Last Watch - The Mandalorian Dominion of Agamar Hex [Cathar and Ord Cestus]

[Mirshko Betna]

Objective 3/5
Location: Outside the city of Calna Muun - Medical/Refugee camp
Allies: United Clans; [member="Arrbi Betna"]; [member="Rhan Komo"]; [member="Muad Dib"]
Enemies: Death Watch and allies, potentially [member="Saverok the Unleashed"]
Post: 7

The low steady buzz of chatter in the mess tent was somewhat comforting to Mirshko as she slid onto the bench across from Muad. it felt like ages since she'd last seen him. And she knew she'd changed physically in that time. She could see the realization pass over his face as he studied her closely for a moment. Her cheeks heated ever so slightly, and she chewed nervously on her bottom lip. It was a habit she'd picked up from Mom over the years.

As she watched him, she saw his eyes blaze for a moment. Though she wasn't quite sure why; she could certainly hazard a guess. And she'd probably be right. It wasn't that she was trying to intrude into his mind. Merely to match what she remembered with the man who now sat across from her. When she felt the walls go up, she stopped her probing, content to continue talking for now. Besides, it seemed like there was quite a lot to catch up on.

Just as she was about to answer his question, she saw the same man approach their table. At first, she thought he'd come to ask how the food was. She'd seen many servers do it in fancy eating places she'd gone with her parents on occasions. But not this time. Her eyes widened slightly as he began to describe in detail what had gone into the food. Not just the main dish, either. The aroma rising from the bowl in front of her was still making her mouth water, and she inhaled the pleasantly spicy aroma once more.

She smiled slightly. "Vor'e for that information. I have always enjoyed cooking though I've not had much opportunity to do much myself of late. It certainly smells kandosii!" she told him as she inhaled the aroma once more. "I've no questions at the moment, but I will certainly let you know if I think of any." Carefully digging her fork into the contents of her bowl, Mirshko took a bite and nodded appreciatively at Rah. "Thank you."

After she'd taken a few more bites, Mirshko turned back to Muad to continue their conversation. But she didn't totally shut Rhan out, either. A soft sigh fell from her lips. "So much has changed. Some of which you can see before you... and others... that you can probably sense.." Her voice was quiet. Not overly loud, but loud enough to reach Rhan and Muad's ears without going beyond. Her voice remained pitched so as she continued. "Two years ago now, I was attached to the group of Mandalorians helping the Techno Union as they worked to secure Druckenwell." She frowned.

"During the mission, we encountered a group of what we thought were mechanics. I'd gone in for a closer look. In an effort not to be discovered, I hid in one of the empty crates they'd offloaded. What I didn't realize was that very same crate was loaded back onto their shuttle. They then took off and eventually boarded one of the Mandalorian vessels, still posing as mechanics. I was able to sneak away. I then spent several hours trying to stall them as they worked on stealing the ship." The frown remained, and her voice lowered slightly. "Eventually... they caught up to me, and I was captured." Here, she found herself studying the table for a moment as she idly turned her fork over in the bowl. "I didn't know it at the time.... but one of the group who captured me was a Force User."

She watched Muad's face for a moment, waiting to see how he might react before she continued. "He.... began trying to entice me to join his pirate crew. He appealed to the aspiring Mandalorian in me... and offered to train me to be a warrior. What I didn't know was that he was subtly beginning to use mind control on me. It took months for me to figure it out. But, when I first started noticing, I began to fight it. He... wanted me to hurt the ...servant he'd given me. he treated me like a princess.. most of the time."

A moment to swallow a bite or two of food as she tried to keep her nerve. This wasn't something she'd really shared with anyone outside family... and even her parents didn't know everything. "I'd probably been captive for close to a year before I was able to escape with the help of a family friend. And it wasn't easy." She sighed heavily. "I still have nightmares about it sometimes." Chewing nervously on her lower lip again, she took a calming breath before continuing.

"More recently, I spent close to a year training with Draco Vereen. It mostly focused on stealth techniques, as that is my area of talent, but I learned a few other Force abilities as well." She paused and looked him straight in the eye. "And I know you're wondeirng about the age discrepancy. My parents were rather shocked as well. At the time, his ...retreat as he calls it was located within the Chiloon Rift. It moves around periodically. I never knew it's exact location." She paused. "The age discrepancy is due to a time dilation effect present within the Rift. Time passes normally outside the boundaries of the Rift. But, if any length of time is spent within the boundaries of the Rift, it can accelerate aging."

"That is why you see a discrepancy with what you remember. I was around 12 or 13 when I entered the Rift to train with Draco... and the length of time spent within aged me to around 18.." She frowned a bit. "And with I had Mom and Da's permission to go, they still worried. Such that as I was returning home, I encountered Xander Carrick. He'd apparently been sent to find me when they'd not heard from me. he.... offered to take me straight home if I could best him in a spar. I failed. So, at Mom's request, he began to train me in lightsaber combat, among other things."

 

[Muad Dib]

Location: outside of Calna Muun, the erected camps
Objective: 3
Allies: the Clans, [member="Mirshko Betna"] , [member="Rhan Komo"]
Enemies: Deathwatch and their allies

His fork stirred the food in the bowl as his glowing eyes watched the young woman's face. He could hear the undercurrents of emotion therein. More so, he felt the feelings that speaking of such times elicited. But it was more then that. He had felt and seen a portion of what was now coming from her even before she had begun opening up. Such events shook a being's galaxy and left it's mark in times of waking and sleep. An unusually stirring occurred as he remembered his own history.

"I was there, at your family's homestead, during your disappearance. I saw the effect of your absence. Lost in solitude if pain they were. But they had one another. They had family. They had friends."

Pausing he forked in a bite and chewed it thoughtfully as he leaned back watching Mirshko through knowing blue eyes. He didn't share his past, his history with anyone ever. If you weren't there then typically he considered it a closed book. Not that he hid his past but it was simply that, the past. It affected and changed him, aye. Tapping two fingers of his right hand on the rough hewn table he swallowed the food savoring the flavors.

"I do not know everything you have experienced. And I won't belittle your ... Pain ... At saying I know what you have went through, for no one knows how each event can affect each individual person. I can understand your hardships and even empathize, yes ole Muad is capable of that, but only you know how you are. My time as a youth on Adumar, my home world, shaped me into who I am. Even when the ruling nobility recognized my gifts and tried to wipe my mind, trained my body, tortured and ripped at me physically and mentally, the lessons learned, the experiences ... They cannot be forgotten. What I endured, what I survived, what I learned is part of who I am to this day. You cannot forget the past or lock it away and hide from it. It leaves it's mark in your mind and your body."

With the last sentence he raised his hand to lightly touch his temple then chest over his heart.

"It can destroy you, it can eat away at you until all that remains is the bitterness and pain, regret and shame. Then you become lost. The strong, or simply stubborn, choose another path. You accept your past. You acknowledge your mistakes. You gave your proverbial demons. You say I will not fear, I will not hide from it. I was there, and I survived. It okay to break, to fall, but it is up to each of us to rise anew, to mend, to become stronger for what we have endured."

He took the bread and broker it to sop up some of the juice. His memories of his own torments flashing to the front of his mind. Even after years he could still feel the needles, the knives, the electricity surging through his body. The torture as the tried to break the youth. His teeth gritted as eyes closed momentarily. Then they opened, the groin appearing on his face. He took the pain and grew. A path that he wouldn't recommend to another, for his path have birth to his chaos. But it was his path, his history, and he owned it. Looking once more to Mirshko the feral grin melted into a softer smile.

"I know your parents, I've fought with them in war, trained alongside them in preparation of battle, worked with them in mud and rock, I've mourned with them, among others, in the loss of their daughter. I've shared in their sweat, blood, and tears. But they are strong. Like beskar. You, my dear, are a child of mandalorian iron. I have known you too. Headstrong, inquisitive, curious, full of fire. Yes, you have grown, yes you have acquired more experience, some of which you shouldn't have had to carry. But at your core, you are still you. It takes time, meditation, and action to overcome the physical scars, emotional scars, but it can be done. And you always have a friend you can call on, to speak to, to rage at, to break on. But you must choose to rise again. And you don't always have to do it alone."

 

[Sal Katarn]

Location: Streets
Allies: [member="Brent Warnel"] | [member="Bryanjar Aulfmaor"] | [member="Marcus Lok"] | [member="Davon Karr"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"]
Enemy: [member="Saverok"]

The monster kept his feet. The Kelborn clansman snarled behind his helm. He would not be outdone before the Destroyer by this pathetic aruetti. He fought for the honor of his clan and to bring glory beneath the eyes of god and man. What did this fool fight for but a lost cause?

The aruetti fled, leaping off the rooftop and down to the streets below. Vod lining the rooftop opened fire, some with concussion rifles. Such weapons had proven to be of little use against the beast. Kade would meet him blade to blade and settle this in the way of the ancestors.

Turning, Kade started to run, boots pumping against the permacrete rooftop until he reached the edge. He jumped into the nothing, screaming the blood curdling battle cry of his clan. Wind buffeted him in free fall and his stomach felt as though it were trying to crawl out his mouth. The hard ground rushed up to meet him.

At the last moment, the jetpack activated, slowing the descent. Kade altered momentum until he was flying straight for the aruetti, heedless of slugs and concussion rounds spattering around him. He extended both arms beskad in one hand, dinu'ul in the other, and tucked his shoulder low, ready to wrap up the foe's legs.

The aim? Why, no less than to jetpack straight into the beast and tackle him to the ground.

"KEEELBOOOOOOOOORN!"

 

[Rhan Komo]

Objective: 3
Location: Outside the city of Calna Muun
Allies: Mandalore and Allies, [member="Mirshko Betna"] [member="Muad Dib"]
Enemies: Death Watch and Allies
Post: 4/25


Rhan nodded in thanks of the compliments past his way, he was indeed a slight perfectionist when it came to his cooking. Not that he hated the idea of making bad food, but the dissatisfaction of seeing a certain dish's full potential of becoming something great. He had pride as a chef, among his other skills, but indeed he had pride. Rhan knew that Mandalorian's were prideful warriors, and that was what drew him in the first place. If they take pride in whatever they do, he knew he would find beauty in their craft that they covet so much. Rippana was the one that mentioned to him, when talking of Rhan's pride, that perfection was more an ideology then much of anything else.

He turned to face the man and offered a nod towards him as well, but before he could excuse himself from their presence the woman began to converse. Already Rhan had categorized some Mandalorian words to research later, Vor'e and kandosii, but the woman began telling her tale. Rhan was a soldier, a chef, a butler, a servant, and a friend to some, but he was also respectful. So he listened to her tale, of her life changing events. Much of his own past flashed quickly, but it faded just as quickly, Rhan adjusted his emotions and composure to suit himself accordingly.

He was no stranger of such stories of despair and hopelessness, he witnessed and lend his ear to many stories such as hers. A chosen one to fight the greater galaxy, one's own fate intertwined and twisted by the manipulative forces of the galaxy at large. Rhan dared not to compare certain feelings and events between one another, although he could not but see common traces between those who have suffered long.

Rhan's golden eyes blinked as she continued to speak of her past, stopping for a mere moment to consider her next words. If not struggling to deal with her memories and focusing on her strength to push through the resurgence of her memories and past emotions. He knew how victims react, even after fighting to remove the label of 'victim' and the 'victim-hood' stigma, processing through the emotional muck of their time being a victim would never cease to effect their current self. ​If one does no longer feel anything from their traumatic past and emotions, those are the ones I truly pity Rhan thought somberly.

"I still have nightmares. . . ."

He turned to the man sitting across from the woman, as she finished her tale of her past and conclusion that had found themselves here. As two people enjoying his cooking, in a refugee camp during a war. Rhan listened to his response, much like an older and experienced man teaching his younger generation. Though Rhan had some qualms of his advice to the young woman's suffering and past he generally agreed with the core concept and accepted the base idea the older man was trying to say to her. He dared not relate his own past to hers, nor his own ideology to what was being discussed, but Rhan again knew where to draw the line between Servant and Master. He was their servant and they were his master while in this kitchen tent.

His food filled with flavors and warmth, he wished to entice emotions of happiness and fulfillment to one's desire of sustenance. Right now Rhan saw two people filling themselves of memories, new and old, painful and hopeful, to show of one's accomplishments while at the same time demonstrating scars of both failures and successes. Reclaiming their own faith with one another and others not present with them. The act of breaking bread and cutting cheese, as one of my old chef mentors had told me Rhan mused, remembering his first culinary instructor.

Rhan turned his focus on the moments silence that had followed after each had given their piece, and now they allowed themselves moments of reprieve to adjust of the words that were just said to one another. He paused more another moment, before he addressed both of them, "If it brings any peace of mind, I am not much of a talkative person mien guests," Rhan spoke, closing his eyes as he bowed slightly from his standing position he had held during all this. "And that my ears and memories can be very selective at times," He added after he stood back straight from his small bow.

"Please remember you hold your own choices," Rhan added before quickly including, "As to what is needed to continue your enjoyment during your meal, so if anything is required before I make my return to the kitchen, I entreat you to speak any request, Da?" Rhan asked to each of them.

 

[Mirshko Betna]

Objective 3/5
Location: Outside the city of Calna Muun - Medical/Refugee camp
Allies: United Clans; [member="Arrbi Betna"]; [member="Rhan Komo"]; [member="Muad Dib"]
Enemies: Death Watch and allies, potentially [member="Saverok the Unleashed"]
Post: 8

Mirshko silently contemplated her food as she listened to Muad. She hadn't known the full depth of her parent's loss. But she could guess. She'd at least felt slight ripples of it when she'd first returned home. She never could thank Elpsis quite enough for what she'd done, but she had the distinct feeling the older girl felt slightly embarrassed by the attention. Regardless, Mirshko was eternally grateful for what she'd done.

His words struck something inside her, and Mirshko bit her lower lip for a moment. What happened on Syvris... and during her time in the Chillon Rift had irrevocably changed her as a person. Gone was the child. She was now a young woman. She'd seen and done things that no child should have to. And her time in the Chiloon rift had physically changed her as well. "I don't want to lock it away, Muad..." she replied softly. "It's what I did for close to a year, and I could feel it tearing me apart on the inside..." There was silence between the three of them for a moment as she tried to piece her next words together.

"You're right, you know..." she acknowledged quietly between bites of food. "For a long time... I didn't know how to let go. I wanted to - because it was just ruining me on the inside. But I didn't know how to." She looked across the table at him. looking then to Rhan and realizing he was still there. She didn't mind. Sometimes, sharing one's times of weaknesses could help you become stronger. "I did talk to Sio, and one of the Eldorai priestesses. They were able to help me see my past for what it was, and to be able to separate from it in a way I hadn't been able to on my own. It's not gone or wiped from memory, but it... can't control me anymore..."

She watched as he reached across the table and picked up the bread before breaking it. There was something about the simple act of sharing a meal with friends that she found calming. Her parents and her friends had always been her stable foundation. And even more so since Syvris. His words resonated inside her, and Mirshko nodded. "I have found that it is our friendships and our family that are some of the strongest bonds."

Mirshko sensed the slight pause given by Rhan before he spoke. As if he too were weighing his words. She was grateful that he'd stayed, and even offered his own bit of wisdom. Comfort, maybe? She wasn't sure which. Maybe it was both. Regardless of which it was, she was glad that he'd chosen to remain, and offer even those few words. "Vor'entye..." she told him softly. "If I could trouble you for a cup of behot, I would be very grateful."

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

How long had it been? Hours? Minutes? His ears rang as the battle continued to go on around him. There was frantic radio chatter as the Mandalorian's assault on the garrison was met with greater resistance than originally anticipated. Troopers in red armor rushed ahead daring the Death Watch to fight them again and again. Explosions threw dirt and debris into his visor as he stood up. Warnings flared and flashed all across his HUD but began to normalize as his breathing slowed and became calmer.

<Where's my beacon!? Where's Skirata's squad?!> A familiar voice came over the coms. Gil cursed and tapped a few buttons on his wrist console. That was supposed to be his team's mission, fall behind enemy lines and set up a beacon for the GDR to come down and clean up house. Gil cursed and looked around for a weapon. Until his bes'uliik got here he would be weaponless unless he found something quick.

He grunted in what was a mix of satisfaction and sorrow. A young soldier in the red armor of the Legion lay beneath rubble, his arms and blaster the only things visible. He cursed and pulled the rifle from their dead hands. Limping away his limp slowly turned into a walk, then a jog, and finally into a full on sprint. He could hear the roar of a bes'uliik's engine ahead and soon the sound would be connected to an actual object flying towards him. He smirked beneath his helmet and gripped the side of the metal beast as it flew past and made an awkward U-turn.

"This is Skirata, my team was ambushed in the air. Mission is still a go watch for the signal," he said into the com, finding his seating again. He patted the metal hide of his bes'uliik, "Good to see you again!" he shouted over the roaring wind. They flew back into battle.

 

[Davon Karr]

[member="Vilaz Munin"] [member="Kade Kelborn"] [member="Marcus Lok"] [member="Davon Karr"] [member="Brent Warnel"] [member="Bryanjar Aulfmaor"] [member="Saverok"]

"I'm going to feel that in the morning," Davon growled to Brent as he staggered to his feet. One round had caught him in the side of his chest. Everything tended to hurt more these days, but that felt like a broken rib to him. "Now I'm annoyed. Lads, keep at the Death Watch, we'll see this thing off."

He trusted his own kin to finish the fight with the Death Watch. They needed to take this sector. Battered and bruised, outgunned and tired. But this was their world. They fought in the knowledge that if they lost today, the war was effectively over. Putting a mandalorian - even a retired one - back against a wall was a bad idea.

Davon didn't run. He stalked back down the stairs. As he walked he carefully loaded three grenades into his massive rifle. Each was a thermal smart grenade, baradium core. Not large rounds, but the thermal ones were supposed to be for armoured platforms and equipment, not personnel. Whatever that beast was, it would take some stopping.

 

[Marcus Lok]

Location: Government Complex
Allies: [member="Davon Karr"] [member="Kade Kelborn"] [member="Brent Warnel"]
Enemies: [member="Saverok"]
Objective: 2
Post Count: [4/25]

Marcus grunted as he jumped to the next roof. His boots slid in the graveled surface as he looked over the edge to find the wounded beast pressing on with speed. It was leaving the field of combat, that much was clear, though the reason was not immediately clear. Perhaps he had been wounded critically? He had taken quite a bit of punishment from the combined fire of multiple combat teams that were still more or less in pursuit of his bulking form, but if he had it had certainly not hindered his movement.

The work he set himself to now was keeping up with the creature as it fled along the compacted asphalt of a side street. Building after building fell beneath his feet, and although he was damn near exhausted, he kept parallel with the beast. The fact was that they were getting separated from the rest of their forces that were congregating on the government complex, their actual objective. He needed to slow the creature down, and he had half of an idea on how to accomplish that goal with anything less than an anti tank missile.

May as well try something...

He decided that his best efforts would be put into wounding the alien's legs. Rather simplistic, but he hoped it might get the job done enough so that his comrades could catch up with their heavier weapons. After a slightly clumsy leap to the next roof, he sided up to the railing of what must have been some sort of clinic and began to rain bursts of blaster fire down on the creature, poised to catch him in the legs. Hopefully it would not prove fruitless.

 

[Brent Warnel]

Allies: [member="Marcus Lok"] [member="Davon Karr"] [member="Gilamar Skirata"] [member="Mirshko Betna"] [member="Rhan Komo"] [member="Kade Kelborn"] [member="Muad Dib"] [member="Vilaz Munin"] [member="Draco Vereen"] [member="Anija Betna"] [member="Attrion Harnol"]

Enemies: [member="Saverok"]

Brent tried to respond to Davon but just wheezed out a sort of laugh in response. His chest hurt, and his armor was out of shape and it made moving that arm uncomfortable. It didn't limit his movement thankfully, but the damages muscles and bones inside his body did. Just enough to make it dangerous for a fight; hopefully when the adrenaline kicked in he wouldn't notice it.

Davon turned and started back down the stairs at a leisurely, albeit determined, pace. Brent went back to the rooftop edge to check on the scene below and was disappointed to find that the big beast had run off. He wanted some revenge, and he was determined to get it and finish this thing off for good or make it leave this world. The Death Watch soldiers were scattered but still giving a fight, that much was clear via radio chatter. Reinforcements were still inbound, a few stragglers of the United Clans were a little late to the party but they were en route. Brent knew they were going to need every blaster and man they could find to cleanse this city properly.

Brent checked his weapons and gave his armor another glance over before he scanned from the rooftop once more and made his way back towards the stair well behind Davon.

"Let's go get this thing," Brent said to Davon with a slight catch to his voice as talking cause a flare up of pain in his body. He made sure his close in weapons were still good to go and he followed Davon down the stairs and towards the monster that was causing them so much trouble.

 

[Davon Karr]

[member="Brent Warnel"]

As they reached the ground floor Davon anger had abated somewhat. It generally took a few minutes to gather his calm after someone or something shot him down.

He shook his head. His acoustic sensors tried to give him a visual indication of the directions of the weapons fire he could hear. His suit showed him a wire frame of the district, blue and red dots of friendlies and the Death Watch soldiers added to the map by his allies.

Much of his family was in the thick of it now, trying to break through the defensive position of several squads of death watch soldiers.

"Leave the beast to the others. It'll lead it on a merry chase and our brothers will falter." Davon turned left out of the entrance, loading a smoke grenade into his rifle. "I'm heading for the front. Two final buildings we need to take before reinforcements arrive."

 

[Arrbi Betna]

"Breaking hyperspace in three... two... one... now," he said to no one in particular.

He and the starfighter wing accompanying him knew their jobs well enough that no actual communication was needed. At least, not for the moment. White lines on a black background slowly reverted back to the stars they were and his sensors began to immediately pick up contacts all around. It quickly showed which IFF signatures were Mandalorian or generally on his side, but others were identified as unknown or hostile.

As if on cue with the sensor's signal of hostile contact, enemy fire began stitching the area around his starfighter. They'd successfully arrived to the combat... on top of the enemy formation.

"Break, break," he called over the unit's comms. "Pair up and engage. Target cap-ships and bombers if possible."

At that, he and his fellow pilots broke formation, throttles to the full and targeting systems bringing up an array of targets. For Betna, it was business as usual and as the first capital ship grew to fill his cockpit windshield, gave a tight grin and armed his weapons.

It was just another day in the life of a Mandalorian for him. It was a day of fire and hell, however, for those he faced.

[member="Anija Betna"]

[1]​

 

[Vilaz Munin]

Location: Near government buildings
Objective: One
Allies: [member="Kade Kelborn"], [member="Davon Kurr"], [member="Brent Warnel"], [member="Marcus Lok"]
Enemies: [member="Saverok"]
Post: [5/25]

The mobility of the Field Marshal in the air dodged the first slug fired from the beast, but the second slug got him. Thankfully, he didn't had to experience the impact of the kinetic energy of the slug due to his personal energy shield, however, the same couldn't be said for the molten magma that erupted from the shell of the slug. Some contents of the magma came on his legs which caused the thermal regulator of his armor to cool the lower region of his body, and the power armor liner depleted some damage of the attack. No critical injuries whatsoever, and Vilaz would try to keep it like that.

Attack after attack came upon the monster and the effort of Vilaz and his fellow brothers and sisters was useless. It reminded him the time when he faced a Lotek'k with Ashin Varanin and a few other brave individuals. Their attacks in the beginning were pathetic, but as they combined attacks it brought the creature to its knees. The seven Mandalorians, including the Munin, combined attacks which proved to be effective when the rabid Gen'dai started retreating. They cousins afford to allow this abomination to replenish its energy and come back with another strike.

"Hunt that thing like the animal it is, vode! If you got something else than blasters and slugs, unload on the bastard until it falls," the Redneck said to his comrades that were hunting the beast. The Warrior dropped to the ground from being suspended in the ground and began rushing for the animal. He saw the brave Kade attempting to tackle the beast with such velocity. The Bounty Hunter could only praise for the man's actions and hope that the Warrior wouldn't receive harsh injuries from said actions. But what plan did Vilaz had to neutralize the beast? Simple. It was a dart shooter on his right wrist that was loaded with deadly darts from Browncoat Arms and Industrials.

A perfect time for such weapon.

 

[Davon Karr]

The rain hammered down hard, but Davon crouched, unflinching. It pattered across his armour, forming rivulets gathering in the crevices and pouring from his shoulders. In the darkness he might have been mistaken for a statue.

He was briefly distracted by the lightshow in the sky. The Clans had attacked Ord Cestus to keep the Death Watch fleet away, but there were battles overhead here too.

His attention returned forwards. Down the length of his long concussion rifle to the third floor. The council building. People looked after them and theirs here, but Agamar still required some bureaucracy to run.

"Fallen asleep in there old man?" came a whisper in his ear.

The trigger eased back. Just a sense of slow motion in his finger, not a conscious squeeze or a pull that could drag his aim. The concussion round leapt through the night. The silver bolt passed through the window and struck the man on the third floor where it detonated. The concussion blast sent the fire team around him sprawling in all directions. Davon twisted to bring his aim to the firth floor and fired again. Fortunately his aim was true as he repeated the shot on the second group of marksmen. If it hadn't been, they'd have gunned him down in seconds.

"Go," he called. Last building in the government district under Death Watch control, though skirmishes still rang out across the area. Once the Force had broken free from the spaceport and they declared ownership of the Council buildings it would signal the end of the occupation.

It could end here, for him. Back to the corporate world and away from the front lines. But after he'd held Stahl til the warmth left his body, he didn't have the stomach for anything but war.

 

[Arage Bao]

Allies: Clan Vizsla | [UCM] | [member="Davon Karr"]
Enemies: Kyr'tsad Pretenders.
Objective: Reclaim Our Heritage.
[1/37]

They had passed Mygeeto and rested on the spaceport of Garqi when the calls had been made. The United Clans marching for war - not against the Mandalorian Empire he and his siblings had just left, but a war against the claimants who thought they could wear the mantle of the Kyr’tsad.

He had seen the eyes on him, the wonder and the desire.

There was only a single nod, before they departed the orbital station and headed for Agamar. Perhaps one day they would leave the Mandalorian territories as planned, but that was not this day.

Hours later multiple subcapital ships dropped out of hyperspace within a respectable distance with the planet at large. There were fleets crashing against one another - the Clans had superiority here, for now. Another hour and boots dropped to the ground, two clicks away from the Agamar station where the main force of the clans were being besieged by the pretenders.

One look was exchanged, before Clan Vizsla moved up.

They only had infantry, but they were specialists in asymmetrical warfare. Most of them were blooded twice over if not more. They moved fast and they moved with no doubt in their mind.

Up ahead the Kyr'tsad already came into view.

Sniper fire concentrated on the localized threats - leaders and their seconds to maximize the chaos, right before the main force of Vizsla crashed into their ranks from the side. Hopefully this would destabilize their forces enough for the main UCM troops to break free from their starport.

 

[Davon Karr]

See first post for updated objectives!​

Objective: 6
Location: Hunting camp near Kilikt nest

Chink chink chink chink

Davon inspected the edge of his wickedly curved beskad, cautious not to allow his gloved hands to touch the region he was working on. It took a special, super-heated sharpening stone just to soften beskar enough to let him renew the keen edge. Just one small part of the blade had dulled, but given how much work was involved it was easier to deal with that now than in a few years.

The cathar hunters were certainly a wound up of individuals. They seemed more and more twitchy as they time drew near. By contrast the Mandalorians were quiet and efficient in their preparations. Not that there was much to prepare. He had his lever-arch scattergun and a beskad. No grenades, no armour. Not ideal, but apparently this was what it took to win them over.

Chink chink chink chink

Two of the cathar had turned on each other, claws and fur flying. The locals were ignoring it, so Davon did too.

Content, he placed his beskad down on the grass to cool. The stone, which rested on a small plasma generator was still white hot.

 

[50H31]

The sun set over Freehold. On odd city, a new one, made of steel among the rocks and built as shelter, a temple from the oncoming storm. Even Five-oh had underestimated the need for such a place in the Galaxy. Heaven had sent many here, droid, organic, refugee, priest, and now, something new had arrived on the horizon. The Clans of Mandalore. They were known to be proud and warlike, but Five-oh needed more than that. Would they be allies? Enemies? These people, these strangers, had their own clans and governance. Would they respect the will of Heaven? Or would this be an uneasy alliance at best. Many thoughts crossed the droid's mind as he sat at the entrance of Heaven's Gate. A large road. He waited for the delegation.


As it stood, he stood with a few others. IN-M8 was there, leaning on a light post. Another delegate, a human in priestly robes, was also waiting.


Meanwhile, at the Hangars, a second group was waiting. The Docent class droids, each in in different colored robes. One black, one green, and one blue. They levitated somberly. Should any of the Mandalorians instead arrive at the hangars, they would be met by the three happy floating figures.Regardless, they would contact him soon enough.



Five meditated and prayed. Heaven would help them find a way to move forward, alongside the many who would demand more or less from these visitors. It would be fascinating, he supposed. And terrifying. New people, and new answers.


Meanwhile, Natsumi, the cheerful Tybis, munched on a bit of fodder. She seemed to like the climate substantially. That was nice. Of course, Natsumi was happy wherever the road was. Five envied the simplicity of her life at times.

 

[Vilaz Munin]

Location: Hunting camp
Objective: 6
Allies: Cathar warriors and Manods ([member="Davon Karr"])

If there was one thing the Field Marshal really knew about Cathar, it was that his ancestors conquered this world during the Mandalorian Wars and drove the Cathar species to near-extinction along with the giant beetles of this planet. After that, the Mandalorians never set foot upon this barren world with the only significant life were the tree-cities, the Cathar people, and the Kitlik beetles...until today.

No doubt the natives were uneasy when they saw their old foe setting afoot on their planet and thought that history was about to repeat themselves; however, this generation of Mandalorians were not like the ones that had conquered this would and drove this species to the brink of extinction. No, they didn't go off and raid, pillage, and destroy the absolute feth out of civilizations and whatnot. No, they were thoughtful and mindful before they committed to attacking a world.

Don't know where Raxis was pulling all the BS from his shebs.

The man was swinging a Mandalorian Steel beskad in the air as he was loosing up his arms and whatever knots. A crossbow which was nothing like Orar'bev since it was a traditional type of crossbow that didn't break the sound barrier with a pull of the trigger. A quill full of arrows was with him and a Chaavla revolver with Coin Shot slugs.

Not wearing armor was a strange thing for the Redneck, but it was a challenge decreed by the Catharians if they were to win their loyalty. And it was a challenge that all Mandalorians accepted unhesitatingly.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Location: Hunting Camp
Objective: Kiltik Killing
[member="Vilaz Munin"] [member="Davon Karr"]
[Post 4]

Draco rolled his neck, flexing the muscles and tendons within, getting lose before the hunting began. The Cathar had a ritual about clearing these hives, and given his current outlook on the Force it would benefit him to follow that ritual to the letter of the law.

They indicated that no armor and no firearms be taken. That a warrior had only themselves and a sword, an extension of the warrior, when entering the Kiltik hives for cleansing, proving their worth as warriors, and more importantly, the ritual supposedly aided the Cathar of old in purging their inner darkness, something Draco was now searching for. Ever since speaking with the Guardian he had desired to purge and conquer his own evil, and though it would be a long and difficult road, he was already well on the path.

The Force had returned to him, not completely, but it was there. His mental abilities were waning having been lost at the time of his severing and never fully regained, and probably never would. Furthermore the warrior was only just now beginning to understand the mystical power source, late in his life and his training. Never before exposed to understanding or discovering the nature and flow of the Force, the warrior had only been taught its brute force applications, and it felt as though he was restarting. Perhaps there were benefits to restarting given his new outlook, how long it had taken for his bonds to the Force to heal and return to him, and even then, different. Lesser than he remembered.

There were other Mandalorians, and other Cathar in the small camp preparing to go into the nest. Each warrior was intended to go alone, though they would likely cross paths once inside. For such a large nest, no single warrior was considered able, and thus the priests and tribes of the Cathar were allowing multiple people to participate all at once. Even now the felinoid creatures were painting glyphs and runes on each other, most of the Mandalorians sitting out, focusing on sharpening their blades and centering their minds before a battle.

The Mandalorians were conquerors. Destroyers. Raiders. Mercenaries. But, there were some that felt it was easier to assimilate other cultures into the clans, especially one as old and as proud as the Cathar. When presented with this challenge, many warriors jumped at it. Some for other reasons, some for personal reasons like himself. In the end, this was one of the times Draco was glad they were not just conquerors, not just destroyers.

Draco, however decided that he would participate in the wearing of the ancient, symbolic glyphs. He pulled off his shirt, adjusting his belt around his kidneys and stomach, stomping his boots on the ground to shake mud and dust from them. "Go ahead if you wouldn't mind." He said softly, taking a seat in front of a young female who was assisting the warriors in painting their backs and shoulders. The paint stained, so that it would remain on the skin and in the short fur of the Cathar. The female applied the ink on his skin, the cool breeze brushing against the paint, chilling it just a little more than the rest of his skin as she worked, no two warriors painted with the same glyphs in the same places, and he was no exception.

 

[Caspian Rekali]

Location: Hunting Camp
Objective: Kitlik Killing
Allies: [member="Draco Vereen"] [member="Vilaz Munin"] [member="Davon Karr"]
Post: 1

Caspian stood alongside the other mandalorian warriors who gathered in the small hunting camp, finishing up his stretching. An intense fight was ahead of them and he made it a practice to get his muscles working and ready before jumping into the fray. It has been many years since the Mandalorians once stepped foot on Cathar but then they came as conquerors, destroyers rather than allies and friends. Time, the galaxy, perhaps even the mandalorians themselves might have forgotten the dark scar they left on the world but the people here never forgot the great tragedy these armored honor bound warriors brought to their homeworld. Countless lives lost and nearly an entire generation of this people were put to the sword, and no amount of apologizing could never right the wrong. But the Cathar people too were honor bound and there was hope to mend the wound.

There was an ancient cathar tradition where to prove their worth, right their wrong and be accepted back into society warriors would enter a kitlik hive, a race of aggressive beetle like creatures without any armor, firearms or explosives. Just themselves, the blades in their hands, a strong will and determination to survive to accompany them as they risked it all solely for honor. There was an ancient ritual that came along with this rite and ritual painting was commonly practiced. Perhaps years earlier Caspian would've thought it absurd, ridiculous even and ignored their traditions. But that was a different time and a younger, more reckless boy. It was his grandfather [member="Ember Rekali"] who took that boy and made him into a man, who changed his life. It was he who enlightened the ignorant boy and opened his mind to embrace the diversity of his heritage, to embrace and welcome the many cultures around him and to be more open minded.

But now the bright mind of his grandfather was forever extinguished, taken from the world by a vile monster while he valiantly defended the homeworld of a nation who could never properly thank him for what he had done, what he had sacrificed for honor, family. Caspian's own father died many years ago and up until Ember he never really had a stable father figure in his life. The pain was still there and Caspian dealt with it the only way he knew how: bury it. Now that he was gone Ember was watching down on his family, protecting them from the netherworld of the force as he always did in life. He would honor his grandfather by living by the morals and values the man drilled into him, what it truly meant to carry the name Rekali.

He would honor all rituals associated with the rite they were about to undertake. He pulled off his shirt revealing the countless Mando'a, Vahla, and Dathomiri tattoos that sleeved up and down both arms and up across the ridge of his upper back, and sat down next to the Dragon of Mandalore. A young woman came and painted the ancient glyphs which were different for each and every warrior, never in the same place. She painted his glyphs on his chest and lower back. Caspian carried with him only the hilt of his Rekali Witchsword, and two Thorn of Rhyloth hookblades. It was all he needed against these creatures.

 

[Davon Karr]

Objective 6 Kilikt hunting

[member="Caspian Rekali"] [member="Draco Vereen"] [member="Vilaz Munin"]

Davon rolled his broad shoulders, before settling his beskad in its sheath on his back. Not as quickly to draw, but the blade was too unwieldy to have at the hip. One of the cathar hunters sauntered over towards him. On the far side of the room Davon could see the pair who had been in the scuffle licking at wounds across their forearms. Tempers were riding high, too many young hunters in a small space. They lacked the discipline of the mandalorians, that was apparent.

"We'll scout out the best tunnels that connect to the hive. Just follow our lead," the cathar spoke in broken basic, their common language. As several hunters filed out, Davon barked that out in mandalorian for the others to hear.

The cathar seemed to appraise him carefully for a few seconds. "Sure you want come? This is more...for...young...hot heads..."

Davon regarded the feline in return. He'd followed that train of thought enough times on his own. He chose not to take offense at the comment. He had retired from the front lines. But Davon had buried children and grandchildren and on Agamar he had lost his husband. His home world was safe, but it didnt feel quite like home, not any more. Davon found his nerves frayed nearly constantly, his temper always short. For now, this was all he had.

"Don't worry about me," Davon replied with a low chuckle.

"Very well," the cathar replied as another hunter jogged back to the main group. "They have found some ways in. Time to go."