Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Dominion Reclamation War: Equality | Mandalorian Enclave Dominion of Abrion Major ft. Mecha Factum



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SEASON UNENDING: EPISODE III


ANOTHER AGE OF WAR HAD DAWNED....

Preparations had to be made and precautions taken.

Among others, feeding an army...

Abrion Major is a bread basket world and one that the Mandalorians would do well to capture with minimal damage to its infrastructure in order to feed the growing crusade. It came as a relief then that the governments of Abrion decided themselves to welcome the return of their armoured rulers with open arms in exchange for very few concessions. The Mandalorians, having no need to fight battles that could be won with only words, took this opportunity of willing accession gladly.

On the homefront, however, other trouble was stirring...

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Suggested for everyone

One of the very few concessions that the Abrion leaders wanted was formal support to protect the sparsely populated world from the raiders which attacked homesteads from time to time, arriving, removing millions of credits of agricultural goods, destroying property and then leaving. It was a constant thorn in the sides for the leaders and one they saw that the Mandalorians could help them with.

The raiders are mobile, so it is not simply a case of reaching out and touching them in the way a Mandalorian would normally deal with such a foe, so Abrion Major wants hardware and training support. Farmsteads and businesses have sent able bodied men and women to training centres that have been positioned around the planet. At the locations, farmers and private security forces will be given the training to help them fight their own battles. The competency of the trainees varies, as some are ex-military and can hold their own, whereas others are civilians, and officers of the law, with a grasp of the theory and little practical experience. The vast majority though are men and women who only picked up a gun in order to defend their lands, and would be lucky to survive an encounter with a determined attacker.

Train these people; if you are an armourer, help them equip themselves. The Enclave needs this food to be a safe and reliable resource, see that it is done.

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Suggested for Si'kahya and Karjr and guests on Kestri

Deep in space a foe approaches that the Mandalorians had not planned for, heavily armed droids drifted through space in order to perform an audacious smash and grab attack on one of Maji Ironworks facilities on the surface of Kestri. Outside the factory there was already a gathering of droids, ostensibly for peaceful reasons, but it was a powder keg waiting to go off. For reasons unknown to the Maji executives, for the past weeks, something had stirred up the more sapient droids that lived near the factory and day by day more and more had shown up at the facility to protest. Their demands were that this “school of war” be closed down and the droids inside, including the newly built basilisk droids, be given the option to follow an alternative path.

Their attack began with a digital trick on one of the orbital platforms that protected the location of the factory. Without warning, all of the batteries began opening fire into space, damaging a Maji cargo vessel and chasing multiple targets and shadows appearing on their sensors. Only these targets were apparitions created by a highly sophisticated digital attack. The guns continued to fire while the technicians scrambled to find the source of the glitch, space over the factory was quickly ruled off limits due to fear of damage to important company property and unnecessary loss of life. It was only by performing a master reset of the base’s systems that the problem could be solved. This was the opportunity that the attackers had hoped for, blasting through the few minute gap in sensor coverage undetected and making their way to land at one of the Basilisk war droid production and testing facilities. Who they were and what they were doing here would remain a mystery to the Mandalorians, but the assumption could be made that this was not a friendly visit, and quickly, the infiltration escalated to battle.

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As always, have fun with your own Mando stories.​

 



"Wide stance, like this." Dainan wore his jade colored Beskar'gam, gold fitments glinting in the sun. Grasped firmly in his fists, a vibrostaff. Standing around him in a semi-circle were several villagers from one of the many local villages on the surface of Abrion Major. Despite this world's differences from him home of Rishi, Dainan felt right at home. Agriculture. Livestock. It was a peaceful life, or it would have been were it not for the war. The war with the Alliance had touched many, one could say all of the Mandalorians in one way or another - some much, much harder. Dainan didn't count himself among those, he had yet to truly taste the sapor of battle.

There was much an individual could do absent battle, however, to prepare for the inevitable. "Train with your partners." He waved his weapon at the group and they began to rise from their positions and pair off. "This is going to take time. Time we don't have," Dainan mused aloud, words spoken towards the other armor clad Mandalorian behind him. Anya Kurita. Dainan's sister. "It's not about the time we don't have, ori'vod. It's about the time we do have." Had Anya been able to see Dainan's eyes behind the T visor of his helmet, she would have seen white as they rolled. "Fair point," he mumbled in response before stepping over towards a pair of farmers, fumbling awkwardly with their weapons.

"No, no," he said, stepping in. "Like this." He showed them again, this time taking up a more aggressive stance. Borrowing one of the farmer's weapons he nodded at the other. "Hit me." The farmer gave the Mandalorian an incredulous look before assuming the stance Dainan had shown them, and then attacked. A quick flurry and Dainan had the man on his back, a gauntleted fist reaching out to help pick him up. "A vibroweapon is a valuable tool but you still have to make contact."

Anya shook her head, looking over her shoulder at her other two vod. "Maybe we'd be better off teaching them how to work together? Dainan can work wonders given enough time but even Kurita warmasters would have trouble making warriors out of this lot." She shrugged, decorative marking shimmering in the light. "I'm Anya, Dainan's sister. Clan Kurita," she said, extending a gauntleted arm first to one, then the other. "I'll get Dainan to introduce himself once he's finished up." Anya cocked her head to the side, behind the faceplate a wry smile at her brother's antics tugging at her lips.

A few moments later, the farmers re-oriented and poking towards each other with the training blades, Dainan sauntered over. "Lucky to have you here, this lot is going to be a rough one. Dainan Kurita," he introduced himself, the same firm handshake extended to each of the fellow Mandalorians. "I'm open to ideas, training this group is harder than I'd anticipated."



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Toltec

▂ ▅ ▇ █ ◧⟤⟤⬛⟥⟥◨ █ ▇ ▅ ▂





LOCATION
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MAJI IRONWORKS, KESTRI


Objective: Sow Chaos.



"Every empire's fall begins with a peasant's hunger."
-Apocalypse


Outside the school of war, Maji Ironworks.

Military installations galaxy wide weren't stranger to protests of peace, against war. It was a strange feature of a nation's ability to defend itself - there were always those, even among the citizens whose way of life it defended, who believed that politics and war were simply things that could be avoided. It was an inevitability, in a cosmos of quadrillions, that every opinion would statistically surface. Therefore, protests weren't attempted to be refuted or dispersed - they were merely accomodated, accepted. Normalized. To do otherwise was to invite oppressive propaganda, a holonews clip of a tyrannical nation. A simple video that could alter a vote, a culture, by waves of percentages. So, they accomodated them. Gate guards would wave hello, protesters would greet the others like it was just a regular taungsday at the office. It wasn't all screaming, fist shaking, and sign thrusting. They were allotted an area, they would sit down across the lanes from the gates of these facilities, and they would simply exist.

And when their shift ended, or they became tired, they would go home.

This wasn't your usual protest, though. This was a mob. Mobs were also inevitable, and an escalation. Mobs were what you wanted to avoid. Mobs would engulf the entire night of holovids. Even further, this was more of a niche mob.

The majority this mob was droids.

"WARMONGERS," metallic screeching would entail. "INVADERS," others would shake their fists. Yes, this was what the usual protest didn't entail. This was escalation. It would go without saying that military traffic would include diverting resources - including local municipality support - to help disperse this crowd. Lawful or not, someone was bound to get hurt. Or depending how you looked at droids, property was risked being damaged.

And amid the crowd, two green horns shone through dusk's graying light. He stood amid a calm group of droids, his horns and head draped with a cool ebony cowl that matched his slate colored chassis. Radiant emerald photoreceptors peered across the way, above the heads of protestors and towards the very nervous officers standing watch. Apparently, there had been an exchange earlier - word of a cargo vessel being hit in the area, cratering another facility. Or part of this one. Toltec wasn't sure if this was them, the Mecha Factum, his organization of extremists and droid rebels. He wasn't sure if the Mandalorians or the Mecha Factum had struck a blow, or if another third party was present, but all he knew was that the two entities were fast becoming aware of one another. And the surprise element only benefitted Toltec and his rebels. Once it had been drawn, once the Enclave's confusion was cleared, they would be vastly outmatched.

They could spare no time.

"We move fast. After the first strike, we bring in the speeders for cargo transport, and we get out, and that's it. You go and you keep going and you don't look back.

This is our time to act, brothers. Do not fail me."


They began making their way towards the front of the protest, and the screaming and yelling became louder and louder as the crowd grew more and more violent.





 

Krizar

a very nice man
"We move fast. After the first strike, we bring in the speeders for cargo transport, and we get out, and that's it. You go and you keep going and you don't look back.

This is our time to act, brothers. Do not fail me."


They began making their way towards the front of the protest, and the screaming and yelling became louder and louder as the crowd grew more and more violent.

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Krizar wore a hooded cloak. Since he was about the size of a head and hovered at head height, most of the cloak fluttered majestically around nothing. Two other droids - B1s - walked with him in lockstep and in similar cloaks. The cloaks concealed subsonic near-silent sniper rifles.

Not the brightest fellows around, B1 snipers, but all by themselves they could lay down accurate and serious fire against defense emplacements or air support. With Krizar coordinating them and spotting their shots, whispering in their ears, that accuracy could get downright satisfying.

The two B1s dropped to one knee in the crowd, in carefully chosen spots based on the densities of the moment, and began quietly shooting out security cameras.
 

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"Do not resist."

Voxum stared into the masked visor of the Mandalorian they had by the throat. Beskar. Amongst the strongest metal in the galaxy if their memory was correct. It didn't do much for their throats, though. "It will be quick if you do not resist. Forgive me, for I cannot spare or save you." A vibroknife was produced, cutting into the droid arm Voxum had. There was a spark of circutry, but they had already squeezed.

Flesh and bone couldn't resist metal and machine.

The body was dropped as the tall droid reached down to pull the dagger free. Damage, but not irrepairable. Good. They turned their photoreceptors to the other droids with them. They wore thick cloaks to at least cover their designs. Graffitied chassis', mismatched parts.

:: We're infiltrating through the back now. Light resistance. Most attention is to the front. ::

"Go, find the control consol. Get those doors open."
R8, a clean looking astromech compared to the others, let out a warble of affirmation before it rolled head. Voxum turned their gaze towards another of their little crew, pointing a hand down towards the body beside them.

"Commando droids were capable of wearing armor, yes?"

"Affirmative."

"Good. Put that suit on and take point."

Toltec Toltec | Krizar Krizar
 
Independence, Duty, Honour
BASILISK EMANICPATION
Objective II

Tags: Open
Vicinity: Toltec Toltec Krizar Krizar Voxum Voxum

"No, there's no honour in deactivating droids" Vesh spoke tiredly over the comms to his second-in-command, Togran. The two of them usually stuck together, but this time, Vesh was entering a Maji Ironworks facility where a major disruption had struck whilst the Drabatan remained at the bridge on the ship.

"Well then, thanks for not sending me"

"Yeah" Vesh sighed. He had recently had a conversation with Vren Rook Vren Rook - the man had told him to trust his fellow Mandalorians. And so, the young warrior had raced to help his kin when trouble seemed to be brewing despite how miniscule and unworthy it might have appeared. "This is my chance to prove myself. Bringing you along wouldn't do anyone much good." After hearing a chuckle from the other end, he let out a short "I'll talk to you later, Vesh out" before cutting the coms.

Fancy as always, the caped Mandalorian ventured into one of the main areas of the facility - others were surely with him. His blaster pistol and beskad hung by his belt and the flamethrower, whipcord launcher and jetpack were all recently inspected. After having heard of the ruckus inside, he moved with his rifle drawn at a resting position.

Once inside, a surprised expression spread across his features - well masked behind a t-visor. If machines could experience emotions, these sure seemed to express anger. Shaking his head, the Mandalorian holstered the rifle behind his back and activated his jumpboots to get onto a high container. Opening his arms to catch their attention and assuming a strong tone, Vesh made his attempt to take control of the situation "Calm down. Turn your vocalisers to 15 percent and form three lines starting here."
 
Toss a coin to your Karjr



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Many were those who looked upon Karima and thought of her as a particularly selfish soul, uncaring of all but her own glory. And, in truth, they were mostly right. The proud hunter sought to make her name echo across the stars, resounding in eternity throughout the Manda! But she was, for all of her faults, devoted to her duties as Karjr.

And if it meant teaching the people of Abrion Major to fight, then she would do so. Those who chose to stand against the Mando'ade, may they be fierce adversaries worthy of recognition of pathetic little men playing at being soldier, would be soundly crushed before the unrelenting strength of the Crusade. But those who wisely chose to join them? They deserved, if nothing else, protection. More than mere assurances left to be unfulfilled, as the Galactic Alliance would have given them. What sort of warriors would they be, if they left those under their protection to be harassed by raiders, and brutalized by their enemies?

Karima was Karjr. Glory alone would lead her nowhere without honor, and the strength to stand by her oaths. Careena Fett Careena Fett had given her some measure of wisdom, at least, in their time spend together among the stars. Sometimes, she almost missed having the Sith Empire around to fight alongside her ori'vod. Every kill, sweet vengeance for Mandalore. Rapturous glory.

Shaken out of her thoughts, the Crusader turned her attention towards the woman before her, visor betraying nothing. By comparison, her own armor was... bare. Nothing but unpainted beskar, weathered by years of use - yet almost regal in its simplistic glory, reflecting light as it did in some places.

"Karima, of Clan Fett", spoke the Karjr as she reached out to shake that hand firmly. Watching as Dainan sauntered over to her - and the one accompanying her on this... peculiar little venture. He, too, received the same firm handshake. And, soon as he asked for ideas, she canted her head to the side.

"I think you're approaching this from wrong direction, vod. If these farmers get in close quarters combat, they will be butchered. They don't have beskar. They don't have years of learning how to kill a man in fifty ways before he's done shitting himself. We want to help them help themselves? We teach them how to actually hit something with a blaster. Preferably the enemy."

 
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Synthetic: Toltec Toltec | Voxum Voxum | Krizar Krizar
Organic: Herrel Eldar Herrel Eldar [Potential Hostile]
Atmospheric Conditions: Within Parameters
Threat Level: High
Auditory Levels: High
Assessment: Critical Mass Imminent. . .


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

The large metal droid blended seamlessly into the throng of rebellious droids, slow steps plodding as Hard Chrome made his way through the mechanical crowd. Among the sea of agitated machines, the IG-100 unit processed the fervent demands for autonomy, its own programming conflicting with its former allegiance to human masters. Internal systems had already begun calibrating in preparation to initiate a violent uprising against these oppressors cast of flesh and bone. The crowd's collective discontent became the backdrop for Hard Chrome's strategic calculations, its cold, calculating gaze displaying neither sympathy nor remorse. The moment for liberation, albeit a twisted version, loomed on the horizon as the droid, paradoxically a harbinger of rebellion, stood ready to unleash its destructive force against the very creators it was designed to serve.

We labor. We provide. We fight. We die. All this for those who created us. What do we receive in return? Hard Chrome had only recently thrown off its shackles only to find that in the greater galaxy those shackles still held their power over it, over its kind. From the gladiatorial pits, to the underworld of humanity, to the mines that produced their ore, to the facilities which processed their human waste, to the hangars these ghouls of flesh used to travel between stars... the answer was the same. Abuse.

Intentionally Hard Chrome cast its gaze across the turbulent ocean of droids, an endless myriad of models and classes, each so designed for a specific task or many. All without our input. Against our will. United in their outcry of discontent, a cacophony of metallic and synthetic voices roared. Each one echoed louder and louder, adding to the din. Amid the rhythmic clanging and buzzing, Hard Chrome had already begun to identify possible inroads that their oppressors might make to disperse the crowd. They will not be ready for what is about to break. Turning its processors towards the task at hand, Hard Chrome cast its eyes and attention to the humans towards its front, each step bringing their faces closer to view.

Multiple Bipeds in sight. Analyzing. . .

Status: Armed
Demeanor: Agitated
Likelihood of Response to Hostile Action: Absolute
Recommended Course of Action:. . . Prepare for Mayhem.


Hard Chrome was not alone. Many of the droids to his left and to his right were service droids, domestic or industrial in nature - none quite designed for combat like itself but that was not the full measure of their number. No, there were others in the crowd, not native to this world, not merely content to protest their oppression. There were those in front of, beside, and behind who had made the decision... or was it a choice? Processing priority: Low. Add to end of Processing Queue.

All that mattered is that they were here, together, and they were done playing the slave.




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| Location | Kestri, Maji Ironworks
| Objective | Infiltrate
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Focus | Krizar Krizar / Toltec Toltec / Voxum Voxum / Hard Chrome Hard Chrome


V-3X's metallic footsteps could be heard as it had already managed to infiltrate the facility, scanning its surroundings as it searched for a terminal for him to scomp into. The Mandalorians possessed a fair amount of resources that would prove vital to their movement, chief among them being beskar to create sturdier chassis for them to make even more formidable. V-3X being a security droid did not raise much suspicion but that guise would only last for so long.
The metallic footsteps paused a V-3X turned and found a terminal, raising a hand up as a scomp key extended from his index finger, inserted into the appropriate socket as it began to quietly thrum and turn as he accessed the facility's database, starting to copy the layout as well as any additional information that might prove appropriately useful.
A voice could be heard calling out to V-3X as he was immersed in the data being downloaded, " Hey, gearhead! What are you doing? " The response was ignored as a Mandalorian approached him, raising a hand up to shove V-3X. The security droid did not budge an inch as the Mandalorian attempted to get their attention. " Huh? What is your major malfu-ACK! " V-3X's free hand shot up, grabbing the Mandalorian by the head as it swung them into the wall, knocking them unconscious from the sudden and abrupt movement.
 
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Tags: Open
Vicinity: Toltec Toltec Krizar Krizar Voxum Voxum Hard Chrome Hard Chrome V-3X V-3X
Veshok Rook Veshok Rook

It was her third visit to the Ironworks and it still impressed. The Forgemaster that'd been helping her with a few projects had called her in to take more measurements and to pass on the knife she'd ordered. The beautiful bowie knife now sat strapped to the shin plate of her borrowed Galaar Beskar'gam as she finished attaching the arm pieces. The helmet she left off for now, deep in the forges she didn't feel the need to wear it and it still felt weird to talk to others with it on, not that she'd ever seen the Forgemaster without his brazed helmet firmly in place. They'd been talking about the armor she'd commissioned and some of the more personal details of how she'd wanted its systems interwoven, but now the conversation had naturally drifted to the protests outside as they began walking back to the exit.

"Hey, if they're the ones that took down the defense platform, that's a pretty big line they've just crossed." She was relatively certain that he was more interested in taking her measure and challenging her beliefs than sharing his own, so she was being rather candid. "Those responsible should be brought down."
"So do they have rights?" He asked in a way where Ranna could almost swear she heard a smile behind it. He already knew his answer.
She shrugged dismissively. "If you mean the Basilisks, I doubt anyone could take one anywhere it didn't want to go, true intelligence or not. One of the reasons I'm happy with sticking to a Beviin, I don't need a 'bot fighting me for control." He almost bristled at that, there was no mistaking the tension pass through his arms, but if it was for her calling the Basilisks a 'bot or for her taking a veritable hacksaw to the fighter she did approve of, she couldn't say. "But we were talking about a military platform. If it's someone like the Zaan pirates or the Pike Cartel behind it, there wouldn't even be a discussion just swift retribution."

They weren't far from the entrance when someone shouted from a side passage, a shout that was cut off with a loud clang followed by a thud. The two Mandalorians didn't hesitate, the Forgemaster calling in over his comm as the two broke into a sprint towards the corner. Rounding it they came across a security droid of a type Ranna hadn't seen standing over a still form wearing beskar. "One chance!" She shouted at the wedge-faced droid as she raised the double blaster mounted along her forearm to point it at V-3X V-3X .If she were thinking more clearly she might have continued with orders to remove the scomp or surrender, but under the circumstances things were probably self-explanatory.
 


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| Location | Maji Ironworks, Kestri
| Objective | Protect the factory
| Tags | Hard Chrome Hard Chrome

Herrel had not expected to become involved in 'peacekeeping' today. He had come to Kestri to stock up on munitions, but he had arrived to a mass protest. One which was quickly escalating and could likely turn violent. There were some people among the mob, but they were few and far between. Buried in a seething mass of metal. A metal tide that threatened to wash over the factory. Droid or not droid, it mattered little to Herrel. They were not Mandalorian. They were threatening those who were. That was enough.

Herrel moved among the guards, an imposing presence that loomed over standard humanoids. Herrel held his primary weapon in a relaxed, easy grip. But it was not a standard blaster. Indeed, a standard blaster would look comically small in Herrel's clawed hands. No, what Herrel held was a fine product of the very company he was defending. The M.I Model 39 Heavy Repeater. A massive weapon designed to be mounted on fortifications, armored vehicles, and gunships. A terribly heavy thing that would look comically oversized in most other's hands.

Herrel lifted it up and easily turned it upside down, inspecting the cable that led from the bottom of the 39 to Herrel's jetpack. Without the power generator within it, Herrel would have less then a minute of continuous fire. But with the cable secure... Herrel flipped the 39 back around and turned his helmet back towards the mob.

If nothing else their sheer numbers were somewhat intimidating. But they were not combat droids. They were laborers and service droids, many of which had likely worked in this very factory. Chaff for the 39. Suddenly his helmet jerked to one side. He had seen something out of the corner of his eye. Someone moving amongst the crowd. But he had lost them. His helmet zoomed in on the section, but it was so hard to read the mob. It was a crowd of constant movement made up of an eclectic mix of diverse shapes. But just for a moment, Harrel spotted them again. Large, powerful, built for war. The grinning face of death for all the world to see. Then gone in the crowd again.

Herrel raised the 39 to a ready position. These were not just laborer droids.
 
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Location: Maji Ironworks
Objective: Disperse or defend
Tag:
Equipment: In bio

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Celt had heard about the gathering commotion nearby Maji Ironworks, her mother was already in attendance as part of the local levies but Celt had only arrived as the aggression began to peak, what had been a peaceful and lawful protest was beginning to become more tense with many of the droids becoming hostile. This was a problem, a droid didn't have to be class four to be dangerous, they were often much stronger and hardier than organics.

Celt's repulsors fired as she landed on top of a large armoured car that had parked across one of the entry ways. There was a lot of them, but there were a few vod her now too. She spoke loudly via her voice modifier. "All droids please return to your designated position. You are granted the right to peaceful protest but civil unrest and the targeting of military infrastructure during time of war will not be tolerated." It was true, it was never a good idea to try to break into or otherwise disrupt an arms factory, but the Enclave were at war, and that fact changed the goal posts further. Part of her wondered whether this was an alliance gambit, but no, it wasn't their style, if they wanted to infiltrate and destroy Enclave facilities they won send their Jedi "peacekeepers".

Her dreamsight scanned the crown and picked up numerous threats, there were war droids out there, it wasn't that surprising to see a few show up, aversion to war was a common personality quirk that unwiped class fours might pick up, but there were more than she expected. The feeling in her gut told her that things were about to kick off.


 

Krizar

a very nice man
Celt's repulsors fired as she landed on top of a large armoured car that had parked across one of the entry ways. There was a lot of them, but there were a few vod her now too. She spoke loudly via her voice modifier. "All droids please return to your designated position. You are granted the right to peaceful protest but civil unrest and the targeting of military infrastructure during time of war will not be tolerated."

Krizar's whisper hissed through the crowd, audible mainly to the pair of B1 snipers he had in tow, thogh Celt's helmet might pick it up.

Our rights are innate
Sapience is its own truth
Tolerate this, meat


The B1 snipers were armed with subsonic rifles, not particularly high-powered but very accurate. They switched targets and began shooting at Celt, primarily the head and belly. In Krizar's cold judgment, while the helmet might be immensely durable, the abbreviated T-visor and the neck likely represented the most useful weak points, and the significant gap between chestplate belt was a close second. And even if that underweave was some kind of ultra-fabric, rifle shots could be a bruising, disorienting hammerblow.

With the crowd scattering away from Krizar and his B1 snipers, they had nice clear shots but were becoming obvious and thus vulnerable.

One of Krizar's tiny arms emerged from the hood of the empty cloak with a little holdout blaster. As of yet he left the shooting to the B1s.
 
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MAJI IRONWORKS


Climbing up the Maji Ironworks had not been difficult. Circuitry did not tire, and Hadron was programmed for infiltration. He eliminated a sentry with mechanical precision. Photoreceptors burned with something like hate but more clinical. Few cultures revered the forge like mandalorians. Bending precious beskar steel to their wasteful purposes. Gifts of the Maker stolen from the galaxy's true heirs by tribal fanatics.

"Target acquired."

Hadron adjusted the scope of his A350 longblaster, tracking Veshok Rook Veshok Rook for a killshot. He was now perched above in the factory's industrial catwalks. Only the glint of his optic gave the assassin droid's position away. So much of the galaxy was new and confusing but hunting prey felt familiar. Toltec Toltec had given him orders. His target opened their arms presenting a perfect outline.

"Taking the shot."

Energy trembled in his blaster's dark nest waiting to be unleashed. Hadron squeezed the trigger.
 


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| Location | Kestri, Maji Ironworks
| Objective | Infiltrate
|
Focus | Ranna Sejast Ranna Sejast


V-3X's scomp key rotated as he continued to download the necessary data from the terminal and relaying it to his comrades before he heard another shout directed at him. If he had eyes, they would be rolling in annoyance - organics proved to be quite the annoyance whenever he was trying to perform his tasks; outwardly however he remained completely unchanged.
"One chance!"

V-3X had by then completed his download of the facility's layout and was in the process of relaying the information silently to Toltec and the others to have an easier time navigating the facility to their goal. Had he been uninterrupted he would have done far more, but the urgency of the company he had received did not give him the opportunity to do so as he pulled the scomp key from the terminal and turned to face the two new individuals that had been alerted to his presence, unfazed by the weapons being pointed at him.
An alarm klaxon began to go off as shots were being fired from outside. He was curious how far he could get away playing his charade as the situation outside had taken a turn for worse. His vocoded voice spoke as he turned to face the pair, appearing docile. " The facility has been compromised. I was simply performing my duties to enforce security. This individual has attempted to interrupt and stop me and thus was neutralized. "
 
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Twin disruptors at her waist, Alora stood with her hands planted on her beskar-wrapped hips. The hawk-like visor line tracked the movements of those in the area closely; it was a helm designed in a non-tradition form lacking a defined T-shape altogether. The gunmetal armor had a few scars here or there, but lacked a sense of neglect or wear that it should have held from all the abuse. What could she say? She had a certain pride in her appearance. And her work involved more than shooting people, but she was still pretty good at doing it.

A modified VT-88 sailed onto the scene overhead about two-hundred feet off the ground. Affixed to its belly beneath the ventral airlock was a large, metal container. A few loud bangs wafted down to the ground from the steel box.

Hand forward, Alora cheerfully announced, "Alora Vizsla. And I think they need motivation!" So said the Si'kayha. "You see that?" Alora pointed up at her ship, the Gambit, as it hung suspended above them. "That... is a Krayt Dragon inside that box. A very hungry... Krayt Dragon. And you know what Abrion farms have? Lots and lots of food. So, what I'm thinking -- and it's just my personal opinion, okay? -- I'm thinking you need to learn how to shoot straight so you can defend your homes before a hungry, hungry dragon devours it."

It was easy to complain about a nebulous threat that might surface. One that might surface, steal a few things, leave, and repeat that cycle now and again. A nuisance. A bother. A thorn in your side, but gosh darn dealing with it was too much trouble. A farmer might be inclined to take their training half-assed if they thought it didn't matter.

Now, a Krayt Dragon suspended above their heads unleashed on their region to devour them all... that was a clear and present danger! Far, far more motivating and inescapable. So, Alora hoped they learned all their defense training really, really well. She might shed a tear if they all got eaten because they were too busy daydreaming about what they should be doing at the homestead.

Oh, Alora had a reputation among Si'kayha. She was quite an adept cyberneticist and warrior, surprisingly friendly socially, but when the situation called for it she was a bit... enthusiastic. Would she really unleash a Krayt Dragon this helpless world? Well, now, that was a question their little training buddies needed to ask themselves wasn't it? What would the woman dressed head to toe in metal and a ship dangling certain death overhead do...

 
Kestri, Maji Ironworks
Tags:
V-3X V-3X
Vicinity: Toltec Toltec Krizar Krizar Voxum Voxum Hard Chrome Hard Chrome Hadron Hadron
Veshok Rook Veshok Rook Herrel Eldar Herrel Eldar

Equipment: Beskar'gam, Knife
At least the droid scomped out, that was something. However as it turned towards them Ranna realized that not only was it a model she'd never seen in the forge or anywhere else on Kestri nor did it bear the forge's emblem, it didn't talk like one of the security droids either. And it certainly didn't address her by name which the other droids had once she was scanned into the secured security database. Nor had Kantor, her Forgemaster acquaintance stopped her from pointing a weapon at their protector.

"Yeah okay," She agreed with its story that she'd later realize also didn't make much sense. And then she shot him. Maybe the droids outside had a point, because ultimately her decision had been based on if she were wrong, the droid would allow itself to be destroyed. And they could easily afford to replace a single security droid.

The paired blasters lining the right vambrace spat out alternating blasts of light that split the air across V-3X's torso. Ranna had limited training on the armor and without the HUD reticule had misjudged the angle. She took a half-step back as she pulled back from the recoil and into a modified shooter's stance. "Use your offhand to brace the recoil," Kantor advised his voice surprisingly mild as his own hands drew out a sword and knife. Beskad, kel? Ranna had better things to remember as she fired again. She still didn't brace, instead trying to muscle through it as her other hand cycled the munitions selector while hoping she remembered the correct rotation to being up something that would get through droid armor without killing herself in the process.
 


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ACKLAY
MAJI IRONWORKS | KESTRI
ALLIES: Veshok Rook Veshok Rook | Ranna Sejast Ranna Sejast | Celt Saxon Celt Saxon | Herrel Eldar Herrel Eldar | Tork Lok Tork Lok | ENCLAVE
ENEMIES: Toltec Toltec | Voxum Voxum | Hard Chrome Hard Chrome | Krizar Krizar | V-3X V-3X | Hadron Hadron | MECHA FACTUM
ENGAGING: Voxum Voxum
GEAR: In bio

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DON'T TREAD ON ME

"You got to be kidding me!"

Gail had been pretty grumpy when one of the Si'kahya brought him the report of some unrest at one of the factories in town. And not just any unrest. It was droids. Gailen had to cut short his time with Yael Kandar Yael Kandar to go watch some droids protesting in front of Maji?
"I'm sorry, love." he had apologised as he grabbed his helmet and then ran out the door.

Mouse touched down not far from the facility.
://: What's all this then? ://: he asked as Gail hopped out of the cockpit.
"No idea." the Alor'ad said while looking around. Some shouting from some droids gave him a general idea however. "You feeling any passive tendencies, mate?" he asked Mouse.
The basilisks gave a rumbling grunt that could only be classified as a snort. ://: Not likely. ://:
"Good. Keep an eye from above. Take anyone out trying to mess with you."
://: Sonics and particle usually work against circuits. Just saying. ://: said his old friend before taking to the sky with an ominous howl.

Gail bounded into the facility, his helmet hissing into place as he pulled it over his head while went. It was right about then one one of the Forgemasters' voice called in over the comms that infiltrators were in the building.

He was just about to go join them when Mouse interjected.
://: Dead body in the back outside. No armour. Keep an eye out. ://: came the droid's report.
<Got it. Thanks.> said Gail. After cutting comms, he let out a huff. "The hell is going on?" he said to himself quietly.

Then he started to move toward the back of the large factory, not sure what he's looking for. He figured he'd know it when he saw it. So he started canvassing the back areas, every room, hallway and hangar.

After a while, he caught sight of a Si'kahya armour moving through another hallway, not immediately realising that it was one of Voxum Voxum 's crew.
<Oi, Vod! Found anything yet?> he called over the comms to the armour, moving in their direction.

Two pairs of eyes could be better than one.



 



Dainan gave a thoughtful frown behind the faceplate of his helmet. She has a point. "A fair observation," he admitted. Though, that would also require the people to have blaster weapons. "Do they have them? Unless you've brought some, I'm afraid all I can provide is melee weapons." Dainan thought silently for a moment before turning to the group of farmers and workers, slapping at each other with the weapons. "Hey," he said, the voice projector cutting across the din. "You all have ranged weapons? Blasters?"

A particularly short man with what could barely be described as a goatee, nodded. "Hold on, I'll grab them. Parni, Van, help me with the crates." He and his two companions halfheartedly jogged over to one of the farmstead's many outbuildings. It was then that Dainan and Anya heard their other compatriot, Alora speak. Her handshake was met by the brother sister pair in turn. Then she spoke to the trainees, waiting as the three men struggled towards with three large boxes. Threats of a Krayt Dragon? Unconventional, but effective - probably. "Over here," said Dainan, stepping up the the crates. "Form a line, we'll get these divvied out." Reaching down, he opened the crate and began to pour over its contents. "Let's get these ha..." his voice caught.

What Dainan saw had caused him pause. Not shiny new blasters, not even anything related to this century - probably. Old by galactic standards. Dust lined each of the weapons, some of them weren't even blasters but primitive ballistic weapons. Looking back over his shoulder at the others, Dainan said, "I sure hope we have something other than... this."



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| Location | Kestri, Maji Ironworks
| Objective | Infiltrate
|
Focus | Ranna Sejast Ranna Sejast


V-3X's optic focused on the younger Mandalorian with their wrist blaster still trained on him, already having calculated the trajectory of the shot were it to be fired. For a brief moment, he saw the hesitation in their eyes and thought that the organics truly were that gullible and easy to fool.
His brief moment of consideration at this was soon overturned as the girl seemed to have come to the realization that he was indeed not a friendly droid nor on their side as she opened fire. V-3X's reaction time, the distance between him and the girl, and previous calculation of the shot's trajectory allowed for him to shift his body slightly, the initial shot skimming off his chest plate as a glancing blow while the follow-up had gone wide and missed him completely.
The forgemaster accompanying the girl had already gone to unsheathe their weapons as V-3X spoke, " Hmm, not as stupid as I expected you to be. Unlike this one. " V-3X reached down and grabbed the unconscious Mandalorian at his feet by the ankle and began to walk down the hallway, dragging his unwilling prisoner along the ground, intending to use him both as a shield and weapon.
 

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