Return of the Beskar'ade [Mando Open Thread]

[Beskadala]

CHAPTER II​

RETURN OF THE BESKAR'ADE​

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O8j5XFDxqr4​

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“Many men will volunteer to die, but few, will be patient in the face of pain,” said Ori’Verd, sat hunched over a roaring fire.

The young girl, no more than fifteen life-days, watched him as he gave his Mando’a sermon. Ori’Verd pointeda finger to the sky and waved it as he punctuated his point.

“Do you know these words girl?” he asked.

The girl shook her head.

“They are important words, girl. Learn them, burn them into your mind…and become them,” he continued.

“They are the words of the great progenitor of your Clan, the Ordo. The words of Canderous Ordo.”

“Te Taylir Mand'alor” – Mandalor the Preserver.

“Will you remember them girl?”

The girl nodded enthusiastically as she cleaned the blaster rifle cradled in her lap.

“I will,” she promised.

…

A shrill beep awoke Beskadala from her lucid dreaming. She opened her eyes slowly and was greeted with the HUD display within her helmet. Blinking data, linked to the Scabbard’s navigations alerts, that the old junker YT-freighter was nearing the rendezvous point for the Mandalorian’s who took on Ori’Verd’s bounty request. The rally point was a location of empty space one vector jump from Bespin.

As real space ripped into focus and the blur of hyperspace faded to the quiet black void, Beskadala straightened up in her pilot’s seat and flicked a switch that activated an encrypted I.D. code that would signal the rest of the Mandalorians to gather on her point.

The I.D. was a simple one word code: Tribe.

The plan was simple, at least when it came to words. Two teams, to hits, one hot exit. The first team would be aboard [member="Careena Fett"]’s commandeered Sith vessel. They would come in camouflaged as a supply ship brining extra materials. Or whatever the white warrior decided. She was a quiet one, but, Beskadala could smell the tactician off of her. Within that Sith vessel an infiltration team would enter the drydock station and power down the shielding for additional ports. Then she, with the strike team would enter and then the real damage would begin. For now they would meet at the rally point and then separate towards Bespin.

Beskadala stood up and marched into the bowels of her freighter. She entered a small off to the side closet space that housed weapons and rounds. Arming herself, she made one final inspection of her equipment and then returned to the cockpit. She stood behind her command chair with one hand rested on it.

“This is the way,” she whispered to herself.

NOTE:​

In your opening post please indicate whether Team A [Infiltration] or Team B [Strike team] and tag your team members for every post after (as well as everyone else)​

[member="Connory Monroe"] [member="Startorn"] [member="Ghed Saya"] [member="Seris Vant"] [member="Ellie Ordo"] [member="Ordo"] [member="Tyran Numeck"] [member="Cero Pax"] [member="Kaine Australis"] [member="Stardust Solus Skirae"] [member="Laandur Solus"] [member="Karsan Munin"] [member="Atin Alo'ran"] [member="Styr Armod"]​

 

[Tyran Numeck]

Tyran watched the shapeless blue hues of lightspeed rip by the cockpit of the Tal'galaar II while he pondered the next step in this new adventure he had taken on. He was going to be part of the Mandalorian strike team that would follow in after the infiltration team snuck aboard the Sith station. He had no idea how this was going to go since it was, without a doubt, a volatile mix of Mandalorians. Some who had been pro Yasha and some who had not agreed with her views and blamed her for the current situation Mandalore now found itself.

Tyran was willing to put all of that aside for the moment, what had happened in the past wasn't important right now and dwelling on it would only serve to cripple their ability to pull off this rather brazen mission the ragtag assortment of mercs, bounty hunters and assassins had taken on. There was nothing good that would come from the Sith having a beskar star destroyer, or the Sith having beskar in general, so depriving them of both the ship and the raw materials was paramount to anything else. Once they had dealt with that and retreated to some form of safety, then they could deal with any personal grudges that had been about to boil over.

Beside him in the co-pilots chair sat his fully grown galek hound Tyraja and she was curled in the chair looking up at him with her big eyes. The animals were revered in Mandalorian culture and were seldom seen outside of the galek tree forests on Mandalore, let alone travelling through the galaxy with a gun for hire. Tyraja had proved to be a valuable hunting partner since she had come into Tyran's possession but he wasn't sure he wanted to bring her along this time. She seemed able to sense his thoughts, or at least how grim his attitude had become lately and let out a soft whimper and lifted her head from the seat a bit.

Tyran reached over and scratched her behind the ears as the control console began to beep and signaled that they had reached the rendezvous point. Tyran cut the hyperdrive and ripped his Nemesis-class corvette back into realspace and scanned the immediate area with his eyes to pick up any friendly, for the moment, ships. Beskadala's YT freighter was the only thing to catch his eye at the present and he opened a hailing channel to her.

"Su'cuy Beskadala," He said once the connection had been established. "Just us so far?"


[Member="Beskadala Ordo"]

 

[Krenis Skirata]

Team A- Infiltrate

While there had once been a time that Krenis had access to a small task force of light frigates, that was behind. The Coalition partisans had needed them more than he did and most of his crew were eager to help out. They'd said farewell and sworn friendship and aid for as long as they could, but then Krenis had saluted his new generation of ARCs and sent them on their way as they dispersed between the Alliance Remnant and Coalition Partisans. They would do good work. And that left the old clone trooper to go about his business on his own.

So, he'd caught up some of the Mando clans. This new group, calling themselves the tribe. Many things had gone down on Mandalore while he was in the Rim, fighting the First Order and Sharukan and Ssi-Ruuvi. Was a bit of a nightmare for a while there as aliens with exotic tech seemed to keep pouring over the edge of the galaxy. Shattered the First Order in the process and gave the Coalition some nasty hits. Far as he could tell, it was only the flexibility gained from their decentralized nature kept the Coalition alive as they kept getting hammered. Krenis had missed the war against the Sith, but now that one Imperial faction was down, he'd switch targets to the next. It kept him going.

Avenge the Republic. Avenge the Jedi General he'd failed. Cull those who would leech off the legacy of he and his clone-brothers. Smash some bad guys while he was at it. He was, after all, a clone of Jango Fett, genetically modified and trained from embryo to be a soldier. To fight. He had no other skills to put to use. And this seemed like as good enough a cause as it came.

His light-freighter came out of hyperspace on the rally point and he beamed his ID to the other two who had arrived. "Krenis Skirata."

 

[Ghed Saya]

RENDEZVOUS POINT
GREATLY DESIRING HYPERJUMP TO BESPIN

[member="Beskadala Ordo"] [member="Krenis Skirata"] [member="Tyran Numeck"]

The Y-Wing fighter-bomber's design dated back a millennium. This one was only about twenty years old, patched up and modded by variegated hands. For the life of him Ghed couldn't recall which company had made the knockoff - the old boat sure wasn't real Koensayr. But with the tail gunner's seat converted to a very cozy bunk, the little ship served him well enough.

He dropped out of hyperspace and noted a small group of disparate ships that didn't appear set up for an ambush. Some of the Mandos he'd met at the old man's house, presumably.

"Ghed Saya here, ready to hurry up and wait."

 

[Kyle Farnes]

Rendezvous

Not the most traditional Mandalorian, Kyle Farnes of Clan Tabalhar was a Rimmer, and he was a pilot. A Warden at that. He worked to help those in need, as it kept the Empire at bay. The Sith and the Imperial life was counter to what he believed, and his clan was one of those that allowed that way of thinking. Wearing armor that was reminiscent of the Alliance, it was now dented and losing its shine, but it still had the bronzium finish. Unlike his ship, the Pursuer patrol craft was matte gray, and was perhaps even more dangerous than his armor.

And with him behind the controls, he could do more damage than he would on the ground. The patrol craft was here to support the mission, if things went awry he could land, and provide an assist in extraction. Between him and the IG unit in the hold, they could create at least a distraction, and at most covering fire for the Mandalorians who were part of the strike team.

The Foundling was more at home behind the controls of a vessel like this, and with the IFF he had, one to support the Wardens and another as a contractor for the Coalition, it wasn’t beyond what he had permissions for to be at this world. “Farnes, of Clan Tabalhar is on standby. Will provide assistance where needed, keeping an ear out for the mission.” Simple, really. But he would end up in the way on the operation.

 

[Careena Fett]

C a r e e n a _ F e t t

---

---

| Objective | Get onboard the Sith Imperial Station
| Location | Station Lima Four, Bespin System

Careena stood in the cargo hold of the emptied out Sith transport they were using for the operation, feet planted firmly on the metal floor as she inspected her weapons, ensuring they were cleaned and in full functioning order for the upcoming operation. Aboard the vessel were a number of other Mandalorians that had been brought together for the raid to steal beskar from the Sith and return it back to the Mandalorians. Whether or not she trusted them still remained to be seen, but Careena first and foremost was here to continue striking at the Sith Empire as retribution for Mandalore; she would do her best - she could only rely on faith that the others would do the same and not get them all killed. She'd reach into an ammo pouch at her waist as she pulled a handful of slugs out, casually slotting them into the slug carriers that were on her forearms; specially packed explosive rounds since the Sith's new standard armor was proving to be increasingly more resilient to non-disruptor weaponry as they produced newer generations of armor.

Once she concluded her gear check she'd glance at the other Mandalorians inside the cargo hold; a conglomerate of several different clans as well as a number of her own from their previous raid prior to meeting up with the rest. Her expressionless helmet would seem to linger on each before she turned and headed for the cockpit. She'd open the door leading to where the pilots were as she rested her hands on the seats, watching as the void of hyperspace reflected off her visor. The pilot, one of the older warriors from her clan would be tapping a few buttons and flipping a few switches as they prepared to drop from hyperspace, speaking as his own focus was on the controls, " We'll be arriving in system shortly, from this point on, we just need to hope our clearance codes will work and not get blasted out of the sky once we attempt to approach the station. Should be easy enough to carry off the raid from there though. " Careena would nod as she shifted her hand from the seat to the pilot's shoulder, " They will work. I know I can count on you to get us there safely. Keep the ship and a few of our own ready and the ship secure once we land. I don't imagine we'll have much time to stay quiet for this raid. " The pilot would nod as he reached up to pull a lever after notifying over the ship intercom that they were dropping out of hyperspace.

The large station would come into view, several Sith vessels maintaining a defensive formation around it as the communication channel flared to life and the transport was hailed. A warbled voice of a naval officer would soon be heard, " This is Commander Pelsh of Station Lima Four - state your business. " The pilot would glance over at Careena before nodding and responding, " This is Transport Delta Five Two, requesting permission to land and offload supplies as well as refuel. " An uncomfortably long pause would follow as the commander of the station seemed to be double checking information. " Transport Delta Five Two was supposed to make a supply drop over at Outpost Kresh on Anobis... " The pilot would retain his composure as he returned a reply, " Outpost Kresh came under attack from raiders. We were ordered to wave off and rerouted. " Another pause would follow before the commander responded, " Very well - Maintain your current trajectory and transmit your codes. " The pilot reached over as he tapped a few buttons to transmit their code before a response came shortly after. " They're a bit dated, but they check out. Proceed to hangar bay seven. " The pilot would tap a few more buttons before pushing a lever as the transport slowly flew over to the designated hangar bay, " Copy that, Transport Delta Five Two proceeding to hangar bay seven. "

The channel would shut off as Careena nodded before returning to the cargo bay where the other Mandalorians were, " Everything is set and ready. We'll be off in a couple minutes - Remember, our job is to locate the beskar, get the shields offline so that the others can land, secure the beskar and get out before they have a chance to retaliate and kill us all. " A pause would come from her as she stared all the Mandalorians present down before continuing, " That being said...If you are not here by the extraction time, I will not endanger my own and wait for you. Either find another way off the station with one of the other ships or get left behind. " Careena spoke with a firm tone; as callous and cold as she might have sounded- Even if they were fellow Mandalorians, her clan was her priority over the rest of them, and she would not be willing to trade the lives of those she fought along side and trusted for those that still had yet to earn such trust.

 

[Thal Mantis]

Thal had been in the darkness for so long, he genuinely forgot what it was like to be brought to light, to have companionship. Despite all the words, songs, and books about them- the Mandalorians were far from what he imagined. He imagined brutish savages, meat-eating knuckle-draggers with a penchant for violence. But what he found was something else-

He found them to be outcasts, but an entire society of outsiders. They claimed to be nothing else. The good ones, at least. There were no half-measures in the Mandalorians. No Mandalorian Jedis, no Mandalorian-Sith. There was the simplicity in that, they were simply Mandalorian. They were uncompromising in their values, and in their beliefs. In that way, Thal could admire his father's people- and by extension, his own.

But he did not feel convinced that it was where he needed to walk. Perhaps his road wasn't with the Mandalorians. But his father's ghost hung over him, a man ravaged by the galaxy like he was- but Preliat was, while alive, torn apart by the people he loved. Thal had gotten his revenge. Preliat's ultimate revenge would be that Thal existed. Yasha burned his memory, soiled his legacy. The Caderas turned what Preliat had built into a faded memory. Yasha turned away from her father, unflinchingly callous in her exile of her own family, and the Mandalorians Thal found himself with. At least, as Thal understood.

But the Mandalorians were broken because of her and her choices. That could not be ignored, a fact that even an outsider like Thal knew.

But an outsider, now knee-deep in the waters. His treachery was not entirely truthful, he was after all, by birthright- a Mandalorian. But had not earned his armor, his verd'goten, or any of the other traditions- and even the language he was supposed to know- came from the built-in translator in the stolen helmet. He listened intently as [member="Careena Fett"] spoke, having no questions regarding the plan. There was the question, however, of how Thal would perform with a blaster. He had managed to secure a Vibrosword. He was quite proficient with bladed weapons- but ranged weapons were entirely new to him. The carbine in his hand felt foreign to him, alien even.

The lightsaber would have been welcome addition to his armament- but he couldn't let them know who he really was. Not yet, maybe not ever. Or maybe this who he was, a liar. A pariah with his own supposed people.

It made sense.

But there was a task, and his situation would come later, and so would the thoughts of what was, could be, and was not meant to be.

Thal was the only Mandalorian in the hold tapping his foot nervously.

 

[Krenis Skirata]

[member="Careena Fett"] [member="Thal Mantis"]

Krenis held his peace in the ship as they approached the target. This was what he was created for, why his genes were modified and spliced. To create a solider to fight the battles behind enemy lines and against foes that the rest of his brothers could not. That mission hadn't changed. Only the people. Yet these were kin, in a way. Related by legacy and culture and honor. Another bitter legacy that he had to draw from.

Someone's foot tapping drew his attention and the clone raised his head. One of the others, didn't seem quite as sure and confident as the others. Younger maybe? The carbine in his hand didn't seem to fit as naturally as it might have. A shiny, he thought, reverting back into the old lingo.

First missions were tough, but everyone had to have them. And while their leader was relentless, he wasn't going to leave anyone behind if he could help it. Only left someone behind once, long ago, and it still haunted him.

He slipped another magazine into the kama pouch and tightened the straps, before ensuring his equipment was properly secured. Slugthrowers mostly as the primary weapon, all suppressed, with the sonic carbine in backup for when things had to go loud.

Otherwise, it would be silent and sharp-edged. It was infiltration after all. Once the assault team hit, then the rules changed.

 

[Obran]

Obran stood near Krenis. His attitude was relaxed, but that was only on the surface. Good readers of body language might pick up on the tension and unease in his form and stance. Jedi and Sith would feel the tumult of emotions like a whirlwind. Every day, flashes of what was came back to him. None of it made sense, jagged slices and blurs of who he might have been. It was impossible to tell what fit to what just for coherency sake. Let alone what truths that trauma had blended with fabrication.

Others checked their load out, but Obran stood stock still. Twin beskad strapped to opposite hips, blaster pistol in thigh holsters, and various other bits harnessed and hooked about him - flashbangs, thermal dets, a heavy kukri like knife and knuckledusters, even a beskar flute and more. A shock trooper, that was what he had been called by a few. Apparently a less than savory spot to claim, but others gave him a wide berth when he went to war. There had been only one thing he had taken from Ori'verd when the rag-tag group had left. The old man had a half-working forge, but the tools were all more than functional. A massive strikers' hammer currently sat grounded between his legs. Most would be able to swing it for one blow before resting. And while he couldn't twirl it like a baton, the lithe warrior could get several brutal blows out with it. Blows that could crumple most armor and pulp what was beneath it at the least.

As Careena spoke, he nodded. Leaving others behind wasn't his typical taste. But the Fett walked with command in her bones. And on such an op, you needed a clear chain to make success happen. So he'd do his best to personally prevent leaving anyone behind. But, she had given orders. His code would dictate he accept or step back, and he could not remain behind. The hammer came up from the floor and down onto his shoulder with a heave and scrape, visored visage crowned by the wookie-hair helmet crest and curled bones. He looked the nightmare child of the old Crusaders and the modern armor. A good fit. A smile lit his face at Thal's jitters, and he nodded to the fresh face moments before speaking. He'd watch out for the newbie as they went about this. The kid had guts, and that stirred a phantom fondness in the amnesiac.

"Your words, my will. For the Mando'ade"

[member="Krenis Skirata"] | [member="Krenis Skirata"] | [member="Careena Fett"] | [member="Thal Mantis"]

 

[Ghed Saya]

Team B: [member="Tyran Numeck"] [member="Kyle Farnes"] [member="Kaine Australis"] [member="Beskadala Ordo"]

RENDEZVOUS POINT

New contacts lit up Ghed's sensor panel one at a time, the strike team gathering ship by ship. Their mismatched little flotilla would be a good choice for Bespin's low-visibility upper atmosphere.

Somewhere out there, the stolen infiltration ship was linking up with the flying shipyard. They'd take down the shields and call in the strikers. Any minute now.

In the meantime, Ghed pulled out some sandpaper and sharpened his knives.

 

[Laandur Solus]

Laandur stayed quiet as usual. In many ways he felt like an odd man out. He wasn't typical Mandalorian by any means. He wasn't some front line fighter who could fistfight a Wookie. His callsign was very true to his physical strength. Where Laandur shinned though were missions like this. He looked over at the others. Only [member="Thal Mantis"] seemed nervous. The spy shook his head before checking his blaster pistol and beskad/cable gauntlets. "You don't seem comfortable with that blaster." The Keshiri took off his helmet, calibrating something. "This mission is going to require stealth ans speed. Don't bring anything you can't use with the skill of a Corellian in the pilot seat." This would be one of his hardest operations yet. Made him wish the rest of his squadron could see this thing. Actually made him wish the other Night Witches were still around. Might could've opened up an escape. Either way, the Mandalorian was ready.

[member="Careena Fett"] then asked if there were questions. Laandur had none. This was well within his wheelhouse. He was ready. "No questions here ma'am," he responded while replacing his helmet and testing the recon scopes.

@Obran @Krenis Skirata [member="Beskadala Ordo"]

 

[Startorn]

Startorn sat with the rest of the team, also noticing [member="Thal Mantis"] who was a little nervous. "Play to your strengths kid, we don't have time for mistakes" he said as he ran his final blaster and suit checks.


Startorn stood up and said "everyone keep in mind, this is not run and gun, not until we make it that, so remember as far as the enemy here's concerned, were supposed to be he, so act like it"

Tags [member="Laandur Solus"] @Obran @Krenis Skirata [member="Careena Fett"]

 

[Cero Pax]

As the Ne'tra Tracinya broke into real space, Cero flicked and pressed the necessary controls to engaged active camouflage, causing a low hum to echo throughout the vessel as it switched on, the hull seemingly fading into the starry backdrop of space. Reaching for a nob, he dialed it back and forth, setting the frequency of his decoy system and sensor mask to display the ship as nothing more than a medium sized asteroid, tumbling through space.

The code phrase came in shortly afterword, and he switched onto the channel in response. He made visual confirmation of the other ships that'd make up the strike team, the rough assembly of freighters looking like they could at the very least carry their own weight. "This is Pax, I'm primed and ready to deliver some punishment.", he hailed over the communications. As he fell into formation with the other ships, he leaned back in his seat, opening the HoloNet and skimming through it. They wouldn't have much to do until the Infiltration team shut down the shields, so for now it'd be good to take the time to just relax a bit.

Tags: [member="Ghed Saya"], Tyran Numeck Kyle Farnes Kaine Australis Beskadala Ordo

 

[Connory Monroe]

Team A - Infiltration
[member="Startorn"] [member="Laandur Solus"] [member="Obran"] [member="Krenis Skirata"] [member="Thal Mantis"] [member="Careena Fett"]

Cory took the time to centre herself, batons, bolters grenades and a hardlight shield neatly stored on belts lining her waist and hips. She’d double checked and triple checked her gear before she’d even set foot on the infiltration ship, her own was cloaked and following. If things went sideways, she’d had her own escape plan.

She opened her eyes, scowling beneath her helmet and the mild berating the nervous kid was getting. “Ne'johaa.” she told Laandur and Starthorn. “Let him be.” sliding off her perch on an empty crate and moved over to Thal, hand gently brushing Obran’s arm as she passed.

“I’ve got you, kid.” she folded her arms and glowered at the others daring them to say anything else to waver what little courage this one had. She’d been that person once, the nervous kid with imposter syndrome who wasn’t quite sure what they’d gotten themselves into. Half, if not all of the people here were recent outcasts. Cory had been an outcast her whole life.

There wasn’t time for doubting the team they had, the gentle shudder that reverberated through the ship as it landed should have been enough to tell them that. Cory pulled the bolters from her belt, and moved towards the landing ramp as it lowered.

 

[Thal Mantis]

Thal hadn't the nerve to reveal his nervousness. They seemed to pity him as a new recruit. True, he was new to this- but violence. Violence was something that he understood very well. He stopped tapping his foot, looking around. They noticed his nervousness. But his nervousness was out of fear of discovery, not of pre-battle nerves. The threat of death did not rest on Thal's mind.

He cheated death too many times to be afraid of it any longer.

He was the first out of the ramp, and stopped briefly- to toss aside the blaster carbine. No sense in hiding what he was in that regard. Pretending to be like his father would only make things worse.

Thal said nothing else, but stood tall and proud- like his father.

[member="Connory Monroe"] l [member="Startorn"] l [member="Laandur Solus"] l [member="Obran"]

 

[Careena Fett]

C a r e e n a _ F e t t

---

---

| Objective | Disable shields and secure Beskar
| Location | Station Lima Four, Bespin System

The gentle rumbling of the shuttle finally landing in the hangar could be felt as those present in the infiltration party seemed to know what they were supposed to do. Seeing as there were no apparent questions, she assumed that her instruction had been clear; all it was a matter of at this point was everyone doing everything they were supposed to as quickly and quietly as possible with the least attention drawn. She was calm and focused - feeling the most at home and ready just before a raid; this is what she prided herself in as a Mandalorian. She'd sling her rifle over her shoulder as she raised her left arm up to her chest level, tapping a button on her vambrace as she seemed to visibly shift and fade in the dim light of the transport's interior, taking in a long drawn out breath before exhaling slowly.

As everyone was prepped and ready to go, the hiss of the hydraulics could be heard as the ramp of the transport lowered and Thal was the first one out. Most likely to a few people's surprises he would simply toss his carbine off to the side and as he was stepping off the ramp would be greeted by a Sith Legionnaire clad in a dark gray set of armor who was coming in to check with the transport's crew, seemingly caught off guard by a Mandalorian just walking out. The soldier was about to raise his hand up to his helmet and report in, ready to blow the entire element of surprise as soon as they arrived.

A quiet whisper of a sound was heard from behind and to the side of Thal as a whipcord shot out from the dark depths of the transport, finding its way around the Legionnaire's neck as he grunted and dropped his weapon to grab at the razor thin but strong as steel cable around his neck. Careena would twist her arm as she wrapped a length of the whipcord around her forearm to tighten the line before roughly yanking on it. Despite her slim stature, she had a surprising amount of strength as she yanked the soldier out of plain sight and into the transport where she would unsheathe a vibro-dagger from behind her lower back, activating the blade as she swiftly sank it into the Legionnaire's neck, piercing the underlying bodyglove and giving it a quick twist. The trooper was dead in mere moments as the dagger was sheathed and Careena's camouflaged silhouette stepped out of the transport, muttering quietly, " Let's try not to blow our cover immediately shall we...? We still have yet to locate the shield controls or Beskar. "

She'd switch to an alternate channel as she informed the pilot and those of her clan present to stay and guard the ship and ensure that the control center wasn't given a reason to be suspicious of their arrival. A pair of Fett members would drag the corpse of the Sith Legionnaire into the ship as they removed his helmet and prepared to give responses back to the control center if they asked the deceased trooper to check in while also keeping an ear to local Sith communications. Luckily for them, the hangar was empty and not being monitored.


[member="Thal Mantis"] | [member="Connory Monroe"] | [member="Startorn"] | [member="Laandur Solus"] | [member="Obran"]

 

[Krenis Skirata]

Krenis raised an eyebrow underneath his helmet as Thal strode down the ramp and tossed aside the carbine. The ARC wasn't sure what the kid had in store besides that, but he would trust him as much as he would another shiny. The legionary went down and was dragged back into the ship by a few of the Fett clan members. Being around clan Fett was an odd experience. If anything, they were the ones he should have felt closest to, perhaps even been part of the clan. He wore the face of one, in fact, and the DNA.


But he didn't. Fett was no longer his clan, if it ever had been. Jango was long-dead. And there was a mission at hand. Krenis tucked the slugthrow into his shoulder and stepped out of the hatch, dropping over the edge of the ramp to crouch in the shadow, covering one angle of the ramp.

"Clear right," he said through the helmet. "No sign of movement." He filtered through the different views on his helmet, but even the different wave spectrums didn't reveal anything. It seemed like it was truly empty.

This took him back. Both to the Clone Wars and the chaos afterward. Being on the run and eventually falling in with resistance groups. They'd done plenty of ship and station raids at the time. This was another chance to right the wrongs committed by those who wore his face. Bring an end to the Sith and empires together. Another one would pop up after regardless, but that was their nature.

 

[Obran]

Action happened, and he held back. His presence in a fight was far from subtle. As [member="Krenis Skirata"] surged forward, so too did he stalk. [member="Careena Fett"] had already made her move, and [member="Thal Mantis"] was moving too. Time to get this op off the ground. As Krenis cleared right, Obran took left. No blaster drawn, but the muscles in his arm tensed. Blasters would make noise they didn't want right now. And automated sensory banks might even detect the bolts or any number of things detected with them. But a forge-hammer to the temple would solve things neatly. And rather permenately. But hopefully that wouldn't be needed.

And for the moment, the hallway was good. Nothing exciting really. Nothing crazy. He took his time examining doorways, and thought of Cory. They had met before. And she was an interesting one, to be sure. But... There was a strange kinship he couldn't quite put a finger on the source of. Particularly with how defensive she was of Thal. Whether he was experienced or not, the lad was obviously off his center. And Obran could appreciate that. He felt at once at home and alien in the presence of his apparent kin.

As such thoughts surfaced, they threatened to overtake him. He muttered, coughing. Clearing his mind by a headshake before he strolled up, like a cannonball in motion. His vox speaker clicked almost imperceptibly as he spoke.

"Left is clear"