Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Junction Black Steel in the Hour of Chaos - SO/TME Junction of Ma'ar Shaddam & Pzob

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Allies: Darth Malum of House Marr Darth Malum of House Marr Marcus Dinn Marcus Dinn
Enemies: Hilal Vizsla Hilal Vizsla Athena Saxon Athena Saxon
Rogue Agents: Allyson Locke Allyson Locke
OOC Music:
Excuse Me, Can You Please RIP?

To the outside observer, the sight of a lightly armored sith acolyte skipping around the battlefield behind the great Darth Malum was certainly a strange sight. Maybe even stranger was the sight of her occasionally stopping to bring her probe droid that followed her everywhere close to take pictures of her posing over the corpses of the fallen. A double bladed saber seemed to twirl around her at all times through the Force, and she seemed adamant to strip away any bits of beskar off the armor of the dead.

Then again, any opponent that approached the trio seemed to be stripped of their weapons the moment they did. The telekinetic prowess of the acolyte allowed her to rip apart both weapon and armor alike, though it could be noted her difficulty with the armor side of things.

"Master Malum" She called out, ripping the helmet off the latest of the fallen Mandos. "Can I keep some of this stuff? It's sooooooo cool!"

The sound of the girl's voice was sickeningly sweet, and yet it lacked any form of empathy. Any sign of sanity. Any form of reason.
 
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Tag: Kimora Min Kimora Min

To say Astrid was surprised to be assigned to work with a member of the SIFIA was an understatement did the sith not trust her did she do something to anger them as a whole. She wasn't sure but the nightsister would play along for now as she made her way to the meeting point she wore black robes unarmed except the force Astrid walked in. At the same time as Kimora walking over "shall we commence or is there something you want to get out of the before we proceed" she asked cordially not want to appear rude if she had to work with the woman.
 
Heart Breaker and Life Taker
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"Homelander" Mythosaur Heavy Armor

Hilal really hoped that the Smuggling crew that she hired can bust Hex Hex out of prison.

With how much money she spent and the favors she pulled just to erase Hex's criminal record (at least for the time being) and set things up so all Smugglers needed to do was to get Hex out of there, it better be worth the price she paid. Hilal knew that there were Alliance spies and people friendly the Alliance. After her triumph over Jonyna Si Jonyna Si , Rayia Si Rayia Si , and that handsome fracker: Ko Vuto Ko Vuto , Hilal became infamous in Alliance space thanks mostly to Jonyna's slanderous news article about how Hilal was going to murder her children. It was fracking war, it's not murder when it's in an act of combat. Next time Hilal sees Jonyna, that furry piece of chit is going to get what's coming to her.

But still, Hilal hoped that things in the prison will go off without a hitch. For now though, it was time to fight for her people this time against the damn Sith. Hilal landed and saw one of her clan mates and saw that he was leading what looked to be a Sith Lord. "Hey!" Hilal said in her armor. "Hands up Sith! Don't move!"

Annika Starfire Annika Starfire
 
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Objective III
Location: Battlefield

Marcus hated Mandalorians almost as much as he hated zombies. Just about the only thing he found cool about them was their armor, which the Sith were presently looking to steal. Besides, he had nothing better to do tonight—might as well go on a Mando killing spree.

Easier said than done. When the smoke cleared around Darth Malum, Marcus was hiding behind cover while a lone flamethrower-wielding Mandalorian unleashed an inferno upon the space the acolyte had occupied only a moment ago.

"Acolytes, it would seem the Moridinizids are close, a true test of your capabilities comes soon."

"Master Malum, can I keep some of this stuff? It's sooooooo cool!"

Grimacing, Marcus peered through the smoke. Dekaltis was obnoxiously eccentric, possessing all the worst qualities of Annika Starfire Annika Starfire with Atrisian anime thrown into the mix. But he was far more irritated by the prospect of being seen by Malum as a weakling cowering behind cover. Mustering up a blaze of power (fueled by annoyance) he blasted the pillar he was hidden behind in a wave of telekinetic force. The pillar was essentially turned into a giant rock, which was then flung directly at the Mandalorian with all the destructive speed and force of a podracer.

Of course, that fething armor of his absorbed most of the impact. He was knocked off his feet, but was still alive and kicking when Marcus pounced on him. Rather than ignite his lightsaber, he seized his dagger and started stabbing, targeting the gaps in the Mando’s armor repeatedly and with extreme prejudice.

When it was done, he stood up, stretching his back and exhaling a sigh. He cleaned the blood from his blade with the edge of his black cloak, before turning and heading back toward his comrades. “Why do you call them Moridinizids?” he asked Malum.

 
Objective 3: Real Steel

He had long since accepted that he would never quite get used to the antics of Darth Dekaltis Darth Dekaltis , they certainly made for a strange enough pair, one dark and brooding noble assassin, the other a... abnormally upbeat and perhaps deranged streamer technopath. Yet even accepting that much was paradoxically some kind of getting used to her antics he supposed.

"Feel free... for this mission," Malum spoke turning towards his pink-haired apprentice, he was not usually one for the desecration of corpses, however, he knew when fighting opposition like the Moridinizids, beskar was simply something you could not help but seize for yourself.

And considering he had dragged both acolytes out here to seize a large cache of beskar for primarily himself, it would be rather hypocritical for him to not leave them with what war oddments they desired, beskar would no doubt be a helpful tool for them in their acolyte journeys, and a rare one at that, he would allow them this, despite the distastefulness of how they required it.

And he could not deny, there was something strangely giddy within him, being referred to as 'Master Malum', it had been a while since he had the opportunity to be a nurturing, educational voice for an acolyte, especially with how long it had been since he had met with Cillara Hilexis... perhaps a check-in would be conducive, one of these days.

He had little time to think of that now though, as he turned his head at the sound of a crash, witnessing with grim satisfaction, as the tall Marcus Dinn Marcus Dinn , had pressed a Moridinizid against the wall of the room they stood, using the pillar he had taken cover behind, watching as he drew a blade, and meticulously, made certain, his foe was dead, the blade slicing with precision through flesh, the burgundy liquid pooling around him.

It was a boon to him that he was not squeamish around blood, the cauterising effects of lightsabres and blasterbolts so often made them unaware of those horrors.

He quirked an eyebrow at the question, as he approached them, "Simply a consequence of how I was raised, as you know doubt know, when Kaine took control of Mandalore in the day of the Sith Empire, it became Moridinae, and the Mandalorians, the Moridinizid, it seems old habits die hard," He smirked beneath his mask, as he advanced upon the next room.

Right into a firing line of blaster bolts, one of the final lines of defence of the criminals in this sector he assumed, before the vault would reveal itself.

The smirk beneath the mask widened, as he closed his eyes, willing the Force to obey his will, as he...

Pushed.

In an instant the volley of fire that came his way, seemingly reversed.

And in an instant, the blasters fell silent, the clatter of body and metal alike sounded, the smell of smoked flesh wafted over the area, as there was an odd stillness to the air.

Malum simply walked forward, before pausing and tilting his masked head back to the acolytes.

"My apologies, please, lead the way, I should be instructing you, not clearing the path myself and allowing you to watch. You can feel it in the air, we are close, and that means our enemy is closer still, make the Empire proud," He walked back towards them, taking up position behind them, clapping their shoulders as he did so, "Prove you are ready to be the Sith you desire to be, and you will have all the power you will ever need."
 
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Proclaim this among the nations: Prepare for war! Rouse the Warriors! Let all the fighting men draw near and attack.

Tags: Aloy Vizsla Aloy Vizsla , Celt Saxon Celt Saxon , UX-0626 UX-0626 , Alora Vizsla Alora Vizsla


They died.

As was their purpose.

There was no shortage of targets for the defenders. What became a stream had now become a torrent of bodies rushing forward, stemmed only by Mandalorian fury and firepower. Bodies toppled and sprawled onto the pure white snow, polluting it with their tainted blood. The Mandalorian rocket barrage tossed burning figures dozens of meters high while heavy repeater blasters turned torsos into pink mist. Artillery shells made it rain gore.

Hundreds if not a thousand had already perished in the span of a few short minutes as the onrushing tide attempted to close the gap, uncaring to the casualties they endured. Roused to berserker fury, some of the attackers had ripped off their bandages and grotesque iron masks to reveal the repentance scars cut into their faces and scalps. The death all around them did not phase them, no, it elated them.

This was their chance. This was their redemption and through their redemption, they would be granted paradise and a seat alongside their twisted God.

Maybe the Redeemers would have reached the Saxon lines. Maybe they would have inflicted casualties with trench axes and bayonets.

But it was not to be. Flanking fire slaughtered the flame troopers charging up the flanks, eliminating the Redeemer's only chance of suppressing the Mandalorian positions. Maybe a few dozen of them could have made it if not for the Recluse. The few hundred that were still left were incinerated before their ashes were sent away like chaff on the wind.

In a few short minutes, three thousand were dead. The crippled wounded who had somehow managed to survive the barrage moaned as they tried to crawl towards the Mandalorians. Such was their dedication to the Warmaster, their prophet, that they would spend their last breaths trying to choke it out of His enemies.

The Chaos Pact had gotten everything they wanted.

High up in Orbit, Pact Tactical Staff processed the collected information from the deaths of their comrades. Recon by fire in the most one-sided sense of the term.

"Estimated minimum of at least two hundred Mandalorians with heavy emplaced weaponry all with airborne capabilities. Recommend that anti-air assets be reinforced." a Pact tactical analyzer read out the data scrolling on his terminals. His skull was half exposed to allow room for the brutish cybernetics that enabled him to process the information into comprehensible words. "Tube artillery battery and multiple MLRS, approximately five. Forwarding information to the 82nd for counter-fire. At least two hostile corvettes provide supporting fire. They do not show up on any records."

"Progress on the 82nd?" The Cherubim barked, his grating voice filtered through the Vocabulator lodged in his throat.

"Ahead of schedule, my Lord. The deaths of the Redeemers have distracted the enemy fire. Praise be!" the analyzer gurgled.



Their landers came screaming in much further behind the landing zone that the Redeemers had used. It was slower than their commander, Archcommanderim Enoch Lo'lumin, would have preferred. Already he had lost three dropships and one heavy lander to Celt Saxon Celt Saxon 's anti-air missiles. Even assuming abnormal survival rates that was nearly a hundred of his men gone and the battle hadn't begun yet.

"Whoever these Mandalorians are," he muttered as the ramp dropped, his command staff rushing out to begin setting a headquarters, "they at least know their ways of war well."

"It hardly matters," Arlurk Sephuneuth, his second in Command, sneered with her lipless acid-scarred face, "They fight well. So do we. In the Warmaster's name, they shall be overcome."

"In the Warmaster's name." Enoch repeated with a nod, "But caution, Sephuneuth, we must not underestimate them. After all the Warmaster in the early days of Reunification had His foes laugh upon sight of Him and his twelve Apostles. And yet we now stand among the stars while their laughter is muffled under six layers of dirt. I have heard stories about these Mandalorians and their strange culture... it is not too dissimilar to ours."

Around the pair, most of the staging ground had been finished. War tents had been set up and supply depots established. Anti-air in the form of captured AT-AAs had been set up to guard against the Mandalorian flyers but part of Enoch feared that they weren't enough.

"Then let us place both our cultures into the forges of war. We shall see who emerges keener," she said.

Above them, the rest of the dropships continued to land. The 82nd "Screaming Demons" Voidborne Division was one of the Chaos Pact's more well-trained units. Founded soon after reunification, they had been the first Pact boots on an alien planet after Herodor's isolation and the first boots to crush the skulls of its pathetic inhabitants. Ever since they had been the principal vanguard force for the Pact's rapid expansion across the sparsely populated neighboring star systems though most of the combat they saw had been skirmishes, albeit bloody ones.

This would be their first taste of true combat and only time would tell if they truly deserved their nickname.

As the last Redeemer perished under Mandalorian fire, a furious artillery barrage from the 82nd slapped Aloy Vizsla Aloy Vizsla forces near the bunker in the face and where they believed Celt Saxon Celt Saxon 's artillery to be. Orange flashes of fire, hot and rasping, lit up the area as shells struck and burst. Snow evaporated and provided a thick mist that covered the area for several hundred meters.

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"In the Warmaster's name," bellowed a voice within the mist, "LET NONE SURVIVE!"

And out of the rapidly disappearing steam came six companies of the 82nd - nearly a thousand men - screaming at the top of their lungs. They did not attack like the Reedmers whose corpses they now trampled with their boots.

These were not mindlessly berserkers anymore, these were soldiers: decently armored and well-armed with blaster rifles and repeater weaponry. They split and spread out into fire teams that each tried their best to provide covering fire for the other to advance under. Where one fell another would take his place uncaring for the losses around him. They did not flinch, hesitate, or feel fear for decades of religious indoctrination had told them that this suffering was only temporary and that Paradise was eternal.

Behind them rolled six Mors Ferro Heavy Battle Tanks, their 240mm main guns roaring and heavy blasters roaring to provide suppression. Their tank threads crushed their dead comrades beneath into red smears on the already polluted snow.

"Perhaps I was wrong about these Mandalorians..." Enoch said as he observed the battle through his micro-binocs.

 
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Location: Ma'ar Shaddam
Objective: OBJ 2 - Deals with mando smiths
Tags: Hilal Vizsla Hilal Vizsla
Gear: in bio

Wearing: this but with her hat

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"Hands up Sith! Don't move!"

"Bit karking rude, don't you think?" Annika responded as she turned and raised her hands gently. The young man who had been entertaining her looked furious at this interruption, she had convinced himself he would get a sale, and more importantly, a date. "Leave it out Hilal, she's just hear to buy a few knives!" he protested at the Vizsla teen. Annike smirked, that wasn't going to cut it. Her fingers gently moved and a purple mist formed around them.

The man's mood changed as Annika latched onto his lust, and to his rage. He pulled out his pistol and pointed it at the armoured girl. "I won't warn you again Hilal! Leave her alone or you'll regret it." Annika's smile curled up as the mandalorian forger pointed his gun at Hilal, he was shaking as his runaway emotions fought against his desire not to fire upon a clan mate until finally he snapped and fired at point blank range at Hilal.

Annika would use this distraction to leap behind the forge, looking for cover from the likely assault by the mandalorian. How hard would she go at a forge owned by her own kin? How would she feel about another Vizsla taking the side of this unnamed Sith over his blood. These were the questions that excited Annika.

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I Want to Punch Your Throat


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Allies: Unknown
Enemies: Darth Dekaltis Darth Dekaltis , Unknown
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She should have been with the Alor'ad. She had been adopted by Clan Saxon and should have been on the battlefield under Celt's command with her new brothers and sisters. If she were still an officer in the Aruetii, Athena would be leading a company of Mandalorian-trained crack soldiers against the Sith hordes. But the Foreign Legion was not there, and she was no longer one of them. She was Mandalorian.

But she was barely an apprentice. As such, Athena was relegated to a small unit of warriors serving as rear guard. They were assigned to protect the ships of the commandos racing to secure the cache of beskar absconded by a syndicate. The unfortunate criminals had suddenly found themselves in a vice between the Sith and the Mandalorians, who had landed on opposite sides of the facility and now fought for the priceless cargo.

Athena and her squad manned their post, following the events within the facility on their comms. She was frustrated to miss the fight, as were her companions, especially as the reports portrayed a desperate struggle inside. Then word that Carnifax himself had appeared. A call for reinforcements beamed over the comms.

Elements of the rear guard were sent in. Athena surged forward eagerly toward the large facility, launching skyward with others to land at the blast-torn entrance and moved in. The squad encountered the bodies of the Syndicate criminals and pirates caught unawares by the Mandalorian assault. As they moved deeper into the facility, the hiss of blasters, crack of slug throwers, explosions and the cries of war grew louder.

Carbon scored walls and twisted metal indicated locations of more intense fighting. Athena came across the remains of an advanced Sith scout squad. Several were left wounded. While she had fought many times against the Alliance in the Foreign Legion, she had yet to have the pleasure of killing Sith. She was disappointed that her first Sith kills would be less honorable. But a breathing Sith could not be tolerated. Those too hurt to resist were given a blaster bolt through the head.

One had risen to his feet, rifle in hand. With one swift motion, Athena quickly slid the Adtr'i'dadr beskad from it's sheath on her back, set it to humming and blocked the poorly aimed blaster bolt with the blade. The vibroblade was, in fact, the only piece of beskar on her, having yet to earn any for her curiass. She could have easily cut the foe down with her own blaster, but she wanted the Sith bastard to experience his death fully, to see the Mandalorian wield her weapon against him, to feel the blade cleave through his armor, flesh and bone, and his last memory to be suffering defeat and death at the hand of a Mandalorian.

The lifeless body slid to the ground, falling into two halves as the corpse settled to the floor. Her weapon finally blooded, Athena moved on with her comrades towards the hottest part of the fight.

 
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Alora slid to the side as she continued forward. The sniper needed to be dealt with. Bombs, tanks, and drop ships were bad, but Mandalorians could face them handily. Snipers were a different animal, and one left unchecked could destroy a line. That didn't mean, of course, that Alora's pursuit wasn't without peril. A few scattered shots, some artillery here or there along the way. She'd even called in the location of an anti-air emplacement being setup so others knew the ever-changing face of the field.

At first Alora hadn't been sure where the sniper was. Fortunately, she had Gambit to help in the search. Not as thoroughly as either would have wanted -- ordinarily they'd have found their target in seconds or a few minutes at the latest -- but the on-going skirmish required the ship to break off and try approaching from alternative vectors to reacquire. It was a 'perfect' stealth ship... when you couldn't see it with your eyes. Sure, a visual lock was harder, but these weren't country bumpkins plinking cans on a fence.

The closer she got, however, the more certain her destination became.

Alora!

Heat flare. There was plenty of heat on the battlefield, but this was a different composition of characteristics. Not to mention the location was well within the expected location of the sniper with a pulse cannon.

The non-traditionally garbed Mandalorian twisted in flight and cut thrust as the projected blast soared across the intervening distance. She felt more than heard the shot clip her shoulder. The suit was designed for many things, but absorbing shock was not one of them. Impact altered her trajectory for her, and the heavily armored figure dropped swiftly out of the air.

A discerning eye and a strong zoom might notice the brief flares from Alora's pack that worked to reorient her out of the tumble. A large burst took on some heavy acceleration to avoid plowing into the ground, her course set straight for the sniper. This time Alora hugged the deck with both pistols held out to carve a path through anyone close enough now to think to take on the living missile.

Active Combatant: UX-0626 UX-0626
Potential Combatants: Festerruman Sachiel Festerruman Sachiel
Field Partners: Aloy Vizsla Aloy Vizsla | Celt Saxon Celt Saxon
 




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"Good Lord. Such heathens." Pomsty said as the coven observed the Mandalorians below. "You'd think they would ask questions, like maybe ask about how to get inside the vault."
"Sure! 'Where's the door?'
"It would beg helpful."
"Yeah"
"Animals."
"I just don't like them."
"Don't like any men!"
"Yee-up."
"EXCEPT CARNIFEX!!!!" the Coven swooned in unison.
"Yee-up." Pomsty crooned with a placid expression, until suddenly a thought struck her, and the old crow's eyes glowed with satisfaction. "My dears," she said, positioning herself a little closer to her sisters on the perch.

The Necromancers squawked shrilly in well practiced harmony. Under the cover of darkness, a Potion vial was tossed high into the air, while the Wanica sang their incantation in their native tongue. The Ichor of the Nightsisters hung suspended in the air and glowed a fluorescent green before it expanded. It spread out across the land and the most repugnant Magick began to rain down over the immediate area as if poured forth from the sky. The rooftops below were no barrier. Magick seeped down into every crevice of the ground.

The land trembled next, parting soil, shifting the foundation blocks of buildings, foreboding the sprouting up of remnant dust of the dead both recent and long past. Absolute darkness bled out of nothing and hung in mid air, blotting out the sun. Darkness reached outward like spilt ink upon parchment, producing a two dimensional vortex which grew before one's eyes. From within the brightest light broke while spirits of the departed escaped from the Netherworld to mix in with the land of the living.

Demons swarmed to catch sight of the occurrence and drive out the enslaved souls, laughing haughtily at their new circumstantial entrapment. They drove out the souls like animals, under ethereal whips and chains, causing further misery. Many spirits took to bodies, formed of the blood, bones, and dirt vomited up out of the land. Others swarmed about in ghoulish manner, set to wreak havoc.

Screams echoing from the cemeteries were hellish to the ears. In time those would be upon all. Hidden burial plots of the murdered, cried out with much more enthusiasm, willingness for vengeance.

Souls of the damned were groomed to welcome the agenda at hand, "ASSIST THE SITH," the Nightsisters demanded, their last final words to their spell.




"Cyare Ad, Sodd-Soll," spoke the apparition of one tearing old man as he appeared before his son. "Ni ceta!" he pleaded, kneeling in repentance before the Mandalorian.




The Nightsisters prepared themselves to next play with the penitent spirit who appeared, this fact showed in their Priestess' eyes.
"Our Mistress has a mean streak."
"Guilty."

 

Ziggst Aruetii

Guest
Z


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To Sodd-Soll, it felt as though the entire globe had come to a standstill, freezing in time itself. All the cosmic energies seemed to converge at this very instant, as his father's ghostly figure materialized before him through some form of heathen witchcraft.

This was the man who had nurtured him, imparting the wisdom of the Mandalorian Culture, only to later betray his trust by joining forces with the Sith Empire during their invasion of Mandalore countless centuries ago. It was this very act that branded Sodd-Soll as 'Traitor's Blood' in the eyes of Clan Ha'rangir, bringing upon him a multitude of dishonors that had yet to be answered for.

Sodd-Soll had successfully expunged the dishonor that plagued his conscience by eradicating Krogg Ha'rangir from the records of Mandalorian History. This act not only restored his personal honor but also showcased his prowess in combat within their impenetrable fortress. The individual seated in front of him held no significance, as they lacked a face, a name, and an identity. They were merely another obstacle to be eliminated in his unending pursuit of eternal warfare.


"You have no right to speak my name dar'manda, ghost of nothingness." With a swift and decisive motion, the Mandalorian-style electro-hammer came crashing down, obliterating the conjuration in its path. As the Mandalorian Offensive moved forward, leaving him behind, he prepared himself for a one-on-one battle with the audacious individual who had foolishly thought of manipulating his past family against him. It was evident that only a highly skilled force user could have orchestrated such a cunning plan.

"Witch!, I know you are here amongst the living. Stop hiding behind illusions and deceptions" The Alor of Clan Ha'rangir would boldly declare to the empty chamber, extending a daring challenge for anyone to confront him, unaccompanied and without support. They would resolve their conflicts on the battlefield, leaving no room for doubt or compromise.
 
sɪɴɴᴇʀs ʙʏ ᴅᴇᴇᴅ ʙᴜᴛ ʀɪɢʜᴛᴇᴏᴜs sᴛɪʟʟ


Several marines had fallen in the intense fighting before enemy reinforcements had even touched down, the shear volume of fire was bound to inflict losses no matter the strength of their armor. Each of the fallen were dragged back into cover for medical attention or munitions retrieval, covered by machinegun fire as was Black Hand doctrine, but in some cases it simply wasn't enough.

There was no casualty collection point, not yet at least, given that most only had time to drag their comrades around the corner before simply replacing them in their firing position.

When enemy artillery finally landed, most of the wounded were incinerated by the impact while their unlucky comrades burst into flame, caught in the following blast and left to roll or crawl, their red silhouettes being the only comprehensible sight amidst the smoke and steam.


"Scatter your teams!" Aloy demanded, prompting her men to increase spacing, reducing the likelihood of additional casualties should the enemy repeat their bombardment.

"Tell OOM I want those guns silenced!"

The Recluse was next to act, tracking the enemy's artillery battery and aiming for the largest concentration her crew could find before launching it's last remaining Cruise Missile at the approximate location.
Hearing the roar of this massive rocket, Aloy activated her thermal optics in an attempt to gauge target effectiveness, only to discover- to her horror- that another wave of humanoid thermal signatures were rushing through the smoke.

With no time form a plan, she took aim with her
Sonic-distuptor pistols and began firing at the closest enemy.

"Contact!"

Her marines began firing wildly into the smoke until the enemy was close enough to spot, firing from behind rocks and even the armored bodies of their own dead. Viper Team however, who were equipped with advanced thermal optics in their Neo-Crusader armor, where able to spot the enemy long before the marines, delivering precise volleys of Explosive particle beams as the foe approached without hard cover.

This only only ceased when the enemy began suppressing their positions as both sides made visual contact.

<"Goorar goore!"> They shouted, in Mando'a to keep their intention secret from the enemy, prompting many marines to throw Grav charges and thermal detonators at the oncoming infantry. Those who got too close after were greeted by fire in kind, in the form of wrist mounted flamethrowers.

 

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Thin needles of shimmering energy lanced out from the air around the Dark Lord, piercing each particle bolt mere meters away from the throne; each detonating like miniature suns upon impact. Space appeared warped and distorted in the wake of explosions, as though the fabric of the universe had been smudged with a paintbrush. The manipulation of matter and energy was a trivial thing to Him now, He could pervert the powers of the Wellspring and concentrate them into paper-thin points of energy that appeared like a shimmer in the air; like the haze of a mirage.

Even as explosions rocked the air, and the fighting continued about them, the Dark Lord's voice cut through as though it were emanating from the comm system inside their helmet. "An animal cannot perceive treason, their minds lack the higher brain function. The extinction of your kind is a task best left to the work of menials, but sometimes you must take matters into your own hands." Another explosion, this time by the Dark Lord heating up the oxygen molecules until they ruptured in a great burst of fire and wind.

Carnifex pushed up off His throne, rising through the air, and passing through the cloud of fire. Scintillating energy in the shape of a spear, leapt from the Dark Lord's outstretched hand, soaring through the air like a javelin towards the airborne Rook. Carnifex fell back down to the floor, cracking the ground as He landed, His eyes scanning the sky for His Mandalorian foe. The throne and the Crownguard withdrew back, fighting any Mandalorians as they did. They would remain nearby but out of the fight, heeding their Master's command without pause.


 
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Allies: Darth Malum of House Marr Darth Malum of House Marr Marcus Dinn Marcus Dinn
Enemies: Athena Saxon Athena Saxon
Rogue Agents: Allyson Locke Allyson Locke
OOC Music: Bare Your Teeth!

She watched her master with a fascination. Chat seems to love him, and yet she couldn't help but idolize him herself. The fluidity of his movements, the efficency of his attacks. It memer-

Target.

Her brain flipped immediately from admiration to violence. She had spotted a mando to kill. "Of course Master Malma!" She spoke as sweet as sugar, and yet there was a sharpness to her voice, as she ran straight ahead towards the target. A mando wearing red armor, that she wanted.

"HEY! MORIDINIZID! WILL YOU PLEASE DIE FOR ME?!"

Before awaiting an answer, she telekinetically grabbed a Mando Blaster off one of the fallen, and opened fire with it as it floated through the air, while a bolt of lightning flew through the air from her hands. Lightning killed mandos, she figured, yeah?
 
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//: Rogue Agent //:
//: Darth Malum of House Marr Darth Malum of House Marr //: Marcus Dinn Marcus Dinn //:
//: Athena Saxon Athena Saxon //:
//: Initial Target //: Darth Dekaltis Darth Dekaltis //:
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The life of technology buzzed through the Force. It was unexpected, especially for the Sith. Lips parted as a silent breath was taken. The mission was to observe, record, and bring anything valuable home. She wasn't supposed to be here; the NJO didn't know, but maybe the SIA did. It wouldn't surprise the Corellian if they had already figured out how to track her. Allyson was known to go off script on missions, even create missions from thin air.

Allyson hid her location. To the Sith and Mandalorians in the area, she was nothing but a void visually and within the weave of the Force itself. Below her, a Sith Lord and his apparent apprentices worked their way through the room. Allyson remembered how this one felt; she had faced him before, but the other two were new. Her eyes narrowed as her attention was drawn heavily to the one that screeched like a child with excitement. Whatever the girl was, she was the source of the technological hum that drew the Corellian's attention.

The long-practicing Technomancer grinned, sensing the cybernetics and feeling the hint of reliance the apprentice must have on them. Most individuals in this day and age rely on these enhancements. Easy target, she thought, quickly focusing on the right-hand cybernetic the apprentice had. Allyson used the Force to first delay the electronic circuitry, and as she influenced the cybernetic, she concentrated on overloading the limb till it could be considered useless.

Allyson glanced quickly, wondering if the Mandalorian the girl was leaping towards would take advantage of the potential hindrance of the pink-haired annoyance.
 
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"Simply a consequence of how I was raised, as you no doubt know, when Kaine took control of Mandalore in the day of the Sith Empire, it became Moridinae, and the Mandalorians, the Moridinizid, it seems old habits die hard."

Marcus actually didn’t know this. He had spent much of his life on a planet with no connection to the rest of the galaxy, and the visions didn’t tell him everything. But it was to his benefit for others to believe he was nigh omniscient, so he did not reveal this gap in his clairvoyance. “I thought so,” he said with a nod.

"My apologies, please, lead the way, I should be instructing you, not clearing the path myself and allowing you to watch. You can feel it in the air, we are close, and that means our enemy is closer still. Make the Empire proud. Prove you are ready to be the Sith you desire to be, and you will have all the power you will ever need."

The vision came on swiftly. Marcus’ gaze flicked toward Malum’s hand on his shoulder, and a moment later he was seeing the twist and turn of circuitry. Sparks floated across his vision as Dekaltis’ mechanical right arm began to malfunction, the machinery manipulated by the Force. But that was in the near future. It hadn’t happened yet.

He watched Malum’s apprentice skip ahead, shrieking as she attacked a Mandalorian. Should he warn her? Though Malum had advised them to work together, she was technically still his competition. He certainly wouldn’t shed a tear if she wound up crippled or dead.

He did care about how Malum might be affected by the loss. The Sith Lord was perhaps a bit softer than he should have been, but he also seemed more reasonable and grounded. Marcus found him intriguing in ways that he did not find in the so-called “greats” of the current generation of Sith. If anything happened to his apprentice, it would reflect poorly on Malum's capabilities as a mentor.

Lightning lashed forth from her fingertips while her other hand fired a looted blaster. The mechu-deru mishap was just seconds away now. Marcus sent his dagger through the neck of another Mando, then shouted, “Dekaltis, they're trying to sabotage your cybernetics!

 
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Location: Ma’ar Shaddam
Objective: 1 - Forges of Shadow
Dialogue Legend: <<Ghoul-Speak>> │ “Galactic Basic” │ <”ur-Kittât”>
Allies: SO ( Festerruman Sachiel Festerruman Sachiel )
Enemies: ME ( Aloy Vizsla Aloy Vizsla Celt Saxon Celt Saxon )
Direct Engagement: Alora Vizsla Alora Vizsla

UX-0626 narrowed her synthetic gaze as the armored figure was struck. While her shot had not resulted in the direct impact that she had hoped for, the Mandalorian had been sent into a careening death spiral.

Then, suddenly, just before her form would have hit the deck, she righted herself.

On cue, the range value in UX-0626’s HUD began to rapidly decrease from 450 meters as the Mandalorian accelerated towards her. Nevertheless, it gave the strand-cast enough time to take one more shot, before the Mandalorian would overtake her. Almost immediately, she snapped her crosshairs onto the center of the predicted impact point marker and squeezed the trigger just as the range calculation hit 70 meters. Right then, a searing bolt of fusion plasma exploded out from the barrel of her pulse cannon, swiftly heating up its frame in the process. If it struck true, the bolt would likely strike the Mandalorian in her upper chest as she closed the distance.

Unfortunately, UX-0626 could not afford to stick around to find out how it might affect her target.

Not even a split-second after squeezing the trigger, the sniper swapped her pulse cannon for her heavy pistol, before activating her armor’s repulsor boosters with a quick mental command, immediately carrying her form upward and forward in a sudden burst of acceleration. With the jet trooper flying towards her while hugging the ground, UX-0626 hoped that the maneuver would see her target overshoot and pass beneath her.

Should that happen, UX-0626 would be flying behind (and above) the Mandalorian, ready to deliver what she hoped might be the final blow.


 
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Heart Breaker and Life Taker
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"Homelander" Mythosaur Heavy Armor

"Hey!" Hilal growled towards her clanmate. "This woman is a Sith Lord! She's only manipulating you to get what she wants! Don't fall for her trickery!" This was Hilal's first time taking on a Sith despite the fact that she fought in a war against them and nearly died in the process. Hilal still remembered her near death experience on Tython at the hands of a Sith solider no less. Since then, Hilal vowed to become a better fighter training as hard as she could. While Hilal made some progress as a warrior, the memories of Tython still lingered in her mind refusing to be unrooted no matter how much Hilal tried to forget.

But Sith were more devious than the stinking Jedi, they like to use mind control, a dishonorable tactic if Hilal ever seen. "Stop controlling her Sith!" Hilal pointed her Double Wrist Blasters towards her. "Let go of him now! Or I'll- ah frack the threats! You're dead!"

Hilal was about to fire until her clanmate unleashed a couple of blaster bolts on Hilal's breastplate. The bolt collided against the reinforced durosteel creating white lights. Hilal stumbled in shock but she was otherwise unharmed. "Save for a couple of burn marks on my armor," Hilal thought. "I just had this cleaned......"

The Mandalorian retaliated by unleashing a cloud of sleeping gas to her clanmate hopefully that'll knock him out cold. "Now to you bastard!" Hilal muttered. "How fracking dare you take control of my people!"

Annika Starfire Annika Starfire
 

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Location: Ma'ar Shaddam
Objective: OBJ 2 - Deals with mando smiths
Tags: Hilal Vizsla Hilal Vizsla
Gear: in bio

Wearing: this but with her hat

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The forger went down like a sack of potatoes, kind of anticlimactic considering Annika might have hoped to trigger the Mandalorian into striking her own, but it at least bought the half zeltron some time to take cover.

"Oh, come on, your people are itching for someone to tell them what to do, the war against the Alliance, the clown show on Mordinae? Even you, I've heard excellent things about you consorting with your supposed enemies... Hilal..." she cackled, trying her luck with the girl. Annika swirled ger fingers in the air and from her hidden position behind the forge, snakes of purple and black smoke made their way toward Hilal, attempting to find the gaps in her armour, not to penetrate, but to constrict. And exposed joint, a neck, all good places to get in there and squeeze the other woman into submission.


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Alora trained both disruptors at the sniper ahead as the distance closed. Mandalorians don't flinch. Especially when they were staring down a barrel of someone else's gun. Sniper and Soldier squeezed off shots as they trained their sights for a kill.

The plasma swept over the armor-laden woman. One arm crossed in front of her helm; the shot grazed it and dispersed some of the energy in the phrik reinforcements. The rest seared its way down Alora's armored chest.

"Take them out," she snapped. The Mandalorian whipped around long enough for her boots to scrape along the ground while still facing in the direction UX-0626 UX-0626 had gone.

I am not a warship, Gambit cried as the ship rocked from a nearby explosion as it sought to acquire a lock on the now airborne sniper. The Gambit always reminded Alora it was built for stealth not warfare, but even after so many years it seemed the message never quite reached her. Torpedoes away! It only had two launchers for simultaneous fire.

Two magazines shot free of the pistols as Alora slammed them down into the reloaded on her back. Still on the ground, Alora burst into a sprint along the ground after the sniper. Going up there in the air was exactly what they wanted. No cover. No obstructions. Fewer possible intrusions too, but Alora would just have to evade or crush anyone that got between them. Better that then constantly getting her armor damaged by narrowly missing those shots.

Alora, I'm attracting attention. There's a larger concentration of anti-air being directed at me, Gambit added as she sped across the terrain. I may need to break off.

Active Combatant:
UX-0626 UX-0626
Potential Combatants: Festerruman Sachiel Festerruman Sachiel
Field Partners: Aloy Vizsla Aloy Vizsla | Celt Saxon Celt Saxon
 

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