Thalia would not be here. She was dealing with coordinating attacks behind allied lines. She didn't need to see what would happen. She shouldn't have to go through what I had before. I was a towering behemoth of a man. Doning my Iron Lord Armor. I could only be explained as the Voidwolf. A towering Wolf of Iron and metal.

With the armor, I stood almost seven feet tall. I was prepared for war.

Holding my sword to my side, I could feel the cold death of hundreds approaching. The battle continued in front of me. The lives of men dying as they charged into one another. A wall of two opposing forces meeting in the middle. I was stoic. I had no emotions upon my face.

Drawing upon the battle. I could feel the pain, the fear, and the terror as weapons rise and fall upon their targets. The blasters flying through the air to smack into the armor and flesh of those not wanting this.

Marching across the distance, I made my way into the battle. Preparing to die, and preparing to kill.

 

[Miss Blonde]

Location: Yegadon
Objective 2: Diplomacy, sort of.
Allies: Crusaders

Miss Blonde wasn't allowed to work with the crusaders, at least not directly. A law put down by a man who showed up out of the blue one day, proclaimed himself king, fought a single battle, then vanished as quick as he came. A law put forward by a man who didn't stick around wasn't a law to follow. Plus she was a criminal after all, and that's what criminals did, they broke the rules.

So having arrived at the government building a woman in a black suit and tie wearing a gas mask strolled inside and entered the reception area. Flanking her were two large men in their own black suits, walking in stride behind her until they reached the front desk.

The small woman then looked down at the receptionist and tilted her head to the side a bit. The receptionist then looked up from her desk to see the new arrival. Gazing upon yellow tinted LED lenses the woman paused slightly as her hand began to reach for a nearby phone. The woman in the gas mask then extended her arm and wrapped it around the receptionists wrists.

"Now why would you want to go and do a thing like that?" she asked with her masks vocalizers projecting a more robotic tone to her voice.

"I'd like to discuss with whoever calls the shots here." she said whilst slowly letting go of the woman's wrist.

"Um yes. Righ-Right away." The receptionist nodded briefly.

"Just through those doors. The council is in session over our current strafe. You-You're not armed... are you?" She asked very cautiously.

"Honey, with charm like mine I don't need a weapon to kill." She said with a friendly nod before proceeding towards council hearings.

 

[Zef Halo]

Objective 3
Halbergardia
Post 1

Cargo hauling, even in the Outer Rim, could get pretty boring. A Mandalorian needed an adrenaline rush from time to time. Hence, the freighter's hull catching flame as it entered the atmosphere of Adumar with blazing speed. It was not any special freighter, although it had been lightly modified by capable Rekali hands.

"Statement: Shields are almost completely down." Came the rusty voice of the ancient HK-24 beside him.

"I've already figured that out." Iago's reply through grinded teeth was barely audible at the sound of explosions and destruction that roared around them. Even within the ship, the noise was too much. No surprises here. The Adumari were known for their pilots, it would be a surprise if there was less combat in the air. Another frightening alarm added to the cacophony in the cockpit. Breach in the hull.

The adrenaline rush that surged through his veins helped him focus on the task of landing this half-destroyed freighter safely. His eyes scanned everywhere on the viewport and on the displays of the panels in the cockpit.

"90% power to the shields, the rest for the engine. Cut out everything else, life support as well." The young Rekali shouted through his helmet's annunciator and the droid complied.

"Statement: This is very entertaining. Are you afraid of termination ?" The droid's attempt of ill humor did not find a response back. Iago's whole concentration was focused on one thing - survival..

It was going to be a rough one.


[member="Atheus"]

 

[Ibby]

Location: Off to the side drinking coffee
​Objective: Halbergardia, Be discovered by Atheus (senpai~)
Allies: [member="Iago Rekali"] [member="Atheus"]
Post: 1/20


Far off in the distance, far enough that hardly anyone would detect his presence, sat a boy.

Legs crossed, arms resting on his knees, and back slouched, he looked like any other typical humanoid teenager. It wasn't until one moved closer that they realised this boy reeked of loss, and that a simple red blindfold covered where his eyes should've been. Of course, the blindfold might've explained why his spot wasn't the best place to watch the battle; after all, he wasn't exactly using his eyes to watch it, now was he?

Truthfully, even with his unique ability - special even among his species - Voryl couldn't quite tell what was going on. Despite relying heavily on the Force to get a grip on his surroundings, even he had a limit to his range. Thus, the beings fighting back and forth were but specks of colors, with pilots in lifeless ships roaring overhead and the sound of blasterfire filling the air. Even from here, he could smell the acrid stench of smoke and burning flesh. All in all, it was a chaotic mess of sounds, smells, and hazy pinpricks of hazy light twinkling and vanishing in the Force.

It was also a welcome distraction to the battle going on within Voryl's own mind.

Two days. It had been two days since he'd arrived on Adumar, and five since he'd last seen his parents. He'd done as his father had asked, sending an encrypted message letting him know he'd made it to the planet. But he'd yet to hear anything back. And that, that had him worried more than any fifteen year old should be. Worried, and angry.

Unbidden, his hand tightened around his mother's lightsabre. He missed her so much; a few days wasn't enough to lessen the raw pain. The boy bared his teeth. Damn those stupid Sith, or whoever! They were the reason he'd never see his parents again - his father had told Voryl before he left that if the boy hadn't heard anything within 24 hours of sending his message, to assume he was dead. From there he was supposed to leave after a day and continue on to Iridonia, to live with family friends, but Sithspit, he didn't want to go there! He wanted revenge on the sons-of-banthas who'd destroyed his family!

Again Voryl's grip tightened on the saber. Again he wondered why his mother hadn't taught him how to use this weapon in his hands. If only he'd known! Then maybe he could have done something, could have stood up to those basterds instead of fleeing like-- like-- like a child​!​

As quickly as his anger came, though, it fled. The lightsabre dropped into his lap, and the boy buried his face in his hands. There was no use in being angry at his parents. ​Just breathe, he thought. Focus on the fighting.​ He liked large crowds and fights, though he had to be there in person to see. His ability to see beings as different-colored shapes was unusual even for a Miraluka, if his parents' initial reaction was anything to go by. Nor could he explain how he knew what colors were what; he just ​did​.

Once again, the thought of his family made his chest clench, so he again turned his attention to the battle, staying in his same position.

 

[H3xle]

Halbergardia
Post 1
[member="Iago Rekali"] | [member="Atheus"] | [member="Voryl Halcyon"]

More and more, Rhyn felt the call of the Crusade. The call to battle had long been singing through his mind, in his blood. In his youth, small fights and boxing matches satiated the call for battle. Then it was shockboxing and hunting bounties across the stars. Each battle he fought, each fight he won or lost, caused the desire to grow.

And now he was in his largest battle yet.

Within his armor, his nostrils flared. He could almost smell the sweat and blood of the enemy as he held a line with other soldiers, warriors, and lesser fighters pushing back against the forces of Cartann. The song of battle was building in his blood, pushing him to get closer to the enemy, get among them and bring the battle to the most intimate range. Rhyn pushed that urge down with practiced discipline as he fired his battle rifle in controlled bursts from behind an improvised cover that consisted of a mound of dirt that was piled by the wreckage of some sort of aircraft. The aircraft had stopped smoking hours before, and now was nearly perfect cover.

 

[Garza]

Post 2/20
Objective 3, All out War on the ground.
Members: [member="Iago Rekali"], [member="Rhyn Makenzie"], [member="Voryl Halcyon"],
Gear: Iron Wolf Lord Armor, Sith Sword Kyro, Simple Lightsaber, Lightsaber Shoto,
Music/Theme: Fight like Hell - Jt

The blaster bolts flew through the air. Racing towards their targets as the opposing forces began to attack. Sending men forth out of the distance between the two lines of forces. Some men charged, uttering cries of war. Some stayed back. Firing round after round aimlessly into the mass of men. Hoping to take down a few for the pure purpose of causing a death. Ships flew their bombing runs and sent a hail of laser fire down upon the masses. Taking out a dozen or so troops with one sweep of the cannons. High arcing weapons flew into the air with grenades, hand thrown bombs, and launcher weapons.

As the men from Cartann came close enough for me to see the emblems emblazoned upon their trooper armor, I slid my sword tip into the ground. Letting the blade stick up from the dirt. Gathering all of the energy I could muster within the span of three seconds, A ball of pure destructive energy formed in my hands. I smiled as I released it. The ball zoomed towards the crowd. The force pushing this destructive ball faster and faster through the horde of enemies. Before detonating and exploding.

I drew my sword as troopers rushed towards one another. Coming to clash their vibroswords, blasters and other weapons in hand to hand combat. Walking forward, I drew my sword from the dirt. Cleaned the tip of my blade with my hand, just before I plunged it into a man's suit. Sticking him through while using my off hand to slam into another's head. His helmet flew off his head as he was dazed. Just before I pulled my sword from the comrades chest, I slung it over to him. The last thing he would see was me, and a sword slicing through the air to his head.

Drawing upon the emotions of so many, I could feel the pain and fear of all the men around me. I could feel myself becoming that much stronger. Their fear of war became my strength. It became my ally. I used it to fuel my strength and my speed. Sending my blade in and out of many men. Slaughtering all who came my way, and stood in my path. As two began to fire upon me with blaster fire, I had another three charge me with vibroswords.

Lifting my left arm, A blaster round slammed into my forearm. Using the same arm, I slammed it into the closest man. Sending him sprawling backwards. Swinging my sword with massive strength, Both hands clutching the grip as I yanked it through the torso of the second man, His top half sending blood all over the field as the third's vibroblade smacked my shoulder. Turning to him, I could see his face. Filled with dread as he hardly made a dent in my armor. Picking the man up with my left hand, His feet were off the ground. Trying to fight my iron grasp with his gloved hands around his neck.

Pulling upon his emotions, His raw, and untainted emotions. How sweet they tasted as I blasted his head off with a force push from my left hand. The two blasters still firing in my direction as I gripped one with the force. His body collapsing on itself like an aluminum can. Cracking and breaking until he no longer screamed. The other to fearful to move as I threw my sword. Piercing it through his chest and sending him into the dirt. Walking over to the man, I queen slapped another man who had decided to charge at him. Hitting him so hard to be flung a few feet before falling into the dirt. I placed my foot on his chest, and pierced the sword deeper into his chest. His screams in terror came to my ears. I looked through the eye slits of my helmet. I leaned in close as I then drew the sword from his chest.

No words. No emotions as I slammed my boot into his chest where the sword should had been. Crushing down on his sternum. Cracking every bone in his chest cavity. Raising my foot, I walked off to my next fight between more soldiers.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------​

​

Cartann High Forces:

Standing among the back forces, A holotermal was placed in a nice patch of grass. An open tent over hanged it as the man standing with many awards upon his chest was right outside. Drinking his cafe, and a ciggara in his off hand. A Calvary sword attached to his left hip. Exquisitely made for his skills upon the battlefield. A previous pilot in the forces that are now fighting to gain Air superiority. The man smiled brightly as he walked into the tent. Showing forces converging on one another from aerial scans.

"Keep the forces concentrated on gaining air support. Send Xesh patrol to aid in ground combat with their air to ground missiles, and fire on the masses. Keep our casualties low."
"Yes Sir!"

His sip of a drink was completed with a puff from his cigara. Nothing better then wasting peasants on the field of battle.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Post 1
Cartann
Allies: Mandalorian Crusaders
Objective: Infiltrate and gather intelligence.

In terms of manpower, Alkor's team was decidedly the smallest. A contingent of ori'ramikade made up the bulk of his labor force, dispersed throughout Cartann city so as not to draw attention. It was difficult for Mando'ade to not stand out, especially kitted in full Beskar'gam and surrounded by laymen who at most threatening openly carried Blastswords. Updates fired across the comms every few minutes, but they had explicit orders to remain radio silent beyond that.

[member="Keira Ticon"] had taken [member="Miss Blonde"] and Asha to Yegadon to discuss provisional alliances with their leadership, and a large group of combatants had been sent in response to a distress signal from Halbergardia. Open conflict was immanent on that front, and the incursion force was reportedly daunting to behold. Alkor stood close to the edge of an open plaza, listening to the sounds of a mob slowly growing. "We do not need war with our sister countries!" one voice protested.

"We have only just become free of the Sith," another shouted loudly. "This smacks of tyranny! We demand the Perator lay down his office immediately if this is how he chooses to serve his people!" Several armored guards moved to keep the crowd at bay, and Alkor tasted the anxiety as it thickened around them. The sticky sweat inflicted by uncertainty and terror slicked their necks. They stank of heated leathers.

"Silence!" one guard demanded. The populace disregarded him, and the threatening report of a blast sword firing off filled the square. "Any who dare come too close to the Perator's estate will be punished. We cannot afford dissent in this course of action- our hearts must be as one, the same as Adumar."

"Then why were none of us consulted?" a woman asked, though Alkor could not tell from where. He watched the bustling crowd shift and churn against the sudden influx of light infantrymen, spurred into the area no doubt to alleviate some of the fear that plagued their brethren. "Why does Cartann march to war without any notice? There are laws to abide, niceties to be observed. This flies in the face of-"

"My good lady," a more mannered voice interrupted her flood of questions, and Alkor glanced over to see a bearded, regally dressed man with a Blastsword hanging at his hip. From the design of his clothes and the posture with which he carried himself, the Corellian exile surmised he held rank or status. "The situation in Halbergardia is far worse than in Cartann after our former oppressors were removed from power. Yegadon, too, reels in the wake of Sith rule. This transition is one of solidarity, and one they resist largely out of fear. Adumar requires leadership, it must be ruled. Chaos cannot be allowed to reign, or we will fall easy prey to the ever present Sith threat. I promise you-"

"The words of a politician!" a seasoned man spat loudly, and he reinforced the statement with a strand of phlegm that landed several inches from the dignitary's boot. "Nothing you say can be taken at face value. We learned too well under Sith rule, men will say and do anything to gain power, and they will do far worse to keep it. The Force can take your promises- the Adumari people want nothing of them."

The well-dressed gentleman frowned. "I urge you, my beloved people, to reconsider my words. As one people with one voice, we are a force to be reckoned with. In our broken, splintered factions-"

"We are Adumar!" A young, masculine voice rang out. One fist hit the air, and another followed. "We are Adumar! We are Adumar! We are-"

Alkor turned his gaze from the scene and pulled the comm unit to his lips. "Civil unrest in the city center," he reported. "Use this opportunity to gather information from the thinned out areas of the city. There is something strange afoot in Cartann. Her people are in disarray, and the leadership seeks to assume total planetary control. As before, report only when relevant information arises. Keep the comm chatter to a minimum."

"Confirmed," a mechanical voice replied. "I have eyes on the Perator from above. It doesn't appear to me that anything strange is happening here. We ought to send someone to investigate the residence," he suggested.

"After all other avenues are exhausted," Alkor agreed, "the Peratorial home will become our top priority. As of yet, I am not fully convinced of his sole fault in this. There are pieces of this puzzle that do not fit."

"Understood." Alkor pocketed his comm after assuring it was off. His fingers traced a broken rock, and the Dark Jedi found himself hoping the others would not get themselves into too much trouble. This entire situation screamed "this is a problem.

"Be advised, Alk'ika," one of the marksmen spoke up, "It sounds like we're dealing with someone pretty important. You should approach-"

"Sorry, less about me and more about what will happen if we are discovered," he replied simply. Alkor stepped out into the crowd with a glance over his shoulder. The sniper exhaled loudly. "Any updates from the Halbergardian front?"

"It seems like they have engaged," the scout called across the comms. "No word yet from Ticon. Must be a quiet day."

Alkor frowned.

 

[Griffith Falconis]

Location: Space
Objective: Bring Your Own Bombs Goals (Tentative: Objective 1, Cartann)
Post: 1/20

On the outer edge of the system, an old Lambda shuttle drops out of hyperspace. Any scans picking it up show a registry code over seven hundred years old.

The pilot is one Jen'jidai Griffith Firefoot. He wears the robes he did so very long ago. The ship's galactic clock had leaped to the year 849 ABY. Before that rift had appeared, it had read 98 ABY. A leap of over seven hundred and fifty years. It was hard to believe, but the Dark Jedi had run diagnostics on his systems three times, and when that had turned up nothing he'd manually gotten into the console wiring to make sure nothing had frayed or snapped. But no. Things seemed to be in order. That was suspicious in itself. The ship had been hurled through the rift, leaving Artemis behind. She was gone. That hurt too. Grieving could wait. Right now he needed information.

It would be too much to ask that the communications array on this ship was in line with anything modern, but trying cost him nothing. He switched channels, listening for voices and occasionally transmitting a "Can anybody hear me?" Nothing. Perfect.

There seemed to be some commotion here. He'd picked Adumar because it had been close to what was previously Csilla. Nowadays, it looked like some kind of hellscape. More than the frozen world had already been, anyway. But Adumar... He recalled that it had been the site of a civil war after one part of the planet had aligned with the Empire and the other had sided with the New Republic. Cartann had been the one to side with the Empire. Yedagon was the capital, and Halbergardia was an allied city, if he recalled. His scanners showed activity at the latter. Fighting. Another civil war brewing, then. But even if they were going full-scale, this seemed too busy for a mere internal civil war.

No telling who was allied with who. With his comms incompatible, he could not simply request information and see who was fool enough to divulge without asking questions in turn. He would have to head planet-side. Halbergardia seemed on the unwise side. Too little information to appeal to any side. The fighting was also closer to Yedagon City than to Cartann. It would be calmest at the last, possibly where he could land with the least attention drawn. Yes. It would do.

He steered clear of the fighting in the airspace as he made his approach. If anyone hailed him, he would not know it. An old, unknown shuttle that was not responding in the middle of a battlespace was going to be treated as something to be shot at if it got in the way, if he was lucky. If he were unlucky he'd be mistaken for a proverbial fire ship, carrying a paylod to kamikaze on an unfortunate target.

As he flew over Cartann, he looked for what would pass for public landing zones. Such zones were usually easier to find if paying a fee was acceptable, but Griffith couldn't even be sure Republic credits were still standard currency, and the degree to which they were accepted this far from the Republic had been questionable to begin with back in his own time.

Finally, he found a multi-tier tower with public landing zones. He took one of the larger spots on the roof, as most of the spaces lower down were for personal transports much smaller than his shuttle. Normally, he would hardly have cared about where he parked, for the shuttle held no significant attachment to him and he could have stolen a personal transport if he had to. However, there was no guarantee any of these vehicles were hyperdrive capable and he did not know that he could pilot them to begin with. Best not to risk it.

After working his way down to street level, he paused for a moment to take stock of the pedestrians nearby. His clothing was not out of place in any remarkable way. Good. Now. Where to find a holonet terminal where he could access at least the local news? He would have to see about getting a new holopad. The time rift had rendered his useless, despite leaving his ship intact. While he could steal one, it was better to do some reconnaissance first.

He slips into a cantina. As he does so, he reaches out with the Force. He does not focus it on anything in particular. Instead, he lets it give him a sense of his surroundings. He becomes aware of even the smallest movement of the bar patrons in his vicinity as he moves. He subtly pushes the thoughts on anyone looking at him away, making their eyes slide right past him. He observes the barkeep and the conversations she maintains. He listens to the hubbub of the customers. In this way, he gathers information and rumors.

The Sith used to preside over this system. They were gone now. The Mandalorians, apparently, were now making a bid for the planet, if not the whole system. And they had been responsible for wiping out the One Sith. Who had finally destroyed the Republic.

Busy times. So Republic credits were worth dirt, then. Thankfully, it sounded at least somewhat recent. He might be able to get his money changed. Good.

He approached the barkeep and waited until she seemed to have a brief moment where no other particular patron was keeping her attention. "Pardon me, miss. Would you be able to point me in the direction of the nearest banking guild?"

She scowled, almost certainly about to say something he would deem useless.

I look a little out of sorts. Like I'm in the wrong part of the city. Not an unreasonable question, he pushed with the Force, keeping the manipulation subtle.

The woman continued to scowl for a second before she shook her head and said "Yes. When you leave the bar, you head right for two blocks. A left turn, then three more blocks should see you at one."

"Thank you," Griffith replied. Forget me.

The woman promptly returned to serving other customers without a reply, and Griffith left the building.

It might be best to ally himself with the Mandalorians, he mused as he made his way. They could provide information he so badly needed.

 

[Keira Priest]

Location: Yegadon
Objective: 2
Allies: [member="Miss Blonde"], [member="Isley Verd"], [member="Kurayami Bloodborn"]
(1/20)

Diplomacy was a funny thing, after what had happened on Voss. One would think the Crusaders would have tired of that approach given what had come of those talks, but diplomacy was the goal again when it came to the Adumari. As much as Keira would have much rather been on the battlefield or at least some semblance of the front lines this time around, she knew that her job was to represent her people. And right now that representation would best be gained with those at the head of the planet itself. If she had learned one thing through the years, it was that wars could be won just as easily with words as they could with bullets, if one knew what to say along with how when to say it.

Once again her armor had been donned more as a formality and demonstration of culture than anything, her two lightsabers and tomahawk completing the ensemble. Light armament in comparison to what was typical, and one meant to display that she viewed the Adumari as equals and fellow warriors in all respects. They retained a combat-centric culture much like the Mandalorians, and by that logic things would go fairly smoothly once the details had been ironed out. At the very least this wouldn't end with them walking out of the talks with nothing solved, and at this point that was what she was content to begin with. The Crusaders needed to establish themselves as a power once again, and this was their opportunity.

Her elder brother was set to come along - no surprise, after the report he'd likely received from the last time - as was another Crusader, a new addition to their ranks and a name she had only heard in passing. Regardless, a group arguably better than the one she had brought along on Voss, or at least one less volatile. Upon arrival she instantly detected another presence she recognized, and one that shouldn't have been there. What Blonde was doing on Adumar she could only guess, but there would be no point in so much as attempting to dissuade the other woman from her intentions. Once her mind was set, it was impossible to get Patricia to change it. This was simply something they would all have to deal with.

With her helmet off she bid entrance into the meeting chambers, having sent word ahead to [member="Alkor Centaris"] that they had arrived and the proceedings would begin soon.

 

[Kurayami Bloodborn]

Location: Yegadon
Objective: 2
Allies: [member="Keira Ticon"], [member="Miss Blonde"], [member="Isley Verd"]
Post: 1/20

Kurayami had received a message from Alkor about some incursion into Adumar. Given his status as an ace pilot, Alkor had suggested that he take a more diplomatic route in the incursion. Since he was traveling alone and in case the diplomatic route went south, Kurayami brought his Amara-class interceptor along with him. If need be it would help him get out of a rough situation. He sent a ping to the Mandalorian Crusader ships to let them know he was here to help them out. It was a transponder code Alkor had sent him with the permission of the leader. Who exactly the leader was he didn't know, nor did he rightly care. All he knew was good relations with this faction and Adumar could certainly be helpful to Nubia Star Drives in the long run.

He brought his small fighter to a slower speed as he approached the atmosphere, after being sent clearance from the Crusader ships in orbit and coordinates of where this meeting was to take place. Now it was just a matter of setting down and seeing where everything went. It took a bit of time to find a place that was near enough the coordinates to set down and not have to walk for hours to Yegadon. He shook his head sighing as he did so, the name of the place sounded like they drunkenly threw darts at letters and just rearranged them.

Kurayami was dressed simply, helmet borrowed from his expeditionary armor, helmet today just his old and work Aquila squadron flight jacket, with the '13' on the back still easily visible in a faded yellow, black utility slacks with prominently displayed first class Corellian bloodstripes, combat boots, and a utility belt with his lightsaber hanging from the left side and a T-6 Thunderer holstered on his right.

As he made his way over to the group that was gathering for the talks it was clear that he was the one who looked out of place amongst the others. There they stood in full armor, meanwhile he looked like a down on his luck smuggler. That may hinder the discussions rather than help. Time would tell on that front though. Upon catching up with the others he nodded to each in turn, it was short and curt, but was meant more in deference as he had never been the best negotiator.

"So all I know here are the most basic of details. Mostly that this is diplomatic in nature and we are trying to not murder everyone here. A few more details as to why we are here and what we are looking to accomplish would help. Anyone willing to fill me in?"

 

[Ibby]

Location: Off to the side, weeping like a weakling
​Objective: Halbergardia, Be discovered by Atheus (you better not chop my arm off)
Allies: [member="Iago Rekali"] [member="Rhyn Makenzie"] @Atheus
Post: 2/20

​Voryl's head shot up, the back of his neck prickling with-- what? Fear? Apprehension? Excitement? He wasn't sure, but he knew one thing: somebody on that field had used the Force.

​Through his "sight", the boy had witnessed from afar a ball of energy being created and promptly devastating a group of soldiers, snuffed out like candle flames in the wind. Focusing on the creator of the destructive energy, he watched as the entity wiped out even more soldiers. Voryl began to take deep breaths like his mother had taught him, attempting to magnify the figure further - but it was no use. All that developed was a headache, worsened by him digging the heels of his palms into his forehead.

​The boy couldn't help but think how useful a talent like that would be. If he​ could summon the Force like that and use it to destroy his enemies, well, then the Sith would taste his revenge for sure. But he had to figure out who that person was, assuming said person would even be willing to teach him.

​Guess there's only one way to find out,​ he thought. Standing up, Voryl tucked the lightsabre into his belt and began to carefully make his way towards the battle, intent on getting a better read on the signature. Hopefully, after the battle, the boy could track down the being before they left, and plead his case. Of course, he had to make it there first without either one of them being killed.

​

 

[Darth Metus]

The terror awaited just behind his eyelids.

With each passing day, a lingering dread awaited the Warmaster. With each passing night, the black vision chilled his blood and set racing his heart. Even now, weeks following his return to the waking world, what he had seen...terrified him. Something was coming. Something that could rattle the foundations of his life and all he held dear. Was it Akala? Had the Demon managed to evade a final death once again? Or...was it something far worse? Whichever the case, the coming storm was more than enough to present Isley with a dilemma: one steeped in morality and his very culture.

In times past, when he was but a young Alchemist and little else, the answer to any challenge was simple. By Blood, he could weather any storm. By the Profane, he could match the fury of any "God." In those days, Isley did not care about how deep into the Darkness he dived – nor did he care about anyone save himself. Now was a completely different story. With the passing of many years often comes the correction of one's priorities – and Isley was no exception. Where once the fate of his own skin was paramount, the lives of his people took precedent. Where once his days revolved around his own strength, the collective might of the Mandalorians held his fervor.

But in the face of this literal nightmare, the Warmaster found himself conflicted. Could he...Should he...take the plunge once more? Was the Dark Side and all its power truly the key to surviving the wretched storm?

"Warmaster. We've landed."

For what seemed a small eternity, Isley had been lost in his thoughts. Quietly, he sat with his eyes fixated upon what rested between his palms. A helmet. An unremarkable buy'ce, emblazoned with the standard T-visor. It was not his own – not the rune-adorned piece that reeked of the Force. For this day, bringing such to the situation at hand would...bode ill. In truth, wearing any of his "typical" beskar'gam would send the wrong message to those the party were eager to meet. You see, once does not bring a tank to a diplomatic meeting – and that was exactly what the Warmaster's typical ensemble consisted of.

And so, Isley had done the "smart" thing by donning beskar'gam fresh from the Mygeeto War Forge. All in all, the assortment of plates upon his person were unremarkable – painted green of all things. In fact, the sole items which "stood out" were the Darksaber upon his waist and the multi-hued Hunters' Cloak about his shoulders.

"I assume Keira has already landed?"

When Isley spoke, his eyes did not yet waver from the helmet.

"Aye sir. The Warmarshal and another are awaiting you and the Adumari leadership."

A deep exhale escaped him. The helm shuddered, slightly, within his grasp. The question of Darkness would have to wait...no matter how much it turned his stomach on end. At long last, the buy'ce moved: ascending into place upon Isley's head.

"Then we had best not keep them waiting. Gods only know who'll get headbutt this time."

* * *​

In but a few moments' time, the Meeting Chambers were graced with the arrival of the Warmaster. He, in typical fashion, was flanked on either side by a member of his Hunters; with each bearing only a simple blaster rifle as armament. The message here was similar to that which [member="Keira Ticon"] gave off: they were all warriors in this room. Moreover, the lightness of their armament spoke of intentions. They were armed for personal defense, not for warfare.

Straightaway, Isley gently tapped the shoulder of his sibling with a closed fist – a quiet gesture of support and filial affection – before acknowledging one [member="Kurayami Bloodborn"] with a nod. Although he had not met the man before, the Warmaster found himself smirking underneath his helm. A mere glance caused Isley to think of his favorite scoundrel – [member="Zef Halo"] – and that gave the smuggler-looking fellow points in his book.

"From what I've been informed," Isley began, "it is our job to prove to the leadership that the Crusaders are their best option. That their culture will remain intact under our protection. That sovereignty is guaranteed. That they will be shielded from whatever enemies the Galaxy throws their way."

And this was a conversation that Isley was comfortable having. In fact, he had done so once before during a rather lovely chat between Alderaanian nobles and Republic Senators.

"Good Times."

[ 1/37 ]

C: 743, T: 743

 

[Zef Halo]

Objective 3
Halbergardia
Post 2

One would always think crash landings resulted always in some forgotten places where deadly calmness replaced the chaos during the course of the flight that existed beforehand. That would not be the case on Halbergardia, as the ship had ran through a line of soldiers behind cover and to the Mandalorians' fortune had given them more feet to cover and push further on. Iago's crash landing had sown chaos, alas only for a moment. The people of Adumar were warriors, they were not shepherds. They regrouped as quickly as possible.

The HK and Iago simultaneously kicked down a shaky piece of the hull to able to exit. What they saw before them was the war between the Mandalorians and their enemies. With his Mandalorian ripper in his hand and the droid wielding a heavy blaster rifle in its own, the two looked as a duo out of hell which was certainly very, very far from the reality and that was demonstrated when they were hailed by blaster fire forcing them to leave the ship and look for cover around the rubble.

<<This is Iago Rekali...kark.>> The young Mandalorian attempted communication only to realize his helmet's comlink was broken. "Contact the Mandos, we've got enough ordnance here for a whole battalion. If the resistance and the Crusaders still need this, they better save our asses." He took a glance back at the ship. They did not have much time left. "They need to hurry up."

<<Announcement: This HK-24 series assassin droid, Porkchop Rekali requests aid for his pitiful backside. Location coordinates are X24, Y-3. Porkchop Rekali had been delivering ordnance for the resistance of the planet of Adumar. Alleged amount is quoting 'enough ordnance here for a whole battalion'.>>

Iago rolled his eyes.


[member="Voryl Halcyon"] | [member="Rhyn Makenzie"] | [member="Atheus"]

 

[H3xle]

Halbergardia
Post 2
[member="Iago Rekali"] | [member="Atheus"] | [member="Voryl Halcyon"]

Rhyn was holding his section of the line, using bursts of blaster fire at points where his senses told him would do the most good. He had mostly tuned out the aerial battle, except for when ships came near enough to possibly be a threat.

The entire section of his line went quiet for a ten count as a ship careened out of the sky and into the ground, then resumed.

<<Announcement: This HK-24 series assassin droid, Porkchop Rekali requests aid for his pitiful backside. Location coordinates are X24, Y-3. Porkchop Rekali had been delivering ordnance for the resistance of the planet of Adumar. Alleged amount is quoting 'enough ordnance here for a whole battalion'.>>

Rhyn looked at his line, deemed it holding with or without him, and keyed his mic.

<<"Hunter Rhyn Makenzie is en route.">> He replied to the sassy HK droid, as he ducked behind cover and consulted the map in his HUD. The shortest route was a straight line directly through the front he was holding. The safest route was nearly four times longer.

Rhyn always loved direct routes.

"Cover me!" He shouted to his comrades and counted to three. Then he leapt up from cover, fired a few bursts to clear his immediate front, then oriented on the Rekali transmission and dove into the enemy forces.

The song in his blood rose to crescendo as he slipped the rifle onto his back and engaged his armor's melee mode. He had a momentary flashback to designing the system...

**
Rhyn wasn't the type to sit at a computer and lose himself in data. He'd grown up decently competent with computers, but his love was for battle. The grind.

However, when designing armor that will not only protect him, but allow him to go in close and wreak havoc, he was able to fully engross himself.

He also had the aid of a Crusader armor Smith to show him the ropes. Master Arbado Faen watched from nearby as Rhyn worked. Engineering a mammoth system would have been easy, comparatively. Just pack on more armor, to oversimplify it. However, Rhyn was designing his armor to still be mobile, allow him to fight with almost any weapon, but be able to transform slightly to cover the melee aspect.

The armor was turning out to be a mostly unpowered armor. The helmet would have the typical military grade HUD and communications suite, but not have any physical augmentations. The main powered portion of the body would be the 'melee mode' in which the bulked up bracer portions on his forearms would shift to lock his wrists in alignment with his forearms, while a pair of knuckle bridges covered his fists. This would reduce his ability to handle weapons, but allow him to hit with significant force.

Master Faen took the design and quickly made a prototype. In the testing crucible, Rhyn and Faen made minute adjustments to generate the most force per area possible without resorting to external augmentation.
**

Rhyn came back to the here and now as he hit the leading edge of the enemy line like a train. The knuckle bridges took and distributed much of the shock coming back to him, and he amped himself up with enough Force power to ride through the front line, leaving stunned and dead troopers in his wake as he made his way towards the Rekali shuttle.

(OOC: I will make it to you next post, if that is ok.)

 

[Driel Beroya]

Location: Halbegardia, Mandalorian Command Post
Objective: Obj3. Victory.
Allies: All Mandalorian forces; [member="Atheus"], [member="Iago Rekali"], [member="Voryl Halcyon"], [member="Rhyn Makenzie"]
Post: 1/37

"And they're maintaining center contact?"
"Aye, alor'ad. Heavy contact all along the ridgelines. We've identified the enemy command post, approximately..." Ardasz scrolled the holomap, dropping a red marker on a hilltop well behind enemy lines. "...ten klicks west-south-west from our position."
Driel scowled. "Any chance we can hit it?" Ardasz shook his head.
"Not right now. Shielding, and heavy air cover. Unfortified beyond that, though. If we could drop the shield, we could flatten that hilltop from orbit and mop up the rest."
"Okay." Driel scratched her head and tried to find a solution.

Anybody who said making decisions from inside a command bunker was easier than being out in the field had clearly never been in a command bunker, trying to make decisions. She stared at the rolling holomap, eyes flitting from tiny starfighters to tinier soldiers. Intelligence indicated five-to-one odds in the enemy's favor, not to mention air control and the home-territory advantage. Her men were dug in, but their job was to win, not just to outlast the enemy. They had to actually defeat the Cartann army, and that was a completely different animal from trying to endure an enemy onslaught. Artillery and entrenchment would have be mobilized and abandoned to advance on the enemy.

What made it even worse was the Halbegard settlement one klick behind them. The Crusaders had been hired to protect Halbegardia, and to do that, they had to crush the enemy offensive. Starfighter support, armored vehicles, artillery batteries, and of course infantry - it all had to be stomped. By her corps of Ge'tal Kom'rke. Sure, there were supporting units from other Crusader elements, but they centered around her, Alor'ad Beroya, for leadership, and her Red Fists for their main infantry body. She'd built them into a respectable force, but they were no army, not like the Cartanns had. Her thin lips twisted. Ardasz would disagree if she'd said that out loud, and disagreed loudly. Never let it be said that her boys didn't understand fighting spirit.

She leaned back from the table and rubbed her neck, returning the holomap to its wide-view setting with a spread of her fingers. Ardasz watched her as she again scanned the battlefield.

It was cloudy day, no wind or rain to speak of, but visibility was limited. The line of battle was perhaps fifteen kilometers long, running from the foothills of a mountain range just northwest of her command post, all the way to a river due south. The ridgelines between the Red Fists and the enemy jutted out of the plain, forming low bluffs that her scouts had measured at an average thirty meters high. These created a natural point of contention three kilometers wide where her boys had heavily dug in, and a gap in the bluffs, near the center of her line, offered a natural funnel and gateway for the enemy to focus on. Skirmishes filled the woods and hills on the edges of the battlefield, but the Cartann forces seemed determined to pummel her boys into paste and then walk over them on their way to the Halbegard settlement. They were advancing straight into the plain, towards the ridge-gap, into the teeth of her defenses on the ridgelines, and despite the pummeling they took from her guns and soldiers, they were still coming forward with men to spare. The battle was devolving into a shoving contest, and the Red Fists didn't have the muscle to out-shove the Cartanns.

Her eyes narrowed. Winning a shoving match wasn't about muscle. It was about leverage, and timing - and besides, if they wanted a shoving match, why on earth should she give it to them?

"Okay," she said slowly. "4th, 6th, and 8th fighter wings to engage enemy fighter cover. Keep them occupied and away from the southern edge of the battle. Push them out of atmo if possible. 2nd bomber wing on standby for further orders. Ver'alor Ordo, you and ver'alor Viszla take your Air-Cav elements. You're to take up flanking positions through the southern hills between the plain and the river. Ver'alor Beviin, give order to our center to begin a defensive withdrawal. Artillery to lighten fire at the center. Let them come forward." Her lieutenant nodded and spoke into his comm.

<<Announcement: This HK-24 series assassin droid, Porkchop Rekali requests aid for his pitiful backside. Location coordinates are X24, Y-3. Porkchop Rekali had been delivering ordnance for the resistance of the planet of Adumar. Alleged amount is quoting 'enough ordnance here for a whole battalion'.>>

A comm tech turned in his chair. "Alor'ad, we're getting report of a downed freighter in the northern skirmish zone, at X-24, Y-30. Report indicates they're carrying armaments and ordnance for the resistance. Independent Hunter elements are en route to support them now." Driel nodded.

"Send a salvage team. Extract the crew and any usable supplies." She pursed her lips, staring at the holomap a moment longer. "Somebody get me a caf."

=============

([member="Iago Rekali"] has landed near the northern edge of the central point of conflict, and [member="Rhyn Makenzie"] will reach him shortly. [member="Voryl Halcyon"] is descending from the foothills at the northern edge of the battle, not far from [member="Atheus"], and both are one kilometer north of Iago's position.)

 

[Aleksander Miles]

Post 1
Objective 4 Fleeting

Alek sighed as he sat on the bridge of the Alor-class dreadnaugh the Werda Kyr'iam his father had recently vanished again only contacting Alek when he needed his son to cover for him. One such thing was working with the Mandalorian Crusaders while he was away now the son of the infamous Pirate King was here to play. Standing he walked forward down the length of the bridge to the view port his ever present cater coat drapped over his shoulder a pair of Kandosii blades on either hip and a pair of bandoleers carrying his customary 12 blaster pistols resting over his chest. Sighing he tapped his finger against the grip of a sword than gestured calmly. "Have the fleet split up as discussed I want this sector secure in under an hour. Inform Alkor and Keira that Clan Akaata and the Shadow armada have arrived." The young man turned making his way calmly back to the command throne as a large hologram of the system came up his ships spreading out and a preordained strategy.

The young man also keyed a comlink he carried sending a signal to [member="Isley Verd"] to inform him exactly who the commander of the armada was. Someone should know that Aedan was not going to be around for a bit and his son was taking over for him until farther notice. This would be his first time working alongside the Crusaders as his father had kept him at a distance for a time waiting till it was vital for him to come into the light.

[member="Keira Ticon"] [member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Post 2
Cartann

"The Perator is a busy man," one of the Mandos observed thoughtfully as Alkor kept pace with the crowd. It was easy enough to blend with the rabble, various spacers and lowborn nobles who made his garb appear inconspicuous. He glanced down a side road every so often, listening to the live update from his commando's HUD. "Says here he keeps an hour reserved around this time for unspecified paperwork. Want us to pay him a visit?"

"That will not be necessary," he cautioned. "Maintain observation from afar. If we get too ambitious, we might end up under intense scrutiny, and we will be unable to find the information that the Adumari Coaltion is paying us to learn." The sounds of protest grew louder as he wove through the sea of faces. Alkor narrowed his focus and fought to differentiate voices, struggling against the madness that gripped the city. "Establish a watch on the estate, report on any strange movements in or out."

"Ten steps ahead of you, Alky." One of the designated marksmen commented.

"No kings!" the speaker was not dissimilar from the one who had started the chant during the Perator's address. "No gods! No governments!" The sound of a blastsword firing off drew Alkor's attention more than any of the words. Multiple guards flooded the square in response to the disturbance. "Feth the police!"

"Good way to get your shebs killed, bur'cya," one of the snipers muttered. "Should I take one of them out?"

"Udesii," Alkor hissed. "You will get to kill something soon enough. Do not rush it."

"I like this guy," the other man mused. "He makes me laugh."

Alkor grunted noncommittally. "Do not compromise our position." He rounded a corner and leaned against one of the structures. "This situation pulls their attention from us. It can continue until we have no further need for a screen." There was no dissent when Alkor made his point. Locals of Cartann were technically an OpFor, so they could not afford them too much sentimentality.

He glanced down when a notification beeped across his comm. Word came down from orbit that the fleet was in position. They would be positioning and calibrating the beacon between Adumar and Aeten II, and positioning the Crusaders' fleet on standby to prevent unwanted hostilities. Adumar was already in the throes of civil war, and unforeseen enemies could only exacerbate the already volatile situation. He fingered the button to dismiss the notification, then glanced up.

Something pricked at his consciousness, dimly. Alkor felt heat rise around his ears, then slowly fan outward. Something gave him the sensation of extreme heat, a familiar warmth reminiscent of the distant past. The sound of sabers and clash of swords. A galaxy filled to overflowing with death. Only one thing could have set his hairs on end and filled him with anticipation.

Jen'jidai.

"But they are all dead," he muttered. Alkor forgot to shut off the comm.

"Who's dead?" several voices inquired at once. "Alk'ika, are you alright?"

He only shivered with more malice as the memory manifested. At one time, Alkor had hunted his former Brothers, nearly to extinction. The intense urge to cross blades drowned out all rational thought. "Alkor!" the voice was louder this time. "Eyes front, alor. We need you here."

"Apologies," the Dark Jedi touched his temple and shook his head. "Something came up. I need a minute."

"You don't have a minute," the Marksman growled. "We've got a problem."

"What do you mean?" Alkor furrowed his brow. "We should not have been compromised in the short amount of time-"

"No. Not us. The guards outside the Perator's estate- they've opened fire into the crowd." Alkor whirred round and turned his gaze in the indicated direction. "Several civilians down. Advise."

"There's something wrong. They are not supposed to be killing their own. That was not in the briefing."

"Fierfek, Alkor," a Mando hissed. "Adapt. The situation has changed. Change with it."

"Alright, Jenra, Mallick, cover them and get the civilians out of the line of fire. You are going to blow our cover, so make sure the shots count. The rest of you, move to storm the Perator's estate. We need to find out what he is doing behind closed doors. If he is firing on civilians, he has something to hide." Alkor bit his lip. Was this the right call? The mission would be jeopardized by his willingness to allow them to protect noncombatants.

"Best news I've heard all week," Mallick, the Marksman, said with a laugh. "Time to shoot some hu'tuune."

His own thoughts were on hold as Alkor saw something that drew his gaze. Another man. The source of his strange feeling.

"You are..."

[member="Griffith Falconis"]

 

[Miss Blonde]

Location: Objective 2, capital building.
Objective: Sway the vote
Allies: [member="Keira Ticon"] [member="Isley Verd"] [member="Kurayami Bloodborn"]
Post 2/20

When the Mandalorian crusaders stepped into the lobby of the capital building, they'd get a glimpse of a figure in a suit walk through a side door and vanish down a hall. That figure of course being Miss Blonde, and she was here to make sure things went smoothly. So taking a more behind the scenes roll the woman moved her way towards one of the small preparation rooms where a few of the warrior delegates were readying themselves for the upcoming talks.

Once reaching the door she knocked swiftly then entered slowly with her two large and imposing guards flanking her side. Taking a quick scan of the room her visor covered eyes fell on to the group of four men who looked back at her with perhaps less than friendly gestures spurned across their face.

"Gentlemen. Today we're going to make history together." She said with a clap of her hands to emphasize her friendly demeanor.

The four delegates looked back and shook their heads in near disbelief. One of them stood from their seats and began to speak.

"Who the hell are you!?" the man asked in a demanding tone.

Others were quick to rise as well and one of them motioned towards the intercom to call for help.

Once he did so there was a snap and a flash of movement followed by a silenced gunshot piercing the intercom where the man's hand was soon to be. Smoke lazily drifted from the barrel of a gun and holding said weapon was Miss Blonde. The CW-77 a carbon fiber pistol that snuck through their weapon detectors was jutting out of her jacket's sleeve and pointed at the men.

"So. Let's talk." Blonde said as she lowered the gun.

 

[The Narrator]

Enter the 36 Chambers ​

While the Adamari didn't eat, sleep, and breathe war like the Mandalorians did, they were still a warrior culture. Hell, most disputes were solved in sword duels and violence, which was something Mandalorians could respect. And while duels were bound to happen, today was more about figuring out what was best for the fate of the Union.

When the Mandalorian delegation stepped into the capital building they would enter a large lobby where a secretary would stand up to greet them. The woman wore traditional Adamari clothing and gave a slight bow as she approached them. The rather pleasant looking young woman put forth a friendly smile before speaking.

"Welcome, Crusaders! It is an honor to have you here. If you step through those doors over there." the woman pointed over to a set of large doors.

"You'll find that the meeting is just getting started. Please don't mind the mess." She gave another friendly smile and stepped back to go back to her desk.

When the party of Mandalorians entered the meeting hall a splash of stone shrapnel fired at them from a blastsword ramming itself into the ground causing a hail of rock to shower in various directions. If they dodged successfully they'd watch as two men in the center of the room performed a dance of blades with the other. Bobbing and weaving throwing strikes that parried off the others blade with sparks and loud clangs of steel colliding.

This continued for a moment before a loud voice came over it all shouting over the cheering delegates with a fierce roar.

"ENOUGH!!" ​

Everything went silent and all eyes focused on a man sitting above all else on a throne. He was visually relaxed as he sat back with his sword in one hand and a goblet in the other. A more casually dressed man he wore a red unbuttoned short sleeve pollo and shorts, but his sloppy demeanor didn't end there. His hair was a thick matted jungle of black and his face gave a rather uncaring look towards everything. He didn't bother to stand up to greet the Mandalorians but he gave a lazy wave with his goblet hand before taking another long drink.

"Welcome, Mandalorians. Make yourselves at home." He said with a bit of wine running down the side of his lip.



Post 3/20
Objective 2
[member="Kurayami Bloodborn"] [member="Keira Ticon"] [member="Isley Verd"]