Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Mission Iron & Dust || COV (Open to THR)


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Ryloth.

A planet deeply historied with the ilk of the Iron Covenant's predecessor, The Enclave. What once was a reliable ally during the era of Reclamation Wars, proved an old wound in the hearts of the Covenant's old guard even now.

The palpable anguish for the fallen during the Ryloth Uprisings of 902 ABY still a fresh memory in the minds of the many, the proposal for a diplomatic approach in pursuit of satisfying the needs of the growing Fleetbound peoples quickly became subject to heated debate, before an unwilling conclusion was eventually reached.

Another chance.

With the word sent, a retinue of brothers and sisters assembled in short order, as a small element of the ragtag fleet was summoned forth. Embarked with the intent to peacefully negotiate a trade deal, it quickly proved that the Mandalorians of the Iron Covenant were not the only ones who held the events of 902 fresh in their memory.

Taking unkindly to the re-emergence of the Mando'ade from the outer depths of Wild Space, the people of Ryloth met the retinue with in a manner befitting a stand against an invading force shortly after planetfall. With a general alert sounded off, the planet's capital would soon turn into a hotspot of conflict, skirmishes raging block by block amidst the struggle of life and death.

And fate would only tell the story of the victor.

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LESSU

Treachery came from every corner.

Left disoriented in the wake of a well executed ambush, the Mandalorians quickly find themselves caught on the backfoot.

The swift offensive at the hands of the planet's defense force, mounted against the diplomatic retinue of the Iron Covenant soon proved a fierce one; the city of Lessu came to life with the chorus of blaster fire and earth rumbling fiery outbursts of brief flashes of orange.

Yet they withstood.

Beleaguered but unbroken, they were yet to be overrun. Their fury proved to burn hotter than that of the Twi'leks', as their formidable spearhead to twist the knife was met with the surety of Mandalorian resolve.

The damning notion of returning to Kestri, empty handed, proved heavy to bear on the hearts of warriors. In sharp refusal of capitulation, the Mandalorians of the Iron Covenant found themselves amidst a race against time towards the spaceport, in pursuit of taking what was rightfully theirs and by force, for the greater good of the Fleetborn. Cease any ships possible as well as any parts that can be used while trying to get back to the Fleet.


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ORBIT

Not any less important than the efforts of those in the streets of Lessu, was the task entrusted to the small naval task force of the Iron Covenant. Their mission - the delay of any possible High Republic forces. They would prove to be pivotal in buying time for the retinue on the ground, should the distress from Ryloth be heeded. Additionally, they'll provide any air support for those on the ground with available Basilisk War Droids. ​

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"Dammit, I knew I should have come alone!" Maybe then they would not have seemed so intimidating. One person who wasn't even wearing beskar'gam would not have seemed like such a threat to the Twi'leks. Which would have a severe mistake on their behalf, but so was this one. Sahan could not decide which would have been stupider.

"Come on, now. We just want to talk. We just want to talk. We just want to talk." He gave a sigh as blaster fire started praying all around. "Well, never mind then."

This entourage had come to... negotiate... about resources, but instead of Lessu diplomats, they were met with Ryloth's planetary defense force. "Ungrateful little bastards." Sahan dodged a blaster bolt as the rest of the retinue scattered to meet the combat in their own way.

The ambush had met them when they were already on the ground and on their way to the capitol building, stranding them away from their goal and the spaceports. It was sort of clever, in a way. Except that it was against them, which obviously made it utterly foolish. And they were not going back to the ships to leave empty-handed.

Sahan pulled his MI pistol. "Aggressive negotiations it is, then." He grinned.
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TAGS: OPEN
 

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IRON DUST

Kalantha's Battle Dragon, the Crucible of Fate, dropped from hyperspace over the Twi'lek homeworld with all the support she needed to aid in forming a blockade over Ryloth. For a fleeting moment, it felt strange to be keeping Republic forces away from a planet in distress, but the woman who stood at the helm of the Hapan capital ship couldn't be more different than the one who once led the Republic. The version of Kalantha that was currently commanding one of Black Sun's Ecliptic-pattern Lucrehulks into position was stronger, colder, and decisive. There would be no floundering over petty politics or squabbling nobility, no appeasing the corporations or dancing around Jedi morality. The only thing holding Kalantha back was the number of turbolasers her ships possessed.

Thanks to Black Sun, it was a great many.

The Crucible's scanners had not yet flagged any Republic threats in the vicinity, affording her comms officer an uninterrupted window to make contact with the Mandalorian forces below. Hopefully they received the hail before any warning shots were fired.

"Covenant Command, this is High Commander Kalantha Berenko of the Crucible of Fate, flagship of the Crimson Fleet. We're in position over Ryloth—consider our support a gift from the Underlord."

Kalantha turned to face a large monitor that displayed holographic forms of the ships under her command. They were alone in orbit, for now. A cruel smile spread over her porcelain face as she watched for the first sign of enemy contact. Every fiber of her being wanted nothing more than to send a message to those who had left her behind.

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Tags: Open​

 
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TAGS: OPEN

When Darion of Myrkr was assigned as a security detail to a diplomatic retinue, he did not understand the reason for it. They spoke of trade and of talks, and of words that were meant to settle things. These words meant little to him. He knew only the strong took what they can and the weak suffered what they must. Bored, he spent much of the journey half-asleep beneath the old Crusader armor.

When the shooting started, he understood it all clearly. He fired the jetpack and shot himself straight into the foxhole of a sniper and carved his skull open with his beskad and split his lekku into two separate parts. He stood there breathing, wide awake now, looking down at what remained of the marksman. He understood it, truly did. Men could talk as long as they liked, but diplomacy only worked when you had a gun on the table.
 

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FENN STAG
CITY STREETS | RYLOTH
TAG: Vren Rook Vren Rook l Sahan Dragr Sahan Dragr l Darion of Myrkr Darion of Myrkr
GEAR: COMBAT GEAR

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BROKEN ARROW



A scorch of blaster fire screeched across his view, returning fire from the sector's defenders. Fenn snapped his head around the corner, putting a fresh power pack into his rifle. Fenn took a knee, charging his rifle, stood up, and put six rounds down range. Two defenders went sprawling out, crumbling over. He ducked down, rifle in hand. Fenn reached to the back of his belt, primed a grenade, and held it in his off hand, and tucked it against his chest.

Rolling into a more advantageous piece of cover- before he held his arm straight on outset the roll, and let the momentum of his roll propel the grenade forward. The grenade slammed into the ground, and sent more defenders flying and then running for cover. Fenn pressed his body against the barricade, turning his head towards his compatriots.

The diplomacy had failed, because it always would.







 

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