Devils... Monsters...

[Kahlil Noble]

Objective: Save all of them.
Allies: SJO, [member="Yuroic Xeraic"] [member="Darlyn Excron"] [member="Sko'saht"] [member="Allya Vi'Dreya"] [member="Ahron Rol"]
Enemies: Mandalorian Marauders [member="Vilaz Munin"] [member="Droz Munin"]

"I need an EMP. It's gonna be the only way to stop the bomb col.." Kahlil trailed off as he glanced to the screen ahead of him. Replays of the execution footage just minutes ago. The trigger Droz had obviously could set off individual or multiple. But why did that other group die? What happened? His eyes widened as he finally noticed it. "Scratch that. No EMP. The collars are tied to the vital signs of the Mandalorians. If they die, the collars go off. If the EMP goes off, they stop getting the lifesigns. And they go off."

Damnit. There's no way to get around this. If they strike any down, people will die. If they do what's asked, people will die. If they even try, people will die. The young Knight clenched his fists. There had to be something, anything, he could do or think up.

"Whoever is in charge of the Mandalorians has the only trigger that I can see. He's making a show of it. The only thing we can do is take them down nonlethaly and stop the trigger." He was shaking. He was scared. "Master Xeraic, do you think we can get close enough to stop him?"

 

[Gianna Aegis]

​

Location: Umbara [Space-Aboard the Mace Windu]​

Tagging: [member="Aedan Miles"] | [member="John Locke"]​

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______________​

"No, I am not."

Gianna wouldn't have bothered to bring it up if she thought the statement was incorrect. She didn't like to give in to pessimistic thoughts, however, she knew when to respect the possibility of undesirable consequences. She nodded her head slowly when John mentioned that speaking to War Master Miles might provide some sort of insight. Perhaps. They owed their crew caution; even if this attempt for diplomacy came from a good place.

The cyborg began to pace. Were it any other scenario the flame-haired haired Knight might have smiled and made a gentle teasing comment. With the current emergency at hand she simply let him move, staying quiet, while he called the shots. Gianna hadn’t been a part of the Silver Jedi long enough to hold any sort of sway, however, she was a good sound board to those that kept their ears open. The small pieces of vulnerability that she viewed made her think better of the Admiral, even if, others would see it as a weakness. He was curious mixture of man and machine that had become a close friend over time.

She hated to see what was happening to this planet, moreover, she hated what it was doing to him. It brought forth questions. Disillusionment. “Nothing is as it seems. What in the world are they teaching you here that you do not see the shades of gray?”

Gianna paused, briefly, when he made mention of their plans. A walk somewhere nice. A discussion of the mysterious of the universe. Tea, cookies, and perhaps an evening observing stars. Naming constellations. Debating theory. The green-eyed sprite was well-versed in the art of war, simply by design, but she did not condone it. She abhorred violence. So much so that she rarely even carried a light saber. Was this the outing that John had promised?

“No, it is not. But we’ll make do, won’t we?”, she questioned gently, noting his smile, with one of her own. It was sad. The light couldn’t quite touch her eyes but there was still a layer of warm hope that wrapped around her being. There had already been death this day. Already, lives had been lost—but she could hope for better. Hope, that they could possibly keep the situation from getting any worse. “Would you like me to accompany your Honor Guard to escort the War Master?”

The Jedi Knight stopped. Her words died in her throat while the bloodshed from the world below boiled up like a fevered day dream. When she blinked, and the interior of the starship came rushing back, John was standing, no longer sitting. Closer than he had been. His sharp exclamation caused her eyes to close while she looked away. There were so many bodies. So very, very many were dead. “John…”, she murmured the cyborgs name again while he fell backward in his chair, loudly, and small footsteps took her forward.

She couldn’t stand to see a friend in pain.

Gianna approached the command throne again, ignoring protocol, to dip down in front of the Admiral. The War Master would be along soon enough, with or without her accompaniment, and friend or foe he didn’t seen to see them at their worst. Trauma wove through and through from the violent memories that stirred in their collective past. The pale-skinned force-user refused to give into it. The Force was…Complicated. Regardless, it would show her the way. It always did. “Not again. We will do everything we can to prevent loss of life…Part of that involves making sure that Aedan Miles stays out of the fighting. We don’t know who to trust. Who to believe—”, she paused, reaching to take the hand that had fallen, “So we have faith in ourselves.”

“We do our part. Call our forces. Call our allies…Then—We go down to the surface and put a stop to this. Arrange protected mass evacuations. Negotiation might not yet be out of the question.”

It was right about then that the communications officer interrupted to bring a notice from a Confederate by the name of @Voph. So, some of the Silver Jedi allies were already present with more on the way? That was…Fortunate. She hoped. Everyone was checking in, one by one, from Admiral Sala’dine to pings from other members of the Silver Fleet like [member="Veiere Arenais"]. ”Plenty of our forces seem determined to head to the ground, or, are already there. The people of Umbara aren’t alone and neither are we.”

 

[Srina Talon]

​

Location: Hyperspace [En Route to Umbara]​

Tag: [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Adron Malvern"] | [+Any others]​

The young woman was aware of every move that [member="Adron Malvern"] made. Every breath. From the brief glance he spared her to the attention he paid to his data-pad. To the glasses he wore, handsome, but telling of a biological imperfection. There was very little that escaped her notice. The porcelain mask that hid half of her face, still healing, seemed only to add to the doll-like quality that seemed to attract the opposite sex. Srina paid it no mind. For the span of a heartbeat she paused, before a brief, unreadable smile caused primrose lips to curve. “She does. Aryn will not.”

When she realized that he was still reading the report that she had already run through her jaw felt tight. “War is always coming, Adron.”, she trailed off, dulcet tones a light caress that no being held any right to possess. White hair spilled down her shoulders in moonlit waves while a sense of poise and elegance seeped easily from her every pore. Srina held the grace of her people, was the embodiment of it, and that occurred on and off the battlefield. “Now…It is simply imminent.”

The Exarch remained silent while her companion expressed his concerns. Her expression remained empty of all things, save, for a deeply buried wave of anger. The Dark Side was her tool. She wielded it not with volcanic might but with terrifying precision. She did not yell. She did not need to speak…Only to act. It would bend to her will, bend others to her will, and from there she would dissect whom she pleased. Her fingertips toyed with the edge of the armrest. He thought the Mandalorian attack on the Silver Jedi was too straight forward. Silver eyes turned, flickering with gold, before her eyes met his. “Perhaps, our enemies have finally grown a spine.”

It was the bare spite leftover in her being from Eshan. She didn’t hide it. She had zero desire to, and even less desire, to be dishonest with Adron. By hiding what she had become, by pretending the Dark Side didn’t ring in her blood—It was a lie. She had stopped being the pure woman he had come to know the moment she let it consume her. Little by little, the deaths of her friends, of her family ate away and her stubborn efforts to remain a temple unto herself. No longer. Darth Omnia, indeed. “There are dozens of strategic reasons for an attack like this. Did not the Empire try to take Umbara in the past? It could be a test of strength. It could be an act of spite. It could be an attempt at psychological warfare against a group that is not known to retaliate. It could be designed to make them stumble, to bring fear, and offer a precursor of what may come later.”

“For all we know…They could just be looking for something valuable. We do not have enough data to make an accurate assessment.”

They left the shuttle and boarded the Veil as if they had done so hundreds of times. She was over a head shorter than her counterpart but, somehow, she still managed to walk just as tall. “Initial reports attribute the attack to Clan Cadera. It is the clan of the Infernal—Is it not?”

The pair moved through the massive SSD while the Whitestar Battlecruisers ran final checks and prepped to follow them into hyperspace. The Veil already had the designated vector and would follow on their tail until they made the appropriate egress, all the while, keeping their stealth systems running. By the time they made it to the bridge, Srina paused by the communications officer, and ensured that he began hailing the Silvers to let them know of their forthcoming arrival. She also wanted every feed to and from Umbara monitored to the best of their ability, as soon, as they were able.

As only one could dominate the command throne Srina let Adron have it. Until it was required that she strap in she would remain nearby so they could speak. She had, at least one thing left to say as practicality overrode her hatred for the people that had broken her home.

“…I do not forget Eshan. I have learned, since then, that the people of our Master cannot be trusted. A Mandalorian is a Mandalorian. There are no civilians, as my fiancée has said in the past, and truthfully, it doesn’t matter what Clan decided to lay waste to Umbara. All that matters today is that someone has attacked our allies. We will not underestimate them, and we will deal with the guilty, but not at the cost of mass civilian casualties.”

She fell silent and turned her eyes toward a nearby portal. Watching hyperspace pass by used to sooth her, calm her, but now she only felt a tide of barely concealed dark.

Mandalorians, unless they belonged to the Confederacy, were barely human in her eyes. Barely. They would try to abide by the wishes of the Silver Jedi. Capture, before killing. They preferred nonviolence. Negotiation. The Exarch would try. For the vows she had made to a friend that she had not seen in quite some time…She would try.

Yet if the situation entered a state that could not be reconciled, where there was no other way, but to engage…The Exarch would simply see their enemies burn.

Spoiler: Stuff

Weapons
HG-54 "The Vora" Class Verpine Hand Cannon [Strapped to Waist]
Lightsaber [Red Blade/CrossGuard] [Hidden Under Cloak]
Icefang [Sword]
Holdin' Aces [Ring]
Ring of Aspiration [Ring]
Te'Kyr [Ring]

Armor
Scarlet Vow

Miscellaneous
ORACLE [AI]
Holo-Comm [Communication Device]

Miscellaneous
The Veil [Stealth SSD]
Whitestar Battlecruiser [x2 Stealth Crusiers]

 

[WelshPsych]

Objective: Figure out how to save the civilians
Allies: [member="Kahlil Zambrano"] [member="Darlyn Excron"] and SJO
Enemies: [member="Droz Munin"] and marauders

Yuroic sighed as Kahlil explained that their plan might not work out the way that they wanted. It seemed that these marauders were so intent on killing the civilians that they were trying to make it seem like Mandalorian Empire would do anything for a win. This was not going to end in the way that anyone would want, Yuroic thought about how they could make it work, how to get in close and stop the leader of this brutal attack. It was difficult to figure out a way to get in and stop them from blowing up the hostages. Yuroic looked from Kahlil to Darlyn and then down at the Mandalorian armour that he was wearing.

"We can still infiltrate as members of the marauders, try and get close to the other Mandalorians with the hostages and then take them down. However, I'm not sure that they won't just figure out that we are not the men that the others know to be in this armour. We could go with this, putting the civilians' lives at risk, or let them go as they want. This still puts the civilians' lives at risk but we can pray that they are true to their word and will let them go. It's what they want but also means that we will be letting them get away, we can try tracking them and figuring out who they are but might be difficult." Yuroic gave the others the two options that he knew to be their options. "Either way, it might be impossible to save those civilians. But, second choice is at least trying to give them a chance to survive with the least amount of risk."

 

[Darlyn Excron]

• Location: The Capital, naturally
• Objective: Save Civis, find truths, try not to die
• Inventory: Mandalore The Ultimate's Armor, Darlyn's 'Hunter' Lightsaber, Tricksaber, Family Blaster, "The Death Special", Punisher Pistol, HC Mallet Charric Hand Cannon
• Closest PC's: [member="Yuroic Xeraic"], [member="Kahlil Zambrano"]
• Ally Contacted: [member="Adenn Kyramud"]
• Enemy: Bad guys, [member="Droz Munin"]

"Let's assume I'm right for a moment, and that these aren't actually my cousins or whatever. We let them go, and they have no reason not to kill them anyways. If they are here on a frame job, going back on their 'honor', if we can even say they have any, would only serve their own purposes. Not to mention if there's a relatively short distance these deadman triggers have, even getting to orbit may be enough to trigger the collars. There's so many unknowns here that we can't move in or trust them with any degree of certainty, way I see it both ways are equally likely to end with disaster." Darlyn sighed behind the helmet, and took a seat.

To give himself a moment to think, he removed his helmet, possibly a face familiar to either if they gave a care to knowing planetary leaders, seeing as he was Commenor's president. Then again perhaps they didn't, and he was just some strange red maned mandalorian to them. Whatever the case, without his helmet in the way he could run a hand through the red curls, helping him focus. "It's your call here though, not my world. I can give you my word though that I'll stand by what the group decides. Though I won't say I wouldn't love to get my hands on that pompous faker's throat. Not to break it of course, just give it a firm hug."

 

[Caedyn Arenais]

Location: Umbarian Capital City.​

Objective: Defend the Innocent and re-route Enemy Forces.​

Inventory: Caedyn's Jedi Armor | Personal Lightsaber | Heavy Buckler | CS.38 Tactical Side-Arm.​

Present Company: [member="Havoc (CT-375)"], [member="Ember Farseer"], [member="Allya Vi'Dreya"], [member="Coren Starchaser"].​

<<Looking for an Opponent>>​

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​

​

"If you go into a fight expecting everything to go according to plan, you're going to be disappointed" Caedyn replied to [member="Allya Vi'Dreya"] while the transports were being loaded up with survivor after survivor. Several more vessels had come down, courtesy of [member="Veiere Arenais"] and his crew, first unloading more troops to reinforce those already fighting and being replaced with civilians whom couldn't fit elsewhere. "The Force is always our ally, it flows through all life though and doesn't choose sides. It's people who are responsible for this mess..." he added, shaking his head in disapproval as he looked about their environment.

Allya had insulted Mandalore herself, and Caedyn knew their leader thanks to his family connections. It was unfortunate that so many people felt so ill of his cousin though he supposed that was the doing of reputation as opposed to personal contact and a lack of time spent getting to know her. He could only really assume, as would so many others. "I'm glad my Sister's not here" he muttered under his breath, watching as the last troop drop-ship lifted off and returned towards the shadows of vessels drifting overhead in orbit of the World.

"Looks like there isn't much point standing around here anymore then" He soon turned back to look to Ember Farseer, he whom remained in meditation. Caedyn wouldn't leave the Jedi Knight to himself, though interrupting him seemed rude. "That was the last of them right?" He asked, looking back to Allya Vi'Dreya, "For this sector I mean. If you want to go out there and pick a fight, now's probably the time...-These Mandalorian's are playing a losing hand".

[member="Kirchenhof"] | [member="Sala'dine"] | [member="Coren Starchaser"] | [member="Aedan Miles"] | [member="Gir Quee"] | [member="Jessica Med-Beq"] | [member="Droz Munin"] | [member="Cotan Sar'andor"] | [member="Kishala Vi'dreya"] | [member="Razelle Breuner"] | [member="Asaraa Vaashe"]​

[member="Havoc (CT-375)"] | [member="Gerad Naahan"] | [member="Yuroic Xeraic"] | [member="Adron Malvern"] | [member="DT-2319"] | [member="Horus Arseneau"] | [member="Sko'saht"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"] | [member="Gianna Aegis"] | [member="Reshmar"]​

 

[Kier Grey]

Sergeant "Kyle Whir"
Umbara Surface, Capital City, Interstellar Spaceport, Extrasolar Terminal.
Nearby/Interacting: @Kishala Vi'dreya, [member="Esvan Verd"], [member="DT-2319"]

A wave of Durasteel and Beskar rolled forward towards the lone woman beneath Umbara's pale moonlight, she moved like a lithe supple shadow brandishing a cylinder-shaped crimson broadsabre. The tide broke on the roiling darkness of Umbara and explosive flashes pulsed in the darkness signalling unambiguously that the lives of innocents and their captors had ended. Growling, the Spectre's orbs narrowed tighter towards the Kraken contorting at the Maelstorm's epicenter and the vengeful Shade found the monstrous individual clutching lives callously in it's slippery grasp. "You, what have you done?!" A demon and woman asked through a single voice, examining the distant broken bodies which collapsed into the ocean of dark washed over the earth of Umbara's shrouded surface, a thin stream of crimson lapped against the Coruscanti shade's navy blue duraplast boots turning them a shade of startling claret.

The shade snarled after examining the mangled and twisted remains cast under shafts of the milky pale moonlight. "Coward, hiding behind the lives of noncombatants!" Sheathing its' fiery broadsabre she advanced with a pair of empty hands that curled into fists and raised to just below broadly shaped jaw. A weapon clacked and slapped with a metal quality against a polymer-sheathed thigh. A thick foggish haze began rolling across the Spaceport's tarmac descending with a steady swallowing fall. If anybody had a heartbeat sensor and levelled it towards the Spectre they'd would have found it so slow to below what should have sustained life at such a strenuous level of slaughter. Although in fairness, the woman made casual breaking of waves in melee look like it was without peril. The Spectre's hands lowered somewhat and held up a pair of open palms before halting before the Kraken and its' insidious minions. "I will kill any single warrior you send to me, but I will not participate in the reckless destruction of life." Most warriors would have been breathless after such an impossibly astonishing display of dexterity and agility.

A bold claim to be certain but not one without merit, for the Coruscanti Spectre had valiantly broken with cold nonchalant effort a wave of Durasteel and Beskar all the same. There was nothing left of those who the wicked had sent against the rock to their ends which had left the Spectre coated in the strong, nearly overpowering metallic tang stench of iron-rich death. "Your employer seeks the lives of the innocent intact, slaves?" Lips pursed together and creased thoughtfully, fearlessly the Spectre's hazel spheres studied the frightened eyes and the tear-stained cheeks of those who had already been taken into the Kraken's slimy hold and it was in this moment that she resolved her life would go into the service to free others as atonement for sins committed long ago. Making some arcane gesture over their forehead and breast, muttering a prayer to the Whills she spoke again in an unpleasantly accented voice. "If you let the others go I'll come quietly." The foe had seen the unnaturally quick movements, there could be little doubt the lithe yet unusuaully powerful woman could cross the thirty meters between them in little over two seconds, what the Spectre wasn't certain of however was the idea she could disable the Kraken and his Mandalorian warrior before they could murder their hostages.

But Kyli kept her self-doubt or uncertainty well concealed under a frighteningly blood-streaked visage, she looked uncomfortably relaxed amidst the carved bodies of her foes for somebody who wore the uniform of a Coruscanti Security Force Officer, most of whom were soft university-educated men and women who hoped never to fire their weapons across an entire career. Despite any claim or idea in their brain that righteousness prompted such guiltless slaughter, the truth was and is that a part of Kyli silently enjoyed the chaos of war and that unimpinged rush of adrenaline and dopamine that flooded cooly like icy water through the veins beneath a dermis of hot boiling skin, its' initial sting subsided after a few seconds and Amur uncoiled, a second consciousness who relished in the tantalizing pleasurable pulses emitted from a cybernetic device that squat over both halves of brain within skull.

Tags: ​

[member="Adron Malvern"], [member="Ahron Rol"], [member="Cotan Sar'andor"], [member="Coren Starchaser"], [member="Caedyn Arenais"], [member="Droz Munin"], [member="Horus Arseneau"], [member="Esvan Verd"], [member="John Locke"], [member="Gerad Naahan"], [member="Kishala Vi'dreya"], [member="Vilaz Munin"], [member="Veiere Arenais"], [member="Tanomas Graf"], [member="Hana Munin"], [member="Connory Monroe"], [member="Adenn Kyramud"], [member="Zann Munin"], [member="Srina Talon"], [member="Gianna Aegis"]
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[Vilaz Munin]

Location: Umbara Capital City
Allies: [member="Droz Munin"] | [member="Zann Munin"] | [member="DT-2319"] | [member="Hana Munin"] | [member="Esvan Verd"]
Enemies: [member="Coren Starchaser"] | @Cotan Sar’andor
Objective: Slaughter

Two birds with one stone, that is if he could capture the two Jedi and make them hostages. While the Warlord had fought Jedi with common tactics and skills the two before him were certainly a different caliber. Part of Vilaz’s journey in life as a Mandalorian was to never underestimate his opponents as that had led him to defeat in his past. Of course, that philosophy didn’t apply to grunts and common adversaries. It rather applied to veterans that had won and lost in many battles, such as Coren and Cotan. He’d boast once he had them humbled in defeat, or even during their fight in order to disrupt their focus.

”Enough talk,” and then aimed his rifle at Coren, firing a three burst shot of slugs at the Jedi.

The hostilities would cease inevitability, or at least he and the others theorized. The question was how many hostages were the Jedi willing to sacrifice in order to get the message to their heads? Poking the bear was never a good idea, and trying to play Droz as a fool and call him on a bluff was even a more foolish idea than disturbing a bear.

”You Jedi and your allies won’t be able to sleep with the blood of the innocents on your hands. You could have easily stopped this, but you think you can play us as fools. Brave enough to risk those you swore to protect. Something I truly admire...but a mistake on your account.”

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Umbara City
Tags: @Cotan Sar’andor [member="Vilaz Munin"]
Objective: Push the Sith Back

This battle was already going on too long for Coren. One of the tricks of combat was to be ready for your enemy before they knew they were coming for you. It was part of the Alliance’s protocol. Planets supported the greater fleet, and the Alliance left a contingent of highly trained soldiers and helmsmen at the worlds in question. Of course, the Alliance as he always would remember it was dead. Rebuilding in the Outer Rim to support some shipyards and a bastion of good, but remain small in scale.

He was now a warden in the galaxy, a marauder for good. Arriving where he was needed most, or where the darkness was the thickest. And this mission? He was here because the Mandalorians pulled a suckerpunch on the Silver Jedi, and he was nearby. A warrior of fortune, he wasn’t that far from what the Mandalorians did, but his missions were far more noble.

As the shot came, Coren moved with a preternatural speed to move himself out of the way, and the Force clued him in to hitting the ground. As the shot cleared, he rolled himself and got to his feet, the hilt of his lightsaber pike extended as he stared down the Mandalorian.

“Your raid ends here.” He didn’t give an ultimatum, a statement as his lightsaber ignited, and began his approach.

 

[Darth Athora]

Objective: Put down some dogs.
Location: Umbaran Jungle
Fam: [member="Droz Munin"], [member="Vilaz Munin"], [member="Zann Munin"]
Tangos: [member="Connory Monroe"]
Equipment: Cayata B'Tor, SpeakEasy, NeverCrack, 2 R-1s, Erebos Protocol


Body after body fell to Hana's gunfire as she continued flying overhead. A rain of lasers came down upon the innocent, filling them with scorching holes through their bodies, both young and old, men and women. None were safe from Hana's onslaught. Though, she knew it wouldn't be too long before someone would rake up the guts to face her. Though, she pictured someone a lot more ... well, more.

Hana's HUD in her helmet warned her of impending danger as a grenade came her way from below. Quickly, she flew even higher up from where she was currently. She looked down as the grenade fell harmlessly to the ground and detonated below. A few of the bodies Hana left behind were now covered in the glop. Poor things. Not what one would call a proper funeral, but it was something. Hana's targeting systems locked onto her assailant. Hana's jetpack went to full blast as she flew into the opposite direction, leading her opponent away from the carnage. Soon, Hana found a decent clearing covered in thick fog. She landed there and found herself a tree to hind behind, waiting for her prey.

 

[Esvan Verd]

Esvan Verd
Marauder | Mercenary | Berserker
Location|| Umbara, Capital City
Nearby|| [member="Kyli Graf"] | [member="Kishala Vi'dreya"] | [member="DT-2319"]
Allies|| [member="Droz Munin"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Zann Munin"] | [member="Hana Munin"]
Gear|| 1x Assaulter Tachyon Rifle | 2x Thermal Detonators | 2x Smoke Grenades | 1x Standard Blaster Pistol | 1x Kukri Sword (55cm | plasma-filiment)
Hellfire Platoon|| Forty-three Alive (out of an initial forty-eight)
______________________________________________________

The Verd's ocean blue eyes watching the un-remarkable looking woman walk up to his own mandalorians. He expected for them to win and for them to either slaughter her or take her captive, he didn't care for the outcome. All he knew was that they would win. The technical markings that rose up on his heads-up-display, however, negated such hopes as one heartbeat flat-lined followed by another, and another, and another. The soft humming notification of their deaths was at the edge of the mandalorian's thoughts as he watched the physical dance across from him by a few yards, swords clashing against swords, yelling, grunting, painful cries as limbs were severed. And yet, the woman took no visible injury from which the man saw, at least, no significant injury that is. Clean slices rode across her upper arms and some across her torso, though the damage was little and insignificant. Unlike the damage that the five mandalorians he had sent forwards had received. Most were dead, few were alive.

Then the explosives went off, blowing gore and blood in every direction among the grouping of civilians. Four dead civilians, four dead mandalorians. A fair trade. To emphasize the point, the blonde-haired mercenary signaled to one of his fellow 'comrades' to explode another collar. Five dead civilians now.

Esvan knew not who this woman was, though whoever she was, she was dangerous and exceptionally well-trained, earning a hidden grin from under his helmet at her ability. It had been quite the spectacle to watch, and the aftermath was all the more surprisingly. One mando had been dismembered, another skewered with a blade, another bled out, and another lost their dead with a clean swipe of a blade. The Verd watched the brunette woman approach him, keeping the fingers of his right hand clasped tightly around the handle of his blaster. For a fleeting moment, the man thought that this woman would try and take them all on, though that wouldn't happen. Of course it wouldn't, whenever she killed someone, a civilian was killed. She wouldn't risk them, would she? She wore the garb of a Courscanti Police Officer, people who defended civilians from people like him. This woman, whoever she was, wouldn't risk innocent lives.

"I'm no coward, I'm a survivor. I've fought in numerous conflicts, all for the same thing, the Manda'lor." Such a lie left a bitter taste in the mandalorian's mouth, though he continued, his voice not faltering once, keeping an even and neutral tone throughout. "Cowards fight for nothing, they are nothing but bodies to be thrown and used as shields. Cowards just run away and hide, does it look like I'm hiding, lass? Does it look like...I fight for nothing?"

Which was why when the woman offered her own surrender in exchange for the lives of all of the civilians, he chuckled...loud enough for her to hear.

"You're a good fighter, an exceptional fighter, I'll give you that. You took down...what was it, four, five trained mandalorians? I'll accept your surrender, however, you're in no position for negotiating. Every time you kill one of use, a civi's head flies off in pieces, courtesey of one-" Esvan paused, recounting the name of the current Manda'lor and pausing to emphasize whom it was that had orchestrated such an event, such an attack. Such a malicious massacre of innocent lives. "-Yasha Cadera. Do you want that on your mind, lass? Do you want the knowledge of you being the person accountable for allowing civilians to die. I do not do this killing maliciously, I do not. If you force my hand, I will be forced to act. A Courscanti Police Officer wouldn't want the blood of civilians on their hands? Your hands look filthy enough...what could more blood add?"

 

[Soundwave]

D r o z _ M u n i n

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Objective | Slaughter and wreak havoc
Company | Fellow Marauders
Targets | Anyone who gets in his way

Droz's armored boot rested on the back of a headless corpse that was laid out on the ground, one hand at his waist and the other resting on the grip of his holstered blaster. He wasn't particularly fearful of the situation or being out in the open, having made it abundantly clear at this point that if the Jedi or Confederacy wanted their hostages alive, they would have to comply with his demands. The alternative option was to kill him, but having all the bomb collars also linked to his vitals did make that a problem, and no matter what the Jedi tried, they would end up harming their own people regardless of the actions the took; something that Droz took a great deal of pleasure and delight in. While the Confederacy was more or less open to the idea of what they considered "acceptable casualties", it did not bode well for their relations with the Jedi once the raid on Umbara was concluded, even if they managed to kill all the Mandalorians present amidst the hostage death tolls. The only thing that mattered to Droz was the chaos that they brought, because Mandalorian warriors thrived in it, relishing the conflict that arises with wars and skirmishes that flash across the Galaxy like little wildfires. It was in their nature, their very blood and spirit to be the ones that stood above all others in war, something that the followers of the current Mand'alor seemed to have forgotten.

With the idea of confrontation having more or less been shut down, Droz had not killed off any more of the hostages under his thumb, keeping true to his word that he would not harm any of the hostages so long as his demands were met. The foolish lizard that had attempted to berate and admonish Droz had more or less retreated. Good to know that either the Confederacy or the Jedi were able to keep their beasts on a leash when it came down to sensitive matters. Droz looked down as a few of the Umbaraan hostages were speaking in their native tongue to one another in hushed tones. Droz would kneel down in front of them, resting his arms on his knees as the translation software began to translate their language into Vocoded basic, a woman speaking in a terrified voice " We're all going to die...These monsters...These demons...They're going to kill all of us... " Droz tilted his head at the woman as he reached a hand out to her chin, tilting her face up. Tears streamed down her face as she flinched and recoiled but silenced herself as to not anger Droz. Droz would speak in a tone that was neither threatening or angered, though he spoke in Basic rather than the Umbaraan language, " Do not blame me for the actions that have happened on this planet today...Instead look to those you call protectors and allies to blame. They came for us on Eshan, made us suffer a humiliating defeat at their hands and spat on the Mandalorians. Now look what happened here today. Was I the one that killed all the hostages? Or was it the ones who foolishly gambled your lives away in an attempt to eradicate us? I take no pleasure in killing civilians, but it draws out the worst in the Jedi, and that alone will make them a worthy group to fight. "

Droz would stand himself up as the Umbaraan looked back at the ground after Droz had pulled his hand away. Though painful to admit it, she understood that Droz's words had some truth to them. He had made demands and the Confederacy and Jedi not only tried to disregard them, but threaten him. Did their lives matter so little to either of them that they would just willingly gamble away lives so casually? A new realization and despair rippled through the Umbaraans held hostage, whilst the captured Confederacy soldiers and Jedi seemed uneasy. Droz would raise a hand to his helmet as he opened up an encrypted channel. It wasn't long before he would get a response from a few of his marauders who were tasked with commandeering evacuation shuttles in the event that the Jedi or the Confederacy didn't send any. Several large transports being piloted by those sent to evacuate civilians not caught in combat were being held at gunpoint as they landed near the herd of hostages. Once they touched down and opened up, they would start herding the hostages onto the vessels, though the process was slow. It would take some time to complete the loading process. In the meantime Droz left it to the marauders in the area to keep the hostages in order and get them loaded up as he simply stood out in the open with his hands on his hips. He was in a good mood at the moment.

 

[Kahlil Noble]

Objective: Save all of them.
Allies: SJO, [member="Yuroic Xeraic"] [member="Darlyn Excron"] [member="Sko'saht"] [member="Allya Vi'Dreya"] [member="Ahron Rol"]
Enemies: Mandalorian Marauders [member="Vilaz Munin"] [member="Droz Munin"] [member="Esvan Verd"]

It was time. There was only one choice left, in the young Jedi's mind. The Mandalorians would kill the hostages, no matter what. He had no doubt in that. But if they could take them down from within, non lethally.. It was the only way to save lives. It's what the Jedi had been trying to do from the start. Better late then never. Even if he had to go alone Kahlil pulled on a suit of a captured Mandalorian near his size, which was a hard size to match, before he made his way to the captured civilians.

Under the guise of being returned clansman he and whoever went with him walked into the camp, keeping his helmed view down and out of the way. He was heading right to where the ships were being loaded, looking only for the armor of the man who had been in charge. Stop him, and the people here would have a chance. The young Jedi avoided looking at the hostages. He needed to focus. Desperately needed to focus.

Finally, he saw the armor of his target. The only hope he had to start this was that he didn't come alone, or at least he could get the figure alone.

 

[Kishala Vi'dreya]

Kishala Vi'dreya
Location: Service tunneled beneath the Spaceport, Capital City, Umbara
Status: Determined
Interacting with: [member="Kyli Graf"]
Other relevant tags: [member="Gerad Naahan"] | [member="Esvan Verd"]

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Her pale lips were pursed into a thin line at the swirl of determination and resignation that shaded the sergeant's presence. Yet, Kishala of House Vi'dreya continued to maintain her silence, for despite her displeasure at the thought of the kind woman sacrificing herself to give them more time to lengthen their distance from their pursuers, her plans were the best chance they had.

As the other officers and the remaining civilians began their descend down the service tunnel, Kishala gazed up at those bright hazel eyes, quietly admiring of the strength she saw within those orbs. An unconquerable soul, she thought to herself. One that was noble and bright, and so very rarely seen these days. Even while the pale lady did not agree with her decision to stay behind, she found herself respecting it all the same.

"Do not worry about my wellbeing, for I always land on my feet," she assured the other, patting her lightly on her arm. "But... I do hope to see you again, Sergeant Kyle Whir." It was a demand voiced as a polite request.

With an embrace, the pale lady found herself lifted and falling down the tunnel. She ended up being caught by the very man that the sergeant has entrusted her to. "Thank you very much, Lieutenant," she said as he helped her to her feet. With a final glance at the opening, her own silver eyes became filled with a rare gleam of resolve. The least she could do was to ensure that the people with her now will get out of this more or less unharmed.

Focusing on her own aura, Kishala allowed it to flow away from her, using it to ensnare and confuse the senses of any outside of their mismatched group as they began their trek through the dark tunnels.

 

[WelshPsych]

Objective: Save the hostages
Allies: [member="Kahlil Zambrano"] [member="Darlyn Excron"]
Enemies: [member="Droz Munin"] and marauders

Yuroic nodded his head to Darlyn as he gave his opinion, it was fair to want to know who these impersonators were rather than letting them go. Yuroic also doubted that they would allow their hostages leave alive, no matter if they complied the marauders or remained firm in their stance as they were. Looking over to Kahlil, he could see that the young boy had decided there was no other option, he then headed off without a word. Looking to Darlyn, shrugging, "Seems we follow his lead then, try and stay undetected. Closer we can get to this leader broadcasting, the better." Yuroic stated to Darlyn before picking up a blaster rifle dropped by a Mandalorian.

Walking along, Yuroic attempted to adopted a Mandalorian walk so not to give away his true identity. Entering the group with the hostages, Yuroic looked around and kept quiet, moving forward and looked around for the leader, see if they could find him. Standing around, Yuroic looked at the hostages for a moment, they were panicked but he knew that the hostages understood there was little that the Silver Jedi Order could do. If they caved into the terrorists demands then the terrorists could kill them anyway, the marauders were killing civilians long before this hostage situation, so nothing to say they would stop after they gave into the demands. Finding a safe solution took time and it was hard to make sure they could save everyone they wanted.

 

[Kad Munin]

"On your knees, hut'uun," another voice growled from near Droz. One new hostage was roughly shoved down to the ground, joining the mass of them in the square. The warrior with the voice came out of an alley soon after, his armour completely spattered with blood, hiding even the new Clan Cadera paint. It would be unsurprising to anybody who knew the man—Kad was more fond of using his sword than his pistols, especially when fighting targets like these.

Any unworthy creatures that refused to fight back were worthy only of execution.

Extermination.

And so far as he was concerned, Kad was the exterminator.

He sheathed his sword, drawing out one of his pistols as he paced around within the mass of hostages; even the armour that he wore couldn't conceal the obvious contempt and malice he felt for each and every one of them. "Why bother with the hostages?" Kad grumbled through helmet comms to [member="Droz Munin"]. "We have the firepower to fight our way out, so why don't we just kill them all and leave? All this grand-standing is pointless."

To punctuate the statement, he turned, kicking one hostage in the chest who tried to stand and stretch their legs. The woman fell back down with a cry of pain, before Kad patched back in to Droz. "Besides, if we do that, then our enemies will actually be honour-bound to fight us, by the way they do things. It'd make this a bit less tedious."

 

[Soundwave]

D r o z _ M u n i n

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Objective | Prep hostage transports for exfil
Company | Fellow Marauders / [member="Kad Munin"]
Targets | Anyone who gets in his way / [member="Kahlil Zambrano"] / [member="Yuroic Xeraic"]

Droz watched as the city around him burned. There was skirmishes all over here and there, but the immediate perimeter was secured and no one with half a brain would approach Droz after he had issued his final warnings. That wasn't to say that the Confederacy or the Silver Jedi weren't potentially working on some scheme to try and steal the hostages away from Droz's iron grip. While progression of the hostages being loaded onto ships was underway Droz was keeping tabs on situations happening around the city via encrypted channels that were regularly switched to keep their channels from being hacked into. It appeared Vilaz was engaged in combat and the other members of Clan Munin were also more or less engaged with keeping the brunt of the allied forces from just overwhelming them.

Droz would turn to look back at the state of progression. Most of his marauders were busy at work keeping the hostages that filled the streets in line as they were loaded onto large evacuation shuttles barely large enough to land in the streets of the city, though his attention was drawn to two marauders who were particularly tall that were off in the distance. Droz did make it a habit to know every one of his people as they were his own flesh and blood, because they more or less were an extension of him. Seeing two particularly tall individuals stand out from the crowd did not exactly scream to Droz that they were his.

His thoughts were interrupted as one of the marauders currently with him opened a private channel to talk to Droz as he looked over to see Kad pacing about in an irritated fashion before he responded, " Patience is a virtue brother, and while I do agree that we can just shoot our way out, there are ways of rubbing salt into the wound. The sheep will play their part, and we will have the shepherds come chasing after us as we intend to... " Droz would unholster one of his DMX-13 Blaster Pistols and held it to his side as he turned back to the two tall marauders before making a gesture with his free hand, a gesture telling them to come over. Droz followed his gut, and his gut rarely ever lied to him. His first impulse was usually shoot first and ask questions, deal with the consequences later, but he wanted to amuse himself a bit considering his mood.

 

[Kad Munin]

"Hmmph," was all the reply that Droz received from Kad regarding patience. Kad's idea of patience was more situational; watching your enemy, your prey, determining the right time to strike. When best to swoop in for the kill. Once that moment was available, it was taken without hesitation. Quick, decisive; destroying an enemy through overwhelming force, or the application of superior skill and knowledge. None of that seemed to be what they were doing there.

They weren't even properly demoralizing the enemy, in his mind.

They were just playing with their food, and asking to get bitten in return.

Guess I'll just have to be extra careful not to get scratched myself.

His eyes quickly followed Droz's gesture, catching sight of the two large marauders that Droz had his attention fixed on. Both of whom were noticeably larger than Kad, who was himself larger than the majority of those that Clan Munin had come with to the world. It was possible that they were with the group—after all, Kad hadn't seen everybody they'd brought, and he certainly didn't know every member of the clan—but it seemed a bit of a stretch. And with no noticeable comm chatter coming from them like came from so many of the others, a lack of greetings to the fellow warriors nearby...

He surreptitiously thumbed off the safety on his blaster pistol. Always better safe than sorry, he thought to himself. And even if they are Munin, if they're weak enough to get killed by us, they don't deserve to live anyways.

[member="Droz Munin"] @Khalil Zambrano [member="Yuroic Xeraic"]

 

[Adenn Munin]

Location: Umbaran Capital City
Allies: [member="Droz Munin"] | [member="Hana Munin"] | [member="Kad Munin"] | [member="Zann Munin"] | [member="Esvan Verd"] | [member="DT-2319"]
Enemies: [member="Caedyn Arenais"]
Objective: Claim glory
Gear:

Spoiler

• Beskar'gam
• Beskar Spear
• Phrik Vibroknife
• Shotgun
• Sonic Detonators (2)
• Impact Grenades (2)
• Cryoban Grenades (2)

He was one of the youngest to participate in this raid and, perhaps, one of the most enthusiastic warriors amongst them. Maybe much more than his Alor...or at least that's what his mind projected for his sense of reality. The young warrior always sought to gain fame and acknowledgement from his elders, never hesitating in joining raids announced to the clan. He had survived all the missions he was involved, surviving with eventual wounds from battle. His superiors did take note he was a passionate machine to kill, yet needed technique to truly finesse in combat.

Something he disliked about this raid was that the Galaxy, or at least the Silver Jedi and their friends, would not recognize the warriors of Clan Munin to bring terror on these shadowlands of Umbara. All credit would be given to the kin of Clan Cadera, the Clan of the ruling Sole Ruler; but this would hopefully ignite a fire that no force could quell. Something Ravik could understand and accept without questioning its strategy as it would benefit the clan.

All in all, he'd still get to paint the field in crimson with his spear as his brush. That alone would make him smile.

He pulled his spear from the torso of a Jedi, seeking for new prey that awaited to be hunted. Scanners searching the battlefield for his spear to impale flesh and break bone.

 

[Caedyn Arenais]

Location: Umbarian Capital City.​

Objective: Defend the Innocent and re-route Enemy Forces.​

Inventory: Caedyn's Jedi Armor | Personal Lightsaber | Heavy Buckler | CS.38 Tactical Side-Arm.​

Nearby: [member="Havoc (CT-375)"], [member="Ember Farseer"], [member="Allya Vi'Dreya"], [member="Coren Starchaser"].​

Opponent: [member="Ravik Munin"].​

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With the last of the transports clearing the LZ and heading skyward with a full haul of civilians all too eager to get clear of the violence, Caedyn Arenais turned his attention to the battlefield. Those whom had been with him had voiced their priorities being on confronting the enemy forces who had come to lay siege upon the innocent world, and so now that Cae had done his utmost to save those he could, it was time to bring the others to justice.

The Capital City was rife with war, and it was easy to be divided from ones allies while all sought to rush to the next possible objective or situation that required them; he didn't know how far back or where the others had gotten to, the last thing he recalled was running alongside the Antarian Rangers and some of the Confederates alongside them, then one of the smaller buildings had collapsed under his frail foundry and a cloud of smoke had filled the area, causing Caedyn to sputter and seek out the nearest path that didn't choke him up or sting at his eyes in protest.

Incidentally, this would bring him out into another open street, directly within line of sight with [member="Ravik Munin"] who was in the process of removing his spear from the chest of a member of the Silver Jedi Order, from what he could tell at-least. The young man's mouth opened to shout to the Mandalorian, though he knew not what to say exactly and instead stopped himself. This loss of life, it wasn't something to be admired in Cae's eyes, but the feeling of emptiness that surrounded him suggested that so many had been killed in the attack, and the Force felt wounded by such a blatant and unnatural loss of life.

Caedyn's cyan blade screamed into ignition with a loud hiss and crack of energy snapping out, the power of the weapon controlling the vibrant energy whose core appeared white if one could gaze upon it long enough. The Je'daii's Lightsaber wasn't alike most, it was wider and similar to that of a broadsword, constructed and paired with the buckler that he worse upon his left fore-arm, a shield and sword load-out if you will.

"You there!" He found his words this time, the initial shock having passed and been replaced with adrenaline; "You'll drop your weapons and surrender yourself to me. Cooperate and you will not be harmed".