Into the Fold at Last [Mandalorians Dominion of Alderaan]

[Faith Organa]

Objective: Command Center - remove Death Watch - assist Alderaan Nobles.
Allies [member="Draco Vereen"] | [member="Muad Dib"] | [member="Ijaat Mereel"] | [member="Cassius Ordo"] | [member="Jonathan Baliss"]
(post 17)

Faith nodded she watched Muad step away, "Ner Drahr I think if memory serves Muad is tied to my sister Arabella. If he is here to help we should include him in these discussions." He might be a mad Knight but that would not diminish his value to her family.

She gave a small smile to Ijaat his words were firm, and told her of a strong conviction. "I am to be his wife your protection is welcome." She put her hand on Draco's arm possessively, claiming him and showing those he knew that she did indeed belong to him. Perhaps Ijaat needed to be part of the Order that would work with Draco, a discussion for another time.

Just then the communications officer brought to her the information she had been waiting on, "House Baliss " she whispered, "Get me Count Baliss I want to talk to him" She looked to the men with her.

 

[Kur-gal Kwaad]

“We need a [SIZE=14.6667px]worldship[/SIZE].”

It had always been the solution to their problem. It was effective and efficient, and it would give them all the resources of a planet with the mobility of a fleet. While there were many things he disliked, if not outright hated about the culture he’d been born into, Kur-gal appreciated his people’s skill in Shaping.

The art was alien to him even though it was his beginning, and would likely be his end. Because of this, he feared and respected the craft, like all things unknown.

Since their invasion of this galaxy, even before the Gulag plague, the Yuuzhan Vong had been fighting against the advent of machinery. Fighting, and losing.

There were no seeds left, and it was testament enough to their decline. No modern Shaper could hope to breed one from scratch. They’d tried, of course. Been trying every single day after they’d left the ashes of Selvaris, but all they could produce were wretched saplings that withered and died long before they could evolve into the mighty vessels of the past.

“And we need a seed for it. And to find it, we need resources.” His face turned grim and his mandibles twitched. The next words felt like lead on his tongue, but he’d chewed them for so long that he’d choke if he didn’t spit them out.

“Would you… help?”

[member="Khallesh"]

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Location: Command Center
[member="Ijaat Mereel"] | [member="Faith Organa"] | [member="Muad Dib"]
[Post 18]

"Ijaat?" The words stuck in his mouth a little bit. After the assassination attempt, most of what was left of House Mereel had kept quiet, and Ijaat had gone missing more or less. The Old smith was much younger now than he ever was it felt like, and his presence was a bit odd. Different to say the least, but his instincts, his senses, and his mind all told him that this man was speaking the truth. A shock, not one he would have expected to find out about, but a welcome one. Few people ever returned from the dead in a good way in Draco's life.

"Its been a long time old man." Draco said with a smirk, showing his acceptance of the news. It would take some getting used to, but there was little denying it from what he could sense, what the man already knew and had claimed. There were a thousand possibilities of how and why, and there were a thousand other stories the old man could likely tell, all of which could be true. Perhaps he was a clone with flash memories of the old smith, perhaps he was something else, maybe he was the world's best assassin able to mask his thoughts and intentions from a Master actively searching him for information. It was hard to believe his old friend was back, and young again, and stronger in the Force. But it would have been harder to believe that the Death Watch had put him down in one attempt.

"Faith, this is Ijaat Akun, of House Mereel. He was one of my first mentors when I joined the Mando'ade as a man instead of a boy. He taught me everything I know about beskarsmithing, and he's one of my closest vod." He hadn't told her much about his friends and family. They had always seemed so distant, so unreachable, that Draco enjoyed that Faith was getting to see them coming out to defend her home. That seemed to be the way of the Mandalorians. When it counted, they showed up in force and made a difference. Her possessive touch was noted, and his fingers intertwining with hers for a moment, his head tilting and gently touching her forehead.

"Cyar'ika. I'm going to go with Ijaat to deal with the terrorists in New Aldera. We can handle it ourselves just fine I'm sure. I think you will be safe here. There is a build of House Organa troops, some members of my clan, and your presence at the command center will be noticed by the people. They will appreciate seeing you here helping." She would be safe. There was already a group of soldiers and now a very large shield walker acting as the Command Center and sheltering the medical tents being hastily erected at the landing zone.

"Akay, 'kay ni yaim'ol tgia ibac ni kar'taylir darasuum gar, ner runi."

Spoiler

Until I return know that I love you, my soul.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Location: Command Center
Personage: [member="Draco Vereen"] | [member="Faith Organa"] | [member="Muad Dib"] | [member="Bryanjar Aulfmaor"]

"New Aldera? Last Time I was there I.... Well I was young and that was a while back... Terrorists? Lets go."

Ijaat stopped, looked at Faith rather distinctly and obviously, and then just coughed and shut up. Whatever it was, he wasn't down for talking about it. In his mind he remembered a rather embarrassing bar brawl. Not only had he broken a table, or several really, and a dozen chairs and a jukebox. The front window of a rather well loved Alderaanian bar, a street sign, a light post, and several police speeders suffered damage as well. The ensuing fines and such actually blew through the contract he had been hired for, and he was pretty sure one of the officers he had punch in the jaw was a lower member of the Organa family and very apt to be quite alive and still a little crooked-nosed from the affair.

Stretching he limbered a bit and in a nod to Draco grabbed the Mask from his belt and affixed it to the front of the buc'ye he wore, seals hissing and popping into place as it slid over his face. There was a unmistakable straightening of his spine as crushgauntlets curled around the grip of a crude but positively brutal sonic shotgun and pulled it free, leaning it against a shoulder plate and beginning to hum a quiet tune almost without volume or direction, and nodded to Draco before speaking to Faith and he began to file out.

"He'll come back in one piece, or neither of us at all... Course, we have literally destroyed a small army with just the two of us before.... So.... Unless it's a flying rancor nest on stims, we're probably ok.. Besides.. Kid is closer to me than my own damn sons. Nothing will happen to him"

 

[Ak'lya]

House Baliss Grounds
NPC Count Saul Baliss

Today was not a good day.

Saiul had been planning on sending troops to the mines to help the Mandos and Royal forces, but then something changed. Cortess attacked. Or, more accurately, Barron Cortess's idiot nephew was attacking his estates. He hoped Jonathan could talk to Baron Cortess soon. The walls were holding, but they were running out of men. It seemed Damion had well trained troops. Very well trained. Odd. He would have thought about it more, but he had other jobs to do. Namely, coordinating the battle and calling in support. Faryus was silent. He wasn't sure who else would even respond. Then a page ran in, handing him a line to.... [member="Faith Organa']? He picked it up. "Your Majesty?"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

House Cortess Grounds
Sir Jonathan Baliss

Jonathan stepped into the halls of House Cortess, ignoring the tapestries. "Ah, Jonathan. It's good to see you made it intact. I hope the ride over wasn't too unpleasant?" The Baron gave a wide smile.

"Baron Cortess. A Pleasure." Jonathan replied, although anything that could be remotely taken as positive was gone from his voice. He was serious. "I have been granted full authority by Count Baliss in the matter of negotiating the ceasing of Lord Damion Cortess's attack on our house's lands and estate." He paused, waiting for a reply. When none came, he continued. "Lord Damion has already taken out the outposts on the edge of our territory. I saw at least fifteen of my people killed, not to mention two of my guards as I attempted to reach you, Count." There was a gasp at that. He had their attention.

"Why do these outposts exist, Sir Jonathan?" One of the advisers asked him. "These have only gone up recently, after you and Lord Damion entered a deal for the phrik mine. Are they not a sign of aggression?"

"They are no such thing, my lord." he replied. He had expected that reply. He made a mental note of who said it. He was a smart man. "I had them installed after we entered the deal because that was when we had the funds to do so. They were installed as a first warning device against a Killik attack, should they want to take our lands for themselves." There was a silence.

"This attack by Lord Damion is not only not supported by me, but it is in defiance of my direct orders." The Baron stood from his chair. " I ordered him to stay on our grounds this morning. I knew he was upset over something, and I feared he would go do something brash." He gave a sigh. "General Advanachi!" A grizzled old man stood up and responded. "Muster my personal guard and stop my nephew." The man saluted, and walked off. "Sir Jonathan, come with me. We still have to discuss compensation."

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Location: In route to New Aldera
[member="Ijaat Mereel"] | [member="Faith Organa"]
[Post 19]

Draco pulled away from Faith reluctantly and walked past Ijaat to a set of speeder bikes, one of which he straddled and flicked on with a few clicks on its control panel, waiting for the lights to turn green and the bike to power up fully. It was the fastest way back to New Aldera from the mines, and with just two of them, they could burst the throttle and punch through the sound barrier on the way back to the city. Quick and expedient was required to ensure the Death Watch terrorists in the city didn't kill any civilians and were stopped before they caused too much damage.

"Don't worry dear. I will be back. You know I can't stay away from you too long." He smiled before locking his helmet into place and rolling the bike out towards the city in the south. She would be safe, she was already safe and she was smart. She knew how to take care of herself and there were plenty of people around to protect her. As Princess she never went far from her guards, and they shadowed her well, especially in situations like this with danger present on the planet.

Customs would have to be made more secure, maybe scanner probes to scan each ship rather than just the sensor mines he currently had installed in the system. Maybe less defenses, more vigilance was needed to defend her world, no, their world from people like this. "Come on Ijaat, lets get moving and put an end to this."

 

[Khallesh]

[member="Kur-gal Kwaad"]

Ystill's jaw literally dropped. The prefect from the Legion looked back and forth between the Slayer and the local dignitaries. Khallesh wondered if his slender neck might snap from all the movement.

But Welk seemed up to the task. Perhaps without a true voice from the Warrior Caste these intendants had a more assertive nature.

"Perhaps. Are you going to stop raiding Republic worlds and enslaving their citizens?"

This was the moment Khallesh decided that Jun had sent her for. The sudden concern that speaking so bluntly had jeapodised everything. Was this what it was like to be the Shaper? Did Khallesh seem this way to her?

"Ah," Khallesh said before the hulking Slayer could respond. "That has made things difficult for you," she observed.

"It did, but now the Republic collapses," Welk replied.

"So why concern yourself?" Khallesh retorted. She could feel the others bristling beside her. Not Kur Gal though.

"Certain actions will always put us in a difficult place here. If we were to pass aid, you see..." Welk started.

"Perhaps," Ystill interjected, "We should eat, be gracious guests and then discuss things properly."

Khallesh switched between sparing him a withering glance, and checking to see if Kur-gal had more to add.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Location: Command Center (I'm on a boat... I mean bike!!!)
Personage: [member="Draco Vereen"] | [member="Faith Organa"]

Rather militant still, despite the odd air of wisdom that was more revealed than prior, Ijaat grinned ferally behind his helmet as he locked it on whilst powering up his speeder. And braced a sonic shotgun across the steering controls as he followed Draco out, red warden cloak fluttering a bit in the wind, haymaker buzzing loudly with a blatant whine of barely contained destruction. One of the first weapons he had crafted for himself when he returned to active life in the mando'ade, it was simple but elegant in its lethality to Force Users. And for that, it would always hold a place in his heart, even if a mass produced version was perhaps a little stronger. Sentimentality happened.

"Agreed, vod'ika.... Lets get your family safe... We have some catching up to do, and they are interrupting family time..."

The statement was said with a trace of humor and irony to the voice, but the annunciatior couldn't quite erase a heaviness to it either. He worried about his adoptive family, even if he could not ever really be as prominent amongst the Clans as he once was on track to being. Ancient mask gleaming, he nodded as he keyed up the throttle even further, taking point. Caution to the wind, he whooped in Mando'a, a hunting cry and a challenge to the would be assassins who had killed him once, and who he would now endeavor to absolutely murder in his own bloody path of vengeance. The black temper he had kept in check so long boiled over, and his aura in the Force took a decidedly more sinister touch, still not Dark, but sliding further from the Light as the thought of killing Death Watch filled him with anticipation of a predator sighting prey.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Location: In Route to New Aldera
[member="Ijaat Mereel"]
[Post 20]

Ijaat couldn't see the expression on Draco's face when he turned his head, but he could probably read body language. "Don't let your jealously show too much Vod. Its unbecoming." His tone was a bit humorous, the type of humor with a dry delivery than many mistook for seriousness if they did not know the person well. Draco slipped his bike behind and to the left of Ijaat as they hurtled across the landscape, the snow-capped mountains breaking away for the temperate, evergreen forests of the low lands on Alderaan. The Triple Horn Mountains loomed ahead of them, and on the other side, New Aldera sat.

Even on speeder bikes, the journey would take a moment, though the pair pushed the bikes to their limits, letting them rattle as both bikes broke the sound barrier the vapor cones breaking off behind them. Wind force required them to lean close to the bike or run the risk of being pulled off it by the rush of air, but this Draco was used to. It was starfighters he couldn't manage. Space flight he was barely able to manage if at all, something he just never learned how to handle.

With the palace possibly under terrorist attack, that put Ana, Faith's aide in danger. It also risked [member="Alyesa Organa"] , Draco's soon to be sister-in-law, and [member="Arianna Organa"] in danger. Though he didn't have a great deal of love for either of them, mostly due to their vocal disagreements about Faith choosing him, they were still family. Even tense relations with family, at the end of the day, they were family and his duty to protect. He promised Faith a long time ago he would be whatever she needed him to be. And she needed him to be this world's protector. She needed him to keep her family and friends, her people safe.

Cannon slung over his back. Kandosii'beskad on his hip, side arm under his arm pit. Knife and everything else was integrated or held on his armor just like most Mandalorian armors, but his was a little more complex than normal, with a lot of work and effort put into its crafting. Ijaat had helped forge the damned thing, it had better be good. Draco smiled at the thought. Ijaat wouldn't let anything but his best work leave the anvil, and never would.

"Alright, give me a second to tell air traffic control we are landing at the palace and then lets whip around these mountains at top speed." Draco clicked a button and sent the palace a quick message with his command codes alongside it to make sure they got the permission they wanted.

 

[Faith Organa]

Post 18
Location - Command Center - moving to help Jonathan Baliss

Faith nodded, "Ijaat Mereen I wlll remember the name" She held her breath for a moment realizing he was really going to go out the door, "you best not stay away too long, but I'd really rather you be careful and just come back." She knew Death Watch had killed Strider Garon they were without heart and if they killed Draco they would kill two with one.

She nodded as he put his buy'ce on and walked out the door. No lingering goodbyes best for the both. She looked to where [member="Muad Dib"] stood she walked out to him waiting for Draco and Ijaat to be on their way, "I'm going to meet one of the nobles of Alderaan, would you care to go?"

Faith nodded for a transport, and sent a message to [member="Jonathan Baliss"], "I am coming to help you, please tell me where I can meet you with my troops" She did not want the Alderaan nobles to stand alone, and she would make sure they did not. They would need to be safe, need to know that Alderaan was ready to defend their citizens. Without the citizens there was no Alderaan it was just a place that existed. Faith wanted Alderaan to be the hub it once was, and that took time and effort.

Death Watch must have seen a weakness and taken advantage of it, she would find out what that was, and put an end to it.

Spoiler

Muad if you like to say you came along, feel free to

[member="Draco Vereen"] [member="Ijaat Mereel"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Location: Mountains outside the city
Personage: [member="Draco Vereen"]

With the message sent, Ijaat nodded and gunned the bike in a jerking leap of acceleration. Even on a bike, he was a less than ideal pilot, and [member="Alec Rekali"] had driven the last time he was on a raid that involved any sort of speeder vehicle. It was likely for the better really. Regardless, he reached up for a moment to key his comms and opened a direct channel to Draco over their helmet relays. What he had to say wasn't private, but it needed to be said before they began any fighting. Or anything really. Draco he could trust, if he could trust anyone, and so he would tell him. The others might not ever fully know really, or always wonder. His former smithing apprentice would know the truth. Because someone needed to.

"I died Draco.... My body was carnage. They stripped my armor from me and had strung me up to leave me from the front gate. I had sent a distress call to everyone I could... They blocked the known signals, to the Clans. But my beacon to Ke'dem... It got out... The leader of that cell of Death Watch was a Sith, or something remarkably close to it. They descended in a fury, because I had data they needed.... When they got there, I was still alive somehow, and had gotten a hand free from the bonds, but was unconscious and in irreparable shock... Seren threw me in a stasis box and I was taken to a facility.... Someone, or someones, worked for hours or days or maybe even weeks on me... Time was different... When I awoke, I was in a body originally cloned for the Lord of the Fringe named Jared Ovmar. And that is all I know... I am alive in a new body, and the Force answers my call... No vong-forming, nothing... I'd rather you not tell anyone, but someone needs to be trusted..."

The beacon on his control flashed they had reached near where Draco set them to be and he began to decelerate, picking a likely landing stage and sending a ping to Draco's HUD to suggest it.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Location: In Route to New Aldera
[member="Ijaat Mereel"]
[Post 21]

"I've been in bad places before. I had to have a witch bring me back from the depths once or I would have died and joined the Cosmic Force, or went to hell. Which ever one I was destined for at the time. I heard about what happened, but no one would say exactly what happened to you, and what was left of your people weren't forthcoming with invitations or acknowledgement. I suspected they were keeping your demise quiet until they could find someone else to lead the House in your stead. Trying to limit the chaos of a power vacuum." It wasn't a poor plan, his people had a pretty set Hierarchy, but there were times when the key members were all gathered together and that blow would likely tear his clan apart.

"You are different old friend. There won't be any hiding it, and there are some who will disapprove, others who may violently oppose. But one thing I can tell you for certain. The Force is a can of worms you have to tread lightly with. I'm not saying you can slip with one misstep, but you can fall a lot further into madness and despair than a normal person." A fair warning, however quick to anger Ijaat was, he had never been completely homicidal or genocidal. Never even suggested the later, often spoke against it when it came up as an option during war. All anyone ever needed to do was find their balance and they would be fine.

Draco decelerated his speeder bike and came to a landing with a walking dismount, letting the bike coast forward a few meters before it came to a stop. Unlike his friend, he was not armed to the teeth, well, not as much as usual. Right now he only had his armor and its secondary weapons and his sword at his side, the blade small and compact right now, at its smallest, roughly beskad sized. Lightshields and heavily altered beskad plus side arms would have to be enough to handle whatever it was.

"Now isn't a bad time to practice. Seek out feelings of anger and rage. See if we can't lock in on people that are about to start killing and try and locate them." The Mandalorian's own presence expanded, filling several city blocks, feeling the emotions of those around them, but only scratching the surface. With the Death Watch attack on the news, there were lots of nervous anxious people in the city, too many to zero in on quickly.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

"Some day I will go home, hang this armor up for the next alor and be quit of it. But until that day, I figure I'll wear it a bit longer... Until I know who and what I am now, at the very least. I can't even fight quite like I used to really. Nowhere near as strong, but far from weak. It's a different feeling. More than a body, and more than the mental shift... I've known war for decades, and even the battle fatigue from that is not this bad... I am not quite sure what to make of it, to be honest... They will find out, and I would rather not risk my Houses' fortune... So some day I will leave, when i know what is left, if any, are safe. Or when I know I no longer belong."

Ancient facade of the mask turned as he honed in on something. As he and Draco were talking, his senses had been expanding as well. They were no rival in power in terms of Dracos. But there was a different eye and process to his search, and there were more than one adage on the wisdom of two pair of eyes or conflicting views and the like. And so, he held a hand up, and with blink commands a building was marked on their shared link. Something in it was anxious, angry, afraid just like the other parts of it. But it wasn't entirely the same... It had a hard, focused presence, where the others were diffuse and disorganized. It was almost as if raw panic and fear had gnawed at the edges of the aura and made in indistinct and fuzzy.

The sonic shotgun was shifted to nestle in his left armpit as he eased his blade in the scabbard and nodded, pointing to himself silently, offering to breach the way back into what looked like a former residence of likely some noble or the other, or maybe a part of the palace. Ijaat wasn't really sure.

[member="Draco Vereen"]

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Location: New Aldera
[member="Ijaat Mereel"]
[Post 22]

"Yeah, its something else to get used to. Another sense, another skill to be honed. Know that there will be many in the clans, or at least my clan, that will be sorry to see you hang up that armor. A good life is a life worth living, but I personally don't like the idea of aging to the point I can't defend myself." Draco murmured, continuing to scan the place with his Force senses and his scanners. When Ijaat marked a building on the HUD, Draco turned his sensors and scanners into the building. He could see what had drawn Ijaat's attention. He could imagine growing old with Faith and living out the rest of his days quietly, but he shuddered to think that he would weaken to the point of being bed ridden. It wasn't a death he wanted to suffer through, or a waning years he would want his family to see.

The building was old, predating the new palace and thus sat up against one of the Palace's exterior walls. It was probably the home of one of the noble's that visited often, having a place of their own outside the palace but close enough that it was only a minute or so walk to the grounds. Good for any rich man trying to have some semblance of privacy in their lives. Now, there were a dozen or so beings inside, all anxious, angry, focused. They were an odd bunch in a city currently in a very mild state of unrest and worry. And their proximity made them at the least worth investigating.

Draco nodded, "I sense them. You can lead the way vod." Draco pulled his pistol from its leather holster on his hip, and readied his sword, still short in the form of a well balanced beskad. The pair approached the building and Draco propped his back up against the wall beside the door, standard breaching tactics. Eight on the bottom floor. One in the basement, four at ground level where they were at. So they would have to descend to clear them all if they proved to be hostile, but as they approached and he got a better, more focused sense of them, his doubts were being shoved aside for what he could feel from them.

He tapped his head with his thumb knuckle indicating he was ready to follow Ijaat inside on the younger-older man's count and would cover the stairwell that lead to the largest number of hostiles. His Lightshields would be best served keeping them from filling the building with blaster fire.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

A curt nod, as a sudden shift in his aura and stance took over him as if by autonomic nature. Holding shotgun cradled awkwardly, he turned to look at Draco for just a moment and indicated a window with an almost quizzical nod of his head to each either side of the heavy door. A quick movement slapped a sticky detonator to it, and a timer started ticking down in red mando'a. Ijaat never particularly subscribed to the school of thought on battle that one should be careful, or stealthy about sensitive operations. He was always of the mind that if you couldn't kill it with blasters, bullets, and blades, then you didn't use enough. But the new lease on life and his time as alor was beginning to see his tactical acumen improve some, if not all the way to a master strategist.

"Chaos, corner pocket..."

Even with the Mask and helmet on, you could practically feel the smirk on his face as he reared back on one leg. Calling out a billiards shot that was often considered suicide to try if one were in the lead... The other coiled up to his chest as he did, and then suddenly he pitched forward, tossing the shotgun into the air. Whilst he did, the now free hand grabbed and ripped a flash-bang from his grenade harness. A sudden impact with the antique window shattered it, and the flash bang was hurled inside the window, arcing off the wall in front, bouncing from there against the window frame just barely, and rolling into the center room where he could sense some of those on the ground floor...

With a searing flash and thunderous boom, the grenade went off, and barely a fraction of a second later the breacher charge blew, and Ijaat was charging through the smoke, shotgun barking explosions of sonic energy in a classic sweep pattern from his off-hand, as his sword rested on his shoulder plate still, gripped in his primary hand. Bold. Decisive, and a little crazy. It bore the signature of a young Ijaat that few would remember, but those that did would remember the near insane brilliance of the man. Which was now only emboldened and heightened as his armors' shields flared with power, and the final blow of the front was struck with a brutal club to the head with the flat of his blade. Two out for questioning later, one from concussive force, the other from blunt trauma.

Ijaat took a knee with his blade rammed into the worshyr wood flooring, and his t-visor tracking in tandem with the haymaker, scanning for Draco to leap-frog him.

"Clear"

[member="Draco Vereen"]

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Location: New Aldera
[member="Ijaat Mereel"]
[Post 23]

Draco charged in following Ijaat from behind where he could protect the man from any serious threat with the Force, and use the man as a human shield in order to maintain concentration should he need to. Instead the sonic cannon was off, roaring out into the first two men while they were dazed from the flash-bang during the initial assault.

The Mandalorian wasn't terribly interested in prisoners given the situation, the threat to his newest family members. He was angrier with these terrorists than he thought he would have been, actually noting a twinge of regret that he didn't get a chance to kill them. He jumped over Ijaat, pulling his light shields to ready as he rolled across the floor covering the door, the shield on his left hand expanded to fill it as much as possible. The edges of the shield burned and seared the door frame as the people below began to scramble.

One of the man groaned and started to rise on shaky arms. Draco turned his pistol over and pointed it at the man's head, squeezing the trigger resulting in a short burst of a high pitched noise. The man, stopped moving his arms shaking trying to support his weight, but he stopped rising off the ground. He looked dazed and confused for a second as Draco spoke, "Lay down, don't move, hands on your head." Slowly the man complied with the order. "He will be like that for about thirty minutes."

The warlord continued moving down the steps slowly at a crouch, his light shield covering most of his large frame. The men below seemed panicked more than ever, but the farthest man, the man on the lowest level attained a sense of acceptance and determination, doggedly focusing on his task.

Blaster fire and slug fire erupted from the bottom of the steps, "Grenade." Draco called calmly over the internal comlink, warning Ijaat of an incoming grenade being lobbed over his head.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Ijaat had followed Draco like a well oiled machine. They weren't in hundreds of battles together. But enough fighting, and enough time spent side by side, and you learned the others style. Granted, Ijaats' was changing rapidly as he adjusted to the marvelous abilities of this body. But, he began to realize that with how Draco fought, this was not a terrible happening. Together the two balanced one another quite well and made a terribly formidable team. Sensing the regret and bloodlust from his companion, Ijaat thereby adjusted his own stance. One prisoner was more than enough for his purposes. The others would be made examples of why one didn't poke the oft taken as sleeping bear that was such a folk as his and Dracos' kind. Examples indeed.

Watching the gun of command, Ijaat grunted slightly in distaste. No argument was or would be forthcoming, but mind games were still a bit distasteful to him, even by technology. However, it worked perfectly in this instance, and it was another thought that would once have been dismissed out of hand which was now merely filed for future review. So effortless, less mess and noise, and kept someone alive for questioning. It had it's benefits, to be sure, and it fit the more 'Lord of War' mentality he was trying to develop. From the ashes of the destruction of his Clan and House, he would see a better man and stronger warrior rise from. He swore it on every God, Oath, and Blade he had that it would be so. A new man, cleansed of all but the one price he owed his Resurrection Lady - the destruction of the One Sith.

As his companion called out for the grenade, Ijaat reacted, swiftly and keenly. No great shake at telekinetics, he wasn't able to hold or stop the grenade in the air like some. However, he was able to slow it a bit and drop his haymaker into it's sling and step back with his sword. The grenade spun in, flashing rapidly to indicate detonation, and Ijaat stepped into its' path with his left shoulder and foot swinging from posterior to front. The footing changed, his hips swung rapidly, arms lashed out and extended, and he focused his mind through the jada blade. With a pulse of gentle telekinesis, the grenade suddenly returned to normal speed in it's flight path, but rather much in the reverse, directly back towards the one who threw it.

"DUCK!"

The projectile sailed past his companion, who he trusted had ducked, and right into the stacked crates the one who threw it was using for cover and exploded in fiery combustion.

Boom, head-shot....

[member="Draco Vereen"]

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Location: New Aldera
[member="Ijaat Mereel"]
[Post 24]

Draco felt a few lives snuff out in the fiery explosion of shrapnel and incendiary fuel as the grenade detonated in front of him. For a moment his slow advance stopped and waited for the flames and shrapnel to cease licking at the edges of his shield. He could feel tension in his right leg, from the side of his knee and from the top of his shoulder, feeling a small trickle of blood from each wound as shrapnel blasted past him tearing through the weaker layer of armorweave.

The Mandalorian grunted slightly, lowly before continuing onwards down the stairs behind his shield. From below, the lone being at the lowest level hurrying, quickening his pace with whatever he was doing. Draco didn't have the time or ability to concentrate to read the being's mind, though he could guess. "They have a breaching charge in the basement. I don't think we are going to make it in time to stop it."

Draco's sword lengthened in his hand just a bit, increasing to about the length of a Knight's one handed sword as he reached the bottom of the stairs. From their he could see the followup to the plan of breaching the palace basement. Rhydonium crates lay empty and sprawled around on the floor, scattered from the explosion, likely compressed into easier to carry canisters below. Setting off just one in the Palace would cause significant structural damage. With as much as he could see, they intended on leveling this half of the palace. "We got to keep them from moving the explosives into the palace basement. No matter what."

Sword flashed into spear as the handle elongated even as he thrust it forward, burying itself into one man's gut, leaving about five left standing on this level. His best option was to get down stairs and lock the one man trying to set off a breaching charge in a bubble with the explosive before he could set off the rhydonium. Worst case, he would lock himself in with the rhydonium. He wasn't powerful enough to keep that much contained, and his bubbles were strongest when he was inside them, so he could perhaps minimize the damage that way.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Charge. A quick evaluation of the situation showed him he couldn't hope to take them all on his own, nor could he and Draco even hope to take them all out before an explosion that would likely destroy the palace would happen. So he made a split second decision and, as he sometimes did in war, decided to draw all the fire to him. Running forward, he pulled the Force to him, feeding it to his legs and throughout his body. Energy burned through tired muscles that suddenly churned faster than humanly possible with speed and grace beyond his normal ken. Flitting forward he spun and ducked a knife stab from one assailant and rammed the barrels of his haymaker up under his breastplate and fired both barrels, leaving the smoking gun shoved there as the opponent fell, bleeding from multiple orifices, massive hemorrhaging internally.

Next he blurred into motion again, a slice and pull along the chest of the man in from of him. The duraplast parted easily under the force-imbued blade, and he bared his teeth in feral challenge, rotating at the hips and pulling in the shoulders as he pushed and then yanked the blade back, slicing to the bone across sternum and clavicle, severing vital arteries. The swordsman stepped back from the crimson spray, the blossom spattering his armor with viscera as he turned to a third opponent. There was rank and raw terror oozing from him in the Force, and Ijaat almost drank it in, reveling in the power the fear seemed to give him. Relishing the shaking quiver of his final foe, and the weakness apparent in his every twitching movement.

Stalking forward with lethal grace writ large in his every step and motion, the one time Clan Chief seemed to grow large in mind. Blade held down low in an open and challenging guard, only a fool would believe it was truly a weakness or invite, and so the Adumari called it the 'Fools Guard', one of his favorite stances for the mind-game as one advanced for a killing stroke or final strike to a lesser opponent. It's very attitude said 'My blade remains, so I know it is you, yet you are not worthy of my true skill, so I have lowered my guard'... It was meant to sting ego and shred pride and lessen the confidence of the one he face. With a sudden jerk of his arm, he blurred his arm up and then down. The Force burned in his being, Darker than before, and with enhanced strength and speed the man was split from groin to armpit diagonally on the upswing, a spin of the blade and he turned to see if Draco needed support.

No words were spoken, just steely vengeance burning in every sense from him...

[member="Draco Vereen"]

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Location: New Aldera
[member="Ijaat Mereel"]
[Post 25]

Draco could sense what his friend was planning. The pair were similar in that way, they had a like train of thought. They shared a bond of friendship that was rare for the Mandalorian who had for so long been a loner. When Ijaat charged through and began fighting, Draco pushed past the man he had skewered and moved towards the basements on his own.

Ijaat was an experienced warrior with decades of experience fighting and killing in situations like this, and now had been given the ability to control and manipulate the Force. Even though it was a new sense, a new weapon, a new source of power, it was still all of those things. And even though he was in a new body, he was still Ijaat. The Mandalorian could handle himself against five opponents, even Death Watch sympathizers like these. The problem was they were running out of time, and even given their skills, Draco was not the mentalist he used to be. He could not pause this fight like he used to be able to, slow their perceptions so that they believed they were in stasis? That used to be in the realm of Draco's power, but his strength had waned and been severed from him and was still returning. He had grown used to being without the Force, and was without it for months. Even when it returned, it didn't seem to return to him as strong or as affluent as before.

The Mandalorian paid no heed to running down the stairs, instead saving what little time they had left, diving head first through the frame of the corridor, down the flight of steps. The warlord twisted in the air and came crashing to the ground with a thud on his side, facing the room.

Just as he had feared the Death Watch terrorists had prepared small, compressed cannisters of rhydonium, probably planning to use the breaching charge to gain access to the basements and place them throughout the lower levels. It wasn't enough to destroy the whole palace complex, but it was more than enough to send a message.

The Bomb Technician frowned, but seemed to accept that this was his fate. When you can't win, you find how to do as much damage as possible. He couldn't leave the room anymore to escape the pressure wave that would hit the room when the charge went off, so, he had just left the secondary charge unplanted to ignite the rhydonium in the room. It wouldn't be as spectacular, but it would level a city block and tear a gaping hole in the palace complex.

Draco saw the look on the man's face and winced, pressuring the Force around him, channeling it into a translucent, shimmering blue bubble around the man, his planted bombs, and the wall. It was the best he could do. Contain it and keep it from setting off the rhydonium charges.

The bomb went off with a muffled THOOM!, filling the bubble with smoke, and giving Draco a headache. It had been a long time since he had used that ability, and his strength with it was waning just like some of his mentalist abilities. His life support system told him he had internal bleeding in his head and his nose trickled blood as the Mandalorian groaned, dragging himself to sit up facing the stairs.