Private Omen of Durace

[Melinda Bloodscrawl]

Armed with: Herself.

Coruscant, Space Port

Vale Tudo, an Iridonian Dark Jedi Assassin, arrived around sunset at the Space Port. He was dressed in a sleek all black business suit. Even the shirt and tie was black.

Vale was the sort of person who got hired when one was rich enough to afford more than just your bog standard Mandalorian but not enough to tempt an actual full on Sith into a contract.

Let it be said that Vale wasn't a slouch, either. His reputation as an effective, vicious assassin was well deserved, and he specialized in using his telekinesis in creative ways, with the Force Choke being considered a specialty of his.

He was here to kill a Senatorial Candidate from a fringe Alliance World that had refused his employer's generous offer of favors and bribes. It would look like an accident. Ideally, he would die in his sleep from asphyxiation.

His cover was airtight. He was a wealthy gambler and was planning to visit a Casino that was here.

He had made two mistakes.

One, the Candidate he had threatened was secretly an agent of House Bloodscrawl. He had made requests for protection as soon as Bribe attempts turned to open threats.

Second, the Spaceport he had arrived at was owned by Bacta-Works. His location had been given away within minutes. Truth was, House Bloodscrawl was brutally and secretively targeting any Dark Side User they could find, not willing to let them threaten the hard won stability being maintained by Alicio Organa . They had their ears in the underworld. Vale had been on their Radar for months.

Soon a Taxi would arrive and he would be off to a Five Star Hotel to await the Candidate's arrival.

He breathed in fresh evening air as he waited for his repulsor taxi to show up by the curb of the space port entrance. He was constantly alert, watching the crowds across the street from the port, the Hotel looming in the distance.

Vale was confident in his chances of success. The Candidate was well guarded, but that had never stopped him before.

"Excuse me!" chittered a silvery protocol droid that waddled up to him

Vale frowned. "What is it, Droid?" He asked, tone even.

"I'm handing out flyers for the grand opening of a new war memorial commissioned by Bacta-Works CEO Sera Mina and was wondering if you would be interested in having one!" The Protocol Droid chirped, holding up flyers for the obelisk like Memorial soon to be unveiled. That the set up had something to do with death was House Bloodscrawl's twisted idea of a joke with its prey. A joke the prey didn't know it was being told.

"Sure. Why not..." Vale said, taking a flyer.

Just then, Vale saw what looked like a funeral procession. A bunch of people dressed in black, carrying something long and boxy. A coffin. They were playing horns and flutes and trumpets in a slow, mournful manner. The road had been cleared...

He felt discomfort, a warning in the Dark Side, but he couldn't place it.

"Wonder who's funeral it is..." he muttered at the slowly moving crowd as he waited for his Taxi, the procession slowly moving in front of them.

"Wonder who's so worth burying that they'll hold up street traffic..." He muttered.

"How about you?" The Protocol droid asked, a silvery tendril of nanites holding a vibrodagger erupting from the side of its arm and into his side, piercing his ribcage and into his heart, killing him before he could react, mouth going slack in shock as the procession came to a stop in front of him and he fell to the ground a corpse, quickly rolled underneath the coffin where a trap door on the bottom opened, mechanical tendrils scooping the body up into it, the trap door shutting.

The leader of the procession, in reality a heavily disguised Nathan Bloodscrawl suddenly sounded off in a joyous manner with his horn, wearing a straight up fake mustache and glasses that made him look like a parody of Groucho Marx and everyone in the Funeral Procession threw up their hands and started dancing and playing their instruments joyously as they marched faster down the road, still carrying the coffin (When you were young, and your heart was an open book: 7000 XP)

The Protocol Droid waited a few minutes until the mobile funeral team that had pulled off the execution was out of site, and proceeded walking off, handing out the last of its flyers before wandering off the premesis. The street cameras had recorded nothing, and House Bloodscrawl has made sure everyone at the Space Port, including the Exterior Perimeter, was someone who worked for them.

As it wandered, the Droid headed for an alley. What stepped out of that alley, wasn't a Protocol Droid, but a slender looking young woman with golden tan skin and straight gold blonde hair in a red Cocktail Dress and matching Stilettos.

Melissa Bloodscrawl happily whistled down the street, proud that her Family were masters of Trollish Methods of killing enemies...

She was soon headed to her own custom crimson Interceptor , waiting at a nearby space port also owned by their family (They owned fifteen major space ports on Coruscant and were looking to control or build more). It was to become the official Starfighter of their House, still hidden in shadow from the Alliance.

She had been planning to head home to Kytrand to spend some time with her other sisters when a transmission came in from Melissa as soon as she got into the cockpit.

"Yes, Sister?" Melinda, codes as the youngest of Nathan's artificial sisters to the Sister who outranked her, Melissa Bloodscrawl , appearing on a mini holographic projector.

"Lindy, we have an emergency. Just got a transmission from Nathan. He needs you to take a priority assignment to The Durace System..."

Melinda frowned. "Isn't that Maw stomping grounds?"

Melissa nodded. "He'll explain more once you rendezvous with one of our stealth cruisers in the area. One of our spies dumped a bit of info our way. Concerning the Maw Warrior known as Thomas Barran ."

Melinda raised an immaculate blonde eyebrow.

"What, exactly?"

"He's got a bunch of Mando's about to roll on him. I need you in that system fast, Sister." Melissa replied.

Melinda nodded. "I'll be there at once."

Her interceptor rocketed off out of the Atmosphere of Coruscant...

 

[Thomas Barran]

BLOODHOUND KHAN

Tags
Melinda Bloodscrawl

[THEME]

OMEN OF DURACE
1​

VALLEY OF THE DEAD,
DURACE, THE UNKNOWN REGIONS (902 ABY)

'Ah, yes.... I had a feeling you'd be showin' up at some point. But I see no carbonite here.'​

'Not now, Thomas.... The ride ends here - for you and that sword of yours.', the Bounty Hunter responded, signalling for his comrades to fan out in the attempt to surrounded their one-eyed target, a good few more in attendance than there were in their previous encounter. Barran couldn't ignore the extra lengths endeavoured to trap him, but when the Mandalorians surrounding him stopped in their tracks, it would be clear they wanted to gun him down on the spot, shouldering disruptor rifles without taking the chances of fighting the monster they assumed he had become.

'What has this Galaxy come to, huh? Ye can't even bring yourselves to let an old man walk down memory lane these days!'

'Ya know what, Daru? Kark it!', the Great Khan continued, trailing off to pull the Golden Skull mask from his face as he slipped out from beneath his cloak, and all with a singular, particularly violent purpose in mind. For this, the Promise (the sword he forged for the Mongrel) would need to remain in her scabbard-bound slumber, as this kind of danger only required one particular sort of response, and when Bloodhound Khan concluded,'I was jus' droppin' onto Durace, visiting out o' curiosity.... But now, I think I'll just claim it as my home! The very same Steppes that made me who I am now - the capital world of my fledgling REEEEALM!!!!', the ground would shake and tremor beneath the feet of his adversaries.

Telling much of the dangers these Bounty Hunters were nearing in turn.

​

With all that the shadow within could muster, Thomas would find himself sensing there was more to this sudden attack, almost as if their silence was anything but fear in these moments, a quiet confidence of which Barran found deeply unsettling. Putting the one-eyed Woad on edge for the first time in years, and it made him feel like a cornered beast again, like he was once again incarcerated by his enemies, almost confirmed when all but a select few stepped back in an act to conserve manpower. Or at least, this was how it appeared until the aforementioned few stepped forward, drawing blades with a confidence that rivalled that of an accomplished Alor.

'My apologies, Thomas.... I would have buried you here, and with all the respect your culture affords.... All you needed to do was accept your fate, but these contractors here wanted you to go out fighting - seeking an excuse to take your head as a trophy.'

​

Bloodhound Khan visibly smiled at that remark, appreciating the barbarity surging through the bloodstreams of his would-be opponents, but in the understanding that this also meant he could fully exert himself, Barran would quickly find himself unable to hold back the wildest possible shriek of mirth. Screaming with a delight of which he thought had died with the turn of the century, a delight of which he couldn't even feel when he discovered the hidden nuances of Inherited Will, and by the time his laughter descended to a dewy-eyed wheeze, Thomas knew his soul was ready for any and all outcomes that night.

Even as the stormy clouds rolled ever closer from the mountains to the south, carrying flashing thunderclaps as if under the arm of the storm itself, there was a sense of peace in planting his feet on a world he always denied to be his home. Deep down, in his heart-of-hearts, Barran always knew the truth that someday (mattering little as to whether it would be sooner or later) Durace would become the homeworld, the capital planet of his new realm; the base foundation, the gravtitational magnet that would hold his floating palace in place forevermore, this was where the eventual final stand would be fought.

'Better to reign here for a day than it is to die on the run, Daru! I'M HOME NOW!!!!"

 

[Melinda Bloodscrawl]

One hour before the ambush on Thomas Barran occured...


Her stealth interceptor came out in the Durace System, the Wild Karrde Replica having transmitted an encrypted signal to guide her to it.

She landed on the completely cleared out deck, where Melissa Bloodscrawl awaited in a crimson catsuit.

"Greetings, Sister..." Melissa greeted. "I trust your trip wasn't too difficult?"

"No. Why are you out here, Melissa?" Melinda asked in curiosity, morphing her form to look like she wore a similar red catsuit.

"I'm mission control for this. Follow me..." Melissa said, leading her past various Bacta-Works employees to a private briefing room, where a hologram of Thomas Barran was displayed from a projector...

"The object of interest is like our brother...a man once brutally murdered and then resurrected through murky means..." Melissa explained. "Thomas Barran is the son of the Late Erskine Barran of Galadraan. He was a cunning and extremely wily and dangerous military commander that Laertia Io's military clashed with multiple times. Curiously, while Laertia held grudges with nearly everyone she felt distracted the Galaxy from the Bryn'adul threat, Erskine wasn't one of them. They even clashed during a particularly infamous battle on Vjun where they dueled each other naked. Even after Laertia went insane, neither Erskine or anyone related to him was ever targeted off the Battlefield. He was apparently one of if not THE only opponent she genuinely respected in the Bryn'adul Wars. When the Nuetralizers heard he had passed away, They drowned a thousand Sith Imperials in a pit filled with a spirit known as Cladhan in his honor and hung their drowned bodies from cliff sides all across Khemost. They never did that for any other enemy commander. Which brings us to Thomas."

Melissa circled the hologram of the incredibly savage and dangerous warrior.

"He was killed during an orbital bombardment. According to captured Mawites we applied...extensive interrogation to--

(Cutaway of Nathan applying a feather to a mawite's foot back and forth as a form of tickle torture)

--he was found in the Forest of Broken Glass on Durace. He'd dug himself out of the mud. A particularly savage and intelligent Maw Warrior known as The Mongrel found him with a bunch of others. He was completely insane from whatever he had experienced on the other side..." Melissa added.

"Nathan told me he experienced something similar during his own return to life. He dug himself out of the very soil that he and his wife were murdered and dismembered on. He didn't do anything but scream at first. He just screamed and screamed..." Melissa trailed, looking at Thomas's image. Had Nathan gone to the same place as Thomas?

"One thing led to another, and eventually, Thomas attributed his resurrection to the Mawite gods War, Death, and Rebirth. House Io came to despise the Maw almost as much as they despised the Bryn'adul and battled them relentlessly. House Io supposedly detonated a Nuke aboard the Mawite Superweapon to destroy it. Their fleet was the first to challenge The Maw's in direct combat over Tython, and helped destroy their Super Star Destroyer."

"And if Laertia had just possessed the Good Sense to die there, there might have been a chance of her being remembered as a very malignant Anti-Hero instead of the narcissistic sociopath she is now thought of as..." Melinda mused.

"One must give Thomas his credit; At least he's open and proud about the lows he has sank to, unlike Laertia, who tried to hide how far she was gone." Melissa said with a snort. "It irritates me, honestly, that he must be kept alive, for now."

Melinda blinked nanite-forged eyes. "Why? If the Mandos bump him off our hands are clean...The Scar Hounds lose their leader."

"And we go back to the drawing board trying to figure their next move out. His death could pave the way for someone even worse. Like this monstrosity--" Melissa trailed, changing the image to that of a pale, red headed woman in a sparkling black gown that exposed her legs.

"A dangerous Mawite Sorceress preaching of the Dark Three, and carrying out particularly sadistic massacres and torture. She's low ranking for now, but she is powerful and ambitious and merciless. Her name is Ersethy ..." Melissa stated, folding her arms. "Claims to be the very first of all Force Spawn. If the Scar Hounds are to be crushed, it must be crushed all at once as much as possible, and with Thomas at the head of it...letting him die now, like this, will only create a power vacuum and uncertainty, and send us back to the drawing board guessing what the Maw will try next. Hence why The Mandos cannot be allowed to kill him."

"And if by saving him we create an opponent too powerful to defeat down the road?" Melinda asked crossly.

"The Maw has risen to prominence before. People will die regardless of whether he is left in power or not. What if he dies, and the person who replaces him really IS too powerful to defeat in addition to being a potentially nastier customer by a country parsec? What you fear might happen anyway, regardless if he lives or dies. Better the Devil you're familiar with than the Devil you aren't..." Melissa replied patiently.

Melinda simulated a sigh.

"I'll be down there in a jiff..." she confirmed.

"I'm really sorry about this...but now is not the right time..." Melissa said to her "younger" sister in sympathy.

Present...

Melinda had landed on the hellscape world with an EFR Heavy Blaster that had a scope and a Tripod, tailing the Mandalorians who had also landed here.

These ones apparently had history with him if her Nanite audio tech was any indication. She approached Cloaked. Aiming the heavy rifle at the ones staying behind the others, targeting the joints.

She watched Thomas laugh in mirth...

...and then something strange happened to her nanites.

They glitched.

The particular mass of Nanites she was composed of had been found in storage aboard a House Io ship as a blank slate...

But that was because it's original memories had been wiped.

As she stared for a second at Thomas through the scope, her nanites, deep in their atomic circuitry recalled a fragment of memory on a burnt city scape, dueling a man who Thomas bore a heavy resemblance to...she got feelings of nostalgia she didn't understand, a cunning old man with a cunning style that confounded her programming.

You see, Melinda wasn't just any Advanced Model 1.

She was the Advanced Model 1 that had once fought Erskine Barran himself during an invasion.

 

[Thomas Barran]

BLOODHOUND KHAN

Tags
Melinda Bloodscrawl

[THEME]

OMEN OF DURACE
2​

VALLEY OF THE DEAD,
DURACE, THE UNKNOWN REGIONS (902 ABY)

'You might recognise the way we fight, Goidel! Lets see if you can figure it out!'
​

The one-eyed Woad, as much as his first-life heritage might have played a part in his approach to duelling, only ever treated the strongest of opponents with that sword-saluting reverence for which his kinsmen were renowned; and as much as he wanted to give Daru Fett's new associates the benefit of the doubt, Thomas couldn't ignore the fact these sword-wielding opponents could only muster power enough for murder, marking it as a meagre, lesser form of fighting ferocity. Whoever had trained them had obviously known the sort of training required to clash with the greats, but in their haste, or lack of time, had left much to be desired in the ways of perception and ascendant progression alike.

This was not the work of other Mandalorians, nor of other Barrans, but of someone else within the Goidelic sphere - and the Bloodhound was already getting very close to the answer.

Initiating the attack before his assailants could enact their own, Thomas made a barbed point of putting his opposition on the back-foot, practically leaping into a sprint before they could even think of applying pressure with their numerical advantage, and like clockwork, the mouthy one would step out to one side in the hopes he could study the Khan a little more closely. An unwise choice, as was the decision of his peers, rushing Barran's advance without that extra, third-angle backbone there to back them up, even coordinating with well-trained strike combinations down the center line. These were easy to evade, easy to predict with the blade-length of their Beskad swords considered, as they always required a followup that resulted in advancing into the reach-pocket, even when faced with visible efforts to forge lengthened variants.

Every part of this ambush was tailored with the one-eyed Woad in mind, and as much as it brought many concerns to the fore, it left all the same openings his own subordinates had left for his brother on Coruscant; giving rise to the sudden realisation that their tutor would be one of two remaining suspects, one had already perished to his sword, and the other was the son of the man he defeated all those years ago. There were none others living who knew how to force center-line precision that way, a Meyerite method as rare as the individual who perfected it for combat, but in that same recognition hid the sort of rage he needed most, that which carried the Khan much farther than regular combat ever could.

Then out of nowhere, in true knee-jerk fashion, Thomas sneered as he clicked his fingers, willing with hands aimed firmly at the knees of his adversaries, throwing all compulsion, all impulse, all need into his intent to propel as much harm as possible down the center line. A rush of weighted motion, carrying a sharp impact on a wave of audiological amplification, and though it was certainly a lesser, weaker answer to his younger brother's Click-Wave technique, the nearest assailants would quickly learn how little it would matter when faced with their agonies on impact.

Click Click
SNAP SNAP​

Shrieking ensued, and judging by the reaction of the others, these screams were unlike any these Mandalorians had heard for a long time, reminiscent of times when war was a much darker affair for these veterans. Brutal and often-gruelling though their private contracts had been in the past, especially with the Heathen Saint of Rogues and Outlaws considered, nothing would compare to the last years of Total War in the Galaxy's previous century. The perfect reminder of the risks the small headhunting party had known they would be facing, but something still seemed quite awry, as he still suspected their ease of sacrifice, almost as if this little trio were making a sacrifice they felt was worth untold suffering.

'In answer t'yer question, I'll throw another in response... Though as far as yer Meyerite training is concerned, I do recognise it, but I must ask - d'ye really think it'll save ye here, against the Goidel who slew the man who perfected it?'

Click Click
SNAP SNAP
​

Instead of attacking the unharmed kneecaps, the Bloodhound felt justified enough to inflict more torture on his nemeses, thus chose to worsen the condition of the knees he had attacked before, hoping it was enough to make them sing with the truth of their ill-fated battle plan. The third assailant was shuddering, seemingly glued to the spot, granting the one-eyed Woad enough time to reach for his sword, still in her scabbard at the time. Even expecting to be struck on his way, or at least to be told to stop, Barran would soon find himself pleasantly surprised to see that the talkative one was silently processing the screams of his two battle-brothers instead - transfixed with Beskad longsword barely in his grip.

But then, Thomas found himself getting the sudden urge to use his Force Sense abilities, and just as the Promise was unsheathed with intent to test a solo opponent, the truth of this seemingly dumb plan would illuminate in Barran's mind like a mural. Proving his sneaking suspicions, and not a moment too soon it seemed, as in the very moment the Khan let the intoxicating rage subside enough for a little focus, nine others would be found approaching from all sides. However, much to Barran's great surprise, there was a tenth out there, carrying entirely different Midichlorian variants, and with it - differing entirely in overall intent.

~=If yer helpin'.... Be wise about it, pick yer moment. Nae harm in,"Waitin' yer turn.", as they say.=~
~= But for now, sláinte - an' enjoy the show!=~​

Adopting fool's guard from a Fiorist stance on a feigned starting point, the one-eyed Woad then pulled his eyepatch away to reveal his blood-ruby, practically glowing by then. But then the Bloodhound began to dance around as he struck at nobody in particular, then the rain began to sound off, bouncing off the helmets of all the Bounty Hunters in attendance; even bouncing off the helmets belonging to the two headhunters still writhing around in the midst of crippling incapacitation, and all the while the Khan was still quite happy slicing at increasingly-large raindrops, drawing quite the uncanny picture as to how small those first droplets must have been.

Thomas had taken the rage from his soul, beaten it to submission, and with it, he was finding new levels of meditative calm - such that only served to further-unsettle his approaching assailants.

'HE FETHING KNOWS!!!! HE KNOWS HE'S BEING AMBUSHED!!!!'

~=Welcome to the crucible, my young acquaintance.=~
​

As the headhunters approached sprinting from all corners behind him, the Khan chuckled as he pivoted around to meet the attack head-on, as one had been fast enough to close the gap between them; but for all his bluster, and all his lightfooted stealthiness, the quick sprinter had missed his mark like many a lesser warrior before him. Likely the ambush's greatest hope of success, the true gambit hidden in the feigned all-or-nothing opener, and all that was required to counter it was a good sense of rhythmic timing, forcing the ambush into little more than a trench fight.

Barran's natural habitat.

 

[Melinda Bloodscrawl]

"Lindy?" Melissa called out in an encrypted transmission to her nanites from the stealth ship. "Your systems glitched for a second on our monitors..."

"I'm fine..." Melinda said, even as the data fragment made her see the flashes of Erskine's sword savagely defending against her arm blades intermittently between observing the combat style of Thomas Barran as he cunningly slaughtered whoever got close.

Thomas Barran's indirect similarities to her brother had disturbed her. The more she learned, the more disturbed by the similarities she got.

Both from prominent families in their respective cultures. Both dedicated to their ideals. Both cut down cruelly and unjustly.

Both resurrected as men out for revenge. Mentally ill, despite their obvious intelligence. Melinda knew Nathan wasn't without his little aspects of insanity. His hatred of Brain Demon Cultists was outright maniacal.

He was just actively managing it, trying to genuinely listen to his family to avoid turning into his daughter.

But the data fragments added a whole other level to it. Melinda didn't understand what was happening. She felt a feeling of Nostalgia that refused to leave her as she watched Thomas fight.

She wanted to fight him herself even though it made no sense.

More attackers showed. While Thomas killed the closest to him, Melinda decided to act at last, firing her scoped EFR Heavy Blaster in short, controlled bursts--

(Cutaway of the Xenomorph reactor ambush in Aliens)

The bolts punched through joints and visors, due to even short bursts coming so rapidly that they shredded through the weakest parts of the Mandalorian's armor.

Melinda rose up, slaying or severely wounding the attackers in the rear of the assault, coming under fire from surprised and enraged survivors...but the trouble with this was it just exposed their visors and necks better to her blaster fire. She dropped the rearward attackers, waiting until Thomas had finished off the ones closest to him, hopping down to walk up to him.

Uncertainty over the flickering data fragments of fighting his father made her hesitant to speak to the blood spattered warrior at first.

"Quite the combat technique..." Melinda complimented, the mass of Nanomachines (SON!) that she was composed of analyzing everything, body language, eye movement, breathing rate. Some of it reminded her heavily of Erskine...much of it however, didn't...

Erskine was a man fighting for something more than his bloodlust. Something comprehensible even to something inhuman like Melinda.

Melinda did not comprehend the attraction to the Maw faith. What's the appeal in destroying the universe? Were they seriously all that unhappy with the current state of things? Much like Darth Phyre, Melinda thought the Maw Gods were lying, and that they had something even worse than death planned for their own followers...

Melinda's body reflected everything from the neck down like a crimson mirror, her mass made to look like she wore a catsuit. It eerily reflected Thomas himself.

The environment was as dead as the Mando's around them, angry lightning flashing across her body...

"So...what was their beef with you?" Melinda asked, her nanites replacing Thomas with Erskine for a split second in her mind...

 

[Thomas Barran]

BLOODHOUND KHAN

Tags
Melinda Bloodscrawl

[THEME]

OMEN OF DURACE
3​

VALLEY OF THE DEAD,
DURACE, THE UNKNOWN REGIONS (902 ABY)

'Eeeeeh- honestly? I'm supposed be in jail, mate.... On Kolene, but - uh - Kolene's empty now.'
​

Shrugging as if this was just one of the Galaxy's many mysterious ways, as if such an outlandish claim was nothing new in a Galaxy gone mad, the Khan chose then to guard his words with specificity as he continued,'An' these unlucky bastards are the ones who dragged me to my jailers, an' twice over.... Seems like they couldn't stomach the shame of a third capture, however-', trailing off as one of the lengthened Beskads glinted the reflection of a distant lightning flash in the eye that remained. But despite the fast approach of the storm in the north, the one-eyed Woad found himself pondering about the one who likely suggested such Beskad variants in the first place, the one who trained them how to use them against Goidelic opposition.

'Heh! Well.... As for the one who trained these Mandos to fight with these longer Beskads, I slew his father in single combat, twenty-one years ago.... on Nirauan.'

​

Finally taking a moment to properly comprehend what had just transpired, Barran soon trailed off again, considering the ever-illusive Brandon Gowrie as he muttered,'Never met the son, though.', almost taking to himself as his gaze studied the Beskad's cultural meshing of form and design. Fully-aware of previous failures to combine the best attributes of Mandalorian and Goidelic sword-smithing, and with them, fully aware of the curse of perfect opposites; as all things between their warriors would reflect in the fighting styles of both cultures, representing mutually-potent roles as perpetual nightmare matchups, resulting in wildly ascendant clashes like that which was fought between his own father and Shai Maji on Ilum.

'Speakin' o' which, I never met you afore either.... Lets fix that, hm?'

Extending his right hand in offer of amiable acquaintance, regardless of whether it was in fellowship or professionalism, as the sudden extension of his life-expectancy seemed to make such particulars seem quite trivial under the circumstances, a curiosity that mattered little with the foiled assassination attempt considered. After all, this warrior had spilled the blood of the Great Khan's assailants, and according a vast majority of the Mawsworn Tribes, such strong acts of valorous loyalty assured her status as an honorary Marauder.

Worthy of song and Magnardom alike.

'I'm Thomas of Clan Barran - much obliged for the help by the way.'

 

[Melinda Bloodscrawl]

Melinda took the hand offered and firmly shook it. Her memory data glitched again, and she again saw Erskine Barran dishing out advice to her.

Everything else had been blanked out, but the memory of fighting Erskine was so strong it couldn't be wiped out. It had been one of the defining moments of her original life.

She had not been expecting him to extend his hand in gratitude. She had expected suspicion. Hostility. It wasn't even thirty seconds into her interaction with Thomas Barran and he already had her off balance and uncertain just like his father had .

Erskine to this day remained one of a handful of ordinary organics who had survived a close range battle with an Advanced Model 1

"Melinda..." Melinda said. "Of the House that watches from shadows..."

That was the closest her programming allowed her to get to directly telling him who she served.

"And you're welcome for the help..." Melinda answered.

"Mandalorians never like the idea of a job they perceive as half finished...but if they came this prepared--"

Melinda wheeled around, saw a bunch of fast moving shuttles in the distance. On loud speakers a catchy song in the Galadraani language played, indicating at least one of the bastards coming to kill them possessed a dangerous level of Meta-Awareness.

"In some cultures the greatness of a man is measured by the amounts of enemies he possesses." Melinda mused as multiple rockets began to be discharged their direction.

Her scoped rifle snapped to attention, and short bursts aimed with impossible speed at the seven that sped towards them, her super accurate burst fire and reflexes destroying all of them.

"Honestly, that they feel the need to resort to overkill could be taken as a weird compliment of sorts." Melinda remarked dryly as each shuttle, still closing in, pivoted to the side to reveal a Mandalorian gunner behind a pintel-mounted Z-6 Rotary cannon.

"SO ANYWAY, TOMMY-BOY...WE STARTED BLASTIN'!!!" One of the Pilots yelled over the speaker as they all fired at once.

Melinda moved extremely fast, this time on full auto as she targeted the cannons directly on two, destroying the guns and killing the gunners, but was then forced to retreat away from the fast approaching shuttles... though she still stuck a few meters close to Erskine's son, refusing to abandon him, the memory of his father's sword fighting haunting her data streams in her Nanites, burning deeper with each passing second.

The part of her that was remembering felt she owed Erskine something. Somehow, this has become about more than following orders very quickly, despite knowing what a dangerous threat Thomas Barran was...

 

[Thomas Barran]

BLOODHOUND KHAN

Tags
Melinda Bloodscrawl

[THEME]

OMEN OF DURACE
4​

VALLEY OF THE DEAD,
DURACE, THE UNKNOWN REGIONS (902 ABY)

'Well met, Melinda.'
​

Amiable, fortunately, as even after the clash, there was no way of knowing her intent until his good will was met in the middle, though the full appreciation would be seen garnered toward Melinda's perspective on the Bloodhound's assailants, nodding in an affirmative, smirking nod. But just when Thomas was on the precipice of passing comment on the matter, the attentions of both unlikely acquaintances would be taken by the engines, the speakers, and soon after, the voices that preceded the mayhem they were positioning to unleash.

'GYAAAAAH - I ACTUALLY LIKE THAT SONG THOUGH!!!! NO FAIR!!!!'

​

These assassin-hopefuls, and likely in a reflection of all that a weighty bounty had promised, had endeavoured their research, and delved deep. This was no longer a matter of contractual frustration, likely changing the moment they dropped Barran on Kolene, and in an absolute refusal to incarcerate him a third time, the Khan's liberty was likely the last insult. It had become personal, and for all of Daru Fett's cool, calm approach to the operation, the one-eyed Woad knew they had the most visceral axes to grind with their quarry, instigating a supremely-dejected sigh in response.

'Naaaah, no way I'm lettin' that slide now!'

Leaping from his next starting point, the Bloodhound sprinted toward the approaching shuttles with Melinda keeping up close behind, though the replying attack by their distant assailants soon changed Barran's next move, launching a large salvo of rockets in the unlikely duo's direction in the hope that the heavy-explosive saturation finished what the swordsmen could not. Once again smirking, it was then that Thomas began to believe he was better off taking such gestures as compliments, remarking,'At this rate, we might as well consider it a Mandalorian love-letter to the Goidels!', wheezing mirthfully as rockets and targets continued to approach the makings of ground-zero.

'Time for a cold front-'

Didn't want to break out the tricks again, but here goes nothing.
Thermal Death it is then....
​

'EMBRACE THE CHILL, FEAR NO FLAME!!!!'

​

With a backhand swipe, wide enough that it covered Melinda in equal measure, the Khan created a cold front wide enough to pass through, immediately killing their thermal outputs, and in clear sight of pilot and projectile alike. The missiles delayed in their reaction for a short moment or two, or at least, not until Barran's new acquaintance passed through Death's icy wall; but then, as Thomas expected, the projectiles near-immediately veered in all directions without a viable target to track. Most would visibly veer against the grain of their natural trajectories, careening into other warheads and detonating in overlapping succession, though others would screen out wide to crash into the surrounding mountains, but these were not the detonations the unlikely duo were worrying about.

Not with so many still heading towards their generation direction, fated to hit the ground, but for all the immediate worries these missiles presented, it was the ones curving up skyward that worried Barran the most, expected to fall listlessly without propellant fuel. A late after-tremor of the Mandalorian barrage, one last roadblock between the Bloodhound and the last ace up Fett's sleeve, but judging by Melinda's ability to keep up, Thomas would easily assume she retained similar levels of athletic mobility to boot. If she could survive this, then the new acquaintance would earn more renown than mere tribal affirmation could ever provide, and with it - the undying respect of a living Heathen Saint.

'Aaaaaath-BREEEEEEEIIIIITH!!!!'