Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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From the Ashes [For Mandalorians and Recruits]

The few heights that surrounded the outpost obscured the scorching sun's rays and brought welcomed shade way before the time for sunset came. A newly erected outpost and a symbol of Death Watch's first steps to rebirth, Jai'galaar was bustling with activity of the few Mandalorians that were around.

Kyr'tsad was far from its glory. Gladly for many Mandalorians so.

Its history remained a scar of brotherly blood shed and that was hard to erase from a Mandalorian's memory. But things changed. A few of the Mando'ade still remembered that Death Watch was not only a splinter faction that murdered its own. No. Few still remembered the fear the name of the group struck around the galaxy.

It was their mission to bring the jai'galaar back, to strike fear into the hearts of the enemies and serve the will of the Mandalorians. No longer would brothers bleed.

It was time for the aruetii to bleed.


Jaig methodically went through various tents inspecting the outpost. Some men were hurrying to join up a hunting group that was just about to leave while others patiently worked with the assembly of weapons. Others seemed to be trying to figure out why one of the radar dishes had gone haywire while moaning about their dire need of ne'tra gal.

Just another day at camp.

[member="Lok Munin"] | [member="Jehn"]​

OOC:// Hang out, socialize, do whatever. The thread is open to any Mandalorian and to those interested in joining this ruthless band of warriors.
Jehn couldn't help but chuckle to herself as she followed closely behind [member="Jaig Vizsla"], all the while fiddling with her blaster pistol and adjusting the aim every now and then. She walked without her helmet on, or near her, something that could easily be seen as odd to others but to those who knew the engineer, they knew she thought better without the bucket upon her head clogging both her breath and thoughts. "New recruits means new armour, means new weapons, which means- I get to mess about with more things, huh. Good times for me atleast." she says, with a slight chuckle at the end.
Darth Metus, known to the vode as Var Halo, stood within a stone's throw of the Armory. With a hand outstretched, the Sith exercised telekinetics upon a gaggle of stone and scrap metal; arranging them into a passable form. In truth, the Sith knew that anti-Force sentiment ran high within the Mandalorians...even more so among those of Clan Vizsla...but frankly, he did not give a damn. The enemies of their people were many, and thus was he committed to putting his skills to good use.

Discrimination be damned.

"Once the Forge is finished, I'll be ready to get your armors squared away." he said, addressing their leader as he went about his inspection.

[member="Jehn"], [member="Jaig Vizsla"], [member="Lok Munin"]
Jehn would look up from her fiddling to notice the somewhat intimidating [member="Darth Metus"], however she may feel about force sensitives her facial expression turned to that of great interest as the female mandalorian placed her pistol back into it's sheath and approached the sith lord, her green gaze scanning the other's armour. "Nice colour choice, personally I think you could do with a little bit of red elsewhere but- Good choice." she comments before standing up straight. "Jehn Vizsla, engineer. Whom are you?"
There was a plenty of activities going around the main Deathwatch camp on the planet of Korda, the resting place of Jaster Mereel. Several warriors were rallying to hunt the beasts of Korda, several engineers were tinkering with explosives and weaponry, architects designing and building the walls of the camp, and Mandalorians training on either their range, melee, or close quarters techniques.

The young Munin was actually maintaining his personal equipment and smoking a joint of spice.

"Mandalorian...Savagery. I'll stick with that name for now," the outlawed Mandalorian said as he tried to dub his new spice a name. It was a good flavor as well which needed a Mandalorian name.

From his tent he could see Jaig, the Deathwatch leader, accompanied by two other warriors. A male and a female, but he was much more interested in the female. The youngster couldn't quite recall the last time he saw an attractive Mandalorian. Not ever since that catastrophe on Mandalore. The Munin then got up and headed towards Jaig and his associates.

"Y'know, this new batch of recruits have been my favorite so far," the boy said and shot a quick glance at Jehn's way. "I'm maintaining my personal stuff, and I'll go see what needs muscle after I'm all finished up with that," the Munin said to his superior as he knew he was inspecting the state of the camp today.

[member="Jehn"] [member="Darth Metus"] [member="Jaig Vizsla"]
"Thanks." came the Sith's admittedly-distracted response. He spoke with his back initially turned to the woman, for his attention was fully upon the ragged circle he had constructed. It was a far cry from the Forge he had erected on Krant, would do. Hell, as long as Metus had a hammer and two working hands, he could make just about anything. With but a flick of his wrist, he then hoisted the trio of adjacent sacks above the "Forge." First, the one containing straight up dirt was dumped, followed by two bags of charcoal. Again, not glamorous, but for a startup it would do.

"Var Halo, Quartermaster. You need anything made or fixed, I'm your man."

As the words escaped him, a funky smell invaded his nostrils. Metus turned and was greeted by the sight of a young man puffing on a vegetable. From behind his T-Visor, the Sith rolled his eyes before motioning to his creation. "Mind lighting this up for me?" he asked, figuring that a smoker would have a match to spare.

[member="Lok Munin"], [member="Jehn"]
He stood in full armor, overlooking the site that they had decided on collectively. Kyr'stad. Death Watch. A militant cell within the Mandalorian ranks, one who still stood on the ceremony of warmongering and crusade, they called for a growth that would benefit all Mandalorians.

Their culture was deeply rooted in war, in armor- it made sense for them to have forges. This outpost would be among the most heavily defended under the banner of the Mando'ade. It would consistently bring in new blood, more vode thirsting for the fulfillment of combat.

The technicians from Balmorran were already below with the construction crew, overseeing the digging and laying of foundation. Circuitry in the duracrete formed both the power grid. They tested the energy pattern intermittently, which would ultimately be powered geothermally. Four pylons were already driven, and initial tests looked good.

Alkor turned his gaze slowly toward the Forge facility proper. "It's dug nearly 500km down," the hologram of Phaygus observed. "And magma from beneath the surface is filtered in safely to provision for heat. It burns hotter than any manmade furnace, so the failsafes and artificial atmosphere will be the best R&D have recently put out."

The Dark Jedi nodded. "The facilities themselves will be mostly constructed in a joint effort with the Mandalorians, so your smiths will be the ones doing the metallurgy in earnest. We're just providing the template and electronics." Alkor glanced sidelong at Phaygus through his HUD.

"So I'm one of them, now?" he asked.

"Well, it's more that we're not. You're the common denominator." The Technarch shrugged. "Political correctness. Forgive me. This contract will be lucrative for both parties, I feel."

"Of course." Alkor expected nothing else from the old man. Businessman before all else. "Give me an idea of what we're looking at in terms of production."

"I'm so glad you asked," Phaygus clapped his hands merrily. "We have our latest line tech in store. You'll be able to produce land weapons from this site- walkers, tanks, speeders-"

"All of that?" Alkor raised a brow. "I thought you were making a forge for armor and weaponsmiths."

"Oh, we are," the man explained. "But the ability to churn out weapons of war will help the Mandalorians rebuild their warmachine, should they choose to take up arms again. And if they don't, selling these machines- with royalties, of course- will help to fund the rebuilding and colonization efforts. We talked this through with the elders, and they seemed very interested."

Alkor shrugged. "As long as they know, and you're not just pulling strings to make the company bigger."

"You wound me with this philanthropist talk, Alkor," Illyns laughed. "You were never quite so interested in how the business was run before."

The drills let out a shrill cry as they powered down. "For now, the workers are going on lunch break." Alkor gestured. "And there is a meeting of the Mandalorians going on. I should probably go talk to them."

"Of course," Phaygus gave a slight bow, and the hologram dissipated.

"Leave it to ironmongers to dip their hands as deep as they can," he chuckled.
Jaig proceeded inspecting the place clearly unfazed by anything that was going on. The blank T-visor was identical to his emotionless facial expression that was painted within his helmet.

A young girl, of his own clan at that, had recently joined them. He did not know her name, yet. He would bother to know it when she survives her first battle with the ranks of Death Watch. Until then, she would do a fine job of working on her specialty and pairing up with the other techie. The Forcie.

Both seemed to be into weapons and armor. He passed them both by when the disgusting smell of spice burned his nostrils. A few blinks and the air filter system of his armor switched on. Jaig turned to glance at the young Munin, a blank stare for a moment as if assessing the situation, before he turned his head back ahead.

The Vizsla observed the forge that the Forcie had just finished setting up and a questioning look from Jaig landed upon the female Vizsla.

Would she be having her own forge?

[member="Lok Munin"] | [member="Jehn"] | [member="Darth Metus"]​
Keira didn't trust the Kyr'tsad half as far as she could throw them. Or, maybe it wasn't a lack of trust, but rather a distaste for what she perceived as an unnecessary divide between the vode. In the past she had seen what division did to her people, as she had been there when Ra had declared himself Mand'alor with no precedence, claiming the title while her brother still held the same, an action that nearly sparked war between brothers. The last thing she wanted was a repeat of that, and that was in part what she saw the Death Watch as facilitating, whether it was true or not. But she wouldn't speak against them outwardly. Regardless of whether she agreed with their aim or not they were still vode, and that was enough.

Clad in full armor as well she stepped up beside her brother, putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently, the gesture both reassuring and intended to notify him of her presence. "Su'cuy, vod'ika." His grasp on the language was finally expanding enough that they were able to converse in Mando'a, a fact that meant he was coming closer to understanding what it meant to be Mandalorian. That by itself was an accomplishment, but that he was now actively seeking out to better their people meant more in its entirety. It was a sign that he was beginning to care for their well-being, though whether he would admit to such a thing was an unlikely event.

Her helmeted gaze surveyed the work he'd presumably had some hand in supervising, her HUD making silent calculations that she glanced over. Her purpose here was to support her family and the future of their people and, okay, maybe she still wasn't certain what to make of the Death Watch quite yet, but that wasn't really all that important at the moment. Family. Right. "So, is this the part where you finally start calling yourself a Mandalorian, or are we still going to have to beat it out of you?" Her tone betrayed that she was joking, mostly. Experience had told them both that you could never quite be certain when it came to House Verd.

[member="Alkor Centaris"]
The Atonement came out of hyperspace with a low, gutteral groan. The ship had seen many, some would say too many, lightyears, and all would agree it was in need of being replaced--or at least totally overhauled. Ardgal placed the last ammo clips in his armor's combat harness before exiting the ship towards the bridge.

"How are we?" he asked looking to Prometheus at the helm.

"Holding steady, sir, a few minutes behind schedule," the officer said with a nod, "We had to vent off the main reactor to keep from having a melt down, that did slow us down with the switch up and all."

Ardgal gave a grim nod, "Well done. With this job we will have enough to afford the overhaul we need."

"Yes, sir." The corvette gave a shutter, and the man swallowed, "I sure hope so."

With a shuttering wheeze the old ship eased onto her props like an elderly dog sitting down after a long walk. Vents along the ship gassed out steams of coolant at last. The loading ramp rumbled open with a hard screech, flecks of rust falling to the ground with every inch. Ardgal strode down first, followed by a hoard of technicians, smiths, and, and hired hands carrying supplies. The Death Watch needed forges, and RMIA did make weapons for a living, it wasn't hard to put the two together.

Ardgal's black, beskar boots crunched across the duracrete surface of the landing pad as the warrior made his way to his contact for the job, [member="Alkor Centaris"].

"An honor to see you, sir," Ardgal said offering his hand, they were working together on this as businessmen, "I apologize for my delay, we had some engine trouble along the way," Honesty built a good working business relationship, and that was a corner stone to success, "How is the headway on the forges? What are we looking at?"
Alkor smirked mirthlessly as Keira spoke, his fingers drumming on an armor plate. "I never know what to call myself," he reminded her without a hint of bitterness. "Just what other people like to call me. That's how society works, isn't it?" Several workers had finally set about their food, more than happy to take a break from the work deep beneath the surface.

Residual heat rose from far below, and Alkor was dripping with sweat when he pulled his helmet off. "They're going to be pleased with the progress when we make our report," he told her. "If all goes well, we should be producing within two months. Ample time to start arming the Aka'liit again, if that's what Vilaz decides to do."

He rarely kept the topic on himself. Keira always seemed to find a way to push it back, though. Before she could press the issue, he added: "I didn't decide to rebuild for your people just to watch them fall like everything else I've taken part in." Alkor looked down into the magma. "So, like as not, ni cuyi Mando'ad, vod."

When he heard the telltale footsteps of another man, Alkor turned and accepted the shake firmly. "Good to work with you, bur'cya," he replied, "no need for formalities- you can call me Alkor." He lacked for the disarming smile of a merchant, but them, so did most Mandos. These werected warriors- no need to put on any airs here.

"Balmorran Arms has been looking to invest outside of the inner rim for several decades now, since the doors reopened and things had collected dust for the better part of eight hundred years. Needless to say, they were quick on the uptake when I breathed the word "warforge," and-" Alkor gestured to the floes of planetary lifeblood that circled in the deep chasms like red rivers. "Within two months time, we should be able to start utilizing them proper."

The Dark Jedi folded his arms and turned to both his sister and his new partner. "We have measures in place to maximize efficiency while keeping damages to the workforce at a minimum. The Kordan people will find no shortage of work, which will in turn maintain prosperity for this colony. Did you have any questions regarding production? Phaygus has given me elicit authority to release any information you request, as well as collect and deliver anything your company wishes to send to Balmorra."

[member="Keira Ticon"], [member="Ardgal Raxis"]
Ardgal could feel the heat, even through his enviromentally sealed armor. Small beads of sweat began to form on his forehead as the warrior came deeper into the chambers. He gave Kiera a nod in greeting, nothing too formal or time consuming. Ardgal was a miser when it came to time while he was on the job.

"Alkor it is then," Ardgal said. He listed to the man speak about the desire to expand their lots. "Certainly understandable," he agreed, "RMIA, under my predecessor was much smaller in ideas, work, and goals. I am not much of a small fish type."

His left hand rested on the helmet clipped to his belt and began tapping his pointer finger on it as he began to think up questions about production. "First, will the forge be open to third parties? And if so, how will we maximize profit to this end, with a charge per product or on a time based rental fee? Also, would you be interested in the vong experts of mine utilizing the magma to power the rest of the facilities?"

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