Junction Iron Resolve | Junction of Enclave-Excarga, NIO-Krownest

[Caarlyle Rausgeber]

R A V E L I N
FORTRESS IMPERATOR
Rurik Fel | Aemilio Valaar
The Quartermaster

Rausgeber eyed the Quartermaster as she answered the questions asked of her. His eyes narrowed into slits, and he glared upon her visage. A prying inquisitor. They somewhat aligned in their analyses. The Galactic Alliance or Silver Jedi, or both were liable to turn on the autocratic regime next door once the existential threat of the Maw was extinguished. But, this came from her. Not from within the New Imperial apparatus. So the traditional scepticism remained from Carlyle. He opted for silence, until an apparent opening made itself for him. "It would seem, Quartermaster that an alliance would see you and your kin as the beneficiaries rather than the Empire." Carlyle plainly announced, with a cool glare.

"As much as you may of course expel the virtues of Mandalore and its people, speak of how we avenged Mandalore, you do not speak for most Mandalorians now, do you?" Carlyle leaned back in his seat, "While I obviously find your words sentimental in value, your kin are not a united front. An alliance from you, does not discount malice from other sects of your fellow travellers." Rausgeber now leaned in, leering like a predator for the kill. "Your influence is for now miniscule." Rausgeber sneered, "You have secured a series of systems, yes." He conceded, "But, for one dispelling the virtues of your people, and the threat of Sith ala Darth Metus, you offer very little in the way of combatting such a threat."

"I am of the personal belief, Quartermaster that you have been offered an opportunity unwise to give what is effectively a petty warlord." Rausgeber glowered, "I believe that this, supposed alliance between imperial and Mandalorian should be better explored in scope of logistics." Carlyle pronounced to the assembly, "You may offer us specialist, veteran operatives on occassion. But as my esteemed colleague has put to you," He gestured to Aemillio, "What sort of sacrifices must New Imperial lives be put under to protect your group?"

"Are we expected to provide a battlegroup at the first sign of danger?" Carlyle condescendingly queried. "Are we to deploy a strike team at the first sign of trouble for you and your people's notorious meddling?" This was what Carlyle was really getting at, "I am of the personal opinion, negotiation with a leadership figure of the Mandalorians, is fruitless." Rausgeber proclaimed, "Unless we can receive assurances, that since our regime has safegaurded Mandalore, ensured it's security against it's enemies, we recieve something of great benefit." Carlyle continued, "Perhaps, a proclomation of some sort. Something which officiates our sovereign," He turned to Rurik, "As the safeguarder, and liberator of Mandalore. As to ensure, that your disparate people understand we are not enemies."

"Or as an alternative," A hideous grin came over his features, "The means to harness your people's craftsmenship in Beskar'gam?

 

[Julian Qar]

✚ T H R E E _ O F _ S W O R D S ✚
[ easy talk ]
RAVELIN
870 ABY

The beats got closer​

“F*ck!”

A medical droid zipped into his periphery the moment he heard the doctor’s favorite word. “Doctor Qar, do you require support?” The sound of his mechanized assistant traveled through his ears like white noise. His focus pulled onto the marker that had pinged her location...Should he turn it off? Is she coming in a gurney? Is she hurt? The vibrating beat became louder and the pin grew wider, his legs got an itch and began moving without his command. He had started pacing back and forth on that line burned in the floor. Was she coming for him? Coming for someone else? Who...why was she here?

“She’s not comin’ ta see me…” he rumbled to himself, occupying idle thoughts with mindless flipping of the physical pages on his desk. He opened a drawer, he tapped on the window, he ran mock fingertips across the back of his duel plated skull…anything to keep the anxious buildup from drowning him.

And still, the beats got closer​

“Lody….gimme the uh...the uhh…” The prescription feed in his HUD shot the information to the medical droid who retaliated instantly.

“Doctor Qar, Lody Six can not administer medication for the doctor without secondary physician authorization.”

“Oh for f*cks sake…” Julian groaned, taking another breath so violent it made the fluid in his core jostle. His hand went to the inside of his robes, pulling on the badge he lay tucked within layers and spun the wedding ring he no longer wore. “She’s not comin….she’s goin to see someone else. She can’t possibly be on her way to see me….” Julian raised a hand to cover his mouth, stopping the rambling of words. Since when did he speak to himself?

And still, the beats got closer...until her marker reached his door.​

He knew she had arrived before her fists had struck the steel of his office doorway. The steady thumping in his arm had seized given her proximity, but the erratic waves of her heart still remained on display within its screen of his forearm. He had wondered then, in those split seconds he granted himself thought why she had not removed the sensor after all this time.

The doctor allowed himself a final breath as his augmented limbs piloted him to the door. He felt like he was ascending through some portal of space and time, a sense of tunnel vision had overtaken his sight and for a moment he’d forgotten if he was breathing or if it was just the metal organs in his body producing a breath he couldn’t control. A hand primed the handle, sensory augments fired off the feeling of cold as he turned the knob to open, pulling back on the heavy frame, he saw her. Standing there, still shorter than he was, with her perfectly combed raven hair and those crimson eyes he could never forget.

Her presence still outmatched the sun.

“Lord executor.” he did not allow his voice to waver even though he like he was merely a body floating above them. He stood before her at attention, in his medical garb, an ebony suit with deep violet accents, sleeves rolled up to his biceps as per usual. His hair was no longer short and platinum, it was now pulled back into a black bun with strands of stress tattling on him with its greying shift. And for a second, as his eyes kept their gaze venturing forward he glanced down to see her face, if only a snapshot. He was frozen, no longer breathing until she would release him and state the reason for her visit.





█ █ █
|| Noel Strasza ||

 

[Lesha Priest]

TAG: Enclave | NIO | Shai Maji | Kranak Vizsla | Tarre Priest | Vulcan Krayt | Eliz Krayt | Alora Vizsla | Volgin Alto | Aridius 'TK-1575' | Open
GEAR:

Spoiler

Armour
2x Pistols
Battle rifle
Sniper Rifle
2x Service Knives
Grenade loadout

VICARIOUS​

Leaving home.

It didn't sit well with Lish. They left it in force and it made her uneasy to leave such sparse defences behind. But duty had spoken.

She jostled along in the gunship beside her comrades and the New Imperial troops. Dark eyes lingered on the battered armour of the Imperial vode as she stood across from some of them.
"They look like they've been through hell and back." she murmered to Tarre Priest as she checked her cannister belt.

:: All units. Approaching drop zone. ::

The stoic woman looked up at the intercom. The crap was about to hit the fan. Contact on the ground meant little contact with home. Sometimes, the amount of lives within the Galaxy weighed heavy on her shoulders. Lives that needed their help here now, but more lives unprotected elsewhere. Chaos had a choke hold on the Galaxy and there were too few of skill to withstand it.

Shai Maji saying her name drew her out of her worrying.

"Our mission is crucial." She started with a more serious tone. "The more we pound 'em, the better chance our guys got to get those prisoners."

And how many lives do we lose in the proses?

<"Move fast, stop for nothing.">

"Unless you have to magdump a remnant." she added dryly. She wasn't planning on leaving any alive, so if she had to stop to do make sure if that, she would. The quicker they got this over with, the quicker they could get back home. It was strange that she no longer saw this part of the Galaxy as home. Yet, some of their people remained here and needed them alongside so many other prisoners of war.

:: All units. 10 seconds to drop. ::

They dropped in the thick of it.

Lish's Model 4 was bursting fire even before she hit the ground. Remnant blasts rebounded off her armour as the joint task force was quickly rushed by the insurgents.

The Imperial Troopers seemed competent enough for the time being. Hopefully it lasted long enough for their covert brethren to get in and get out.

One Sith fool was brazen enough to try and blindside her. The HUD flashed a warning in her peripheral and the Simp ran face first into the butt of her rifle, knocking him on his behind before he got a chest full of particle bolts before her rifle turned to the next three Sith troopers that were converging.

 

[Cromwell]

A V E N G E R
New Imperial Order
Imperial Spectre
Chelenne Akaris | Faison Kelborn | Siv Dragr | Obran

The raging snowstorm brought recent hellish memories to the forefront of his mind despite his strength of will. The nightmare of Carlac where he had nearly lost Chelenne to the machinations of Darth Caelitus was far from over. It did not fade away like a bad dream does but carried on in the present. He'd been used to the quietness of his manor back home - its silence was something he'd always cherished - and when Chel had moved in (uninvited, but surely welcomed) the place had become livelier despite Harold's initial protests. She was loud, messy and could not abide by any structure of order at all, and yet Varian had never slept so well before.

Carlac had suffocated that spark. It was quieter now. A little less commotion, a fewer plates broken and the daily jacuzzi venture routine had become sporadic. Ever since his parents died when the Sith Empire had ravaged Coruscant, the stoic walls erected in the aftermath had never even been scratched, but this concern, these feelings, rattled the very foundations of his stolid palisade.

"I know," she murmured in response, reaching upward to rest her fingers across his briefly, "I'm good. Promise."

No words came from his mouth but she knew he wasn't assured. He'd tried convincing her to stay away from the job, rest up, find someone to remedy whatever plague the Dark Lord had cast upon her but she'd refused. As stubborn and obnoxiously pushy as he was she didn't buckle, or at least she did but only slightly - venturing off with the Imperial Knights for a brief period.

Chelenne Akaris was a red flag, he'd known that from the moment he'd first seen her. She'd rattle his unwavering dedication to his duty, to the mission, and yet here he was - still waving that red flag high in the air.

And then they were off. Into the fray once more.

<"Enclave forces should meet us ahead, from there we'll link up and push for our objective. Am I nervous about meeting Mandos? Maybe. Thanks for asking. It's fine, I'll do all the talking, you can just brood, you're real good and intimidating when you do that."> She took to her typical chatter over their integrated commo almost immediately, <"C'mon hon, it's a half-mile hike thataway.">

The white ocular orbs narrowed at her remark but said nothing. Nighthawk was right. You'd be surprised how terrifying apparently a mynock-looking armor suit could be.

"Never had you for the hiking type." he stated in his usual dry tone and attempt at humor. "Unless it's hiking the shopping bill."

A half-mile hike later, they were at the rendezvous point. A cave entrance, beneath a ridge that sheltered them from the worst of winds but the passing currents still whipped his black cloak against the gale. A few Mandalorians were already there to greet them. Their battered armors reminded him of one of his old mentors from the distant past. Kelborn, a rally master veteran of the long-gone Mandalorian Crusaders. Taught young Varian the intricacies of warfare, the way Mandalorians waged combat, their culture and even their language. Avenger's sentiments on the Mandalorians were plainly neutral compared to some Imperials who saw them as cannon fodder or idiots who'd allied with the Sith knowing full well their treachery. He held no contempt for the warrior culture.

The Spectre was about to open his mouth but stopped midway, leaving the talking to Chel as she'd preferred. Any other time, he would take the reigns, plan, issue orders, and lead. Such was his nature but with what the Zeltron agent had been through recently, he felt she needed to keep her mind busy with the mission ahead.

 

[Kovacs]

IRON RESOLVE
SKY GUARDIAN: EMERGENCY vol. I
Issue #1 w/ Delilah Jones
soon: Shai Maji | Kranak Vizsla | Vulcan Krayt | Volgin Alto | Lesha Priest | Alora Vizsla | Eliz Krayt | WHO ELSE??

Dagger-5
Bravo Flight, 181st Fighter Wing
​

Previously, at the Flight Leaders Debrief...
NIV Kindzhal, Krownest Orbit...

Lack of confidence has never been one of his shortcomings but this--

"WHAT?!" Kovacs' voice booms across the room in disbelief.

"Lower your tone, Kovacs, and get moving."

"This is insane, Commander. You can't be serious - one flight CAS on that position is suicide! It's got SAMs crowded as much as Come Right Inn during an R&R. At least, tell me you've got us Vanguards--"

"Slashers."

"SLASHERS?! We need SPEED, Commander, not this friggin' flyin' sandcrawler."

"We are bringing firepower, Kovacs. Plan's to draw the Sith from the Camp to the Redoubt--"

"Then give us the Maulers and we'll leave the fortress a crater-- and where the hell are Alpha and Charlie going to be??"

"Recon."

"You've gotta be kiddin' me - recon for what?? Seashells??"

"LISTEN, Lieutenant, I am the commanding officer." Commander Harkas snaps, grabbing Jon by the collar, "You will do as I say or you won't be going to the shitter without the ISB watching you wipe that insubordinate ass of yours."

...

"Meeting adjourned."

Presently, at the Hangar Bay...

"... and that's about it." he finishes debriefing his flight, sitting on the edge of the Slasher's cockpit entry with legs hanging. "Blue milk runnin'."

He shuts off the holoprojection then throws a smirk at Delilah Jones's way, "what's with the sour face, sweet cheeks; woke up on the wrong side of the bed... again? You know we can always fix--"​

 

[Faison Kelborn]

OBJECTIVE: Iron Dawn
TAG: Siv Dragr Chelenne Akaris Cromwell Obran

The chill air snapped against Faison's cloak as his bike sped through the frozen tundra of Krownest, the winds waxing and waning with a will of their own as it would seem. In due course, he would arrive at the rendezvous point at around the same time as a few others were making their way there. Siv Dragr was the first person Faison saw as he pulled up to the cave entrance, a devilish smile lining Faison's face as he brought his bike to a stop behind a pile of rocks near the mouth. The two men had worked together a handful of times before, but this would be the first time they actually fought alongside one another. Faison would greet his vode with an outstretched hand, meant to grasp his companion's in a firm forearm embrace. "Something told me I'd find you here." Despite normally being a man of few words under normal circumstances, Faison tended to open up amongst those he respected. Although his words were short, the regard he had for the man before him was evident by his tone.

He synchronized his vital data and tactical HUD with Siv after their initial greeting, then checked his weapons to ensure they weren't overly impacted by the frigid temperatures. He had applied some oils and unguents to them to prevent any malfunctions during this operation, but any Mandalorian worth his salt never took nature for granted, especially during a mission of this importance.

The next to arrive were a pair of what Faison could only assume were NIO operatives as they neared the two Mandalorians. One had the bearing and physique of a woman, and the other a rather imposing human male. Wordlessly, Faison regarded them both as they neared his position. When they came up before them, Faison gave them both a firm nod and said: "Either you both are foolish to be wandering in a snowstorm like this, or you must be the operatives we are linking up with." Before fully dropping his guard, however, Faison saw the need to verify their identities. Prior to deployment, the callsigns of the operatives to be used on this insertion were released to those who needed to know. Given one of them already claimed the callsign 'Nighthawk', which was one Faison had used during his youth in Krayt Company, Faison opted to utilize his more recent moniker of 'Ghost'. He inclined his thumb to his person, and said in a less friendly, slightly more demanding tone: "Ghost." His intention would be clear to the appropriate individuals, who would reply with their own callsigns as a rudimentary way of identity verification. While it would be near-ridiculous to assume these two were not those they were to meet with, nothing was impossible when dealing with the Sith.

​

 

[Delilah Jones]

DAGGER-6
LIEUTENANT
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
URSA'S REDOUBT | KROWNEST
ABSOLUTE PAIN: Kovacs
ALLIES: Volgin Alto | Dante Corvus | Shai Maji | Kranak Vizsla | Alora Vizsla | Vulcan Krayt | Eliz Krayt | @whoever else | IMLESHA
ENEMIES: Blah
GEAR: Armour | Pistol | Vibroblade | 2x Vibroknives

COMING TO ME​

://:NIV KINDZHAL - PRE FLIGHT PREP://:

"Jeez, he's got some lungs on him."

Del cringed from where she was getting her kit ready. There was no point for the whole damn flight to crowd into the room. One lieutenant in there was supposed to be enough. But hot damn. She could hear Jon's hollering carrying all the way to the hangar. Even the BB-unit next to her let out a whistle.

She shook her head in disbelief.
"I'm glad I ain't in there. Poor Harkas' ears must be tooting." she said as she tucked her helmet under arm.
"Heck yeah. How the C'mander hasn't cracked down on him yet, is a right wonder." LTJG. Aayla Hughes said from where she was loading her pistol.
"Yeah, well, entitlement gets you places, it seems." Del answered, putting her free hand on her other hip. Let the laserbrain shout his shouts now, so that she doesn't hear it over the comms. Maybe he shouts himself hoarse and can't talk at all.

She sighed. A girl was allowed to dream of silence from time to time.

"... and that's about it." he finishes debriefing his flight, sitting on the edge of the Slasher's cockpit entry with legs hanging. "Blue milk runnin'."

Del rolled her eyes before diving back to fine tune the release on her one missile launcher. Vanguards would have been nice, but at least they weren't flying a piece of utter trash. She was quite happy with a wrench in her hand and ignoring the fool, but then he had to put his foot in it.

"what's with the sour face, sweet cheeks; woke up on the wrong side of the bed... again? You know we can always fix--"

The wrench flew in his general direction.

"There. Fix your face first." she deadpanned as her hands came to rest on her hips. He may have been a helluva flyer, but damn he was insufferable. Of course, she would strangle herself first before admitting that he actually had some good qualities.

"Now, Baby Blue, if you're done, can we take this shindig downstairs?" Del asked in a sarcastically sweet tone. He had one bogey more than her on the unspoken kill streak scoreboard they had and that had to be rectified ASAP. Who knows, maybe she'll drop him from the sky while they were at it.

Problem solved.

 

[Eliz Krayt]

Combat drop. Combat. Sith. Combat with Sith. Kill them.

Kill the Sith.

Eliz didn't know the NIO. Nor did he care. The Sith were here. The noticeably smaller Mandalorian amongst the giants like Shai Maji and Kranak Vizsla sat off on his own. His leg bounced, anticipation and nerves obvious behind the Beskar'gam he wore. He was.. Unsure on what he felt. Anger? Fear? Excitement? Truly he couldn't figure it out. But his arm burned. Whatever emotion had been filling his mind was obviously connected to the phantom limb he was currently feeling.

Would anyone else loose something to the Sith they'd likely fight here? Would he loose another limb? Gwyn would be pissed if he did.

<"Move fast, stop for nothing.">

It was Kranak's words that pulled him out. His helmed gaze drifted to the giant, then to his Alor. A simple nod was all he could give. There were Sith to kill.

 

[Ghalric Rau]

B L I T Z H U N D
SPECTRE
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
SOMEWHERE | KROWNEST
ALLIES: Cromwell | Chelenne Akaris | Faison Kelborn | Obran | Siv Dragr
ENEMIES: Whoever is against us
GEAR: Armour | 2x Pistols | Sniper Rifle | Battle Rifle |Vibroblade | Vibroknife | Basilisk War Droid | Grenade loadout

HIGHWAY
​

A blizzard raged.

Through the gales, an ominous, bone chilling howl could be heard.

Before long, a Basilisk War Droid touched down a little ways away from the rendezvous point, the ion engines kicking up more snow as they died down. A dark-armoured figure dropped from the enclosed cockpit. After a pat on the Howler's flank, a jetpack was kicked into action and the figure zipped across the frozen ground.

Eventually, the mouth of the cave came into view and the armoured man touched down gracefully close to the group that had already gathered.

"Well damn, Avenger. If you're here, the rest of us might as well just go home and have a good drink." Blitz chaffed his fellow Spectre as he approached. His modified helmet turned to the rest of the group that seemed to have just met up at the mouth of the cave. He tipped his head at Nighthawk. "Ma'am." He then turned to face his once-kin.

His visor briefly found the familiar sigil of Kelborn as the wind whipped at the Mando'ade's cloak. The Clan had been quite renowned once - solid warriors. Blitz had just arrived when the man in front of him had introduced himself.
"Ghost - how original." he quipped. "Well met, friend. Call me Blitz." he added, introducing himself with a slight jerk of the chin.

And then his gaze caught a sigil he never thought he'd see in his lifetime again. Clan Dragr's numbers had been hit hard when the hammerstroke had fallen on Mandalore. They had fought valiantly with the rest, but had paid dearly in the end. He was surprised there were still members left. None of his knowledge was belied, however, as he nodded toward Siv Dragr .
"And you, friend?" he asked.

As the weather got worse, Blitz turned up the thermals on his armour.
"Well, I'd love to stay and play ice breaker, but while the chitshow is going on on the otherside to draw attention, we'd better get going.And to get out of this blasted weather." he said, keying a command to the Basilisk to provide air support to the forces around Ursa's redoubt while he was loitering around underground.

The Greyhound didn't much care for pleasantries and hoohas. There were more important things than playing nice - like the lives that were at stake. Not only Mandalorian, but battleworn Imperials as well.

 

[Michael Barran]

FIRST POST
THE_CAIRNSMAN
THE HIGHLAND BROTHERHOOD

OBJECTIVE 1: FALSE FLAG

ALLIES (NIO): Lachlan Sinclair Dante Corvus Shai Maji Chelenne Akaris
Volgin Alto Kovacs Delilah Jones

ALLIES (ENCLAVE): Kranak Vizsla Vulcan Krayt Alora Vizsla
Siv Dragr Lesha Priest

Enemies: helloo? Anybody there?

MICHAEL'S LOADOUT
PALE-BLUE LIGHTSABRE
FRAGARACH DISRUPTOR PISTOL
VIBROSWORD CAVALRY-SABRE

CANCELLED RESURGENCE: THE WOAD-BORN HUNTSMEN - PROLOGUE

The dropship experience was different this time around for the Highland Brotherhood, all calmly and quiet as mice, sleeping on their way in; and yet, the young Laird would be restless, thinking intently of the blood-feud, and of the double-spiral symbol that marked the place where Barran would finally duel Devoid, in a reinvigoration of the aeons-long battle between the realms of the Druidic and the Arcane. The general attitudes of the Highlanders had changed since as well, given more reason to meditate and think on their lives and where they all fit into the Second Great Hyperspace War, greatly contrasting their loud, raucous entries to Lao-Mon and Carlac alike. However, even with all their quietness on display, the environment appeared unfearful, and even more so than it had when they were rowdily flying into Mawsworn battlefronts; a telling sign of the intensity contrast they were dealing with, and the overall resistance they were expecting to push back in the assault, a deployment with a lessened threat-level that would put money in the former-revolutionaries' pockets nonetheless.

'You'd be fooled into thinking we were deploying for diplomatic chite, except for when ye see aw the tac-gear on display. Ye dae know we're only hitting up wan fortress on Excarga, right?'

'Ssssh.... Keep it down, Woodsy. McBain's still sleepin'.', Lord Michael responded, quietly covering the 1st-Lieutenant in just about every snack-packet he could find in a ten-metre radius. Lachlan would watch on and laugh with the others as the Wanderer built a tower on the head and face of his own second-in-command, briefly interrupting his own fun to respond to his best Sergeant, and again some moments later as soon as a water bottle had been placed at the top of the little tower, muttering,'Lower-risk, decent pay, renewed purpose. Such things that instil calm, even on the dropships.', in something of a relaxed state also. The others who were awake would continue chatting away in hushed tones despite the giggling of the high-command clique over yonder, understanding the need to unwind on a deployment they expected would be a boring affair in comparison to previous deployments, though being sure to keep at least some semblance of focus channelled and compartmentalised for the impending operation.

'I jus' hope Sinclair an' yersel can get the job done, so we dinnae have ti. We lost a few too many on Lao-Mon, mind? Nae mare meatgrinders if we can help it - that's exactly what you said, an' ah'll be haudin' yees t'that ti mah very last day o' service wae the Brotherhood.'

CANCELLED RESURGENCE: THE WOAD-BORN HUNTSMEN - PART 1

<"McBain to Ersehole One! Your next window of opportunity is now open - took a wee bit longer than expected because the Sith-troopers got spooked, an' at nothing in particular. You know what that means, Milord?">

<"Barran to Cairn Two! Good to know, an' aye.... Means OPFOR's on high-alert, but it won't mean chit when we get in through the basement. Stay busy, an' follow us after the next window. Platoon-by-platoon.">

<"Good, so you're focused now then. See yees when the chit hits the fan. Cairn Two out!">

'Aw'right, Lachlan.... We have the approach to ourselves. If ye follow closely every step o' the way, rest assured I will keep ye on the right track.', Lord Michael started, briefly stopping the chatter to stand and give (soon to ascend to Lordship) Lachlan a hand to his feet. From there, the Cairnsman and the Wereworlf would descend a small rise to make their way across a wide, though well-covered clearing to reach the abandoned maintenance tunnel at the other side as Barran calmly continued,'We'll be alone until we reach the basement door, covered but sparsely, so we won't be upti much until we get past the door they're guarding. I have an idea in mind, but you'd need t'see it ti believe it.', as they strolled through the dark, snowy backdrop at a leisurely pace. It didn't take long to cross the distance to the hidden tunnel-entrance, even though it very much looked as if neither Barran nor Sinclair were in any real hurry, so when the moment came to bypass the door's authentication-software, they'd both be a little irritated that the process ended successfully before they had time to light cigarettes properly.

'We can smoke en route, no OPFOR expected for another ten minutes or so. Nae guards nearby, nae problem.... Fething technology always rushes the sentients in their work, eh? Oh, an' another thing; afore we head into the tunnels an' that - are ye claustrophobic at all?'

 

[The Quartermaster]

M A N D A L O R I A N
E N C L A V E

Objective: Establish Relations with the Emperor
Tag: Rurik Fel | Caarlyle Rausgeber | Lucien Dooku | Aemilio Valaar

The Quartermaster's defense was not enough for the first man, it seemed. He had been the one that the Quartermaster had observed expressing disdain initially, so perhaps that was why his attacks did not catch her as off-guard. Nevertheless, he had mannerisms that made the boy who'd spoken before seem almost polite, barbs and sallies that even a Mandalorian would bristle at. Her ire flared briefly at his words, but she breathed and managed to subdue her temper before replying.

"Whether it is Sith or Droids you wish to fight, the Mandalorian Enclave has more than enough to bring to the table," she replied evenly. "Should the Confederacy wish to attack us? We slaved for them for near a decade and know their systems, their methods of operation, their tactics and strategies, inside and out. We know their weaknesses. We know their vulnerabilities. And our knowledge is far more intimate than what any other nation or intelligence organization in the Galaxy could provide. With the Brotherhood of the Maw, or even the Jedi? There is perhaps no culture in the Galaxy that can boast of the same history that Mandalorians have of fighting Force Users."

"If it is logistics you want to talk, then by all means, let us talk trade. Let us barter like shrewd vendors at a market. But I was under the impression I was talking with warriors, not hagglers. Surely you cannot suggest that you are so craven as to balk at the first mention of blood?" Her smoothly retorted. "Emperor Fel," she said, turning her attention away from the left-hand assistant and and to the Emperor himself. "If it is my blessing over the stewardship of Mandalore that you seek, then I freely give it. The Mandalorian Enclave has no wish to repeat the failures of our predecessor states, and Mandalore is of no interest to us. I am no Mand'alor, so my voice only extends as far as those who rally underneath the Enclave's banners, but I can assure you that no Enclave Mandalorian will challenge the New Imperial Order's control of Mandalore."

She had ignored the assistant's lecherous inquiries into the creation of beskar, as well as his butchery of the word. If the Empire wished for Beskar'gam, they only had to ask for the metalsmiths under the New Imperial Order's banners to produce it; and if the man's words was an allusion to their inability to do so, then that was intriguing. But before she had been Buir, before she had been the Quartermaster, she had been a master of the hammer and anvil. She could not bring herself to betray the ancient traditions and customs of her order.

Nevertheless, she tilted her helmet queryingly as she waited on the Emperor's deliberation.
​

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[Rurik Fel]

E M P E R O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
SOVEREIGN IMPERATOR
Iron Skin | Lightsaber
Lucien Dooku | Aemilio Valaar | Caarlyle Rausgeber
The Quartermaster

EMPIRE
RAVELIN '70​

He offered a nod of greeting to his half kin Lucien as he entered the command room of Fortress Imperator for what has been the first in a long while, since before the assassination of Irveric Tavlar. But immediately following his greeting of the Mandalorian Quartermaster, his diplomatic riposte was interrupted by the likes of Valaar and Rausegeber who immediately thwarted his train of thought and line of reply to the Mandalorian before him. Where Aemilio approached in emotional vitriol, Carlyle approached in cold calculation, showing their inherent character in spades.

After allowing the Quartermaster to reply once more, Rurik held up a gloved hand in a slight gesture showing he was about to speak.

"Your input is appreciated, Admiral Regent, Lieutenant. Know, however- your place is at my advisory." A veiled way of stating, you will speak when spoken to.

"Your supposed 'blessing' is a kind gesture, but one wholly unneeded. 'Manda'yaim' is a tomb world, the Sith buried it in the ash and sorrows of its people by the time it was within the embrace of the Empire. The world was all but defiled by the Sith and the Graug that they implanted there, it is hopelessly irredeemable. Such was the sentiment of the Mandalorian Protectorate when the world was seized and such is the sentiment of the Empire." Rurik states, elaborating on the aside.

"But you come to speak of matters of business and diplomacy. The Empire, as you know, has severed its previous ties established during the Third Imperial Civil War. While the Sith threat remains persistent, they were a redundancy. The Alliance and the Silver Jedi proved to be a hindrance to Imperial military and diplomatic maneuvering. In short, they inhibited us from doing what need be done." He says, his voice maintaining a consistent frigidness.

"Of course, interests between the Mandalorian Enclave and the Empire intersect...but my sole aim is the preservation of our nation and its identity. We find ourselves at odds with the tide of darkness resurgent and ideologies subverted by rampant decadence and moral corruption. But...that is the matter of the rest of the Galaxy. In true candidness, the Empire can not guarantee a military alliance with the Mandalorians given our strategic situation, but that does not alienate any other means of cordial or mutually beneficial relationship." Rurik specifies.

 

[Kovacs]

IRON RESOLVE
SKY GUARDIAN: EMERGENCY vol. I
Issue #1 w/ Delilah Jones
soon: Shai Maji | Kranak Vizsla | Vulcan Krayt | Volgin Alto | Lesha Priest | Alora Vizsla | Eliz Krayt | Michael Barran | WHO ELSE??

T U R B O _ L O V E R

Dagger-5
Bravo Flight, 181st Fighter Wing
​

One skill, beyond charm, flying, throwing ball, and modesty, was his ability to dodge left. Save the jawline, save the Empire. The dent in the hull left behind by the wrench was an indication that either Del could throw a Wookie singlehandedly or that well... the Slasher wasn't the best product of the Imperial War Machine. Jon could only hope it was the former.

"Sheeeesh. No good deed goes unpunished, huh." he murmurs, shrugging his shoulders before pushing himself up and into the cockpit. "You know, Jones, if you weren't so angry all the time, you'd make decent pin-up girl for one of those COMPNOR posters you see propped at recruitment stations." he scoffs lightly, then shuts the hatch behind him. No way he's risking another intercontinental ballistic wrench flying his way.

The controls light up, crimson and cobalt coming to life and the smell of recent decontamination fills his nostrils. There's a bit of a lag in his systems check - the hours he's spent on a Slasher feel like minutes compared to his good ol' TIE Outlander. The payload release seems miles away from his fingers, hell, everything seems miles apart. It's like getting on a limo after spending a lifetime on a second-hand space prius. The soft hum of the engine, the lack of any shuddering or external noise means this baby hasn't seen much... and that Del probably could throw a Wookie.

And off does Bravo Flight go towards the frigid world.

The endless miles of frozen twice-over canyons make his bone shiver. Spending a couple of childhood years on Muunilinst should've gotten him used to the cold. Should have, but it didn't. Much rather be sipping some overpriced umbrella cocktails on Copacabana with a pin-up girl floating on a flamingo ring, even if it meant taking a loan with a rip-off interest rate from the Trade Fed. But that's the galaxy for you - unfair as that one high school crush with the whole 'wish I met someone like you but not you' game.

They'll be cruising at high altitude for a little bit more so he takes his mind off the inequities of the universe by skimming through the brief on what friendlies are at the target area. You know, the machos braving the cold and slinging blaster fire and arty shells back and forth with a crowd of Sith who've been living off on copium for a bit too long after the war had ended.

<"Sooo-- we've got the 5-O-1st, the Myrmidons, the HIGHLAND Brotherhood - now that's a mouthful - and the Si, Sy, Sick, Si'kashdqwdeaksak...huh?!>" his voice breaks through the soothing for some, awkward for him radio silence, <"Who the hell names these things-- oh, Mandos. Explains the gibberish-- hol' up, there's Mandos here?"> can't blame him, Jon's got a knack for snoozing on two feet during Hardass' briefs. Yeah, another of his extraordinary skills.

<"Oh, well.">

<"To all Imperial and, uh, Mandalorian callsigns, this is Dagger-5. We're fast approaching the target area with a lotta firepower clipped on these wings."> he states on the designated channel. <"...just say where."

 

[Lachlan Sinclair]

BACK TO THE GRIND
"ALPHA-ACTUAL"
THE HIGHLAND BROTHERHOOD

Michael Barran Dante Corvus Shai Maji Volgin Alto Kovacs Delilah Jones
Kranak Vizsla Vulcan Krayt Alora Vizsla Siv Dragr Lesha Priest

Rifle | Grenades x4 | Pistol | Cigarettes x8

MONSTER AMONGST MEN - PROLOGUE
​

The calm ride into the fray served as a catalyst for the man's meditations, this downtime much appreciated after healing from the wounds which had crippled him enough to be wrangled and swiftly brought in, the whole chain of events blurry at best, though the vivid recollections by one DECEASED Aron Gowrie had certainly done plenty to fill in the gaps in his memory as to what happened. The night the Lordships were celebrating, he had found himself summoned by the full moon, and the curse yoked across his shoulders had risen from dormancy, and seen him terrorize The Highlands once more. He couldn't remember it, not after blacking out when his rib cage snapped and shifted beneath his flesh. One moment he had been suffering agony too much to bear, and the next he was naked, blood-soaked, and staring at the barrels of rifles with uncertain men behind them. It wasn't exactly the most comforting welcome home he'd ever received, but he understood why it was they insisted on safety. After all, finding out a monster of legend was real and sitting in front of you would put anyone on edge.

The young Barran's shush and subsequent joke on his subordinate urged Lachlan to crack open an eye, peering across the way to watch the tower's construction, and he found it amusing enough to flash a fanged grin, the pearly, elongated canines sprouting from his upper and lower rows of teeth bared. He swiftly snatched his hand out, claiming two of the hefty protein bars from the pile before another could, and tore into the wrappers with his teeth. He'd heard this world was a cold one, rife by ice and snow, and while the others bundled beneath heavy layers for comfort, he did no such thing. He had no need to, but as much as he was a natural furnace, he paid extensively by eating them all out of home and pantry. That metabolism was a blade with a nasty double-edge. The man crunched into the oatmeal bar, resolving to his typical quiet after, merely spectating the shenanigans of the men he had grown to see as his team and comrades. They were a mismatched bunch, the lot of them, and that only drew him further into their circle.

Overturning his left arm, Lachlan glanced to the heart-rate monitor clasped in permanence around his wrist, ever paranoid of a spike which might just see his bones shifting and snapping, and his skin shredding open to make way for his penumbral alter ego. Of course, it was nonsensical to think such a thing would happen now, but even still, he was vigilant- for he knew, once the shooting started, it would be a whole different story.

"Och, Sinclair." Caulen nudged his arm, drawing his attention. And he paused in his rather raucous crunching to quirk a brow in question, polite enough at the very least not to speak with his mouth full. "Ye want mine, n'all, ye hungry bastard?"

CANCELLED RESURGENCE: THE WOAD-BORN HUNTSMEN - PART 1
​

They were right when they had told him this world was a cold one, but where they were wrong is insisting he needed a coat, or a thermal layer, something, anything to trap his body heat to keep him warm. Of course, there was much they didn't know about him, and while he had managed to gain their trust, there was still much to be desired in the way of friendship and the sort of brotherly banter that opened plentiful opportunities to speak in a grounded fashion about just what it was he was capable of managing. If anything, the Woad found the icy wind refreshing and comfortable. Lachlan waited for the call alongside Michael Barran , double-checking his chest rig had all the magazines his hungry rifle required, and made sure he had actually tucked his crooked pack of smokes into their precious pocket- though he had done this about sixteen times now. When all was well he brushed his fingers across the mounted grenades, taking inventory of those, too. It wasn't until Michael spoke up and extended a hand that the man's attention was sent elsewhere, and a firm grip returned him to his feet.

He trekked onward, walking alongside the man rather than behind him, his eyes briefly catching the light of the eve on their wolfish, reflective surfaces, illuminating with the turn outward. Lachlan drew deep of the crisp air, his senses opening to high alert, and in the distance, he heard the commotion and clamor. Smoke. Tibanna. The standard-fare he had come to expect from battlefields both domestic and otherwise. Boots crunching against the blanketed ground, the two pressed on in brief silence, the accursed taking the time to get his bearings and memorize the path back in the event it was buried beneath the snow upon their return. A window of opportunity opened as the door barring their path was put to work and out of habit, he reached for his pack of smokes. And yet, he was disappointed- the door clicking to unlocked mere seconds after the whole thing started. It was enough to make him sigh. That itch would have to wait.

'We can smoke en route, no OPFOR expected for another ten minutes or so. Nae guards nearby, nae problem.... Fething technology always rushes the sentients in their work, eh? Oh, an' another thing; afore we head into the tunnels an' that - are ye claustrophobic at all?'

Barran had read his mind, and it made him chuckle softly. They pressed ever onward, and finally, Lachlan had the chance to tuck a cigarette between his lips, and tend to it with his lighter. "Hm, naw am not, lucky fer ye. Even still, ye got 'at monitor hevny ye? Best te keep a close eye on it, cannae be tae careful. My heart spikes up over aboot a hunner-ten, ye'll see th' mean mug." Smoke pressed from his nose, trickling over his shoulder to be whisked away by the breeze. "I dae a good job keepin' it caged, but if'n I get gluffed bad, well... 'at'll be 'at." He turned his focus from the kitted man to the narrowing path ahead, his eyes adjusting almost immediately to the growing shadows, and cocked a brow. Two fingers pinched his vice to draw it from his lips and ash it behind him, "Fit's th'plan then? We sneakin' up te flank 'em?" He lowered his voice and stepped in front of the Laird, cutting his eyes down the dark tunnel. "An'... best let me take point, I can still see plain as day."

Lachlan drew his rifle to low ready, chomped down on the filter of his smoke, and started down the dark corridor.

 

[Chelenne Akaris]

BUBBLEGUM
N I G H T H A W K
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
IMPERIAL SECURITY BUREAU
Cromwell | Faison Kelborn | Ghalric Rau | Obran | Siv Dragr

"Never had you for the hiking type." he stated in his usual dry tone and attempt at humor. "Unless it's hiking the shopping bill."

"Well maybe you should hide your credit cards better, did you ever think of that?" She giggled over her shoulder at him in their brief moments of alone time, "Or change your pin to something that isn't so easy to guess. My birthday? Reaaaally?" It was soon after this, of course, the two reached their destination, and the zeltron slowed her gait to a steady trot, eager to get to the overhang and out of the snowfall. Once there she halted and shuddered, shaking off the gathered snow from her fur coat, and reached with a glove made of equal luxury to wipe the moisture from her visor. Looking around, she didn't recognize any of them, save for one.

"Ma'am."

"Blitzy baby, it's so good to see you." She chimed, striking out with a playful fist to sock the man's armored shoulder, "Oh right, yeah. I'm Nighthawk." Her attention, ever squirrely, darted from the older Spectre to the gathered Mandos. Whether or not this was nerves or just how she was overall remained to be seen.

A finger tapped against her tacpad, switching the implanted commo in her helmet to their shared frequency, and she started off after Blitz, taking comically large steps through the mounting snow to remain in his footprints, eliminating her own. <"Alright party people, what's our plan? The forward gate to the camp is about a quarter-mile Northwest and judging by the terrain maps I've been provided, there's a rocky outcropping on the left side. We can expect a lot of eyes on the ridgeline, but not beyond it. I suggest we use it for cover and flank around to drop in on the far side. Are those rifles just for show, or can you use them?"> She turned her head, looking around to take inventory of the sniper rifles toted by her allies, <"More importantly, are you comfortable with sniping straight through the snow? If we can clear the tower on that flank, we can breach using it, just drop down and make our way from there. Plus, posting someone there will give us overwatch and access to the gate controls, which will be incredibly helpful on the way out. I'll take questions and suggestions at this time, c'mon boys, let's hear 'em.">

As scatterbrained as she tended to be, it seemed her errant thoughts had been corraled long enough to formulate some sort of structured plan. If you can't blind 'em with your brilliance, baffle 'em with your...

 

[Noel Strasza]

COMMITMENT
THE_IRON_MAIDEN
LORD EXECUTOR

RAVELIN
870 ABY
​

The door opened and for a moment there was silence. The two cyborgs simply stared at one another, each taking the necessary time to appraise and comprehend the others' presence, and likely both consider what turn of fate had led them equally in stride to this moment. Augmented eyes fixed on his mismatched gaze and didn't wander elsewhere, the Lord Executor noted how well he looked, despite the turbulence of his position. He had cleaned up and started taking care of himself again, somewhat, as the sorrow behind his eyes decried the steadiness he exuded, something he could never hide well that she was always keen on.

She gazed upon him, her onyxian brows furrowing intently above the harshness of her eyes, with the unseen struggle to resist the urge to strike out at him. To hug him after. She wrestled with the human urges, grateful for the steadiness of her metallic shell, for it would not betray these twitches. It was his voice that broke the silence between them.

“Lord Executor.”

The woman nodded, her mismatched lips- physically incapable of smiling- did their best attempt to, though she wondered what the point of it was, really. She was far more guarded than he ever had been, but he had always been able to shatter her veneer to see the truth of what ached her so. Nowhere to go but through from here. "As you were, doctor," she responded hoarsely, the digitized drone of her voice as dull as ever, "do you have some time to spare? We should talk." After he released his rigid stance and opened the door further, she stepped inside, honing her attention over the modest decorations and extensive files piled onto the shelves and desk occupying the space.

"Bit of an upgrade from Carlac, isn't it?" She asked idly, priming the more serious conversation on the edge of her tongue to cast out when she grew the nerve to do as much. But it was only after she situated herself on the leather couch against the left wall and found some mockery of comfort that she committed. "I know you're confused about why I'm here, and I'm going to clear that up firstly." She had changed, her behaviors from anxious ticks to even the cadence and manner she spoke with had evolved, but her exterior had remained the absolute same. It was where they differed. "I need answers, Julian," at last, her gaze situated onto him steadily, "so I can decide what's best for me."

// Julian Qar \\
​

 

[Julian Qar]

✚ T H R E E _ O F _ S W O R D S ✚
[ scars on my heart ]
RAVELIN
870 ABY

‘breathe….’

A mere thought reminded the doctor to perform the most simple task. Jumpstart his breathing. And though it seemed during the brief interaction he had managed somehow to stop time altogether. There was a point in which she’d released his stern and rigid bind and let him relax. A time when she had expressed wanting to speak to him and yet it all felt like an out-of-body experience. Was he there? Or was this vessel with his image that he had watched perform mindless tasks that took him to the opposite of the room to his desk. He had remained silent until...she mentioned Carlac, he played it off as if hearing that name again didn’t pierce his heart.

“Yea….s’nicer…they uh ...even gave me my own coffee maker…” He responded, secretly cursing at himself over the light chatter. It was something he knew they both hated but he would try anything to cast away the tension. Thankfully her next words had slipped through smoothly, cutting through the idle hum in his mind of what to say next over her arrival. And yet he recalled the moment when he saw the delicate movements of her upper lip, knowing the shift meant she had attempted a smile, for some reason knowing that alone had settled the erratic noises roaring within him - if only momentarily.

"I need answers, Julian," at last, her gaze situated onto him steadily, "so I can decide what's best for me."

‘Answers...' The internal dialog started, his features had not shifted. He had remained neutral and almost expressionless, though he knew she could see through him like glass. As he stood there, prepping over what to say to her, he could hear the thunderous beating of his heart in his ears - when he caught her gaze - he did not turn away. The doctor had remained locked within it, knowing he had longed to see those augmented crimson eyes all those years he was away. ‘I missed you…’ The voice inside his head had uttered, ‘I’m sorry…’

The doctor nodded slowly, never turning away from her as he spoke, what he thought he said. "I'm ready to answer anythin'..." yet those words were not the ones that had come out.





"I missed you so much, darlin'....it hurt..."



█ █ █
|| Noel Strasza ||

 

[Delilah Jones]

DAGGER-6
LIEUTENANT
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
URSA'S REDOUBT | KROWNEST
ABSOLUTE PAIN: Kovacs
ALLIES: Volgin Alto | Dante Corvus | Shai Maji | Kranak Vizsla | Alora Vizsla | Vulcan Krayt | Eliz Krayt | Michael Barran | Lachlan Sinclair | IMLESHA | @whoever else
ENEMIES: Blah
GEAR: Armour | Pistol | Vibroblade | 2x Vibroknives

FREEDOM

Well at least his reflexes still worked well. It would have been a shame if he had been too slow and the wrench actually hit him in his decently angular face. Not that she would ever admit it aloud. She'd never hear the end of it.

Not that her wrench throwing skills stopped him from being an A-class Pain in the Butt.

"You know, Jones, if you weren't so angry all the time, you'd make decent pin-up girl for one of those COMPNOR posters you see propped at recruitment stations."

Del let out a snort as she dumped her kit in the cockpit.
"At least buy a girl a drink first before trying to throw her on a pin up poster, Kovacs. Jeez. It ain't that hard." she quipped with the slightest hint of a smirk before fitting her helmet and following the rest of the kit into the cockpit.

Looking around for a second, it was clear that these fighters have hardly seen the light of day. Probably newly issued. The squeaky clean interior made her wonder if Bravo Flight would be the stress test for this particular issue. Nothing was ever off the table with the corporate big wigs.
"All right, baby, let's see what you can do." she mused as she flipped on the controls.

Del enjoyed the sleek, gentle hum for a second before she kicked the ions into gear and followed Jawline out the Bay.

Once within Atmo, she leveled to cruising, flanking Kovacs as the Flight howled above the desolate, frozen landscape. Having grown up where she did, Del's exposure time to the wider Galaxy had been limited. Frozen worlds even less so, as she hadn't been on any of two the Carlac deployments. The endless white was kind of mesmerizing.
<It's kinda beautiful in a strange way. From up here, at least.> she mused as she glanced down.
<Yeah, don't want to be down there though. Must be chit in all that wind and snow.> Hughes said.
<Well yeah. It's just nice to look at when you nice and warm inside. It ain't like you can sunbathe in all that, now is it?> Del answered rhetorically with a chuckle.

She had just turned her attention back to the task at hand and had just pulled up a map of the target are when Jon's obnoxious voice broke through the comms.

<"Sooo-- we've got the 5-O-1st, the Myrmidons, the HIGHLAND Brotherhood - now that's a mouthful - and the Si, Sy, Sick, Si'kashdqwdeaksak...huh?!>" his voice breaks through the soothing for some, awkward for him radio silence, <"Who the hell names these things-- oh, Mandos. Explains the gibberish-- hol' up, there's Mandos here?">

Del suppressed a chuckle at his butchering of the word. She had to admit that the word sounded more like a Loth-cat sneezing than an official term. Instead she latched onto his daftness.
<Do you ever pay attention, or are you too broke? Obviously there's Mandos here - it's in the briefing notes. And this is kinda a Mando world and all. It ain't rocket science to figure out, Kovacs.> she quipped at him but could barely contain the exasperated smile that threatened to spread on her face. He reminded her of the grav-ball Jocks at the Academy. Annoying as feth, but their idiotic goofiness softened the blows sometimes.

Del flipped her channels to designation before flicking a few switches to prime the fighter's firepower. The amount of ordnance controls lighting up, gave her a marshmallow feeling all over again. The laserbrain could complain all he wanted about the Slashers, but Del did enjoy some good shooters on a bird.

They made a statement.

 

[Kovacs]

IRON RESOLVE
SKY GUARDIAN: EMERGENCY vol. I
Issue #1 w/ Delilah Jones
soon: Shai Maji | Kranak Vizsla | Vulcan Krayt | Volgin Alto | Lesha Priest | Alora Vizsla | Eliz Krayt | WHO ELSE??

Dagger-5
Bravo Flight, 181st Fighter Wing
​

<"Broke? Me? On a TIE pilot's take-home? Don't let ISB hear you saying that, Jones."> he grins, sarcastically retorting to her remark. Imp Pilot's pay wasn't bad, it's just Gat Tambor sitting on the printer that made yesterday's cup of caf cost a kidney today. <"And yeah, miss me with the notes - you try sitting through an hour of Hardass' rant without catching a few winks in between, pfft.">

<"Real talk, though, I don't think I've ever met a Mando - well, except that wide receiver in the Academy who claimed his dad was one. Didn't even know we had Mandos in the Empire, except those guys livin' on Concord Dawn after, you know, the Sith... did a number on 'em." the last bit's sour, a pang of memories from Muunilinst furrow his brow.​

 

[Cromwell]

A V E N G E R
New Imperial Order
Imperial Spectre
Chelenne Akaris | Faison Kelborn | Siv Dragr | Obran

"Or change your pin to something that isn't so easy to guess. My birthday? Reaaaally?" ​

"Hm." that's all he'd offer back, the simple, yet enigmatic vocal tic. Was he considering changing the pin? Was he surprised she'd guessed it? Can't tell. It's like looking at the blandest piece of art in the galaxy.

At their rallying point, the introductions between Imperials and Mandalorians were quickly made. Each party preferred to get this over with as soon as possible. Not too surprising - the assault on Ursa's Redoubt would only take their attention for so long before the Sith realized what was going on. And while the Empire had its own assets to extract from within the concentration camp, the Mandalorians' impatience was driven from a more emotional standpoint. Some of those locked up inside, Avenger reckoned, were someone's kin.
​

"Well damn, Avenger. If you're here, the rest of us might as well just go home and have a good drink." ​

"Hm." Blitz wasn't wrong. The Avenger was a lone wolf by nature, he favored operating solo. Teamwork meant settling differences in methods, approach, plans - a general waste of time. Not that the Spectre was a man of many compromises. He'd say nothing and carry on his own way. The rest would either adhere to his ways of operating.
​

<"Alright party people, what's our plan? The forward gate to the camp is about a quarter-mile Northwest and judging by the terrain maps I've been provided, there's a rocky outcropping on the left side. We can expect a lot of eyes on the ridgeline, but not beyond it. I suggest we use it for cover and flank around to drop in on the far side. Are those rifles just for show, or can you use them?"> She turned her head, looking around to take inventory of the sniper rifles toted by her allies, <"More importantly, are you comfortable with sniping straight through the snow? If we can clear the tower on that flank, we can breach using it, just drop down and make our way from there. Plus, posting someone there will give us overwatch and access to the gate controls, which will be incredibly helpful on the way out. I'll take questions and suggestions at this time, c'mon boys, let's hear 'em.">​

As Chel began laying out the plan, a topographic holoprojection of the Camp and its surrounding area materialized from his wrist for all to see. In his mind the Spectre was dissecting the agent's plan at blazing pace, seeking to find holes and flaws in it, as he naturally did. He would've opted for a different approach but did not voice it. Today was her day. Keep her mind busy, and if it goes well then his bank account won't be a few zeroes less when the day's over.

"Whatever sentries they've got on the ridgeline will need to be taken out discreetly," he adds, his implications were fixated specifically on Blitz and the Mandos. Not the quietest of crowds. "if the alarm goes off before we've made it inside the tower, we're going to be five people against a fortress." Sith loved their detention camps.​