Dominion Dark Harvest: Containment | Mandalorian Enclave Dominion of Christophsis

[Fenn Stag]

SAVE

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Equipment: Beskar'Gam l Crushgaunts l Disruptor Pistol l Beskar Knife l Jetpack l Combat Rifle l Combat Stims l Cigar and a lighter l Wrist Mounted Flamethrower l x3 Grenades l Nothing but his boxers.

Tags: Laura Reese l Olaya Astrapí l Todblaz Graker




The glass slid open, the room was now occupied by two people. Fenn laid on his back, staring at the ceiling


bite

kill​

spread
​

where did the time go, it's time for bed Fenn​

​

​

​

His mother was in the room, then his father, then himself. He saw himself stand over him. Not himself. Looked like him. Where was he? What was he doing? Where was his arm?


She spoke, her voice like a thousand violins to the sick man on the gurney. He regained his composure.

"Did you bring a gun?"

He finally looked at her. Despite his stature, muscle, and physique- he was like a small child when he spoke. He was desperate for the pain to be over, but at the same time- resisting every second of every moment since he became infected.

"That's how you'd help."

He saw himself standing behind her, longer hair, older. Blinking, shaking his head sadly. Not disappointed. Just sad. His lip quivered. He wanted to go home. He paced behind the doctor, phasing through her.

Fight like I did.​

kill

kill

























​

don't let them kill us

want to hurt you, us, them

kill her

​

Then disappeared. He was much bigger than he was.

Fenn breathed deeply, before lashing out as another wave of pain struck him. He screamed, clenching his eyes shut, his fingers grasping at the bars of the bed he was on. The infection was clawing at him, but he was going to fight to the bitter end.

"Why am I still alive?"

He said, through gritted, angry teeth.

​

 

[Venari Krayt]

Roon | Skyhold, Firstpage
Tag(s): Tae'l Vizsla
Equipment: In Bio

With the first round of non-infected taken away, Venari picked up on comms from Tayl.


"Roger that, on my way!"

The young Mando trots their way over to Tayl, getting into position to cut down anything that came through the doors, and sure enough, they would run into a group of crazed infected beings that flooded out of the home like a wave of water. Venari's heavy repeater went back to work quickly, cutting down the wave with ease. Once everything was dead she gestures for Tayl to ready up at the next house, burning the bodies before the two continued on.

"Am I the only one that feels down? I mean, sure it is fun to cut down things with this gun and all.. But these were once people, the same people that I used to see at times while I and momma worked for the Black Hand. It just kinda stings is all.. Anyway, we got more houses to clear, right?"

She sighs, raising up her huge gun once more after speaking just to Tayl, with her focus broken she ends up getting tackled from behind by an infected. Its mangled teeth try to puncture into Venari's flesh, thankfully her duraplast plate protected Venari's neck and arms from the sickly being's teeth and claws. She grunts in shock as the thing clambered all over her back, trying to get into her like a starving animal, using the strength from the exosuit, she would clutch onto the infected before slamming it onto the ground. The creature met its end thanks to the high-powered stomp from her boot, exploding its head like a watermelon.

Through comms one could hear Venari catching her breath after such a shock, it the infected had been just a bit luckier it could have found an opening in the plate.

"Whoever made this is a monster..."

Venari says while calming down, giving Tayl a nod to open the next door just as she had done before, heavy gun raised again and ready to clean up more infected.



​

 

[Tae'l Vizsla]

​

​

// TAYL VIZSLA // KARJR //
// SEARCH & RESCUE //
// LOCATION //: SKYHOLD
// OBJECTIVE //: RELIEVE SURVIVORS

// ALLIES | ENCLAVE // Venari Krayt
// VIPER TEAM //
// ENEMIES | INFECTED |
// ENGAGED: INFECTED |

Music: Man in Black​

EQUIPMENT: AKAANIR-CLASS GUNSHIP // OTHER(bio)
(x4)WP-19 INCENDIARY GRENADE(S)​

"Chit, you're fast" Tayl muttered, Yanking her blaster out of a now very dead infected. To Tayl, it was just another day. Frankly, it was easier than the Dar'manda she'd been hunting for the past four years. They knew what they were doing, these things didn't. She learned to stop feeling a long time ago. Feeling got you killed. Why else would mother have installed this chip in her head? To keep her from feeling, from making mistakes under the heat of emotion. Right?

She stopped to lean on the wall outside, check her munitions, that sort of thing. She could hear Venari using a flamethrower to burn the infected bodies on the other side. It didn't mean much to her, but... why? She'd been asking herself that question a lot lately.
Was she just... cold hearted? Had mother made her into some kind of... Monster?

She found herself glancing off to the street, trying to find a distract, and boy did she find it...
Another body. Infected, previously. charred to shit by blaster fire and napalm. It should have been run of the mill scenery by now but...

It was small. Unrecognizable now, but... It couldn't have been more than 6 or 7 before it turned. Venari might recognize faces, something this thing no longer had, but Tayl would recognize the proportions anywhere.

Maybe she wasn't so heartless after all. Else, it wouldn't have skipped a beat just then.

Anyway, we got more houses to clear, right?"

"Mhm" She didn't say much else, just slowly turned toward Venari, eyes still locked sidelong at the scenery before they finally caught up to her battle sister.

It was just then that one of the infected tackled Venari, To which Tayl quickly raised her pistol but to no avail.
Her aim snapped from position to position, But she just couldn't get a clean shot. Not with this pistol, lacking the hyper-advanced targeting computer of her signature hand-cannon.

"C'mon! c'mon!"

By the time she had drawn the correct pistol for the job, Venari had seemingly pulled the thing to the ground and absolutely crushed it, prompting a sharp exhale as the young Twi'lek checked over her shoulder for anymore.

"You alright?" She called, putting a hand on Venari's shoulder "Dank FUCKING FERRIC! I'm sorry!"
She should have had her vod's back. She should have seen it coming!

That was when she stormed off, marching deeper into the housing blocks while her Scan-pulse went to work.
Mostly everything seemed dead around here. Save maybe one building, which seemed to have a large group behind it.

And strangely, a singular lifeform in another room. It was... kneeling? No, hiding.

Infected don't hide.

"Hey! I think we got a live one!"

Just like last time, she stacks up by the door, ready to flip the switch and open 'er up for Venari. Only this time, she wasn't taking chances...
Her special Kal was drawn in her offhand now, with pistol swapped for the heavy hand-cannon and held in a CQB grip, just in case.
With her hands full, she kept one foot up on the control panel, ready to kick the switch and start the rescue.

"Venari, we got about hostiles, maybe more. Got no audibles, but I think there's a survivor barricaded inside. Heat sig doesn't look right for an Infected. Just say when..!"

 

[Volo Dragr]

OPERATION : DEAD MAN WALKING
OBJECTIVE : ORDER
ALLIES : Vren Rook | CLOSED
- - - - -
Devil's Got You Beat

"Subtlety ain't exactly your specialty."

"Harsh judgement from the man who landed in the middle of the street." Volo smirked back, clapping Vren on the shoulder; the beskar of his cybernetic hand thunking against that of the shoulder pad. The Rook never failed to draw the good humour from Volo, even as they walked through the field of charred, shredded and otherwise mutilated corpses.

The Guildmaster spared a mournful glance downards, muttering out an old wellwish; "Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum."

As they finally made their way past the bodies, Volo raised his gaze again and turned it to Vren. "How've you been, old friend? It seems like years since we last spoke. I believe it was Kamino, with the Krayt boy." His tone was reminiscent, though he was gradually slipping back into his more natural white-knight tone. "I found the call of battle more tempting than politics. I've shared all I know with the Quartermaster, it is to her judgement what information is spread. I figure it is better to witness this plague for myself, than rely solely on the eyes of others."

Volo, it seemed, hadn't changed much fundamentally. His walk still exuded confidence that, while immense, was complemented by the sheerness of his mere presence; the cold and calculating gaze mixed with his noble nature in a way that seemed to justify bravado of any quantity. Even now, fresh from the slaughter, he walked the street without a blade or blaster in his hand.

The bloodstains on his gauntlets and greaves seemed to prove weapons were a tool of convenience, rather than necessity.

"What will we do with the survivors once we secure them?" A simple question, yet so very necessary. It was hardly like they were going to all fit in Nag, even if Volo and Vren flew as wingmen. Though, there were precious few alternatives... they lacked the numbers to hold out in the hotel, and transporting them to another holdout was risky, to say the least.

It wasn't much longer before they came upon the hotel. Wasting little of their precious time, the Guildmaster gripped the damaged door by it's gap and hauled it open; a feat of miraculous strength spoilt only by the telltale whirring of his armour's exoskeleton.

Keeping the initiative, the Dragr charged into the hotel; boots thudding on the wooden floor, stopping only a second as he reached for his helmet's thermal vision toggle. A critic might say he was a fool to enter the hotel so brashly, that he should have, at least, taken the precaution of drawing his blaster.

Any witness with an eye to see out of would testify that fifty blasters wouldn't have served him any better, not as the scrum of infected toppled him, throwing Volo to the ground.​

​

 

[Laura Reese]

KAMINO | MEDICAL LABS
TAGS: @Olaya Astrapi | Fenn Stag | Todblaz Graker

It seemed that the combined efforts of her and Doctor Graker managed to get through to the Arkanian doctor. Laura breathed a sigh of relief before giving a nod at Doctor Astropi’s words. ”Yes, doctor!” She spoke up, sounding more like a soldier than a doctor. Without wasting a second, she searched through the database until she found Fenn Stag’s file, uploading it to a datapad for Doctors Graker or Astropi to examine.

The Arkanian left the room, leaving Graker to take control and coordinate the staff to prep for the new patient’s arrival. Laura was moving from one station to the other as she helped to the best of her abilities, all the while making mental notes of the procedures and other details. This was a wealth of experience she was receiving.

"Do you have any brain scans of the already infected, I need print outs of those to look over them. If not go tell someone to do them please."

”We got scans of the infected in various stages, sir. I’ll go find ‘em.” She confirmed before she turned back to her terminal, once more digging through folders upon folders to find every scan she could. All of those were quickly uploaded to the datapad as well and handed to Doctor Graker. ”Here you go, sir. The virus whittles down brain activity the longer it stays in the body. Adrenaline, hormones, instincts, it’s all affected until we get…” Her green gaze turned to one of the feral patients hurling themselves at the glasteel cage. ”... That.” She explained to him.

”From… what GalacMed could gather… the virus straight up attacks anything that tries to intercept it. The white blood cells aren’t destroyed, they just… team up with the virus? Everything gets enhanced in the host. What we could gather is this was likely supposed to be some kind of experiment for super soldiers, but it went south really badly. But so far we couldn’t figure out how to replicate an antibody that can counter this virus without getting turned as well. Hopefully Fenn’s situation can shed some light on this.” She left Doctor Graker to his duties as she returned to hers, wrapping up the final finishing touches and moving off to find the equipment he asked for.

When she returned, Laura stood at the ready and awaited the arrival of the new patient.

 

[Romul Saxon]

Objective: Preside
Tag: Braxton Holst | Runi Kuryida | Hester Shedo | Vemric Keldra

There was no doubt the self-important politicians that made up the body of the Tributary Council were offended by Romul's unceremonious entrance and call to order, but Romul was a wartime commander and leader, not a politician here to bandy words and half-promises. The Quartermaster had known this when she'd appointed him to lead this special session in her stead, though she had made him promise that he would remain civil. That much, he could do.

"I . . . apologize for the brusque nature of this meetings commencement, but we gather here under dire times," Romul declared as the representatives took their seats, the word apologize sounding difficult to pronounce from the Warmaster's lips. "A plague of unprecedented proportions ravages the Outer Rim, threatening the stability of Enclave territory at a time where the Sith and the Hutt's influence on the edge space grows."

"I have come here today," he continued, putting a hand firmly on the table, "as a representative of the Enclave, the Mandalorians whom you swore obeisance to in return for protection and the freedom to self-govern. It is time that the sovereign systems of the Enclave put up their swords in camaraderie with the Mandalorians to defeat this threat together, to defend the right that we have granted you."

 

[Runi Kuryida]

Objective III
Ra'ntisr Capitol Building | Hefi

Runi settled into her own seat as Romul began to speak. He started out... well enough given the less diplomatic means of garnering everyone's attention. That wasn't the problem. it was the man's message as a representative of the Enclave that required the Shaman maintain the most disciplined of expressions.

In return for protection and self-government? Granted them? Runi did not enjoy politics, but only because the Game had long since gotten old corralling, convincing, and threatening (in so many words) people into doing what was necessary. Nonetheless, while it was far from a cherished expenditure of time, the Shaman remain well accustomed to how to play the Game. Perhaps she would need to instruct Romul how to play later. For now, a frank description of the relationship between parties was the field upon which events would now unfold.

Despite the forthright start, however, the Shaman did not interject to 'smooth things over.' Romul was the representative of the Enclave. Runi was merely someone that sought to ensure all those represented in that room (and even those not) were not left to fend for themselves in their time of need. She would hold her counsel until it was needed.

Romul Saxon | Braxton Holst | Hester Shedo | Vemric Keldra | Verin Oldo

 

[Vren Rook]

Nime | Roon
TAG: Volo Dragr
GEAR: In Bio

DO RIGHT, FEAR NO MAN​

"Harsh judgement from the man who landed in the middle of the street."

Vren chuckled behind his visor as Volo clapped him on the shoulder.
"Had to make a statement, partner." he quipped back as they stepped through the corpse-ridden street, Nag clanking forward behind them, the charred bodies crunching heavily beneath her claws.

It was a waste - the amount of people lost. People that had helped support the war machine that is the Enclave. How long before this thing was stopped?

They walked in silence for a bit, each saying their own wellwishes before Volo finally broke the silence between them.
"How've you been, old friend? It seems like years since we last spoke. I believe it was Kamino, with the Krayt boy."
"Has it really been that long?" he chuckled. "I've had it better than most. Whatever this is," he motioned to the dead corpses. "...it hasn't hit Tatooine as hard. Of course, there's been a new influx of criminal activity on the planet - so I've been kept busy with huntin'." he went on before looking toward his comrade again. "How about you, Dragr?" he asked.
"I found the call of battle more tempting than politics. I've shared all I know with the Quartermaster, it is to her judgement what information is spread. I figure it is better to witness this plague for myself, than rely solely on the eyes of others."
"Yeahp." Vren agreed. "You and me both. Figured I had to show my mug on the frontlines sometime."

They walked in easy silence toward the hotel for a heartbeat.
"What will we do with the survivors once we secure them?"
"I got a ship waiting in orbit. It'll send down dropships once we got 'em." Vren answered him before clapping his friend on the shoulder. "You should know by now I plan ahead, partner." he said with a smile evident in his voice.

They reached the hotel where Volo, as per usual, took point. The Rook, on the other hand, was more cautious, drawing both pistols again. Having to continuously clear out scum nests on Tatooine, had given him that extra trait as a Karjr.

And it was a good thing too.

Volo had just been tackled to the ground by infected when Vren entered. Swift hands as always, a torrent of fire deployed from the Karjr's vambrace as he also switched from particle to sonic on his pistols, unleashing hell on the small horde. He knew his fellow Karjr's armour would be able to take the heat and noise.

The infected on top of him, could not.

 

[Braxton Holst]

HEFI | RA’NTISR CAPITOL
TAGS: Runi Kuryida | Vemric Keldra | Romul Saxon | Hester Shedo | Verin Oldo

Braxton quietly sipped at his caf as he listened to the Warmaster’s opening speech. It was in times like these that he was reminded of the skills he and his peers or near-peers possessed when it came to the art of diplomacy. It seemed that, for Romul, diplomacy was the name for what came out the receiving end of a blaster.

He spared a glance at the others attending the meeting as he kept a straight face. The Mandalorian’s words left quite a lot to be desired, with the amount of posturing he was exercising. Though it did get the gears turning in the Director’s mind. He waited for Romul to finish as he took one last sip of his drink and cleared his throat.

”I think it’s fair to say…” He spoke up with a calm, yet commanding and booming tone to draw everyone’s attention as he rose from his seat. His hands were clasped in front of his stomach as he stood with a broad posture. ”... That I speak for everyone here when I say that we are grateful for the exemplary work the Mandalorians of the Enclave has done in washing the filth from the Outer Rim.” He spared a look at the others, then looked back to Romul.

”However, mister Saxon, if my sources are correct, it is also your Mandalorians that caused this entire debacle. Christophsis is still in the process of joining this Enclave of united planets, but as representative of its people, my first duty is towards them. Not the Mandalorians.” He held a hand up in pause as he took a sip to lubricate his throat.

”This containment and isolation of planets is having economic consequences that will reach much further into the future. I am not privy to the numbers of other planetary economies in Enclave space, however I can say that Christophsis has been fighting just as hard to keep its people clothed and fed as it has in fighting off this infection and the hordes that follow in its wake. I imagine that it has not been so different on all the other planets inside of Enclave space, especially those who rely on the exports of my company and people.” Braxton’s hands rested on the table in front of him as he leaned forward ever so slightly.

”I imagine that we all would like to know what your plan is in preventing a total economic collapse for our planets… or if there is even a regard for us… auretiise?” He asked. His common accent butchered the pronunciation completely, though it did get the point across. His tone was cordial throughout his speaking turn, though the underlying confidence that laced every word made sure to enforce the gravity of the situation as he stared into Romul’s eyes.

 

[Kayl Krayt]

Roon | Capital City
Equipment: In Bio.
Tags: Alora Vizsla | Open For Interaction!

​

"Alright. Let's get over there and to central security or whatever they call it."

She didn’t have to tell him twice.

With her confirmation to execute the plan they came up together on the fly, the kid rose back up to his feet quickly and vaulted over the wreck before him without trouble. The Misfit ran past the unmoving corpses of the turned, strewn on the roads as he led the way towards the entrance opening up to the courtyard of the apartment complex; he had neutralized them while they planned out their move

He had aimed for their cranium, the most effective way he knew to take them out with utmost efficiency, all the while conserving ammunition; with wide eyes the kid paid them a brief glance as he ran past them. The thick, dark-red blood pooled underneath the massive external traumatic injury the particle bolts left in its wake over the infected; their gray matter was strewn all over the place with broad and thin streaks of blood to accompany them.

The sight of his handiwork made his gorge rise. He stifled the natural urge to puke, but only just. He wasn’t foreign to such horrendous displays of gore, or violence that would have been the cause of it for that matter, but he hadn’t gotten used to it.

Never have.

He was not desensitized to it unlike the rest of his more seasoned, battle hardened kin, or counterparts. Nevertheless, the kid faltered not at the sight of the bodies, trying his best to not pay any mind to them as he continued running, making his way towards the entrance of the compound in post-haste; not long after passing through the open gate into the courtyard of the complex, they reached the entrance of the apartment building.

It was then he felt a tap on his left shoulder. Paying Alora a glance with a quizzical expression underneath the helmet visor, he watched as the woman quickly took point, surging past him towards the entrance left ajar, and slipped inside a moment shortly after.

His helmet visor helped him hide the displeasure emerging from his features. She didn’t think he was not capable, did she? Even though he would try his best to not let it get to him, the fact that she might have thought he was more susceptible to danger or something else, he couldn’t help but worry about that internally as he slipped inside, following her lead.

The lights were out; in response to stepping into near complete darkness, the kid lowered the macrobinocular attachment of his helmet, switching to low light visor mode to be able to see better in the dark.

This meant something was wrong with the structure’s back-up power generators. It could have been a multitude of things; maybe it was simply out of fuel, maybe it required some maintenance to get working again, or it was just turned off. Regardless of the reason why it was not functioning at the moment, they needed to make sure the generator was in working condition once more before carrying out their plan to escort the survivors into safety.

Utilizing the intercom to draw how many infected there were in the floors away from the survivors would be key for this, making things easier for them.

"Come on. We'll take the stairs. When we draw out any lurking in here, we might draw in more from outside. We'll need to get everyone to the roof quickly. Including ourselves."

<”Right,”> the kid muttered as he followed the Vizsla’s lead as they began to carefully ascend the floors to reach the floor where the generator was located at, which was just one floor above the entrance. Coming up to a door not long after, the kid stood outside with the blaster carbine at the ready, standing on overwatch as Alora sweeped the room at a praise worthy speed and efficiency before approaching the generator.

"Cover me."

The kid only gave a nod of his head in silent response without sparing her a glance, focusing on covering her rear as she began tinkering with the generator. Although unsure of the severity of the issue that prevented the machinery from functioning as intended, it did not take Alora long to get it into working condition again; the white fluorescent lights in the hallway flickered and shone brightly after the generator coughed and grumbled to life.

<”Okay, I’ll start ascending the floors via the staircase. Shouldn’t take me long to reach the fourteenth floor,”> he said as he started to make his way back towards the stairs and began ascending the floors one by one on his way to the first of the survivors with heightened caution.

He eagerly sought to prove himself to his peers, and to himself.

And this had the potential to prove to be a good opportunity to do just that.

​

 

[Volo Dragr]

OPERATION : DEAD MEN WALKING
OBJECTIVE : ORDER
TAGS : Vren Rook
- - - - -
I Will Not Bow

Volo yelled out, a guttural growl rumbling from somewhere deep within, as he was trampled like a hare against the herd. Try as he might, he was being battered by their combined strength; even the exoskeleton couldn't find the strength to resist them. It was all he could do to keep his arms up, and keep them from tearing his helmet off. His armour was holding, the only good news he had.

He could just barely hear Vren's blasters begin to cut through the pile, drowned up by their groveling and grueling. The infected were relentless, though, and not every bolt was incapacitating; those that were, only became literal deadweight. It was only then that they began to grab and yank at his helmet, inching it up his face, second by second...

For the first time in four decades, Volo Dragr felt powerless. Helpless against such raw power. Heaving a resigned sigh, he did what he'd sworn to never do... accept his fate. Taking the last few seconds of freedom for himself, he took himself back. Back past the Enclave, past his time as Alor of Clan Skaigh... to his days as a boy on Dathomir, hunting whatever small fauna they could find near their camp...

Reliving every day in just a moment, it did not take him long to reach the turning point of his life- the day of her death, body savaged by a Nydak... reliving that moment, Volo felt something turn in his stomach. A part of him longed to be reunited with her, to join her in the Manda... but something else, something deeper and darker, also called to him. A temptation he'd sworn off countless times, now seeming so much more appealing.

He called to it, summoning it like a groundskeeper summons his mutts.

Though, this power did not come from outside- Not as it had when he first accepted it in the Netherworld. It came from within, now, a tsunami where before it had been but a wave. The Guildmaster stilled his body, steeling himself with this unnatural resolve and his own indomitable defiance.

As his helmet was ripped from his head, thrown to Vren's feet, the Dragr lurched to action. Bringing his left arm up to guard his face, he activated the Verpine Shield and treated the horde to the dragon-breath of his flamer; protected as he was from the temperature by the shield. Letting up after grilling the infected, he brought his knees up to his chest and kicked the fumbling bodies to the side, clawing himself to his feet.

Even then, though, he was not done. Some of the still-burning bodies, burdened by twisted mortality, stood with him and attempted to stumble away. Volo would not endure the cost of mercy. Gripping the nearest by the scalp, he dragged it backwards and buried his knuckleplate vibroknife in it's throat.

"Weak-" he growled out, throwing the body to the ground as he brought his other hand up. Vibroknuckler thrumming to life, he spun on his foot and hit the next infected with a blow so bad it decimated the entire left side of its face.

"Puny-" the Guildmaster growled out again, raising his left arm and aiming it at a third infected, stumbling down a hallway. A grappling line shot out and, manipulated with a yank of his arm, wrapped around the afflicted's throat. Hauling the thing back with a bestial sound, he reached for his belt and pulled the bladeless hilt of a beskad from it.

When the victim was within melee range, Volo brought the hilt up- a blade as black as the night sky struck out, piercing the torso of the infected. The blade thrummed with lightning and cracked with thunder as the Guildmaster drove the weapon fully into the infected's back with force enough to lift it off its feet... before it slid off the blade and thudded onto the floor.

"Waste of flesh." he finally muttered, blade swishing down to his side. Whole body heaving with an unholy mix of anger, exertion and some unnatural bloodlust, the Dragr finally turned to Vren. He wore his emotions plainly now, teeth bared and scowling, his amber eyes glowing a vicious gold. Gesturing with the blade to the mass of burnt bodies, some still writhing, he took a breath and composed himself enough to speak in something other than a growl.

"Show them mercy, if you have any. I seem to have run myself dry of it."

Whatever noble façade had hidden away this roiling side of Volo was all but gone to the wind. Reaching out with his free hand, he called for his helmet; pulling it through the air with the Force. A trick he would not have dared in more common company, for there would be a time when he calmed himself enough for the Rook's inevitable questions.

Once his vod had decided the fate of whatever creatures remained, Volo pressed on. This time, though, he kept his blade at the ready, and his helmet hooked to his belt. No doubt, as he moved nearer and nearer to the portion of the hotel where the survivors were holed up, a living face would offer some comfort.

The closer they drew, the more Volo seemed to calm himself. When there was only a single door separating them, he seemed more than willing to yield the lead to the Rook; he had an undeniable abundance of natural charm., after all.​

​

 

[Vemric Keldra]

TAG: Braxton Holst | Romul Saxon | Runi Kuryida | Hester Shedo

SWAN​

The bored expression on Vemric's face remained throughout the Warmaster's speech.

Until his actual statement.

Romul's words caused a brow to loft once again. But before the Governor could speak, the newcomer rose to his feet and took it upon himself to speak for them all.

The Sephi did not appreciate being spoken for, despite the good points the man was making. Yet, he allowed the businessman to finish his statement.

And then his tall frame rose from its seat.

"An unorthodox display of hubris, Master Holst, but very well." he started, his deep voice still sounding bored before he turned to look down on the Mandalorian that was Romul Saxon. "I do, however, agree with the Representative of Christophsis. I also wish to add, Master Saxon, that it was not too long ago that this very planet was staged as a front for the Mandalorians without informing my government about the true capital that was Kestri. It was the Mandalorians that had put the people I am responsible for, in danger. I do believe that is the counter to providing protection as you so put it. How could we trust the Mandalorians to uphold a word of camaraderie when so many actions speak the opposite?" His voice had taken on a new tone - the one he usually reserved for Ensigns that acted out of protocol on his ship - stern and nigh-condescending.

"This is a sovereign planet, Master Saxon. It swears obedience to no one. It has earned its freedom long before you people came along. I have entered it into partnership with the Mandalorians, providing military assistance where needed in return for trade. I can at least say Hefi is in no need of your protection. You have granted us nothing. It is glaringly clear that the Mandalorians are instead in need of our help, not the other way around." It wasn't often the noble from Thustra drew his already perfect and tall frame even taller, but it did happen now. His shadow falling heavily over the Mandalorian he was speaking to.

"Depending on your answers, we might take up arms with you once more."

 

[Olaya Astrapí]

As her patient screamed in agony, Olaya fearlessly held his hand as she gazed down in concern as most of the guards were working on the repulser lift and properly binding him, Olaya stayed by his side as he thrashed, hallucinated, and wailed.

"Doctor!" One of the guards called to her as Fenn Stag convulsed, "Stay away from him, he could turn any moment!"

At the same time, she heard the young man ask... why he was still alive.

With a somber expression, Astropi looked down upon the pained man's face. She smiled, "My dear, you are alive because you are strong. But you cannot fight this infection alone."

As the nurses and guards finished binding him, she knelt down and softly rubbed his hand with her thumb, "But you are not alone anymore. When I cure you, I will cure you all. You will be a hero, Fenn Stag. And under my care, I will not let you down. You will be free, I promise."

She stood up again, pulling her hand from his and nodding to the crew in determination, "Let's go. We have a cure to create."

As the group walked through the halls, Olaya continued to engage her patient. She tried her best to keep conversation when he was still, asking about his family, asking what his interests were, and other questions to help him remember the joys in his life. To keep him fighting. And, to comfort him. When he screamed and thrashed in pain, she stayed close, soothing him and telling him he would be alright soon.

Yes, they planned on running tests and seeing what was different about him. But Olaya Astropi genuinely cared for her patients as well. She would do everything in her power to keep him comfortable, all while using him to save all her other patients as well. She was not just motivated by a lust for fame and approval, but by a real, true care for every single person who entered her office.

She would not fail.

As the armada of guards and nurses entered, surrounding the secure repulser stretcher and Astropi, she immediately barked orders.

"I need all of Patient Stag's vitals and levels displayed stat! Hook up an IV of water and nutrients, and make sure he is comfortable! Apply some anesthetics as well for a blood test! I need to know how Stag ticks, and I need to know now!"

She ran to a computer and pulled up background data on her patient. The information she saw... astonished her.

"By Arkania!"

Fenn Stag was a clone! A clone of a warrior named Preliat Mantis. An infamous war criminal. But just like Astropi was not her mother's carbon copy, Fenn was not Preliat's. His DNA had been tweaked, only bringing out the best genes and making him stronger. If he had a better immune system, then...

"Doctor Graker, can you get a complete synopsis of Stag's immune system? And compare it to both Preliat Mantis' and the standard human's immune systems. I have a theory. Reese, can you bring up all information on the virus? It was a super soldier expirament, yes? I think I'm drawing a connection. I just need to confirm some things."

Fenn Stag Todblaz Graker Laura Reese

 

[Alora Vizsla]

Roon | Capital City

Alora leaned back and turned her helmet in Kayl's direction as the young man suddenly called out he'd head out. Huh? He was going to the fourteenth floor already? Shouldn't they discuss the plan...? <"Give the signal if you need a distraction,"> she said over the comm channel as Kayl hurried off. A smile spread evenly across her face. If Kayl was eager to get into the mess and be a hero -- he had come there alone, apparently -- why should she stop him?

After all, she'd just secured the entrance because she was tired of being the fifth wheel. All that silenced shooting with Alora tagging along... her Squad didn't 'tag along' for anything. Couldn't deny a quieter approach had been better, however, so Alora had followed along like a good warrior.

Much as she loved the man's initiative though, she might need to beat teamwork into his head later. That'd depend on what trouble he got himself into.

With a quiet hum, Alora set to work rigging up a remote access to the building's systems. Kayl hadn't expected her to just hang out there the entire time while he ran around, and for her to run up all those flights of stairs to get to the extraction point later... had he? That was too much work! Work smarter, not harder as Gambit always complained to her. Definitely couldn't let him know Alora actually listened.

She'd just finished connecting everything when a primal growl caused the glowing visor to turn toward the door. Looked like an absent-minded Infected had discovered her secret hideout! Alora hadn't shut the door -- she had been busy -- and Kayl hadn't either. Oh, well, crazed not-zombies happened in not-zombie zones.

Rather than draw her pistols, however, Alora drew out a small two-inch long cylinder of metal. A simple flick of the wrist had it snap open into a two and a half foot long baton. "Well, come on then. You're dying to try gnawing through my beskar." The thing about Mandalorian helmets was it hid the person inside. What they did wasn't personal, it was all strictly business. Gave them the mysterious stranger vibe, which was totally cool. Plus it also hid their reactions -- no one could see when you weren't certain of the situation. Though... it also meant people couldn't see when you were grinning like a maniac when someone tried punching way, way above their weight. Like a virus infected crazed lunatic versus a top-class trained killer.

Who wins? Who loses? Physics decides!

Fingers versus beskar: beskar wins! Baton versus skull: baton wins! Victor: Alora. Time taken: 1 second. Score: SSS.

"Well, that was easy." Alora sighed. That was the problem with infected enemies... they weren't very challenging unless they were in a group large enough to hamper your movements.

Oh, speaking of which. <"Found them yet?"> Kayl wouldn't mind if Alora checked in with him, would he? Eh, probably would, but Alora wanted to know where she shouldn't be so he didn't feel like she was stepping on his style or something.

POYO! Kayl Krayt

 

[Todblaz Graker]

Outfit | Ranger Armor
Equipment | HX-Revolver ; Cortosis Gloves
Tag | Olaya Astrapí Laura Reese Fenn Stag

Brain death is the phenomena in which the brain dies, it seems pretty obvious why it would be named as such. Though no one to Todd's knowledge has ever come out of it, it's in all sense of the word impossible. The injury isn't quite understood either, it's known that due to lack of perfusion the brain cannot sustain itself and dies, this is about how in-depth the explanation can get. What happens in the brain is a mystery, but the body may continue functioning as normal, heart pumping, kidneys circulating, nephrons squeezing blood through. It seems like the body's involuntary functions can still operate without an encephalon. They still declare the patient dead regardless, as there isn't anyone left to save.

If such has occurred in all the afflicted, there would be no recovery. Even if the virus could be fought off, you'd still be left with a husk of a person, a lifeless body with working internals. It would be pointless to waste recourses on saving the damned. The decision seemed clear what should be done, but it would need to be placed on hold as the patient had arrived.

Listening to the fellow doctor's orders, he watches as a nurse puts a bag of saline near Fenn, placing an IV into his arm. This was then followed by another IV containing basic anesthetics to put the patient to rest. Being asking evaluate the immune system, Todd takes a wipe and iodine smearing the chemical distil to the humerus as he searches for the vein. Putting pressure on the arm more proximal to the shoulder he pushes out the blue vein with the new created pressure. With the newly exposed vein he takes his sample and releases the pressure.

He places it into the analyzer, it having a normal reading for white blood cell count for what the file read. This would make sense as the virus doesn't attack them but white blood cells. "Normal reading, immune system is still putting out white blood cells."

The tools for the procedure were wheeled in and stopped next to the head. "Doctor, I suggest a cut in the head above the frontal cortex and a blood sample taken from any part of the circle of Willis (this is an artery system at the bottom, center of the brain). We know it affects the adrenal glands causing over production, this could give us the easiest access to the virus."

The idea was to sample the part most obviously affected by the virus, which would be the brain. There seems to be an overproduction of hormones and loss of critical thinking leading to the most likely spots to find some would be in the arteries of the frontal lobe and hypothalamus. The middle cerebral artery would seem to be the best bet to find anything. If he were in charge he would just do it, she was still head of this operation and all he could do was make suggestions.

 

[Fenn Stag]

GONE AWAY

​

Equipment: Beskar'Gam l Crushgaunts l Disruptor Pistol l Beskar Knife l Jetpack l Combat Rifle l Combat Stims l Cigar and a lighter l Wrist Mounted Flamethrower l x3 Grenades l Nothing but his boxers.

Tags: Laura Reese l Olaya Astrapí l Todblaz Graker




Voices like echoes. He didn't answer her. Not that he would even if he had the strength. He simply had not the patience.

He opened his eyes. Pens and needles in his legs, needles in his arms. He grit his teeth, and even as the anesthetic was washing over him, he reached up and grabbed at the Arkanian's coat, snarling.

Perhaps it was the virus that gave him the strength to resist the anesthetic, perhaps it was something else. Fenn's voice was not his own for just a moment. It was- just in a lower octave, scratchier. A different accent.

"Do not fail."

He fell back, convulsing for a moment before lying still. Fenn lay still finally, giving Doctor's ample time to do what they needed to do...

Fenn meanwhile, found himself staring down a path of fire, surrounded by crystals. Crystals poured out from a rocky surface, jagged and smooth in some places. He ran his hand over it. Turning, he heard his voice calling him. He saw himself standing near a ledge.

"Millions of you, but only one of you."

He turned and fell back against the cliff, into the void. Fenn stood there, looking down at his hands. Must have been some delirium, some form of spell. Some comfort of his mind while he slipped away.

Another change, when he opened his eyes. A war torn planet. A throne being crushed. A father guiding his son.

Another change, the ash. Ash and nothing else. The result of anger.

Another blink, and snow and blood. A betrayal, regret.

He began to understand. It was a message.

From the Manda.

A chorus of voices wrapped around him, making him fall to his knees. He began to cry, out of shame. He felt as though thousands of hands rested themselves on his shoulders.


"Rise and by no one other than yourself."

The voice commanded. Fenn's vitals took a turn for the better, everything....evened out. There were no more spikes. No high blood pressure. His white blood cell count remained high. His heartbeat steadied. He seemed at ease, calmer than he was. Calmer than he ever was.

​

 

[Thonn Rokkal]

Vren Rook Volo Dragr

---

This was a kriffing mess.

It was bad enough on Shola, and the sights, sounds, and smells of what he'd experienced against the infected there remained fresh in mind when he departed to Christophsis. Knowing what this infection did made the sight of the place less of a shock.

He'd brought his rotary cannon and all the ammunition he could carry. As much as he loved shooting it, getting in firefights with the enemy was one thing, but he'd touched down on the surface to euthanize them. They weren't exactly targets he relished shooting, but they were already dead and gone for all practical purposes. All Thonn knew was that he couldn't suffer any of the infected to live, and the sooner he put an end to their misery, the better.

The speeder, he'd left back at home. That thing would attract way too much attention, and the infected would inevitably trash it anyhow. He had his jetpack too, but he abstained from using it thus far, for similar reasons. He had enough firepower to bring down masses of infected before he'd even have to reload – but there could easily be survivors in hiding from the hordes. If there were, Thonn wanted to find them before the chaos of battle could interfere with his effort of doing so.

He'd been scouting the streets with a bio-sensor in one hand, and his disruptor pistol in his other. He'd the odd encounter with infected as he searched, but taking out one was no issue at all. Just raise the pistol, and by the third or forth shot, he'd usually scored a hit. It was easier than trying to use the rotary cannon with the sensor in his hand.

Eventually, a green dot on the display signalled that there were healthy people in a building off in the distance. It looked like a hotel. Thonn put the bio-sensor away, before zooming in his view to get a clearer look at the building it had marked. There was a lot of motion going through those windows, and along with the survivors were scores of infected. If it was just up to him to take them out, he'd have to choose his entry point carefully.

Determined to execute his plan well, Thonn began his approach on foot, before spotting Vren and Volo walking down a road filled with the bodies of brutally slain infected behind them. Well, he'd figured he'd be storming the place alone. If two of his vode were too, that changed his plans. With Vren and Volo fighting along with him, those survivors were good as saved. The infected were too, sort of. Until the docs figured out something better, firepower was the only cure he could give.

Readying his rotary cannon and flicking the switch to fire up his jetpack, Thonn made headway towards the building. By the time he launched off, the two were already in the hotel and by the time he'd breached a window on the bottom floor, they were already deep into a battle with the infected. Thonn was too shortly after, as he collided directly into a crowd of them the moment he came crashing through.

He wasted little time spinning up his cannon, and once it roared to life, the blaster bolts flying from the barrels eradicated the infected from point-blank range. More and more fell as Thonn swept an arc, but he was completely and utterly surrounded. Others assailed him from his flank, and he dove into the corner he'd managed to clear out. Another long burst dropped many, but many more continued to clamber over the bodies of the dead to meet the same fate. He was steadily cleaning the room of them, but they were steadily gaining ground on him.

At least he had enough wisdom to not storm this place alone. He just had to hold out until his vode could show up for support. Unless they were in a similar situation, and waiting for Thonn to help them. Man, that'd suck.

 

[Laura Reese]

KAMINO | MEDICAL LABS
TAGS: @Olaya Astrapi | Fenn Stag | Todblaz Graker

Laura helped where she could while the doctors studied Fenn. The results they found were curious to say the least. His body was phenomenal in its combat against the virus. It was holding out with far more resilience than any other patient. He wasn’t a normal human by any means.

Laura did, however, get a fright when his vitals seemed to plummet out of the blue. She rushed over to his side to check what was wrong, only to realize that he wasn’t in any sort of danger. In fact, it was the opposite. His body was calming down. ”Amazing…” She muttered.

Laura moved back to her station and handed Olaya another datapad with all the information she requested, then moved on to check the various machines and terminals for anything out of the ordinary. Already several tests were running with the blood samples as they worked on some kind of counter for the virus.

 

[Valery Noble]

Outfit | Weapon | Appearance

Outfit | XoXo
Location | Roon | Capital City
Tag | OPEN
Nearby | Vren Rook Kayl Krayt Alora Vizsla Volo Dragr | Others?

"Taking us in, R-5," Valery said after her X-wing dropped out of hyperspace and began a quick approach down through Roon's atmosphere. Unlike last time, she couldn't deploy alongside the Mandalorians — trouble along the GA borders had kept her busy, and having to adjust to the loss of her husband hadn't made things easier either. But despite it all, she boarded her fighter and responded to the call as quickly as she could.

With S-foils still in closed position, she soared through the skies of Roon until she made it to the capital city, where she believed the outbreak would be at its worst. With plagues like this, the more densely populated an area was, the faster it was able to spread around. She just hoped it wasn't too late.

Rather than landing, however, Valery circled low over the city to draw attention upwards, before tapping her comms to transmit a signal over open channels, <T> "This is Jedi Master Noble, is anybody in need of support?" she asked, just in case her allies had gotten stuck somewhere. She'd be able to provide support from the air or make a landing to continue on foot.

Either way, she was ready to help contain the plague.

​

 

[Romul Saxon]

Objective: Preside
Tag: Braxton Holst | Runi Kuryida | Hester Shedo | Vemric Keldra

"The plights of Christophsis and Hefi are being weighted as much as every other world under the Enclave's banner. The well-being of all planets is critical to the stability of the Enclave, both worlds that are Mandalorian and those that are not." Romul growled. "But let us not bandy words. The origin of this virus is unknown to us still, but it is not of Mandalorian design. Such biological weaponry is beneath our standards of honor. Our best research indicates that this was a left-over project from the Confederacy or the Empire before it, abandoned to fester until it breached its containment."

Anger and impatience radiated from the Warmaster, though he contained it the most he could to mere frustration in his tone. He was not a politician; he hated politics. He could hardly think of a crueler sentence than to be made to negotiate with a room of self-important politicians, but since the Quartermaster had asked it of him, he had relented. "Kestri remained a secret while we gathered and rebuilt our strength. My people were nearly wiped from the galaxy, and there are those still that would seek to finish that job. Keeping our new homeworld a secret was an unpleasant, but necessary task to ensure our survival."

He leaned in. "But let us not forget when reavers stormed Hefi and the Mandalorian blood that was shed defending it. I fought in the streets of your proud capital, Governor. Hefi owes the Enclave a debt far greater than what can be repaid in trade." He let the unspoken words between them remain unspoken. Romul respected the Sephi Governor as a warrior and tactician, but even then there were lines that shouldn't be crossed. 'This bickering is pointless. The fact remains that this virus threatens the stability and peace of all worlds under the Enclave's protection. And should the Enclave be fractured, the Sith and Hutts would be more than eager to swoop in; I think you will find that they are not amiable as we are."

"The proposal I bringforward today would be a measure that would introduce a so-far unprecedented centralization of the Enclave's military resources, including a vast expansion to the marines and naval corps. The joint leadership structure would remain, ensuring a maximum level of Mandalorian and Auretiise cooperation. What say you?"