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Location: Orbit over Dressel Objective: Objective 2 Tag: Sera Rosh Equipment: In bio
Celt's round exploded a few inches from the jedi, blocked by a shield, not unexpected, she had fought jedi enough not to anticipate an easy kill. She looked at the pair, a jedi female and a slightly cooked astromech, she couldn't help but grin under her helmet, cheeky little thing trying to steal her secrets. Like she told her brother Dane several times, only stick your business in sockets you know to be clean.
The jedi ignited her blade and Celt's gimbal tracked her movement, ready to open up with a torrent of ripper bolts. The jedi did not seem aggressive though, she almost seemed like she was pleading for the "life" of her droid? Celt didn't know what bothered her more, the fact that a Jedi was on her ship, or the fact that it was willing to throw away the mission over a droid. Celt could end the little tin man in a heartbeat, but she knew better, dont take away the Jedi's reason to seek surrender.
"I never understand your Jedi's obsession with protecting Ryloth, is the market for twi'lek dancers funding the temple or something." she joked. Not removing her sight or aim from the intruder.
"Alright then, Jedi. I can respect someone who can spot their tactical disadvantage. You want to know about Ryloth, I'll tell you. And you can tell me what your lot are doing there too, maybe even clue me in to your wider plans? Sound fair, a polite information exchange between warriors." she glanced down at the still smoking droid. Then at her lightsaber.
"If you toss me that light saber and come quietly I'll make sure you get a cell with a mattress. I'll even give you my word that both of you will eventually get to leave unharmed."
Her fist clenched and unclenched as her wrist mounted charring blaster charges.
"Or we do this the old fashioned way, either way works for me, Jedi."
You want me to leave you alone? Let me talk to him. No games… no trying to play him like you did. You can even be right there if you want. Let me offer to get him help here. If he still wants to go? I’m a man of my word. I’ll walk away.
Brent's legs drove into the dirt and gravel of the city streets as he churned up the distance toward where the Jedi was hiding. He burst around a corner, fully ready to engage the Jedi, but there was nothing. His HUD caught a flitter of movement, replaying the motion to him.
The Jedi had fled deeper into the alleys, trying to draw him in. Fine, Brent thought. A portable shield snapped into life from his vambrace, and he advanced slowly into the alleyways, hunting the now-fleeing Jedi.
He made no move to respond; the Jedi was taunting, talking, trying to bide time, but Brent wouldn't allow it. It was a close-quarters game until he decided otherwise, his terms, not the Jedi's. He had more tricks up his sleeve than the Jedi could fathom.
Brent's armor was full of weapons and internal circuitry; his Crushgaunts, in particular, were devastating weapons, and they had small blasters attached, which allowed him to keep his Vibroknucklers equipped without having to draw more weapons.
As Brent rounded the corner of where his HUD had last seen the Jedi, he kept one arm up in front of him, shield protecting his vital organs. With the other arm, he pointed it in front of him and fired off several blaster rounds into the alleyway in hopes of catching the Jedi off guard.
Siv had to admit, even he was surprised at how quickly the situation deteriorated. His HUD had tagged the Mandalorians present. That was Rau, who led them, who'd fired at the Jedi given first opportunity. Watching the events unfold, Siv had sighed, barely audible. Fighting Jedi were a waste of time, to him. They'd gotten into a crusade against the Galactic Alliance for less, when there were Sith to be killed.
Was he going to stand by his people? Or his principles?
Siv Dragr remained still atop the rooftop. He observed the skirmish as it began to unfold. He knew Jedi, alright. Incapable of self-criticism. They were so self-righteous that of course they were always right. Unable to hear or accept an opinion or truth contrary to their own. It was ultimately their religion's biggest downfall.
These Jedi were different, though. He'd observed how they'd rolled up as a strike team to confront the Mandalorians head-on. That was unusually proactive for their kind. And here on Dressel.. this was outside of their Order's supervision. The question was, if given the chance, were they really here to fight? Or to talk? Or something more? Siv's job was to find out.
His gaze drifted across the battle until it rested on two Jedi with the look of Master and Apprentice. They weren't engaging any Mandalorians; he zoomed in on them, noting the defensive stance of their postures. What was their aim? How coordinated were these Jedi?
Siv unholstered his blaster. Observations only got you so far. Sometimes you had to figure out things the old way.
He leapt from the rooftops, rocketing over and landing at a distance of about 10 meters from the two Jedi. A gloved finger flicked his blaster pistol's safety setting off as a cloud of dirt arose from his jetpack's thrusters as he touched ground. Sometimes, a good way to learn what someone would do was to make them do it.
Siv fired a warning shot, obviously not to kill, striking at ground just below the feet of the Jedi. He held his blaster loosely, but his grip could tighten at a moment's notice from lightning-fast reflexes developed through decades of hunting along the frontier. "This ain't your fight, Jedi," he growled. He'd singled out the two from the rest. "No talking today. If you want peace, go home."
Heat Signature matching the aggressor moving quickly
to your position… 180 degrees rotation…
Behind him. Makes sense.
He was hearing the steps. They were hard to pick up, he was a professional. So Connel let him come, let him feel like he had the drop. The Jedi could not feel the Force returning to him yet, but it was a matter of time, and on top of that, he could rely on his implants if he needed to.
Gathering the rappelling line from his gauntlet, Connel let a blaster bolt hit him. Armor or not, the impact of those weapons probably still broke a rib. That was in though, one shot and Connel dropped into a backwards somersault, relying on his cybernetic implants and the targeting in his HUD to throw the hook at one corner of the alley and roll backward past Brent and pull HARD on the chord. Could he leap over the impromptu tripwire? Sure. Would it distract him enough for Connel to pull his own blaster again? Hopefully.
The Lightblaster was not built like other projectile guns. It was powered and focused by Kyber crystals. It was basically a lightsaber gun (hence “Lightblaster) and while Beskar can hold…
Connel was a crack shot…
I can hit between your plating… your choice… Blaster in one hand, two throwing Lightknives in the other… and slowly a feeling of peace returning
"Chieftain, we have no sabotuers aboard your vessels. Do not attempt to tailor yourself the aggrieved party. We are a contracted defense fleet for this system and have full authority here. As such unless you power down weapons, call back your fighters and explain your presence here we are obligated to engage. Many will die even if we are defeated. We are taking countermeasures to ensure our survival."
For a moment, there was a flash of doubt; reinforced by a hushed update given by Kjartan’s first mate next to him. “Alor, we’ve just received an update from the Akaan’ar. The boarders are Jedi by the look o’ things.”
Kjartan ground his teeth and took a moment to mull over the situation. Something wasn’t adding up, and the last bit the opposing captain said flashed yet another alarm bell within the pirate’s mind; undermining whatever doubt that had at first been sown. With a smug grin, Kjartan settled in his chair and responded. “Contracted defense fleet, eh? Is that why you were lying out of weapons range, as far as you possibly could get? Broadcasting Mandalorian codes rather than clearly identifying yourselves?” He put some extra emphasis on Mandalorian, a tone of incredulity seasoning his words. What was the expression? Oh yeah.
“You’re not the first di’kut to try that, just the most recent.” He chuckled dryly, which resulted in several of his bridge crew exchanging glances. They knew their Alor to be a boisterous, just, and understanding man - but he still had that old pirate within him when provoked. And nothing provoked the Hammer-hand more than someone telling a bad lie.
The Void Hammer launched an enormous salvo of explosive ordnance. Concussion Missiles, Advanced Cluster Missiles, Proton Torpedos. All of them targeting the Hypermatter and Mass Driver Cannons on the Buurenaar'gam. Quad Ion Cannons sent another volley supported by heavy turbolaser batteries that would target the Kalden'kad seeking to tax its defenses further.
Incredibly the Destroyer-Class Frigates were faring better than the Void Hammer. Built of a reinforced skeleton of durasteel with layered and reinforced plating as well as high output deflector shielding their role was literally to soak up as much damage from larger capital ships as possible. Raiding Fleets generally feared them for their robust design and the prolonged engagements they were created for.
As the Destroyers advanced along with the Void Hammer the two on its port would open up with volleys of heavy turbolaser and ion canon fire followed by concussion missiles launched at the Akaan'ar. The Destroyer to the starboard would do likewise only engage the Sapan'vod.
Despite the ongoing conversation between the two commanders, the battle was pressed by the Void Hammer even after the volley she weathered. An intimidating salvo of missiles and torpedoes swarmed through the void toward the Buurenaar’gam, which caused the Tactical Officer to instantly engage the Star Destroyer’s countermeasures while her Alor was distracted. The first countermeasure to activate was the RAAM-M3 Tactical Ordnance Jammer, which created a null-lock void around the ship. This caused many of the missiles to misfire, and either burst prematurely or swing wide - some of which careening into bystander vessels that were just trying to get away.
Surely that would cause the actual security forces to deploy.
The next countermeasure to engage was the RMV-APS14 Saladin Anti-Projectile Countermeasure System, which launched countering point-defense missiles to intercept those that didn’t misfire or divert. But naturally, not all of the missiles could be thus avoided given how big the Ha’rangir-class was. Nearly 10 missiles made their way past the countermeasures and impacted against the Ha’rangir’s now-online shield system, which caused it to shimmer violently even so given the haste with which the shields were raised. Yet they did their job, and the hypervelocity cannons remained very much intact.
The Kalden’kad would fare worse, as the heavy turbolaser and ion fire crashed against its forward deflector shields with a ferocity of a wounded animal. Several shots could be seen breaching past the shield array, pinging instead against the Duranium outer-hull of the cruiser - causing noticeable damage and scoring. Meanwhile the two Cabur-class frigates pushed forward to flank the Kalden’kad, arraying themselves before the advancing enemy fleet. The three smaller ships would coordinate their firing solutions, focusing the full measure of their firepower against the lead-Destroyer in the hopes of removing one from the battle as quickly as possible.
Aboard the Buurenaar’gam, Kjartan’s tone developed a sharper edge as he spoke again over the channel; possessing a bluntness that would rival the hammers at his side. “I’m a man of my word, and I’ve already given you your final warning. Consider these terms as if forged from iron - you disengage and power down your weapons, and submit to my will. Or you will stand responsible for the deaths of your men shabuir.”
At that, the line was cut, and Kjartan turned to his tactical station. “Full volley this time. Fire at will until there is nothing left.” Wordlessly, the tactical officer set about the order she was given. The previous volley, as overwhelming and devastating it was, was only half the devastation the Buurenaar’gam was capable of. As the Star Destroyer’s thrusters pushed her slowly away from the dock-yard, the sheer magnitude of the volley launched from her caused the vessel to lurch violently, as though she were part of a head-on collision, before proceeding forward a few moments later.
After checking for a minute or two longer and no movement, the Twi'lek dropped down into the hallway. She immediately moved into an alcove to avoid any surveillance picking her up. From this alcove, she pulled an EMP from her pack and activated a ten-second timer before rolling it out into the hallway. She waited until she heard it go off, hopefully killing the hallway's electronics.
Then she darted out and made a beeline for the next hallway. Someone would probably notice the dead surveillance and come to investigate. She had to move before they locked everything down.
She just needed to figure out the quickest route to the Core.
Amidst the rapidly deteriorating situation out in the void, the crew within the Buurenaar’gam set about their duty as one might expect of Mandalorian warriors - save for maybe a few. The lion’s share of the Iron Howl marines were stationed along the hangar deck and main gangways in anticipation of potential boarding actions. A token force would be in position for internal security, many of which either pissed off for not being tasked with potential boarding duties, or complacent enough to indicate why they weren’t chosen in the first place.
Two warriors sat within a security checkpoint - a small, half-walled alcove off the main hallway. The first was a young warrior in his early twenties, with soft and wavy brown hair, swinging about in his chair back and forth - the squeaking of its bearings causing a mild irritation for the 2nd warrior. He was bald headed with a dark complexion, and carried himself as though ‘he were better than this’. Yet his own honor dictated he carry out his duty as best he could, so his eyes were set upon an array of monitors that displayed the CCTV camera feed of their section.
The bald warrior ignored his younger companion for several moments, until the squeaking got the best of him. “Is it time for your patrol yet?”
“I already went recently.” snapped back the response, as though the bald man were the younger’s parent, who had just asked him if he had gone to the bathroom before leaving for a trip.
“Not recently enough.” grumbled the bald one. He had glanced away for a moment, missing the Twi’lek dropping from the maintenance hatch. When he snapped back, it was just as the emp grenade disabled the electronics in the hallway - which happened to be the camera. He saw the feed glitch and snap off - showing only static in its place. The senior of the pair nudged the younger, knocking his leg from off of his lap. The younger warrior grimaced at the older of the two, until he noticed the point and glance from chromedome.
“Go check it out. Hallway 12.” His tone brokered little argument, which spurred the younger to rise up from his seat despite an obligatory objection.
“It’s probably these old karking electronics. The Alor puts this ship through hell, so something is bound to go out.”
The young warrior left regardless, his footfalls padding on the durasteel floor toward the blind camera in question... heading directly toward the intruder just beyond eyesight.
The Buurenaar’gam disrupts the majority of the missile volley, with 10 missiles making it through the countermeasures and impacting against her shields - leaving the hypervelocity cannons intact.
The Kalden’kad suffers considerable damage, but still presses the attack alongside her escort frigates
The Kalden’kad and two Cabur-class frigates are focusing their firepower at the lead-destroyer, trying to take it out of the fire early.
The Buurenaar’gam launches the full weight of her arsenal at the Void Hammer.
Wolf 3 saw the switcbacks coming first and quickly relayed it to his squadron mates who moved to engage. Signy looked at her readouts of the incoming lasers, there was a lot of then but they were individually very puny any would need time to overwhelm the larger mandalorian fighter's shields, she fired off a couple of Drakes at a pair that buzzed past them, the missiles were fast and agile so would be hard to dodge.
She had taken several hits to her starboard but shields were holding.
A flash to her port caught her attention as Wolf 4 exploded in a fireball.
::They rammed him, keep evasive maneuvers:: came the voice of Wolf 6 and Sig pulled her fighter into a turn just as one of the small fighters went passed her. The enemy fighters were faster, but hers were more agile which at least gave them to capacity to not get rained on by the little spheres.
Sig lined up her cannons in chase position and pulled the trigger hoping to score a hit, four metres was small, but it was twice the size of a womp rat.
Alerts flashed on her comm as she strayed a little too close to the enemy flag ship and point defence batteries began to tag her. Her ship shook as small caliber batteries peppered her first, her dorsal shields were below half strength so she rolled and then pulled up and away from the enemy vessels, releasing countermeasures to avoid an anti-starfighter missile from the ship below.
Judging by the volleys coming from the star destroyer, her dad was not in a playful mood so she had better show up today.
Another barrage from the Buurenaar'gam, this time with the full weight of its arsenal.
As hypermatter and turbolaser fire erupted across the hull of the Void Hammer shields collapsed completely and plating was ripped from the surface of the Cruiser.
Some shits were absorbed, some defenses shot down missiles before they impacted. It really didn't matter.
Debris scattered off the hull of the Void Hammer, flaking off like dried skin.
Durasteel had ripped and shredded, some of the wounds went as deep as the superstructure of the ship venting the unsuspecting into the void before the breaches were sealed behind thickly automated doors.
On the bridge there was chaos.
Electrical sparks caused several consoles to fizzle out, the impacts threw some bridge crew like rag dolls. Rel himself was bucked out of his chair and onto his stomach before pulling himself up, Kjartan Hammer-Hand
voice still ringing in his ears...
"Yes Chieftain, you are a man of your word."
...the words muttered as crew called out to him from the side...
"Another volley incoming! Multiple systems down We can't take much more of this! The ship is coming apart!"
...but it was nothing Rel didn't know, it was nothing that he didn't recognize prior to entering this battle once he'd realized that the Star Destroyer would be an active participant.
A Holographic display flickered, catching his attention while klaxons rang into the background across the bridge and throughout the ship. Rel considered, the ship rocked under turbolaser fire and then ordered...
"Focus fire here and here. Relay the infromation. Call the retreat to the Destroyers. Full forward impulse then abandon ship."
...he'd singled out two targets on the display, neither of them were the Buurenaar'gam.
Multiple systems, including armaments and defenses on the Void Hammer were damaged or destroyed but what remained fired.
Missiles launched another volley, advanced targeting had become choppy but their target was neither small nor nimble. The Missiles flew for the refueling barges and blisters hoping to ignite the volatile fuel they carried into larger explosions the concussive force of which might hopefully be enough to destabilize the enemy ships nearby. Altogether though it was really just to cause an extra element of chaos and havok.
Turbolasers and Ion Canons that remained functional, of which there may have been a little more than half concentrated fire on the Kalden'kad looking to score more damage.
The Bridge of the Void Hammer was empty after that, what automated system there were would cause the turbolasers and ion canons to fire until the ship was dead.
Rel and crew had withdrawn, taking turbolifts to lower decks and scrambling for the remaining craft in the Hangars of which there were two squadrons of Bombers and two more of Gunships/Support Vessels. Anyone unable to board one of those ships would need to take their chances in an escape pod.
Amidst the never ending onslaught of the 'Switchbacks', which sacrificed themselves in explosions eagerly to allow others amongst them to collide with and destroy more of the Mandalorian Fighters Signy Bralor
would soon take note of the launching ships. Bombers and Guships that instead of engaging would break off in a calculated withdrawal. Of course the young Mandalorian and her squadron could give chase but already in the midst of a swarm that could prove extremely perilous.
The combined firepower unleashed by the Kalden'kad and the two Escort Frigates was enough to disable the Destroyer that they'd targeted. Turbolaser fire and explosions rained down across its hull ripping apart sections of plating. It wasn't destroyed but it incapacitated, its power draining as it floated listlessly in space on its forwards course with no control. Built to withstand a beating it was likely crew were alive and working to regain power.
The two Destroyers that remained followed suit with the Void Hammer and focused fire on the Kalden'kad then banked off in opposite directions to retreat and enter hyperspace.
There was more though, just one more thing. The Void Hammer, heavily damaged and with multiple systems failing had been set on a collision course. As Rel had said it prior to evacuation 'full forward impulse'. It had aimed itself at the Kalden'kad, even if it was blown apart by the Buurenaar'gam debris and the remnants of its superstructure would hurl themselves through space like spears thrown by a dying huntsman in all directions.
CHARACTER TITLE/CATCHY ALIAS
Unknown City | DRESSEL
TAG: Connel Vanagor
GEAR: Bio
Brent burst around the corner, firing his blaster in a tight grouping at the Jedi. He was met with momentary success as the blaster bolts hit home, but it didn't slow the Jedi. He continued to move away from Brent, gathering what appeared to be some type of rope as if he was going to rappel up.
Brent's legs moved faster, propelling him forward, closing the distance. As he neared the Jedi, however, the tables turned. The jedi reversed his momentum, stopping abruptly and somersaulting backwards past Brent, the rappelling cord now a tripwire instead of an escape. By the Manda the man was fast!
Brent dove forward over the wire, hitting the ground hard and coming up, spinning on his heels and-
Brent smiled under his helmet, slowly standing up, hands raised by his shoulders, turning to face the Jedi.
"Well kriff, I think you got me," Brent said, feigning surrender, "But I think you should know," Brent slowly brought one hand down in a non-threatening way, to the more vulnerable areas between his armor near the side of his thoracic cavity, tapping between the Beskar plates with his knuckles. Instead of a soft sound one would expect, a hard knock came from the suit as Brent's knuckles hit the armored plate woven into the suit.
"Still covered," he said, "Even here," he tapped the areas where his femoral artery ran near his inner thigh, "Even here," he said again finally, tapping the side of his knee.
In an explosion of movement, as Brent tapped his knee, a rocket fired from it, its vapor trail lancing toward the Jedi, an explosive tip ready to detonate.
Warden, Jedi. Jared was a Seeker, and son of one of the best Jedi the galaxy had seen. But this man was more a wanderer and seeker, far ranging, and looking for the right steps. All he needed now was the crew to take his work with the Underground to the same way that his father did.
An Outer Rim raised pilot and hunter.
Yet here he was, looking after some Mandalorians. But as he was touched on the shoulder, Jared turned, his hand not going right to his lightsaber. They mentioned the Outer Rim and the League. As for the armor, Jared could only smirk. “You know, I just might have been. But also, think you’re insulting the real Jedi.”
As for the introduction, Jared nodded. “Nope, never thought a Mandalorian without any armor on as not a threat.” A sly grin over his features. “And maybe I am. Seems I found one.” Fancy that.
“And I’m sure you will. What’ll it take, a few moments to call your armor here?” That wasn’t even a challenge, just a comment. Jared was always ready for combat but he wasn’t going to rush into it. Not until someone else started.
He was from the Rim, but he was also Corellian. He had some class.
Nestling on the tree’s branch, Yael watched as the said company approached. Jedi, of course. It has always been them. The memories rushed back to her mind; the Rishi raid. Rodia. Ryloth. Kiffu. How it had changed her, and what remained of Kestri, forever.
Yael is a different woman now, and the galaxy is a shade darker. Yet some things never change; the Jedi and their arrogance and self-righteousness, despite losing Coruscant and the Core, despite losing their Grandmaster. She doesn’t wish to fight the Jedi anymore, there are bigger threats to her kind out there, but it seems like the Jedi don’t really give them any choice.
Yael shifted her sight from the vantage point to the side, out of sheer alertness. Through the thermal sight of her visor, she could spot two heat signatures. Yael tracked them; a master and a padawan, but refrained herself from engaging. Not now, not until it is absolutely necessary.
Yet it didn’t take long until it was. Reggie's opening shot cracked through the humidity, and Yael uncoiled.
From the elevated cover of the canopy, she braced her scattergun. The kick was a familiar, sharp punch against her dark-blue plates
A wide, lethal spread of red-hot kinetic pellets tore through the foliage, shredding the leaves into a green mist as they rained down toward Rik Perris
. Before the first shells even hit the dirt, Yael was already moving. She dropped, her jetpack giving a controlled, hissing burst to accelerate her descent.
She hit the forest floor with a heavy, metallic thud, sliding through the damp terrain to change her angle of attack. As she came up, she fired again, the scattergun's roar echoing against the chaos breaking out at the landing pads.
Yael exploited Jedi masters’ tendency to protect their padawan by trying to force-separate the two. She moves in a tight arc like a terror bird hunting its prey, using the thick trunks as brief intervals of cover while she looks for the perfect angle.
With a flick of her wrist, she ignited a wrist-mounted flamethrower, sending a licking tongue of orange fire toward the master's flank to force a reposition.
He sensed the impending impact before SERAPHIM notified him, that meant one thing.
He was attuned to the Force again.
The rocket was shielded, but the impact was the same, and still sent him flying backward into the wall. This was actually a good thing, he could hide the fact that he had this, and would because he did not know how much was back just yet. He quickly recovered, using the moment to assess his surroundings and gather his thoughts. The Force's return was partial, unpredictable, but enough to give him an edge. He needed to stay cautious, blending his abilities subtly until he understood the full extent of his reconnection.
Just remember. I gave you the chance to end this peacefully. Pulling the dropped blaster to his one hand, and the knives into the other, he waved for the Mandalorian to “come on.”
The foundling’s boots scraped across the durasteel floor. Air whipped her locs and mane as an unseen force shoved her back. The howls and barks of her blaster pistols ceased in the same breath. Vara shifted, her posture shrinking into a low-crouch. A sharp pivot of her boot, and she came to a skidding halt.
Her head shot up, the intruder’s tall, robe-wrapped silhouette mirrored off her visor, the blue-violet light of the saber a bright glint against the jet-black tint. Hurried yet calm, the Jedi searched for an easy escape. But there was none to be found here.
The doors only spared him an angry dull buzz with every attempt.
Vara shot up in a heartbeat. <”Where do y’think yer goin’!?”> A growl ripped from her throat. The muzzle of her blasters followed. Her rapid footfalls thudded across the p-ways as she broke into a full sprint to a nearby alcove in the corridor for cover. Gunmetal firm under her fingertips, digits curled back the hairtriggers.
The violent crescendo began anew.
A plume of fire flashed at her visor with each pull of the trigger. The acid green of sonic rounds visibly tore through the air, flaring into corridor-wide cones in a heartbeat, in sharp contrast to the red hue of the particle bolts.
The howls of the sonic rounds fell silent before long.
Another squeeze. The second blaster spat a round, sizzling towards the Jedi.
Then, with practiced rhythm, she moved.
With a casual thumb press, Vara flung the empty powercell with the flick of her wrist. A faint metallic clatter cut through the din as the wall caught it. The leather magazine pouch at her warbelt rasped sharply as she grabbed a fresh magazine in the same breath, and slammed it home.
The first return shot cracked a heartbeat after, and she stepped out.
A shrewd glint of mischief flickered across her crimson glare as a deafening sonic boom whipped at the Jedi. In the same breath she shifted the muzzle of her second pistol towards the floor close to his feet.
He sought escape, and in doing so surrendered ground.
And the Foundling closed in to take the rest.
The sonic blasts cracked to drive him deeper into the bowels of the ship, while the particle bolts snapped at his feet to herd him the “right” way.
She couldn’t take him by herself and she knew it.
She needed her kin before he’d force her to abandon her advantage.
The first blaster round cracked across the landing platform like thunder, followed by heavier concussion of Mandalorian weapons igniting across the docking lanes. Fuel vapor scattered in the air as crews scrambled for cover and the starport's warning sirens came alive.
Naturally those Jedi apart of the team were already reacting -- across the docking field, Mandalorian armor flashed beneath the port lights.
Romi's gaze moved quickly.
Ship positions. Fields of fire. Refueling lines still attached to hulls.
This had escalated relatively fast.
Her thumb brushed the inside seam of her sleeve. She twisted one of her beads; A single confirmation pulse traveled through a concealed comm thread, not a transmission, just a signal. Backend protocols active.
Below the starport's deck plating, a passive interceptor array finished binding itself to the fueling grid's comm junction. High above the docking arms, a microdroid shifted along the underside of a gantry strut and settled against the armored hull of one of the refueling Mandalorian ships.
Hiss-snap!
Romi finally ignited her lightsaber. The scarlet blade snapped to life. Her eyes tracked across the Mandalorian ranks until they found one figure in particular.
His armor was familiar. For just a fraction of a second, memory overlapped with the present -- another battlefield, another conversation under a different name. The blade angled slightly downward as she jumped in the view of the warrior's visor across the fractured docking platform.
"Mand'alor the Anointed," Romi called across the distance, voice carrying clearly despite the gunfire, "I figured you honorable, and astute...Why'd you hesitate?"
Another blaster bolt screamed towards her, time she moved to meet it, subtlety twisting at the waist; she fanned her blade, sheering through the bolt in one smooth motion.
THE NEGOTIATION
Unknown City | DRESSEL
TAG: Connel Vanagor
GEAR: BIO
"That worked better than expected," Brent mumbled to himself, stalking forward toward the hole in the wall the Jedi had disappeared into. Brent saw through the smoke and haze of the damaged building, witnessing the Jedi stand up, facing him. Maybe not as good as expected, then.
"Ha," Brent barked out a laugh, "Gave me and the kids a chance at the end of a barrel? That is the Jedi way, is it not? Your way or the highway."
Brent walked closer, "No grenades," he said as the Jedi beckoned him forward. Brent sprinted toward him, firing off the last of his Whistling Birds as he closed the distance, fists lashing out with the Vibroknucklers still attached, attempting to cut the Jedi down.
The Rockets or “Whistling Birds” were easy enough to redirect, but Connel was not completely back in control of the Force as the knuckler slammed into the jaw of his mask. It was JARRING, sending several aspects of his HUD off-line, including SERAPHIM. It would not be permanent, as the systems were rebooting, and luckily, really only the mask and the gauntlets were “powered” but it still was an odd look.
Attempting to jam the Lightknife into the Hunter’s knuckler would be a daunting task, but he was up for it as he holstered his blaster. Good one… I’ve got “knuckles” too. They weren’t “vibro” but he had some in his free gauntlet and sent an uppercut at the T-visor. Could he pull a shortsaber? Sure… but what would they do? The Beskar armor could block both of them.
So it was a “fist” fight for the moment, gauge and test what he can do, then break him down. This dude, like most of them, relied on the weapons and was a brawler almost by default. Effective, but predictable.
"Yes, Master." she replied, for once a bit introspective. "You really think we wouldn't be able to get through to them and resolve this without trouble?" she asked then, though, as the ramp opened for them to get out.
A brief pause had been taken just as he was about to step down the ramp, then, but he’d continued on with the descent while talking. The kid had a good heart, and he’d do everything he could to make sure she kept it.
“If there’s a chance to avoid conflict, we take it,” with Mandalorians or otherwise, “but there’s a lot stacked against that outcome.” Recent and past events. Culture. He’d looked at Ceri, then, as they stepped off the ramp. “Sometimes, we have to fight to get there. If we can get there.”
In the now, Rik was certain there was something or someone in the forest and he wasn’t about to let them be sitting ducks. Opening salvos from the Mandalorians were doubtless being made to disperse and single out the Jedi, might be there were others lying in wait.
"Is something happening?" Ceri asked him quietly, looking around a bit, but they were out of sight of the rest by now. Something was making the hair in her neck stand on end. Was that what it felt like when the Force was warning you against something really dangerous?
Nothing like an active situation to cement concepts. Once again his steps slowed, this time to an aware, tense standstill, his senses more than his eyes continuing to scan and zero in as he peered into the forest from some metres outside of it.
“We’re being watched,” he answered, low, “thick tree canopy creates darkness and cover, good for an ambush.” Rik indicated a narrow band of the treeline, up in the foliage. “There.”
Pellets tore through the canopy in response, as if a button had been pushed, and Rik clocked the angle of the pellets in an instant as they exited the foliage.
"Back up!" he compelled, urging Ceri back with an arm in tandem, while stepping back some paces himself as the pellets hit the dirt in front of them. His attention shot back to the canopy. "Don't be too quick to think that was a warning shot," he informed his padawan, when a heavy thud sounded, snapping his sight down from the leaves as the Mandalorian rose and sent another spray of pellets their way while slipping behind a tree. Rik deflected this fresh volley sharply, sending the pellets to the ground.
He could handle being fired upon in a few ways, but Ceri was still learning, still had a lot to learn.
"Keep your barrier up. Remain aware of what they're doing," he reiterated to his padawan — a phrase she had heard before, more than once, in training — as he tracked the Mandalorian's movements, following with his eyes and metaphysical senses, while the Mando shifted behind and past tree trunks, "they're trying to get around us."
And that was exactly what happened.... yet when the Mandalorian sent flames at him, Rik didn't move in the way they might've been expecting, no, but he did drop his barrier and draw the lick of flame into the shape of an orb with a single, sharp pull. To make a point.
"You sure are makin' a lot of assumptions, Mando." His steady gaze levelled on them and he closed his hand, extinguishing the orb. Smoke rose from his fist. "Didn't come here lookin' for a fight."
The veteran Mandalorian charged with overseeing the group turned as their HUD lit up, a reflex as they hefted their rifle and opened fire on the incoming Jedi while yelling, "Contact!" Blaster bolts began cutting through the air as the others began to ready their blasters.
Sindel's gaze followed the veteran's fire, using his hand to grasp at the handle of a modified beskad as he turned the rest of his body, digging his feet into the dirt as he instinctively raised the blade up.
The sound of a lightsaber activating started as he thumbed the built-in heat generator on the blade, igniting a plasmatic edge as it clashed with the Jedi's. His blade collided with hers as he halted the blade from striking his upper chest plate as he felt her land on his shoulders. He pushed against his own blade to redirect her strike away from him as the lightsaber skittered across and grazed the surface of his armor. With a grunt he pushed the Jedi to get her off of him as the others began to turn and fire on her.
As for the introduction, Jared nodded. “Nope, never thought a Mandalorian without any armor on as not a threat.” A sly grin over his features. “And maybe I am. Seems I found one.” Fancy that.
“And I’m sure you will. What’ll it take, a few moments to call your armor here?” That wasn’t even a challenge, just a comment. Jared was always ready for combat, but he wasn’t going to rush into it. Not until someone else started.
Sahan grinned. Starchaser had all but confirmed that Jedi had come looking for trouble. They seemed to like to do that. Their self-righteous nature naturally made them want to challenge anyone who didn't completely align with their definition of "good." And Manda only knew what the kark that meant anymore. Jedi and Sith were all the same now; two sides of the same token.
And his keen hearing caught the unmistakable sound of blasterfire in the pub. Without hesitation, and with agility that would surprise the Jedi, Sahan pivoted his core and threw a weighted elbow straight into Starchaser's face.
He then leapt up high and activated his jetpack. His M.I. Model 6 was instantly in his left hand, raining down sonic bolts. "What makes you think I need any armor?"
True, he couldn't currently use his armor even if he wanted to. And he actually did want to. He hated not having it. All he had right now were the vambraces. But a Mandalorian who couldn't fight without his armor was no true Mandalorian at all. After all, the Ancient Tuang had been warriors long before they discovered beskar.
THE CHIP Unknown City | DRESSEL
TAG: Connel Vanagor
GEAR: BIO
The Whistling Birds did their job, distracting the Jedi enough for Brent to close the distance and hit the man with a thunderous blow across the face, the Vibroknuckler doing its work. Brent was preparing to continue the barrage, but the Jedi redirected his blade toward Brent's hand as he attempted to strike again.
The blade of the Jedi snipped through the thin base of the Vibroknuckler on his right fist, shearing through the metal and causing it to fall off. Before Brent could react, the Jedi's other arm came in at him in a devastating uppercut. Brent leaned back, but his forward momentum betrayed him, and the fist still hit him. It came so fast that Brent didn't see the blade that was attached to it, but he felt the grinding on his T-Visor as it hammered up into him, knocking him back a step, and leaving a chip in the glass that traveled up the T-Visor toward his eyes.
Brent heard the Jedi speak, but he couldn't respond as he took a backward step to keep his balance. Brent brought his right arm up and ignited the flamethrower built into his vambrace, attempting to engulf the Jedi in flame. With his other hand and in a smooth motion, he discharged his whipcord launcher, hoping to entangle the Jedi and keep him still while he was cooked alive.
As chaos erupted amidst a newfound battlefield, Carduul was left with little choice but to re-acquaint himself with the familiar sense of conflict. It would be a lie to say he was hoping to avoid it, as if he was some virtuous being. It came with ease to him, more than some of his kin.
Though, this was an occasion he wouldn’t have deemed fit for such an altercation. It felt pointless. Nonetheless, his duty was clear when those bolts first started flying. He had weaved in and out of the fray with the same brutal grace he preferred in fighting. He would’ve been content to allow his thoughts to drift single-mindedly to that of combat. To allow blade and bolt to do all the talking, with his poleaxe to angle to the next target with ease—whatever prospective Jedi had found themselves aiming to subdue his compatriots would meet blades with him first. Yet, the sudden call towards him interrupted him from doing much.
As he snapped away from his trance of battle, in his clutch was one prospective padawan who got a bit too cocky, too eager to prove their worth. An admirable trait, though not one given much value by the Jedi. His helm had swiveled, and with a huff of breath, he cast aside the other into the dirt. A mercy, for he could have just as easily have impaled them or crushed their windpipe. “Have you not heard? Another wishes to claim that title, now.” Came the drawl of words in reply. “I recognize you as well, Mother Askani.” He pointedly asserted, as steps stalked forwards across the newly-torn platform. “And are you not Jedi, just as the rest of them? Should you not be already leaping to the defense of your compatriots, aiming to cast us down once more so that you may be called ‘hero’ and garner the justification needed?” He verbally shot back right at the woman. Words held a touch of venom, as they often did when directed to outsiders.
Honor, she spoke of. What did the Jedi know of honor? In all his life, he didn’t think he had met a single one worthy of such claims. “...What honor is there in a fight such as this?” A hand haphazardly casting around them. “Rats, fighting over blame cast by another—nothing new by our history. Did you know this very dispute is what first caused the most recent Crusade? In a way, I have it to thank for my existence as it is now.” A dry, sardonic chuckle escaped him, as he shook his head.
The Mand’alor in limbo had his steps halt several strides away from her, before beginning to slowly circle. Hesitation, indeed. He should have simply attacked her then, and there. He should be doing as his duty fortold, and righteously strike down those who would oppose his cause. So, why had he not done that yet? “Your ilk will not allow this transgression to pass, this I know. The Mandalorians will be hunted again, once more, for trying to tend to their own affairs. I had thought, for a brief moment, I would witness a fresh chapter more like the Crusade's predecessor... But, whatever I hesitated for, it is too late to change the course of history…is it not?” The helm left to tilt as he posed that question, gaze narrowing across at the figure. All the while, his weapon slowly levelled towards her once more. It all felt as if it was simply…a repetition. The answer was plain to see, of course—it was all around them, across every comm channel both Jedi and Mandalorian blaring across the airwaves. Upon the ground, in the very stars above them. Yet still...for the sake of brevity, he had asked as if there was any chance there might be an alternative feasible enough.
Sera Rosh
