Alkor Centaris
Son of Liberty
Location: High orbit over Yutan, Galactic Republic Capital-- Spacer's ship "Corellian Legacy"
Allies: [member="Keira Ticon"], [member="Nehemiah Verd"], [member="Zef Halo"]
Enemies: Galactic Republic
Alkor glanced across his HUD toward the names on its feed. Keira, Zef, and Nehemiah represented the will of the Crusade on this mission, and alongside his health and armor readouts were smaller indicators hard-linked to their HUDs. If anything went wrong with any one of them, all the others would instantly know and could react. The prospect of using a HUD was still new to Alkor, but he instantly understood the merit- technology could do things the Force could not, and they would know inexorably whether or not danger was afoot with comms and biorhythm readings. For a small tactical team like this, such things were absolutely pivotal.
He moved his gaze slowly across the others present with a myriad of things on his mind. This armor was lighter, but it was still a far cry from the cloak he was so accustomed to. Alkor would have preferred nothing at all to the weight that clung to his shoulders, but he understood that something about being Mandalorian intrinsically required it of him. Eventually the strain on his body would become second nature, Ticon had assured him. Eventually the armor would become nothing more than skin.
The Jen'jidai sincerely hoped "eventually" meant "soon."
Across his lap, the blaster carbine lay in waiting. He was far from a crack shot, but without a Ysalamir stifling his senses and coupled with an accuracy guidance targeting system in his HUD, it would be far less difficult than the last expedition had been. And well, Jedi were not Terentatek, and would be far much less imposing in combat. They couldn't just rip you off the ground and start pulling off limbs. Sure, telekinesis was a real issue... except now, he was fighting alongside Keira, and he had abilities that could supplement his defenses in a pinch.
His lighter vibroblade had been replaced with a proper, balanced beskar blade. It was not like a beskad as they had been explained to him, but a thinner, more evenly balanced blade meant for swordplay rather than swinging around brutishly. There was something to be said for mastery of the hammer-sword, however, and it intrigued Alkor. One day, he might even try the weapon for himself.
Today, however, they were here to do something more his speed. Alkor had trained in the art of subtlety at the behest of his former Masters in order to infiltrate and destroy their enemies from within. Assassination, double agent work, and sabotage were second nature to him. He knew the ins and outs of how to think like the enemy, and he knew that their capital world would not detect a small incursion force on a vessel no different from a generic trade ship.
The plan was like clockwork. Use the spacer's codes to land under unassuming pretenses, disembark, discourage the curious. After that, it was a simple matter to move in and disrupt the workings of their government. Their goal was not to kill, or even to maim. It was to strike at the heart. Thankfully, Zef was a smuggler in his own right, and the Corellian knew his way around smooth talk and guile.
Getting to the planet would be the easy part.
"Weapons check," Alkor grunted as he pulled the helmet from his head and glanced over the group, this time through his own eyes. It was one thing to see it on a screen, but another thing entirely to know firsthand. Everyone aboard this ship was his responsibility right now, and Isley had made sure that Alkor knew it.
If it had been his call, he would have gone in alone and tried to do as much damage as possible.
Verd wanted Alkor to know how it felt to be a leader. He wanted those feeling of success and failure ingrained in his brother, and for him to learn to suffer and to celebrate with his kinsmen. It was a new experience, all of this.
Alkor was uncertain of how he felt about any of it.
Allies: [member="Keira Ticon"], [member="Nehemiah Verd"], [member="Zef Halo"]
Enemies: Galactic Republic
Alkor glanced across his HUD toward the names on its feed. Keira, Zef, and Nehemiah represented the will of the Crusade on this mission, and alongside his health and armor readouts were smaller indicators hard-linked to their HUDs. If anything went wrong with any one of them, all the others would instantly know and could react. The prospect of using a HUD was still new to Alkor, but he instantly understood the merit- technology could do things the Force could not, and they would know inexorably whether or not danger was afoot with comms and biorhythm readings. For a small tactical team like this, such things were absolutely pivotal.
He moved his gaze slowly across the others present with a myriad of things on his mind. This armor was lighter, but it was still a far cry from the cloak he was so accustomed to. Alkor would have preferred nothing at all to the weight that clung to his shoulders, but he understood that something about being Mandalorian intrinsically required it of him. Eventually the strain on his body would become second nature, Ticon had assured him. Eventually the armor would become nothing more than skin.
The Jen'jidai sincerely hoped "eventually" meant "soon."
Across his lap, the blaster carbine lay in waiting. He was far from a crack shot, but without a Ysalamir stifling his senses and coupled with an accuracy guidance targeting system in his HUD, it would be far less difficult than the last expedition had been. And well, Jedi were not Terentatek, and would be far much less imposing in combat. They couldn't just rip you off the ground and start pulling off limbs. Sure, telekinesis was a real issue... except now, he was fighting alongside Keira, and he had abilities that could supplement his defenses in a pinch.
His lighter vibroblade had been replaced with a proper, balanced beskar blade. It was not like a beskad as they had been explained to him, but a thinner, more evenly balanced blade meant for swordplay rather than swinging around brutishly. There was something to be said for mastery of the hammer-sword, however, and it intrigued Alkor. One day, he might even try the weapon for himself.
Today, however, they were here to do something more his speed. Alkor had trained in the art of subtlety at the behest of his former Masters in order to infiltrate and destroy their enemies from within. Assassination, double agent work, and sabotage were second nature to him. He knew the ins and outs of how to think like the enemy, and he knew that their capital world would not detect a small incursion force on a vessel no different from a generic trade ship.
The plan was like clockwork. Use the spacer's codes to land under unassuming pretenses, disembark, discourage the curious. After that, it was a simple matter to move in and disrupt the workings of their government. Their goal was not to kill, or even to maim. It was to strike at the heart. Thankfully, Zef was a smuggler in his own right, and the Corellian knew his way around smooth talk and guile.
Getting to the planet would be the easy part.
"Weapons check," Alkor grunted as he pulled the helmet from his head and glanced over the group, this time through his own eyes. It was one thing to see it on a screen, but another thing entirely to know firsthand. Everyone aboard this ship was his responsibility right now, and Isley had made sure that Alkor knew it.
If it had been his call, he would have gone in alone and tried to do as much damage as possible.
Verd wanted Alkor to know how it felt to be a leader. He wanted those feeling of success and failure ingrained in his brother, and for him to learn to suffer and to celebrate with his kinsmen. It was a new experience, all of this.
Alkor was uncertain of how he felt about any of it.
