Private Hammers and Scalpels.

[Mazrim Caide/Taim]

Legionaire Caide cracked his neck as he stepped off the transport to the landing dock of the Fortress Imperious on the planet Concordia, where he was told he was to meet his latest commanding officer for mission briefing and instruction. From what he’d heard, the Military Governor of Mandalore was heading this mission. Lirka Ka 's reputation preceded her as a ruthless and terrifying monster, more raging beast than sentient creature. And yet, she was still tactful enough to oversee the governing of a province as troubling as the planet of Mandalore. Well, he thought to himself, at least she couldn’t read minds.
As he trudged through the halls of the fortress, he looked around at the passing soldiers. Some who recognized him from the various campaigns he’d been in did double takes, but most simply moved along their business. Caide took that as a sign that This Lirka was if nothing else good at maintaining order, which was a positive. An aptitude for enforcing discipline meant some level of reasoning, which meant he could work with her.
He steps into the command room, and all of his preconceived strategies fly out the window. This woman is massive and grotesque, more like some terrifying genetic construct than a sentient being. Still though, Mazrim Caide does not flinch, nor show any change in expression at the creature’s appearance, simply walking up and standing at attention with a salute.
“Governor Lirka Ka, at the request of personnel reinforcement and operations support, legionaire Mazrim Caide reporting for duty.”

 

[Lirka Ka]

Fortress Imperious still held some of Lirka's personal touches while the rest were slowly transferred down to the growing Palace down in the City Center of Moridinae. This place was pure militaristic brutality combined with the ceaseless and towering arrogance of the Moff that so often called it home. The meeting chambers were a self-styled Throne Room of sorts built into the main command center, a plain throne of Durasteel was where the hulking metallic behemoth that was Lirka lounged. Maybe even a half-noted mockery of the Throne of the Sith.

As usual, Lirka clad herself head to toe in the baroque battle armor that she had gained recognition for: it's glowing eyes falling upon Mazrim Caide/Taim , the helmet held no emotion, but the gaze oozed disappointment regardless. Oh the stupidity of mortality, and all of their undeserved arrogance.

"Is that it?"

She was unamused to say the least, and even through the distortion of the helmet and her thick accent that became readily apparent.

 

[Mazrim Caide/Taim]

If he is fazed by the dissatisfaction, he give's no evidence of it on his face.
"I apologize if I appear unsatisfactory to fulfill the mission requirements. I assure you, any order you give me will be executed with extreme prejudice, Governor."
His voice is sleek and professional, far less gritty than his somewhat rugged appearance would suggest. The one green eye set in his skull like a gemstone stares back into the glowing yellow pits of the helm with no visible trepidation or unease. Caide was a master at controlling his emotions, fear most among them. From the look of him, he had recently come off leave. His uniform is clean, his equipment is in top shape, and he actually looks slightly less haggard than your average career soldier. He awaits a response with an aura of steely calm, a soldier down to his bones.

//tags Lirka Ka

 

[Lirka Ka]

The helmet watched, a massive hand reached to the side of the throne: pulling out the bizarre alien blade she dubbed her klaive, raising the giant weapon and putting the flat tip right at the brim of his helmet: it was a mere flick to ignite the plasma filament and sever his head from it's neck. But instead she merely forced his head to raise.

"Such loyalty, a rare trait in mortality."

She laughed, a cold and dry thing from the distortion of her helmet. The arrogance was immense, though not entirely unearned from her long history traversing the many nooks and crannies of the Galaxy. The eyes showed no movement, but beneath she eyed over the human. Good enough. He would succeed or die.

"Then, Droid, we have heard of increased rebel activity on Mandallia. Unknown strength, but they are those diluted fools who tried to flee execution for their treason: kill them. There can be no survivors, though I shall allow you to take trophies if you so decide."

She knew full well he wasn't a droid, but Lirka was one thing in particular: and that was being incredibly petty and insulting.

Mazrim Caide/Taim

 

[Mazrim Caide/Taim]

Caide felt the blade press to his neck, and controlled his instinct to immediately push it away. That was a good way to get his skull caved in. Instead, he stared directly back at her as she gave him his mission. When she finished speaking, he just nodded.

“It will be done, Governor. Do you have the location and numbers of the traitors, or are they still hidden?” His voice betrays no emotion, just a quiet stony confidence in his ability to carry out orders. He takes off his helmet, revealing a rugged face with short greying blond hair and beard, as well as a single piercing green eye, the other covered by an eye patch.

“Do you have any special instruction on gear or secondary objectives?” Caide’s helmet is outfitted with an internal recording device, meaning that if Lirka wished she could observe the entire operation should she give him the command to activate the camera.

His questions asked, he silently awaits answer, the only possible sign of any emotion being a slight gleam of extreme attention to Lirka Ka , as if preparing to dodge should she suddenly lash out.

 

[Lirka Ka]

Lirka was a broken beast, she lapsed in and out of mood at sudden flips of the coin. And now was once again one of those moments: the moff's state had been deteriorating rapidly in recent times, though few were bold enough to readily admit it. She retracted her blade and let loose a booming laugh, a truly ghastly thing when combined with her helmet. These little mortals, so amusing. Mazrim Caide/Taim reminded Lirka of herself, some decades ago, in his own little way.

Cold, unflinching to certain death, though unlike a more "youthful" Lirka he possessed that ever rare loyalty. A good dog.

"Guesses, little of value. They can not yield much of real strength, they are the lost masses desperately fighting against their well deserved punishment."

The helmeted beast mused for a time, ah, reinforcements: should she gift this man a real fighting force? No. She doubted he would need it, if he was so mighty as to come alone.

"Destroy. That is my command, I care little for anything else save for reducing collateral damage to a minimum. I shall watch your progress with great interest, and I shall consider lending you my good word if you prove to actually be worth it."

It wasn't Lirka if she wasn't constantly being condescending.

 

[Mazrim Caide/Taim]

Caide salutes with perfect form and departs the command office without another world. Putting his helmet on and hopping into a landing ship. The whole way down he doesn’t move, doesn’t make any noise, he just...sits there. When he enters the upper atmosphere, he orders the ship to stop above the rebel’s position and shrugs on a drop pack. Cracking his neck, he turns to the pilot.

“I’ll signal when I’ve completed the mission.stay at this altitude until then, unless I or Governor Lirka ka say otherwise. Understood?”

Despite the pilot technically being a rank above him, he nods with a touch of nervous respect. Caide slides on his helmet. He says nothing, simply sprinting to the open bay door and diving out with no hesitation, still as silent as death itself. As he gets close to terminal altitude blaster fire starts screeching by him from below as the rebels fire on the approaching threat. Caide maneuvers as best he can in the air, managing to avoid the mostly blind shots as the mandalorians fire on a tiny airborne object. He waits until the last moment before activating his drop pack, the jets slowing him just enough to avoid injury as he tumbles to the ground outside their base and comes up firing, aiming for spots in between their beskar armor, the neck and joints.

What follows is a bloody display of skill and ruthless efficiency as Caide moves from cover to cover, firing accurate close range shots and staying constantly mobile, getting ever closer to the doors of the hidden fort. When he gets within point blank range, he slings his blaster onto his back and begins engaging in hand to hand, using a small combat knife in combination with several striking arts to expertly exploit weak points in defenses and using the bodies as cover from their comrade’s blaster fire. Holding one such body in front of him, he draws the man’s blaster pistol from its holster even as he chokes on his own blood from the knife embedded in his throat and fires. One. Two. Three. He mumbles the count to himself as he viciously guns down the remaining defenders.

Dropping the corpse with a deep inhale, he yanks out of the mandalorian’s neck and moves slowly towards the doors of the fort, catching his breath. The ‘fort’ looked more like a hastily converted supply silo, meaning a lot of open ground. A shooting ground then, not his ideal environment but certainly not a problem for the veteran. He kicks the door open with a grunt, and is immediately greeted by a hail of enemy fire. Cursing as a shot grazes his leg, he rolls to the side and starts going to work, taking out shooter after shooter and moving with clinical precision. These seemed less skilled than those outside. Must be the last line of defense, but for what. Why would a rebel group on their home planet pin themselves to a single location? It made no tactical sense. Well, he was a soldier, he wasn’t paid to think. Cleaning up the shooters rather quickly, he sighs and begins to check for any more places they could be hiding, and comes across another door.

He promptly kicks it open, and what he sees makes him audibly take a breath. This was what they were hiding, why they couldn’t stay on the move. Filling the room were wounded soldiers, along with other dissenters who did not want to live under sith rule and were working for the rebels in non combative roles. All staring at him through their mandalorian visors. Caide goes for his blaster pistol, and then does something he has not done in a very long time. Mazrim Caide hesitates.

tags: Lirka Ka

 

[Lirka Ka]

Lirka. Was a snake, a manipulator, when she was in her more "controlled" stages at least. She was teasing the flames of rebellion, stoking them into an inferno. She pushed their hatred for the Sith to greater lengths, to make the hopeless and the dead-men-walking take up arms against the oppressors. It was politics. Pure, cold, heartless. These people? The millions killed under her purge? Tools for power, for prestige, to bare the forces of cautious respect and true allies down upon the Jedi when the time. Things happened on Mandalore. Once, she may have held mercy for these people. But now? They were mortals. They were tools.

And they were dangerous tools. The helmets looked on to the newest killer, idle. A cold stillness filled the air, the hated Empire had finally come: here to try and finish the job, slaughter the weak from among them. It could not be allowed, some moved, uneasy: but there were those weak in body, but strong in will. Lirka had made sure of that, their devotion and will to a dying culture was unshakable now.

In the back, one of various gathered "noncombatants" took out a small Holdout Blaster. A futile weapon, but it was the thought that counted. The message. An action to lash out against all that these black-armored devils had done to their once great and mighty homeworld.

"For Mandalore! You Imperial bastard!"

And with that, the blaster fired out in that moment of hesitation. Lirka's words rung true, once again. Spare none.

Mazrim Caide/Taim

 

[Mazrim Caide/Taim]

Caide reacts on pure instinct as the shot ricochets off his armor harmlessly. It is the instinct of a survivor that flies to the pistol at his own waist, beaten into him by his childhood of beatings and violence culminating in his father's death at Caide's own hands. It is the instinct of the soldier that pulls and raises the weapon toward the 'threat' with perfect fluidity, learned on countless battlefields in a constant clash of pawns against pawns. And, most disgusting to him, it is the instinct of a killer that pulls the trigger and drills a hole in the noncombatant's chest, the instinct he was born with. All he was good for.

He operates on autopilot as some rush at him and others try to run for safety. He doesn't count his shots, doesn't make a sound the entire time other than the ringing scream of his blaster, like a silent arbiter of death. It takes 3 minutes. 3 minutes for 30 lives, seems like a poor trade. But he is just a soldier.

The shuttle ride is silent except for the quiet hum of the engines, and his march back to command is just as taciturn until he reaches Lirka Ka . He speaks two words, his tone icy and emotionless.

"Mission completed."