Rebellion Amongst the Ashes | The Rebellion of the Mandalore Hex [ DWC vs MU ]

[Saga of Valour]

// Outer Rim Territories // Mandalore Sector and System // Northern Hemisphere. //
// Orbiting Mandalorian Corvette's // Fleetmaster Konnor Vizsla. //
Continue the Viral Bombardment.​

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Whilst the bombardment continued in earnest, Konnor watched as the tactical display before him updated with the newest reports. His warship’s sensors had swept the surface again, revealing the deadly effects of their purloined viral agent. Hundreds of Graug abominations were starting to perish as their bodies began to eat away at themselves. The man had never seen a more beautiful sight in his life. Even the birth of his only child, Rynn, paled in comparison to this. After decades of betrayal and warfare, the Sith and their abominations were finally getting a taste of their own medicine. It almost brought tears to his weathered eyes.

Almost.

Instead, the Lord Vizsla’s face was wracked with a rictus grin that spread from one ear to the other. The feeling of vengeful elation was too great to keep restrained beneath his aged and disciplined features. Even when there were signs of Sith Warships in the system, that serpentine smile refused to fade. It seemed that the Sith and their crumbling Empire saw the reconstituted Death Watch and their personified manifesto as a threat, more significant than even the New Imperial Order and the Galactic Alliance. While such words were false, as there were greater works at play here that went unseen, Konnor couldn’t help but believe his assumptions were the unfettered truth.

Why else would these abominations throw themselves into the fray? There was little Mandalorian presence in their vicinity, as the Sith that came before saw fit to purge the planet of its occupants. Konnor couldn’t speak to the Union’s presence down there either, as they occupied themselves in various stages of evacuation. Nor could the man truly gauge the breadth of the Union’s spatial forces - as the curvature of the planet shrouded them from his Warship’s technological sight. What he could measure, however, was the presence of the Death Watch and their Crusade.

Skull Squadron had taken their Fighters and sought out the Sith, seeking to drive their vengeful Fangs into the growing horde that began to spread across the surface. But, there was little that a single squadron of Starfighters could do against that flotilla and the ceaseless stream of transports it unleashed. Their lives would be measured in minutes, despite the Squadron’s piloting prowess. Yes, they would achieve the glory they sought, but with their deaths - they would deprive the Crusade of some of its best pilots. That was something that Konnor couldn’t allow.

Thus, the Lord Vizsla commanded that a trio of his fastest Warships made haste towards the last reported position of Skull Squadron. Those pilots needed all the support they could get, and three Corvettes were all that the Fleetmaster could spare. If any more went to aid their brothers and sisters in battle, the strength of the viral bombardment would falter beyond all hope of recovery. That was also something that Konnor couldn’t allow. Such was the difficult decisions of command, the man mused. With the order given, the Fleetmaster turned his gaze back towards the viewport - and bore witness to the ever-rising death count that digitally splayed itself across the screen.

The Sith wouldn’t be the only one’s capable of Genocide...
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~-~*~-~

| Corso Rook | Other Space Kaiden |​

 

[Stardust Solus Skirae]

Her observers had spotted the incoming craft long before they landed. They moved back into the inner fortress to solidify their defenses in case the crusaders decided to fire upon them. Brotherhood members stardust getting the last of items loaded up and secured in two shuttles, watching over them still was stardust who sat motionless as she felt the many signatures of the crusaders filtering into the fortress, looking to the messenger from before as they approached she knew that the worst had happened

still no word from them maam..

Sighing she wanted to quickly go and find her lost vod but knew that more important matters were about to come walking to them

gather a group but don't leave just yet, we must take caution with the way we move, given death watch likely outnumbers us

She wasn't cutting corners on her words one bit, nodding to the message to get moving she looked towards the entrance as she watched three figures approaching, two took point while another spoke. A smirk played across her face but melted away into a serious look as the tall twilek walked from her position, gold and red armor battered and beaten yet mixed perfectly with her lime green skin and black markings on her lekku

Stopping at ten feet she then spoke

we are the beskar brotherhood, gathering info and items of importance to the mandalorian culture so we may teach our children and foundlings when we leave this sector. I am stardust solus skirae, matriarch and founder of the brotherhood...its been a long time since I've seen you face to face rynn...I'm half surprised you didnt come in guns blazing

She quipped with a small chuckle, moving side to side as her technicians continued downloading the info that laid beyond her

now my question crusader, is why your here, if your coming for the servers you'll have to wait until we gather the data we want. It is vital to teaching future generations not to make the same mistakes we have...that the union has

She had shed her allegiance to the union, a lost cause in her mind, instead focusing on the brotherhood and its future

Now she was curious to the crusaders response...

Rynn Vizsla Aloy Vizsla

 

[Seela Leini]

Location: Atmosphere - Mandalore
Allies: TK
Neutral: Graug ( Other Space Kaiden )
Enemies: DWC (Corso Rook Saga of Valour ) │ MU

She cared not for the fate of the Graug and their ilk.

Having flown over Zygerria when she was still an inexperienced, fresh-from-the-vat pilot, 2121 had witnessed their savagery firsthand during the evacuation efforts on the world, having barely escaped with her life after being shot down over the capital city. The details were still fresh in her mind, the pernicious musk of the Graug hordes which had sought to swarm her downed fighter, the desperate cries of doomed Zygerrian soldiers and Sith Legionnaires, bodies upon bodies bearing expressions permanently marked in fear, and most distinctly, the sheer, overbearing sensation of futility that had overcame her in seeing evacuation shuttles, laden with innocents, mercilessly scythed from the skies by the pounding guns of the Graug fleet.

Had it been up to her, the strand-cast pilot would have happily strafed the Graug and their transports. Unfortunately, Dancer squadron and all other deployed Shadow Fleet units had been ordered to leave them be, unless the Graug fired upon them first.

She hoped that they would.

The Graug and their savagery aside, her primary focus was on Howlrunner, the New Imperial TIE Vanguard ace who had cut through almost half of Dancer squadron on his own. While he was undoubtedly far from Mandalore, as the New Imperial Order did not maintain an active military presence around the desiccated world, that did not preclude 2121 from thinking of him and that fateful engagement over Generis. In spite of her commander’s best efforts to tell her otherwise, he could not convince her that it was not her fault that he had been able to shoot down so many of her brothers and sisters. She had seen the strain in her commander’s eyes as he spoke to her, pallid lines creasing his skin owing to long, unceasing hours of briefings, patrols, then sporadic, yet intensely demanding combat. Everyone was tired, but that was only a small fraction of the cost of fighting a losing, multi-front war. The heaviest weights were measured in lives, and in coping with the losses of her brothers and sisters, 2121 had done so in the way of the Sith. Passion channeled into strength, driving her to dedicate long hours to work and study, seeking to improve her craft so that next time, she would have the ability to slay Howlrunner.

Even when he was so far away, she did not let him escape from her sights.

Now, over Mandalore, was a test, in the form of a rising Death Watch ace who had made a name for himself as a mercenary for the New Imperial Order.

Outlander.

There was no guarantee that she would meet him directly or even at all, as the chaos of stellar and atmospheric dogfighting made picking out individuals nigh-impossible. However, certain starpilots, such as Kathryn Foster, Keira Cerdulan, Goldilocks, Friendly Blue, and Howlrunner had distinguished themselves as not only aces, but virtuosos. While 2121 aspired to reach their level, her devotion to the Eternal Father and her desire for revenge against Howlrunner were her primary motivations.

Whoever this Outlander was, she was determined to slay him or, failing that, learn from him in order to progress along her path to facing Howlrunner.

Moving in formation with Dancer squadron and a few squadrons of Scorpio droid starfighters, SV-2121, as merely a number in a roving formation of Sith fighters, moved to engage the Death Watch corvettes and their fighter escorts in the skies over Mandalore...

Spoiler: Loadout

• Tuk’ata-class Sith-Imperial Hyper Interceptor
  • Cargo and Pilot Gear
    • Sith-Imperial Armada Flight Suit Mk. II
    • “Judicator” Adaptive Battle Rifle
  • Universal Hypervelocity Mass Driver Missile / Warhead Launcher (2)
    • Diamond Boron Missile
    • Brilliant Missile

 

[Kale Onara]

A YT-2000 freighter emerged from hyperspace on the outer fringes of the system. Kale Onara directed his ship on a parabolic course toward Mandalore. He had heard the stories and history of Manda'yaim but was never really motivated to visit the planet until he heard rumors of something huge going on there. He parked himself outside the planet's gravitational pull and began using his scanners to get a picture of what was going on. His scanners showed a fleet of Mando ships bombarding the planet with some sort of bio-weapon and a great number of life forms below dying from it. He scanned the comm waves and heard a lot of overlapping transmissions but he managed to sort out enough to know that Mig was somewhere in the middle of this massive engagement. He grinned at seeing one his few friends again.

But what really got his heart racing was hearing the transmissions from none other than Stardust Solus Skirae. He had no idea she would be here, but he began working hard to triangulate her position whether in space or on the surface. He thought about sending a signal to her but at this range and with all of this activity, he seriously doubted she would be able to hear him above all of the noise being produced so all he could do was work on finding her and perhaps find Mig as well. He had no fight with these Death Watch Crusaders but if they attacked either Mig or Star, they would themselves on the receiving end of all the trouble he could give them.

 

[Aloy Vizsla]

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Location: Fortress imperious
Interacting: Rynn Vizsla | Stardust Solus Skirae | Kranak Vizsla | Tahlah Vizsla |
Vehicles: Sabre-1 | Modified swoop bike |
Equipment: (x2)Firefly particle pistol(s) | Contained energy blade | (X3)Pyro grenades | Custom Beskar'gam armor | (w\gauntlet weaponry) Other: Prosthetic leg | Cybernetics | Chainbreaker | Force resistant handcuffs | Jetpack |
Forces: (x400) Deathtroopers of Krieg | (Deployed to assist MU evacuations)
Music:


The ship descended alongside the crusaders within the courtyard of the abandoned sith fortress, Kicking up dust in it's wake as the gyroscopic interior adjusted to the angle.
With a hydraulic ∗hiss∗, The boarding ramp gently descends, And Aloy Vizsla stepped out, Her cybernetic leg clicking and clacking with each step as she marched with conviction into the courtyard with her pistols pointed skyward.

Many would have recognized her as the famed Nite Owl commander in these lands. As "Hand of the Mand'alor", Denoted by the handprint across the dome of her helmet. She was a liberator in these lands, And the union's history was intimately tied with her own. For if not for her, Apollyon The Betrayer would have captured Sundari long ago.

Now she came to liberate this world a second time, Beneath a banner unfamiliar to those she once called her people. Now she wasn't so sure. Would they remember her as that liberator who fought beside Darsch Vizsla? Who led the nite owls against Apollyon's insurgents in the name of Mand'alor the Reclaimer? Who's mother was paralyzed for his folly?

Or would they see only another foreign dropship and whatever the Mortui upstart would call her? Dar'manda perhaps? A name given to any mandalorian who did not agree with those in power, Just like the Sons of Mandalore had declared her while she fought the sith and undead hordes here some time ago. Just like her father when she chose her mother over his delusions...


But some were different, And they had just come across such a one.

<"Rynn,"> She calls out as she enters the sanctum, Providing rear security to the watchmaster and his brothers <"I know her, She's not like the others. She is... She is my sister in law, And I will vouch for her">

She bows her head to Stardust as she enters, Lowering her weapons till they hung loosely at her hips. <"Warmaster~"> It was time to see whether she was still part of this extended family.

​

 

[Siv Dragr]

C R I M S O N
H U N T

Objective: Seek Vengeance | Eliminate Crimson Hunt Target
Target: Other Space Kaiden
Theme: x

Mandalore.

The foundlings, the younglings believed in the myth that the homeworld of the Mandalorian people was haunted. That those who touched its cursed soil would be consumed, or doomed to die a horrid death. It was nothing more than fable, these mystical properties that the stories attested Mandalore to have. But to think that the once-mighty world of a once-mighty people was the same as it had been?

No. That was folly.

Siv had grown up on Mandalore, surrounded by his small clan in one of the lesser towns. Clan Dragr, for most modern Mandalorian history, had been less than a footnote in the pages of great historic events that had caused turmoil through the Mando'ade. The fighting strength of the Clan had long since left the galaxy, eliminated in the final squalls of the second Vong-Mandalorian war in the waning years of the centuries of darkness. Since then the Clan had kept from engaging in petty conflict, honoring their old ways of working as mercenaries and bounty hunters across the galaxy. Perhaps it was because of Clan Dragr's long history, or the fact that with little political influence or manpower, it presented no threat, but the Clan was minimally punished for this abstention. But in the end, even that had not been enough to save them.

Siv had been one of the few offworld when the Sith had come, when they had sacked the only home he'd ever known. And when he had returned to Mandalore, or the burning, infested carcass of what had been Mandalore, his entire Clan had been killed. Never more had Siv been more alone. No family. No friends. He'd fallen into the monotonous pattern of going through job after job, bringing in individuals high and low, carrying out contracts just to get enough credits to pay for starfuel, so he could hyperspace-jump to the next system and start the cycle all over again.

But then he had joined the Enclave, and finally Siv had found purpose. First in helping in the rebuilding of his people, far away from the constant wars of the North, on Roon. Then he'd fought alongside his brothers and sisters on the snow-covered, frozen world of Kestri in a war against the Yuuzhan Vong remnant for the fate of the planet and the treasures that lay there. And now? The time had come to strike back. To deal out justice. To reap vengeance.

His target was an individual known as Darth Vulcanus. There was little background information given on the mission board, but what Siv did know was that this Sith was the 'leader' of the Graug, the abominations who had infested the once-homeworld of the Mandalorian people. The lowly scum had facilitated the deaths of millions of Siv's people, and now he would be paying back that price in blood. At last, he would have his revenge.

Siv's CVT-48 Outlander-class Starfighter reverted from hyperspace into realspace with a jolt, the inertial dampers adjusting for the sudden change in velocity. Thrusters hummed as the starfighter began its descent into Mandalorian orbit, the integrated heads-up-display of Siv's helmet beginning to use the sensors of the ship to identify what otherwise was a chaotic mess. Star Destroyers, Sith in their markings, had already begun their descent down into Mandalore's atmosphere. Around them, a squadron of what seemed to be Death Watch Crusader starfighters darted in and out, unleashing volleys of laserfire that even with Siv's enhanced zoom were only pinpricks of light. Carrion, he thought to himself with a barely-audible grunt. Siv had no quarrel with the crusaders, for outside of ideologies they were still Mandalorians, and kin. But the life of a Crusader was the antithesis to the ideas that the young Dragr had been raised on.

One could only whet a blade for so long before it was naught but a spindle.

He pushed down on the throttle and the starfighter began to rapidly accelerate, the thrusters beginning to hum even louder before the clouded, dry atmosphere of Mandalore was enveloping it. Rather than fly through the thick of the aerial combat, Siv had opted to take a longer but ultimately more discreet parabolic route to where he wanted to go. For some targets, it was hard to approximate their location. Bounty pucks could only do so much, and that was when they weren't cheaply made and unreliable, which they often were. But when prey happened to be on the level of flamboyance and malevolence as a Sith Lord. . . in those situations, it wasn't hard to find them at all.

He was several kilometers out, obscured by cloud cover, but luckily his sensors had managed to locate the Sith Lord, surrounded by an army of Graug -- an army that was burning from laserfire -- on the fields surrounding the ruined capital of Sundari. Siv unbuckled his safety harness, letting the straps fly back as he checked to ensure that his blaster pistol was in working order, his armor's subsystems online and his kal strapped securely in its sheath. Sufficiently assured that nothing would fly out, he manually opened the cockpit, ignoring the warning klaxons that were followed a loud hiss of depressurization before the rushing airflow quickly drowned out all noise. He waited for the heads-up-display of his helmet to adjust to the maneuver he was about to perform, before taking a single step onto the edge of the starfighter as flight control adjusted to a beckon call-managed autopilot.

Siv breathed in. Three. Two. One.

He was airborne.

The Outlander rocketed on ahead along its vector as Siv dived in free-fall through Mandalore's atmosphere, arms and legs spread to create at least some drag, so that he could control his fall. The clouds opened up to reveal the army below, standing on a scarred and pocketed surface set ablaze, a pristine landscape marred by crater holes and scorch marks. Whether these scars were from the current battle or from conflicts past, Siv could not say, for there were too many battles in Mandalore's history to count at this point. Out of the corner of his left eye, he watched as the altimeter relayed his descent. Five-hundred meters. Four-hundred. Three-hundred. Two-hundred. One-hundred.

At fifty meters he flipped into a vertical position as his jetpack came online, sending a sudden and powerful thrust to slow his free-fall into a controlled descent. Fifty. Forty. Thirty. Twenty. The blasterfire from the battle above masked Siv's arrival, he realized. The Graug didn't even notice him. He'd change that. Ten. Five. His boots crunched as they impacted on the gritty, rocky soil of Mandalore.

Two of the brutes grunted as they heard Siv land behind them. They turned, but Siv was quicker. Their scales may be resistant against lower-powered blaster bolts, but the lasers that spat forth from Siv's TKO-20 Valiance were anything but. The two Graug fell, a new hole seared through their skulls each. But the blasterfire alerted the others, and soon the rear guard of Vulcanus's forces had their eyes drawn on Siv. Not ideal.

He fired his blaster once, twice, dozens of times as the cruder projectile weapons of the Graug glanced lightly off of Siv's beskar'gam, as the hunter ensured that they did not get close enough to be able to leverage their superior strength in melee combat. On the opposite side of the conflict, he could see and hear the sounds of conflict -- the front of the line, undoubtedly where Vulcanus stood, pushing his way into Sundari against the meager survivors, the last remaining thralls of the Mandalorian Union. Refocusing his attention, Siv took two strides before his jetpack reignited him and lifted him into the air, carrying him over the hordes until he was at the 'front.' Just in time to see Vulcanus mercilessly cut down three Mandalorians. They were soldiers of the Union, martyrs of a failed and unworthy cause. But they were still Mandalorian. They were still his kin.

His eyes narrowed as he locked onto his target, preparing to dive onto the Sith like a bird of prey -- only for Vulcanus to turn around, with what looked like a repeating blaster cannon in hand, to unleash a torrent of heavy blasterfire his way. Siv rolled in the air, avoiding the deadly stream, but he needed to descend. He looked down at the throbbing horde of Graug. It was less than nothing, but it would have to do.

Siv's right hand clenched into a fist, activating the crowd-control rockets of the Whistling Birds on his left vambrace. The mini-rockets soared out of their casing and descended into the Graug below, clearing out a wide number of them. His jetpack cut out and Siv fell to the ground, his flamethrower now spitting out fire as he created a wide circle for him to land in, a ring of fire now seperating him from the Graug who would otherwise surely rush him. Casting his gaze upwards as his flamethrower de-ignited, his voice roared over the noise of battle as he called to his foe. "Darth Vulcanus!" he called to the monstrous Sith, "Do not waste your time on unblooded pups. Come, and meet your justice." Siv's blaster was held loosely in his right hand, but his finger was carressing the trigger, itching to end the Sith Lord here and now. But he would have to be patient. This Sith was powerful and cunning, and Siv would need to be able to outmatch that if he hoped to vanquish his foe.
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[Darth Carnifex]

Had the former Dark Lord of the Sith possessed any sense of humor he might have laughed at Mereel's words, but instead, he stoically stared directly ahead as the Mandalorian warrior rose from his seat. "Ra Vizsla. Yasha Cadera. Teyn Gratiir. Many have served, all have been cast aside."​

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Ra Vizsla had been the first, his corpse plucked from where it rested on Castameer and reanimated for the sole purpose of creating the Mandalorian Empire and driving a wedge between the disparate Mandalorian communities. It had worked flawlessly, Vizsla believed that he was purging the Force from the Mandalorian lifestream on his own initiative, but it was Carnifex pulling his strings and directing his actions from afar. When Vizsla's use had run dry, Carnifex had cut his strings and cast him aside.​

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Yasha Cadera has been the second, the inexperienced child ruler elevated after Ra Vizsla's disappearance. It had been a simple thing to infiltrate her dreams, bend her to his will, and make her wholly dependent on his power to survive. She had further divided the Mandalorians, driving many of what remained away into other corners of the galaxy and allying herself with fools like Australis. Her controversy gave the Sith nigh unfettered influence, although the Mandalorians did not realize the viper in their midst until it was too late. Yasha too was cast aside when her usefulness came to an end.​

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Teyn Gratiir was the third and final puppet. His simple nature had been easy to manipulate, his love for his people a simple matter to warp. He had served as king over the ashes of Mandalore, a figurehead who kowtowed to the policies of his Sith advisors. Through him, Carnifex and the others were able to murder and displace the Mandalorian people from their ancestral homeland and scour Mandalore of its most valuable resource. He was abandoned when the Sith pulled out of Mandalore, left to the mercy of the Mandalorian Union.​

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"So shall be the fate of all," hissed Carnifex as he reached over and plucked his lightsaber from his side. He thumbed the activator, a blade of scarlet bursting forth angrily to bathe the throne room in a red haze. "You cannot save the Mandalorians, their fate has already been written." Carnifex lashed out then, throwing a cascading bolt of lightning with his left hand towards the feet of his opponent, the bolt erupting into a geyser of electricity upon contact, while he rushed forward and slashed out with his lightsaber in his right hand once the lightning blast had struck.​

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Ijaat Mereel ​

 

[Tahlah Vizsla]

Tags: Aloy Vizsla Stardust Solus Skirae Rynn Vizsla
Equipment:

• DD6 Blaster Pistol (2 of them)
• Neimodian Rifle
• Vibroblade
• Beskar Mandalorian Armor
• Rocket Boots

Tahlah sat at the entrance to the tunnels. The hope was to get some adventure in by going into the bowels of this abandoned fortress. However, while the others went inside the tunnels searching around, her and a few other younger vod were on guard duty on the outside. "Too green to enter the tunnels probably. I'll show them later in all this.", she thought to herself while she leaned on the walls near the entrance calibrating her rifle sights to kill time. The comms from those within the tunnels were eerily silent. She heard on the others that other squads could not hear them either. It seemed to be getting to the point where Stardust, the leader of their presence here, would probably come down here to start exploring the tunnels looking for the missing ones. The thought of that at least being possible made Tahlah a bit more excited. A smile went from gill-to-gill under the young Nautolan's helmet. Though, she seemed alone with such excitement, as the others were giving off signs of worry, or were simply aloof to it all in their own efforts of killing time.

However, she had nothing better to do now. Until the comms mentioned others coming down to join them, or they had to get out of their as fast as possible, she would have to sit here doing whatever thing she could to look busy. She already had her vibroblade sharpened and oiled to the point of it almost having the appearance of being newly issued. Her rifle sights were almost pin-point accurate now. Its model was hit or miss with the age of it, but it was what she was issued from the small band she was originally with before finding the rest of her clan not too long ago. Still seemed factory issued with its parts. Might make some tweaks in the future when she had the parts and the time. At least she is sure it will shoot as straight as it possibly could now. There seemed to be something going on to make the reinforcements or evacuation order take longer than expected. What that was, she could not tell from what comms were still going. So, it was back to tuning and priming the equipment. She was on to the pistols now.

 

[Kranak Vizsla]

THE FALL

Location: Mandalore System, Aboard Aloy’s Sabre-1, Enroute to Concordia
Local Time: 02:33
Date: -DATA CORRUPTED-
Primary Objective: Repurpose War Materials for the Clan
Secondary Objective: N/A
Equipment: Loadout 2 (Plus the Goran’s Stand, it’s scabbard rests over his left pistol holster)
Tags: Stardust Solus Skirae | Aloy Vizsla | Tahlah Vizsla | Rynn Vizsla

Music: Aay’han

The giant Ori’ramikad, seated inside the Sabre-1’s cargo hold, was occupied with performing a gear check on his weapons and equipment for the fifth time to keep his composure. The metallic clattering of gear gently echoed within the ship’s cargo bay; the giant’s actions were sharp and ill-tempered. He had heard of the Death Watch’s automated message on all frequencies when Aloy’s ship entered the Mandalore system. Some parts of the message were galling for an Ori’ramikad as prideful as him.

[“Join your Mand’alor in a coward’s exile…”] Kranak snarled in a low tone while he inserted a magazine topped off with High Explosive cartridges into his Verpine Battle Rifle’s magwell and pulled the charging handle. With a satisfying click, a round was chambered.

He wouldn’t be joining the Mand’alor in a “coward’s exile”, no. He intended to see through the battle that was to come from start to finish; as long as his clan ties let him anyway. For Vizsla’s, Aliit was above everything else, even above Mand’alor at times. That is how the clan survived thus far, and would continue to do so; as long as they continued to uphold ancient tradition. He was torn between his duty to the Union as an Ori’ramikad and honoring the clan’s tradition. He chose the clan above all first, albeit unwillingly.

Satisfied with the state of his weapons and gear, the giant Ori’ramikad rested the back of his head against the steel plating behind him where he sat; his Westar-M5 slung over his chest, with the Verpine Battle Rifle slung at his back, to the right of his medical backpack.

His mind drifted yet again to the Death Watch’s message. As much as the automated message branded the Union as “cowards”, it did carry some truth in it. The Union could not keep a solid foothold on Mandalore any longer. They would not be pulling out of the planet in the first place if they could. They failed to rout out the Graug and the Sith from the Northern Hemisphere of Manda’yaim, and now they were forced to abandon the rest of the planet to them.

The thought of leaving the planet to the Graug damned him. It was better for Manda’yaim to finally die than being tortured and exploited by those savages. The Death Watch must be sharing the same point of view with the giant, since their intention was to cull the Graug and prepare the planet for its “final death” but a part of him didn’t want the planet to “die”. There was way too much history in Manda’yaim. It was the homeworld for most of the Mandalorians never born in; a place they all could call home, or so it was once upon a time.

But he understood they needed to let go of the planet as a people and rebuild elsewhere. After all, what made the Mandalorians who they were was never limited to their “homeworld” to begin with. It was their culture. As long as they could keep that alive, their “race” would be undying. They needed to be “...freed from their shackles and build anew.”, as the Death Watch put it. He was in agreement with that sentiment.

The giant’s attention now shifted to the voice he heard over his comms circuit inside his buy’ce. It was Aloy, his clan Alor. She was broadcasting a message on the open channel.

::∗Sigh∗ ...This is Aloy, Matriarch of House Vizsla, And... master of The Nite Owls.
I have come for what is rightfully mine-::

::I served the Mand'alor faithfully. Ruthlessly... Without question. I fought and bled for this union. Sacrificed by body and soul on the field for the cause we all believed in.::

::I will take what I am owed for services rendered to Mand'alor the Abandoner. My Nite Owls deserve to take their belongings back. I have dispatched the remnants of the Deathtroopers of Krieg to assist in evacuating the civilians and your gear... My final duty to the world I bled for, And the world that mother was sacrificed for... And my final act of kindness.::

::Afterwards, We will leave with Death Watch. This is goodbye::

His gaze drifted towards the durasteel floor as he listened to the message. He gave a nod of his head in agreement to the message. They could never have enough weapons and equipment in their conflict against the Sith and their puppets. The clan and the Black Hand Collective would be benefiting from this.

The giant heaved a heavy sigh. He wished it never came to this… defeat. The Mand’alor was nowhere to be found, at least a month prior in the present day’s incursion. His fate was unknown to Kranak. Whatever it may have caused Kreslin to go AWOL, the Union became leaderless.

He wished it never came to all of this, the Union falling apart, but there was no use dwelling on it now.

With the mechanical whine and the hiss of hydraulics, the ramp before them lowered down, a fortress long abandoned laid before the two Mandalorians. Aloy was the first to step out of the ship. The giant Ori’ramikad -after lowering his rangefinder and activating its night vision- followed her as he kept his Westar-M5 raised, scanning his surroundings for any potential hostile threats while he brought the rear.

The Fortress Imperius truly was deserted. The fortress was dead silent, save for the Sabre-1’s engines winding down just after touching down. Unpowered point defense turrets, empty guard posts, lifeless barracks, unmanned guard towers… The place had most certainly seen better days. The fortress must’ve teemed with life at some point. But now it stood silently, shrouded by the darkness of the night; seemingly in the middle of nowhere in Concordia.

They made their way into the sanctum of the deserted fortress with ease and no opposition. Entering the sanctum, the giant Ori’ramikad spotted a number of contacts wearing beskar’gam not too far away from their position. He couldn’t identify them well due to his night vision casting a green hue over everything the giant gazed at. But they appeared to be not hostile -for now- as they hadn’t opened fire on them yet. The ones that held rear security had seen the giant and Aloy enter the sanctum. With that in mind, he lowered his Westar-M5 to a low ready position as they came closer to them. It was then Aloy called out to one of them in the group of Mandalorians in the sanctum.

<"Rynn,">
She calls out as she enters the sanctum, Providing rear security to the watchmaster and his brothers
<"I know her, She's not like the others. She is... She is my sister in law, And I will vouch for her">

She bows her head to Stardust as she enters, Lowering her weapons till they hung loosely at her hips. <"Warmaster~">

The giant only gave a slight nod of his head to the parties involved without a word, then turned around to watch the way they entered the large central structure with his rifle raised. It would be best to leave his clan Alor do the talking for this one. He only recognized the Green Hand from the group, despite the green hue cast over them. The rest of the vode was unfamiliar to him.

 

[Saga of Valour]

// Outer Rim Territories // Mandalore Sector and System // MandalMotors Orbital Array //
// Talon Mk II Dropship // Rally Master Vendrik Bralor //
Taking the Station by Blaster and Blade.​

Many believed the Orbital Array to be abandoned. With the Union giving the order to evacuate the system, the Death Watch assumed that they would’ve dropped everything on the spot and left the system. However, it seems that wasn’t entirely the case. As the workforce began to leave their posts, someone elected to activated the automated defence system aboard the space station. While the defensive guns weren’t on par with a military installation, the rudimentary droid brains housed within were still dangerous to those caught unawares. What made matters worse was that they targeted ships that didn’t bear a Union transponder code - as they sought to deny everyone else from the prize(s) that laid within.

But, that surprise wasn’t entirely unwelcomed. Vendrik Bralor, the Rally Master, charged with taking the Orbital Array, assumed that this mission was a waste of his potential. He was a warrior that proved himself on countless battlefields. Taking a space station was just another walk in the park - but when the space station didn’t fight back? Well, that would’ve been boring to the point of madness. As the defences were active, however, things would play out differently than expected. There was even a chance that the automated defences were internalized as well, as that would give the Rally Master an opportunity to hone his skills. Vendrik smiled then.

As the toothy-grin peeled across the Warrior’s lips, the Dropship’s shields began to flare. Several nearby defence turrets began saturating the space around their vessel with a near-ceaseless barrage of plasmatic cannonade. Nearly a dozen bolts bracketed the projected barrier before safely dissipating into the darkness of the void. The Pilot of the craft began to take evasive measures, seeking to weave their ponderous vessel and the precious cargo it carried through the oncoming laserfire. It wasn’t until the transport neared the Array that more drastic measures were taken. The Pilot began flipping switches and toggling several integrated countermeasures, each intent on disabling or confusing the automated guns’ sensors.

Small canisters were launched into their projected flight path before the Dropship altered its trajectory once more. The automated guns tore into the unshielded devices before reorientating their barrels to engage the next one. In their rudimentary databanks, the automated turrets believed that they were fighting off a massive swarm of hostile transports. There were far too many transponder signals for the initial fighting force to have survived. Their reinforcements had come! Such confusion was spread across the entire Array as other Dropships began cycling through their defensive countermeasures. Yes, they could’ve taken the time to hunt down every one of the automated turrets - but that would’ve taken too long.

With the active defence network, who knew how long the station would remain in its present state? There was a chance that the Self-Destruct Protocols could’ve been triggered. While no-such alarms made themselves known, that was a possibility that the Pilots - nor the Rally Master - could allow. Many secrets lay within the Databanks of the Orbital Array, and it’d indeed be a shame if they were destroyed before they were recovered.

When the touch of a heavier artificial gravity field caressed his armour, Vendrik pushed his way towards the access hatch. Striking the panel with an extended and armoured knuckle, the Mandalorian watched as the ventral hatches of the dropship yawned open - revealing the hangar’s flight-deck below. Without ceremony, the Warrior stepped off the grated platform and fell towards the station beneath. Mere centimetres away from the surface of the flight-deck, he blinked - thoughtlessly activating the jetpack mounted onto his back. The thrusters flared and arrested his momentum, allowing the man to stride across the hangar’s surface gracefully. His helmet’s sensors flared as the connection was made, bathing the man’s eyes in a flurry of newly acquired data.

There were nearly a dozen starfighters nearby. They were unmanned and seemingly lifeless - but as more of the Crusaders began to filter out of their transport, those starfighters started to come to life. With fresh power flowing through their circuits, those fighters roused themselves from the flight-deck and began to change their shape. Akin to the Vulture droids of yore, these starfighters morphed themselves into combat-capable walkers - with the armament to match. Vendrik couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. These crafty bastards, he said to himself. Before the Rally Master could order his Crusaders to engage these newly revealed hostels, the hangar bay filled with the scent of burnt ozone.

Even the transport itself entered the fray with guns blazing.

As the firefight began to spread across the entirety of the flight-deck, Vendrik elected to take cover behind some stacked crates. With his armoured jetpack pressed against the metallic stockpile, the Rally Master activated the armour’s Comms system. The man trusted that a dropship and several Crusaders could battle a handful of droid walkers whilst he sought to gain insight into the Crusade’s deployment around the station. Several warbands had found themselves in similar circumstances, whilst others seemingly engaged whole detachments of automatons as they sought to claim the hangars. This was better than he expected. Today wasn’t going to be a boring slog against mind-numbing tedium!

Vendrik laughed again before cycling through the active and encrypted channels. It wasn’t long after that the Rally Master heard the plight of a Crusader nearby. Their dropship was totalled, and it sounded like they were under heavy fire. Unlucky, the Warrior mused. A part of him wished to leave the Crusader to their fate, but the man knew better. While many Mandalorians fought amongst themselves or left others to die - it wasn’t the way of the Death Watch to willingly abandon their comrades. They were better than that. They had to be if they sought to be the shepherds of their Culture entire. Sufficed to say, Vendrik wasn’t laughing anymore.
​

:: Milla, this is Vendrik. We’re close to your position but presently engaged by hostile fighters. Can you hold your ground until we arrive? ::​

~-~*~-~

| Milla Kryst |​

 

[Ra Vizsla]

​

// Faction: Mandalorian Union
// GARRISON //: Mando'ade Exiles | 403rd Battalion

// ALLIES: None
// ENEMIES | TSE | Graug | Death Watch | Pollution | Planet

---

Only I can shorten the darkness.
Only I can remove the blinds.
Only I can be Manda'lor
and restore our future.



Sundari.


Ra's ears were burning. Somewhere, another fossilized Sith Lord was patting himself on the back for yet another distorted day of violence and destruction in Mandalore's once great and beautiful cities rather than recognizing himself as yesterday's news.

"Hold."

Ra's commanding voice spoke out to the 403rd, a remnant battalion that had stayed loyal to the fledgeling Mandalorian since his days with the Sons of Mandalore. Mostly, they just respected the armor. And the food that Ra's name had put in their bellies. None of them still to this day knew the man, or respected what he stood for. It was fear, not love, that carried them all the way back home to Mandalore to fight in yet another unwinnable incursion.

Graug were fighting up ahead, against other Mandalorians. They bore the Death Watch symbols on their shoulders.

Death Watch.

Not the friendliest faction with the name Ra Vizsla, these days. He regarded them as cowards, pretenders, usurpers of the Mando'ade throne. That's how it had been for centuries past here on Mandalore, though. Death Watch had always embodied the element of unrest within the the Mandalorian culture, their seemed to be very few other names that could carry such weight or meaning within their widespread communities. No other new ideas had sprung to foot in the last millenia - it was always Death Watch. Even the rebels needed brand recognition, and to accomplish this they had to steal the symbol of Ra's once most loyal supporters and apply it to yet another extremist group of Mandalorians. In the last decade of Mandalorian society, there had been no less than twelve different iterations of Death Watch with completely different platforms and ideals.

It did sound better than the Protectors, though.

The large crimson brute stepped forward through the muddied broken duracrete streets of the broken Capital, emerging from an alleyway. Though any Mandalorian was still better than a Graug or a Sith, it was Ra's intention to put them all in the ground. A show of strength, a denouncement of the pretenders, and a rejection of outside interference in Mandalorian control. This was what Ra stood for, and why those who had followed him had done so.

Except, even here, even now, Ra was a hypocrite - for the man inside the armor, this was not the same Ra that had led so many. This was not Mand'alor the Undying, the Ra Vizsla who had led the crusades against the Core Worlds. This was just a boy, barely a man to some, wearing his armor and pretending to carry the mantle. The Ra Vizsla of renown, the great Mandalorian warrior that Sith Lords boasted in besting with such pride, that Ra was long since dead. It was only because of the shadow he had cast, the surname he had carried, was the mantle and the armor picked up by this unnamed newcomer and given new purpose.

And despite his own considerable skill, it was clear - even after all of his training - this boy would never fit to be Mand'alor. It wouldn't stop him from acting like it, though. Such was a thing as uncontrollable anger, irrevocable fury, undying pride.

After the fighting had finished, Ra moved forward with the rest of his legion. They were not here to engage in these small fights - they were here to hopefully cut the head off from the snake, and finally re-establish more recognition to his reputation. He had the armor, he had the name. Now he just had to put his money where his spear was, and deliver to his followers a victory worth of witnessing.

​

 

[Ijaat Mereel]

"You will not save the Mandalorians..."

Once, his pride might have bristled at that. Once, it was his goal. But that wasn't so now. He wasn't even sure they'd want saving. Least, not by him anyhow. But shortly after, his foe unleashed a torrent of lightning and lunged at him. Nothing amateur, but nothing befitting what he thought would come of two skilled and named warriors facing one another.

With a flash, both wrists lit up as he hurtled the beskad in his hand at his opponent, end over end. The light-shields that sprang from both wrist took the brunt of the lightning that erupted from the ground and arced off the defenses that were all too similar to a lightsaber in principal. Some bits overloaded, and he shrugged, rolling his shoulder and feeling the extra energy leeching and bleeding off, some of the fresh armor paint peeling and scorching.

As the bes'manda beskad neared Darth Carnifex it suddenly flashed itself, the unique powers of the weapon causing it to create a long funneled blast of three bolts of energy, the light in the weapon dimming considerably.

He might not expect that I suppose...

 

[Milla Kryst]

Location: MandalMotors Orbital Shipyards
Interactions: Saga of Valour
Allies: Death Watch Crusade
Enemies: TBD

*Note: Please tag me if you are on the Orbital Array so I know if I need to respond to your presence and/or interactions


Finally, Milla was able to get a good look at her newfound enemies. Unfortunately, they were not the enemies she hoped for. They weren't put off by the explosion at the entrance and pushed in. Even while the other squad was able to more or less clear the hangar from the few stragglers that littered it, the fighters themselves came to life and started wreaking havoc. 'Droids....' Not expert droids like commandos, but combat-effective ones, intelligent ones. Milla fired off a rocket at one of the droid-fighters as it morphed, trying to attack a few fellow Mandalorians, but she didn't have very many rockets left and needed to save them. She holstered the launcher on her back and ducked for cover behind some crates as the droids sought to defend what they were programmed for. It took a minute for Milla to respond to Rally Master Vendrik; no disrespect was intended, but Milla had to get to cover as things quickly went downhill from what was originally planned upon. Milla was going to have to wait to get to the data center now. "Rally Master Vendrik! This is Milla! I think I bit off a bit more than I can chew over here! I'm going to do everything I can to protect my vode, but we don't have the ordinance for vehicles!" she yelled into the radio, just as an explosion went off by the crates she took cover from, the comms going dead.

Milla was just fine, for the most part.... she was thrown back to a corner of the hangar, though the crates came with her. Which was both a blessing and a curse, as the crates hit her while they flew. Milla forced herself up, ignoring the pain as she started running, circling around back to the dropship that would no longer fly. "Cover the dropship," Milla yelled as she rushed back into the cargo hold of the dropship which she had just left. She tossed a grenade at one of the droid fighters before climbing up into the rear gun, firing on one of the droid fighters. However, while this would be effective, she was limited to the guns arch rang, and only one or two of them were in range of the gun. It looked like the Mandalorians started to back up to the cover of the dropship as they realized they had bigger machines to deal with. Milla cleared the path for them to fallback, firing on the droid fighters as she tried to open comms again. Her radio wasn't working so she bashed her helmet until she heard active comms, "Rally Master Vendrik! I was piloting an infiltration team, we were heading to the data center - none of us have enough heavy munitions! Fething droids aren't scared of lasers, either!" Milla was potentially making it seem more serious than it was, as the Mandalorians were holding off the droid reinforcements, the only problem were those droid starfighters, and knocking them over or damaging their legs with thermal detonators could only last as long as the teams had enough of said thermal detonators. Milla, however, had no plans of surrender or retreat - truthfully, there was no way to retreat except through the hangar shield, but that was only a last resort.​

 

[Adenn Kyramud]

Location: Throne Room, Sundari Palace
Objective: Ensure survival
Tags: Jaster Awaud | Jurr Awaud | Ra Vizsla
Allies: MU and allies
Neutralish: DWC
Enemies: TSE and allies​

Stepping into the chaos that was his clan, Adenn was immediately swarmed with countless notifications, plans, and more. First came a message from Jurr Awaud, saying they had a fleet ready and waiting to help. Opening a comm to reply to Jurr, Adenn spoke.
"Su cuy'gar vode, glad you could come." Taking a look over the tactical map, Adenn looked for areas that needed evac the most. "We could use help with evac at the locations I'm sending you now. Sundari and Concordia. There are also enemy forces at these coordinates: Sundari, Fortress Imperious,
and the Orbital Shipyards. I'll allow you to decide where you wish to deploy." (leaving it open to you, so you can decide)

Soon after that conversation ended, fighting was heard further down in the corridors of the palace. With a hand motion, troops rushed to deploy across the palace. At the same time Adenn listened to Jaster's message. Frowning, Adenn responded.
"Understood Jaster, deploying more forces to quell them. They won't take this palace without a fight." Turning to his own guard, Adenn motioned to the main door and the hallway beyond. Wordlessly they stomped past and out beyond the palace. "I'm sending you my Beskad Elite., they'll be able to break any resistance. Oya ner'vod."

Only two of the Beskad Elite remained, the other either had marched off into the corridor. They hefted shields and carried heavy weapons, and they were more than prepared to reinforce Jaster. Speaking of reinforcements, Aloy's Deathtroopers were arriving then and reporting to help the MU. Or they had already set off to help however they saw fit. The MU accepted their help and directed them to aid in areas. Primarily this was securing defensive positions alongside MU forces, In other areas though, it was to help load transports with anything that was needed. Elsewhere reports came in that another Mandalorian force was in Sundari. They were marked as neutrals, though a rumor was heard that it was Ra leading them. That was ignored however, because they had threats to deal with, but it would be something revisited in the future.

As for the current threats, Adenn heard another explosion in the background. Growling at that, Adenn straightened from the tactical table and gave some final orders. He reached to his back and grabbed E'care, checking that its ammo was ready. Then he racked the slide and prepared to head to battle, only to be stopped by an officer showing him a tablet.

"Alor, do we still prepare the final outcome?" His voice was calm, but it was clear that this was urgent. And it was, the final outcome was a plan only those in Clan Mortui knew of, the outcome they would decide for Mandalore. Before the DWC arrived, they had agreed to bombard the planet from orbit, and ensure all life died. It was a solution to deal with the Graug, and to ensure Mandalore would be left alone. Now though, it was up in the air because of their arrival. Would they leave the planet to them, or still try and fulfill the final outcome? Sighing, Adenn responded.

"Prepare for the eventuality, but don't follow through. We'll see what the Death Watch do. I don't trust them, but they may be able to hold Mandalore where we failed."
Adenn hated saying that, but he also knew it was necessary. They wouldn't have let the Graug have Mandalore, but few were willing to go to harm Mandalore purposefully. Thus, Clan Mortui would've fulfilled that decision alone, and Adenn would've gladly taken the blame. Now though, now it all depended on the actions of the Death Watch. If need be, Adenn would deny them Mandalore as well. Shaking his head, Adenn focused on what he could deal with now, the enemies within and around Sundari. Racking the slide on the E'care, Adenn turned towards the main hallway. Making his way there, the two Beskad Elite with him followed close behind, ready for war as much as Adenn was. They would deal with the enemies of Mandalore and then deal with whatever came after.

 

[Rynn Vizsla]

​

There was a part of Rynn’s mind that felt uneasy at the sight of so many unfamiliar faces. His eyes darted from one individual to the next, seeking to drink in the details before moving on to the next. It was clear that these Mandalorians held key-tactical positions throughout the reinforced structure. While they held the advantage of numerical superiority, the Neo-Crusaders were effectively surrounded. Should things fall to bloodshed, both sides would reap a heavy toll against one another. The only victors then would be the Sith and Mandalore’s many enemies. That was something that couldn’t happen. Their fight was against the evils and injustice that was bequeathed to their scattered peoples, not with one another. Thus, Rynn knew that to be the change he wanted to see - was the right path forward.

With a steady hand, the Rally Master gestured to his Veterans and their Crusaders thereafter to lower their weapons. They were among friends here, at least for the time being. Such assumptions were further reinforced by Aloy Vizsla’s words, a cousin that hailed from the distant world of Roon. She gave her word that this emerald-skinned Twi’lek was one of the good ones, and by extension, vouched for the entirety of her Beskar Brotherhood. She was gutsy to say something like that, especially when the greater picture was brought into context. Her words were an admission of trust - a bond that was hard to forge but could be shattered with the slightest touch. Rynn couldn’t help but respect that, especially in these trying times.

:: Very well, Aloy. But, I will hold you responsible should things turn sour. :: He began before pausing to cast a glance in the Gunfighter’s direction. :: As the name Death Watch is often viewed with suspicion and rancour, I imagine we wouldn’t be the ones to draw first blood. I hope this would be the first step towards our redemption in our people’s eyes - and perhaps a budding friendship between us. ::

His words were heartfelt, as the man truly believed in the Cause. Mandalorians have been fighting amongst themselves for far too long, and it was time that changed. The Union held promise initially, but through betrayals and a litany of poor choices - things inevitably failed. Perhaps history would tell the truth of the matter, where the Sith pulled at strings behind the scenes and sought to make what remained of the scattered Mandalorian people into their puppets. How better to kill an entire Culture than to gather all of its practitioners in a single place and obliterate it from orbit?

But, the threads of fate and destiny were in their own hands. The Sith could pluck and pull as much as they liked, but it would ultimately fail in the end. The Mandalorian people were survivors who struggled against the inevitable, much like the Jedi of yore. So long as a single Scion of Mandalore survived whatever atrocities tomorrow would bring, then there was still hope for the future.

Turning back to the emerald-skinned Twi’lek, known as Stardust, Rynn tilted his head as he answered her question. Aloy trusted this woman enough to consider her a sister, and as they were technically family - in some strange, convoluted way - the Rally Master knew that he had nothing to lose by trusting her too. Perhaps, the man would gain more than he bargained for by being uncharacteristically open and honest with their intentions. Who but the Force knew how such unprecedented actions would be interpreted. Would they take such openness at face value, or would they believe him to be lying in the hopes of garnering their momentary favour?
​

Nevertheless, it was a proverbial leap of faith that needed to be taken.​

:: We came for the secrets this Fortress holds, :: He began before sweeping his gaze up towards those situated in the levels above. :: I’m told that there are several command chambers in the spires above that once belonged to the former Emperor and his Dark Council. While I’m certain their databanks were wiped and purged, there’s still something that can be salvaged: command codes, schematics, outdated troop deployments, star charts and the like. ::

Rynn paused then, allowing his echoing words to sink in.

:: From there, we plan to move into the tunnels below. I’m sure you’ve already noted that this Fortress is connected to various installations on the Moon’s surface. We intend to utilize said tunnels to move unseen and lay claim to whatever relics were abandoned below. ::

He sighed then. Not out of frustration, as Rynn had done time and again, but more out of an awkward sense of relief. This had been the most he had spoken since taking the Oath of Brotherhood during his initiation into the Death Watch. In a way, it felt oddly liberating to give voice to what had been - until that moment - an overactive inner-voice; rife with narration.

:: Mandalore’s dead, :: He continued. :: The Sith believed that in breaking our world, they’d broken our people. While noble in their intentions, the Union merely perpetrated the Sith’s nefarious plot with their deeds. They were unwitting puppets in some ‘grand design.’ It’s time for us to break our chains to this world, to rid ourselves of the tangled strings of another’s fate and destiny. The future is ours to shape and mould. With those relics stored below, we will be able to embody our spiritual ancestors, the Taung, and set out into the stars. There, a New Mandalore awaits - as does justice for the fallen. ::

The Rally Master scoffed with bemusement then. He was starting to turn into an idealist and a preacher of sorts. What would his father think of him now?
​

:: So, what say you all to pooling our resources, and taking what we find? We can divide the spoils later after we’re done digging amongst the ashes. ::

~-~*~-~

| Stardust Solus Skirae | Aloy Vizsla | Tahlah Vizsla | Kranak Vizsla |​

 

[Jaster Awaud]

Location: Corridors of the Palace, Sundari Palace, Sundari City
Objective: Find the conflict within the Palace.

- BANG, BANG.

- Debry flew off the pillars he was hiding behind and one of his men were on the floor looking barely alive. Jaster was using the force to control the bleeding of his man as well shooting at the Droids that blocked their path. They were able to kill the original seven robots with blasters, but they were too slow on their destruction. For each one they could kill, another two took their place and they were threatened to overrun them. Jaster was loosing focus with the controlled bleeding of this soldier and shooting his blaster revolver. He was starting to loose focus when every movement had to be particular and exact, for he and his men were now outnumbered 3 to 1.

- He was relieved when he heard back from Adenn Kyramud that he was sending a detachment of walking tanks that he called the Beskar Elite and they were more walking tanks then men. However, that was just the way of Clan Mortui worked, warriors to the last of them and monsters were scared of them.

- Jaster looked to his men, "Hold the line for a little longer Vod, reinforcements are on their way."

- The elder had to pull his man to safety, so he would have to do it by using the Force. It had been some time since he had done this and it was a little bigger then his warrior. So he had to be a little more careful. He focused on the warrior, letting the sound of destruction around him fade. Welling up the power of the wind and earth to push him but not break him. The warrior was already injured and on deaths door, he did not want to make it worse. There was also a massive amount of fire raining down on them so he had to dodge that and keep his men alive. He had no choice but push on the earth and pull on the wind.

- When he opened his eyes saw the movement of the winds of the Force and changed the current to work in his favor. This was the tool and nothing more, he heard the voices on the currents but ignored it. He needed to focus on his warrior. With his will and mind he allowed the well of current within him to follow the current and push on the earth to let the wind carry his warrior. The warrior was pulled towards him and he could perform his tasks to keep his men alive. He just needed to hold...

- "FOR AN HONORABLE DEATH!!!!"

- The sound of those mechanical voices were like music to his ears. Down the halls he could hear the heavy footsteps of the warriors sent to help him. Those crazy Karkers were really there to break the enemies backs and help them get to the hallways they were protecting. He still knelt over his warrior but yelled out commands. "Vods, get behind the Elites and push the enemy from our holy ground, kill them to the last."

- Jaster began to push the Force through his fingers and worked on healing his comrade and child. He was a doctor and yet still could not believe how easy it was to work now that he had the Force at his fingertips.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Carnifex slapped at the thrown bes'manda beskad, the crackling blade of his lightsaber connecting squarely with the Mandalorian weapon and knocking it off course. Before this could happen, the three energy bolts struck the former Dark Lord of the Sith without inaccuracy. The first two struck him in the chest, the third and final bolt struck him on his shoulder. Fortunately, his body was covered with protective armor enhanced through the dark and ancient mysticism of Sith Alchemy and dissipated the spent energy before it could do any real harm.​

​

Pressing forward, the Butcher King launched into a tyrannical assault with his lightsaber. His blade moved like a viper, striking before pulling back and striking again in another location. Should Mereel ignite his lightsaber to meet his own, then he would spar with him blade-to-blade, otherwise, Carnifex would attack the Mandalorian's armor. ​

​

Elsewhere, chaos had engulfed the Sundari Palace. Fires were raging out of control, and the sounds of fighting permeated every chamber from top to bottom. Carnifex's brazen subterranean strike had opened a gaping wound beneath the Palace, and though initially, only his own forces had crossed the breach to begin their hunt; many more were soon joining them. The Graug which had festered beneath the surface of Mandalore since the early days of the Sith occupation had been waiting patiently for this moment, ready to rise up from the depths like foul contagion from a burst pustule. ​

​

Smeared with viscera and bone chalk, the Graug of the Dark Horde emerged from darkness into the light. They carried with them foul-smelling weapons of dripping oil and belching smog, slugs thicker than a man's bicep thundering out to rip through whatever stood in their way. Mandalorians, unfortunate enough to not be graced by the same protection as their most vaunted warriors, popped like water balloons as their bodies were shredded by concentrated firepower. The dregs of the Dark Horde feasted upon what remained, while the foul necromancers of the gaunt priests resurrected those who were still more or less intact in death.​

​

Further horrors yet still lurked within the dark, a monstrous horde of the dead culled from the countless atrocities carried out in the shadow war waged with the surface world. The black contagion which had nearly felled the Graug had become a weapon, harnessed and studied by the profane mystics of butchery. Now, these depraved lunatics held the power of undeath in their hands, and they wielded it like a child wields a toy. No code constrained them, and no mortality stayed their hand.​

​

This was no longer a war for survival or for domination; it was a war of extermination. Nothing was held back, nothing was placed in reserve. All of the Graug hidden throughout the innumerable tunnels which honeycombed Mandalore's depths rose up wherever they could, butchering and devouring as they passed like a swarm of reptilian locusts. Those they did not devour were brought back as the undead, spreading a new strain of viral contagion with every bite and with every scratch; howling madly to the piping of blind amorphous flute-players.​

​

It was as if Hell itself, the Netherworld of Chaos, had sprung forth like a flower in spring.​

​

Ijaat Mereel | Jaster Awaud | Adenn Kyramud | Ra Vizsla | Jurr Awaud ​

 

[Trajan Fett]

S U P E R C O M M A N D O
DEATHWATCH CRUSADE
VENGEANCE
THE OATHSWORN 6/6
BASILISK WAR DROID
Beskar'gam | Main Weapon | Side-Arm | Melee | Grenades | Cradle

I'LL CUT YOU DOWN
​

The way of the Mandalore was a broken creed. There was no greater testament to this tragedy than the glass of Manda'yaim. Sundari, ashes. Like all the proud cities of the Mandalorian along with it. All that was left was the vengeance. The drive to break those who sought to claim the trophy, the final victory in snuffing out the flame of the Mandalorian. Manda'yaim, a shattered, broken world. It meant nothing anymore. Even the sentiment in being 'home' flew up as smoke and descended as ashes.

The Death Watch might've been one of the last groups to carry the torch the way it should have. The creed, the way of life lived in all of those who followed it. The worlds didn't matter, the armor didn't matter. If returning here did anything, it was to sow revenge. The Sith, the Graug. They'd perish.

He embarked unto Manda'yaim the same as the last, atop the metal, screaming beast that was the Basilisk war droid, center of the spearhead in the formation of Oathsworn. Sundari his aim.

The raking metallic talons buried into the earth as they sought to carve their way forward into battle, only to find familiar faces. 403rd Battalion. Traitors. Whelps. Now amongst the ranks of the Mandalorian Union, another weak attempt to consolidate the homelands that perished as quickly as it appeared.

The 403rd meant one thing.

Ra Viszla.

Just as swiftly as he pieced together the conclusion, the Undying was before him. Trajan narrowed his gaze beneath the T-visor and drew the disruptor carbine from the saddle mounted holster fixed to the droid.

<"VIZSLA!">
​

The word and its vitriolic sentiment, of a man betrayed alongside many others. The Basilisk echoed the sentiment with a shrieking, metallic scream as it unfurled its panoply of war, ripping at the broken glass and neophytes at Ra's side with the full fury of its maw fiery maws fixed to its head. Mandalorian or not, revenge would be the victor of the day here. Sith, Graug, false warriors would all know it by the time ashen sun of Manda'yaim crawled beneath the horizon to let the atrocity of this world fall unto blackness again.

​

ALLIES | DWC | Rynn Vizsla
ENEMIES | MU | Ra Vizsla

​

 

[Jurr Awaud]

"Copy that, Alor Adenn Kyramud !", Jurr Awaud said on the com.

Then he bellowed his orders in his steady commanding voice to the crew of Keldabe class Akalenedat and the rest of the small but powerful fleet.
Under his reign as Alor of the clan many retrofitted old warships of Mandalorian design were added to the already impressive fleet of fifty ships he had inherited from his predecessor and had replaced old civilian vessels.
Jurrs philosophy did not know of civilian ships, only of military vessels of a military culture. This was his way. This was THE WAY!


"You heard the man! Commence the attack on this orbital shipyards! Aggressor class in shooting position! 10 Crusader class to their protection."

"What is with the Huttuun of the Watch?", one captain of the Aggressors asked.

"Ignore them! Let them play with virus bombs and other toys of cowards! If they open fire on us, annihilate them together with the enemy!"

"Carriers! Bring our gunboats and fighters in position about the evacuation points of Sundari and Concordia! 10 more Crusader class to cover them! Help the mud jumpers down there in their evacuation! Rescue as many refugees and loot as possible! That has the highest priority!
For the rest: Happy hunting!"

Mighty carriers and battleships began the relentless approach of their targets. The giant plasma-ion cannons of the Aggressors were powering up to fire their beams of mass destruction.

Out of the cavernous hangars of the carriers the squadrons of gunboats and starfighters roared into the black emptiness of space.

Today was a good day for other people to die and to bolster the clan with refugees of war and the scavenged spoils of destroyed enemies and allies
alike.

This was the way of Clan Awaud.

 

[Stardust Solus Skirae]

Aloy Vizsla Rynn Vizsla

Weapons began to lower, the brotherhood took this opportunity to look to stardust who raised her head and then looked to her vod and nodded, the tension in the room began to melt to a degree and everyone let a sigh of relief out even stardust herself eyes closed and let a heavy breath out. Tired eyes looked to aloy and a small smile formed on her face before she shook her head

I am no warmaster anymore, how can I command what decides to run? I am only here with my brotherhood because we wish to preserve what we can before we to inevitably must take flight

Stardust wasn't exactly proud to admit they'd be running, but she wasn't going to lie either. Speaking of not lying, she turned to rynn now and her gaze hardened as she cupped her hand behind her back and let a breath out

the vizlsa and deathwatch have caused a number of deaths including those close to me, they've attacked the mand'alore I've followed and have attacked mandalores people

She took a few steps forward, drawing the distance closer between the two to five feet before she stopped and motioned to aloy

however, I've not had conflict with one in so long, and I've come to find out now I am now family to the clan itself...aloy here has shown me that change is possible between us. Old blood and the dead must finally be laid to rest if we are to move forward any at all, the fact your willing to put aside such things even with one who uses the force like myself and the brotherhood let's me know even more

Her hand extended out to him to shake, a small smirk played across her face as she listened and then chuckled

weve not yet been to the upper levels, I suppose fair game is you get first grab at it, however we know about the tunnels below and I was just about to head there. I sent a group to investigate and lost contact, normally I wouldn't worry at all but they would've sent someone back by now if it was something with communication which leads me to believe...that something is down there with them. If I may request my men and yours here can make quicker progress on data download together while we go investigate these tunnels no?

Not to mention it would ensure she has plenty of men here in case of a attack, she did hope to head down there and find out what happened to her vod soon as possible