Junction Shadows Fall | Junction of Enclave-Roon, Maw-Schesa

[The Quartermaster]

SHADOW OF MANDALORE #1
A Second Great Hyperspace War Story​

Most Mandalorians assumed that sharing a recent common tragedy meant they would be united in the face of adversity. But every son and daughter of Mandalore who believed that was soon proved wrong as the Sith's Genocide fractured the collective of the Mando'ade into a hundred different splinters. Different movements rose and fell, their momentum failing to infighting, inaction, and ineptitude.

But slowly and surely the Mando'ade began to reconsolidate power away from Mandalore on the distant, frozen world of Kestri. The Mandalorian Enclave strove to rebuild instead of shed further blood crusading for a grave world and advocated for peace and cooperation between all Mandalorian brethren. In these beliefs, they thought they were only the leaders in a universally-echoed creed of cooperation between the splinter groups of Mandalorians still hidden across the galaxy. But they were wrong.

After the collapse of the Death Watch Crusade, its most loyal -- or fanatic -- followers fled into the deepest reaches of space, led by an enigmatic warrior who used the powers of the Dark Side. There the Death's Hand was formed, a violent and radical movement promising to strengthen Mandalorian power by culling the weak. Though their numbers were far fewer in comparison, the mystique of this band grew until Mandalorian slew Mandalorian in the fires of Dromund Kaas. The collision trajectory of the two radically different groups could no longer be avoided, as the Death's Hand obtained information on the coordinates of the Mandalorian Enclave's secret homeworld. . .

Unknowing of the darkness looming, the Mandalorian Enclave continues to expand into former Confederate space, offering protection to worlds riddled with crime, corruption, and chaos in exchange for tribute. And at last, they arrived at Roon, the birthplace of the Mandalorian Clans and the original home of the Enclave before they had been forced to abandon it, else stay subservient to Confederate masters any longer. Yet when advance Mandalorian forces arrived, they were not greeted by the familiar lush forests and rippling lakes of Daba'r; they were greeted with war.

The savage war tribes of the Brotherhood of the Maw had taken advantage of the Confederacy's collapse to plunder Roon, whose long history included being a hunting ground for treasured Sith artifacts. Hidden within the Cloak of the Sith Nebula and behind a violet curtain, they had been denied access until now. The suddenness of their attack shocked the Enclave, who had until now believed the ravaging of the Maw and the Second Great Hyperspace War to be far removed from the Outer Rim, and yet here they were now. Immediately Mandalorian forces were mobilized to drive the Maw off of the world and back to the Unknown Regions from whence they came.

Mandalorian and Maw fight over Roon, while the Enclave and Death's Hand grapple for who will be the successor to Mandalore's legacy. . .

Objective I
Continent of Daba'r | Roon

Mandalorian and Maw fight for control of Roon. Maw War Tribes will want to retrieve valuable Sith Artifacts, while Mandalorians will be intent on shedding as much Maw blood as possible -- No Sith, No Exceptions.

​

Objective II
Cloak of the Sith Nebula | Roon System

The Cloak of the Sith is a nebula that makes navigation all but impossible, except for choice routes through the dense starmatter. A game of cat-and-mouse as Mandalorian and Maw naval forces duke it out for supremacy of the Nebula, and by proxy Roon.

Objective III
Lower Fighting Pits | Tor Valum, Kestri

In preparation for the Iron Banner championship tournaments coming up soon, preliminary brawls have been scheduled in the lesser fighting pits of Tor Valum, an event that draws large amounts of both spectators and participants hoping to make a name for themselves. But underneath a seemingly innocent Mandalorian brawl, there lurks a darker shadow. . .

Objective IV

Placeholder for any story that makes you want to write.
​

 

[Soloman Priest]

Objective I
Tag: Open

The Sith moved through the structure with intent - hunting for dust and scavenging relics nobody but they cared about. Was there power in them? Possibly - but the reality was that anything useful the Sith had was probably already in their hands. What they fought for now - was dust.​

​

Soloman, knees hanging over the cliffs edge, clicked the switch in his hand and watched the building light up the night sky. Bright and proud, it was everything the Sith were - and like them, it fizzled out after its destruction. He sighed softly as he rested a hand on the helmet next to him; his thoughts returning from the casual death of Sith Archeologists to the Clans.​

​

Of the future of his people, the ones he'd long scorned, even when great men like Koda Fett tried to save him from his own hate. Betrayed by the Mandalorians, and now a contract killer on their behalf- but at least he was paid, even if he didn't get honor for his efforts.​

 

[Onrai]

Objective 2
Open for Interaction

As was expected, the Ablution traveled through the void of space within the nebular gases. The vessel flew in concert with a quartet of modified Massassi-class Corvettes, the vessels also of Sith Empire vintage. Onrai's goals with regards to Roon were to expand the Void Irregulars' presence within the Maw. Already Kiross itself was reasonably rebuilt and restructured now that the great horde of former Sith-Imperials called it home, but more than just living room was necessary if the great ambitions she planned were to be fulfilled.

1x "The Ablution"
4x Massassi-class Corvette, Void Refit

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Roon, Continent of Daba'r
Tags: Keilara Kala'myr | Open

Spoiler: TL;DR

• The Mongrel arrives on Roon and prepares to land

At the Dark Voice's command, the Scar Hounds marched.

It did not matter where, or when, or why; the Prophet spoke, and the Tribes obeyed, the proud scavenger-warriors who followed The Mongrel among them. The orders that issued forth from the mouth that spoke for the Maw had sent them all across the galaxy. They had conquered the uttermost North. They had battled for control of the Unknown Regions of the West. They had struck deep into the flank of those heretic Sith who refused to bow to Solipsis in the East. They had driven a knife into the very heart of the galaxy, sowing terror in the Core.

This was their first venture to the far Galactic South, so far from their battle lines against the New Imperial Order and Galactic Alliance that there could be no possible conventional military value to the mission. But The Mongrel knew better by now than to question the will of the Dark Voice, or to think in merely conventional terms. Though he had no sorcery of his own, he knew that the magic flowing from the Three Avatars ruled and guided the Brotherhood. Seizing objects of power to guide and amplify such magic could turn the tide of the war.

He just hoped this expedition went better than Korriban.

Pushing aside all doubt, the cyborg warlord prepared himself for the battle to come... for there was little doubt that battle was to come. This mission took them dangerously close to the worlds claimed by the Mandalorian Enclave, a rising power amid the chaos left behind by the Confederacy's collapse. There was no doubt that the Enclave would respond in force; not only was this an aggressive act on the very border of the planets under their protection, it was also one perpetrated by those the Enclave had sworn to oppose at every turn.

No Sith, their mantra went. No exceptions.

The Mongrel did not see himself and his warriors as servants of the Sith, of course. The Dark Voice had shattered the old Sith regimes, seizing their treasures and teachings, turning them to the purposes that the Holy Three had laid out for him. In the warlord's mind, it was like extending a mandate to exterminate all banthas to include a man wearing a flayed bantha skin. But reasons didn't really matter. The Brotherhood of the Maw had come to cleanse the entire galaxy, and once the powers of the Core Worlds fell, these outliers would be next.

Might as well get an early start on killing them off.

The forces of the Scar Hounds streaked down toward Roon's surface, eager to join up with the advance scouts they had dispatched to begin the pillaging of this artifact-rich world. The Mongrel himself had no interest whatsoever in sorcerous trinkets, and intended to leave any actual excavation work to the small army of slaves and drudges accompanying the tribe's warriors. His chosen role was a strange hybrid of protector and marauder, for he intended to watch over the Mawite treasure hunt even as he and his troops ravaged local settlements for supplies. And fun.

Of course, just as the ranks of the slaves had been supplemented with drudges after the loss of so many forced laborers over Rhand, his own tribe was now relying on outside assistance to fill in the gaps. Steady attrition had whittled down their manpower in brutal conflicts such as the invasion of Nirauan and the treacherous Vinesworn Rebellion, and many of their vehicles had been lost or damaged in the skirmish on Dromund Kaas. That left The Mongrel to turn to old allies, the sinister alien mercenaries of the Legion of the Leech, to fill in the gaps.

The voracious Lugubraa would tear this world apart.

Roon was a difficult planet to find and to reach. The Mawite transports bounced around harshly as they passed through the planet's deadly asteroid ring, sticking closely to the narrow routes of safe passage that had been marked by the Brotherhood's forward scouts. Even so, not every dropship made it; some were ripped open by the huge, unpredictably-drifting space rocks, pulverizing their crews in an instant. Such losses were frustrating, but they could be managed. Already The Mongrel's mind spun with adjustments to tactical plans.

The isolated world was tidally locked, with a day side and a night side. However, heavy atmopsheric phenomena both trapped and blocked heat in such a way that the planet wasn't divided into scorching desert or frozen tundra. Instead, Roon was a planet of jungles, plains, and oceans, rich with life - and with the mysterious and valuable Roonstones so prized by treasure hunters. These were of no worth to the Maw, of course, beyond simple decoration; the Brotherhood did not take part in the galactic economy, and put no price tags on anything.

Not in credits, anyway. All was bought with blood.

The Scar Hounds' destination was on the day side, meaning that they would have infinite daylight to work by... assuming they could hold out against the Enclave long enough to stay for multiple standard days. They were far from home, their supply lines stretched, reinforcements difficult to come by. This was not a take and hold operation but a simple smash and grab, with any casualties they could deal the Enclave along the way as a bonus. As they soared down through the thick clouds that blocked the unrelenting sun, The Mongrel prepared.

Prepared for blood and fire and glory for the Dark Three.

Of course, he had no intention of entering this situation blindly. That was why he had dispatched Mercy, his most trusted agent, as an advance scout. The thought sent a pang of concern through him, an odd emotion, one he was unaccustomed to feeling. He found that he was actually worried for her, though he knew that he did not need to be; she was extremely capable, or he would never have chosen to rely on her so greatly. More and more greatly these days, for their relationship was changing. She had a kind of power over him now.

The power to bring back the sensations of life.

The warlord looked forward to rejoining her, and even moreso to the moment they could once again be alone, when he could feel her touch upon his mind. With his organic body long since stripped away, only her telepathic caress could restore to him the pleasures of organic existence, stimulating nerve endings that no longer connected to skin that could feel. It was his one and only respite from being entombed in his cold metal chassis, the one thing he could look forward to before martyrdom, the one reason he wanted to keep living.

But it would have to wait, for to admit his isolation and yearning would be to show weakness in front of warriors who might challenge him. Even the founding warlord of a tribe was not immune to being replaced if someone stronger rose to seize his position, and so The Mongrel had to be wary for threats both within and without during this long war. Steeling himself for the wave of desire he knew he would feel when he heard her voice, the Mawite legend opened a comm channel. "Mercy, we have arrived. We are descending toward the landing zone."

"What have you discovered on Roon?"

 

[Keilara Kala'myr]

Ziare Dyarron | Keilara Kala'myr (Mercy)
COMPNOR (ISB) Junior Agent, Nite agent | Marauder and Agent of the Maw​

Objective I.: Doing her job and follow the warlord's commands.
Location: Surface, Roon
Equipment: FS-18-UP2 Assault Rifle | 2x Sunfury Pistol | Light Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger || Cloaking Device | 5x ASBF Probe Droid || OPBC-01m
Tags: The Mongrel | Open

[ New Order ]
"Galactic Basic" | ~"Telepathic" communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

This planet itself was a disaster, hot, tropical, wet, and often raining. It’s not exactly a scout’s dream to have to work in a place like this. But at least in a sharp situation, I had the opportunity to try out my new toys. The new mini droids, camouflage device and cloaking device. Under these circumstances, it was all very different than at home. True, I also took the opportunity there, as it became necessary…

My position within the Scar Hounds has changed a lot lately. No, the secret was that I had become a warlord lover; Neither he nor I wanted him to look weak, because in this case those who want to kill him for the warlord position would definitely appear in a short time. The challengers, yes. And here I came to the point where my role has changed. In the shadows, I gained more influence and power for myself as a shadow. They didn’t know who it was, just that someone was there and working.

But very effectively. I continued to use and learn to use my telepathic power, although I can’t control anyone with it except Ziare yet, but it’s getting easier and easier for me to cause pleasure for The Mongrel , not to mention that it’s easier to read the upper thoughts in the minds of those who has weaker willpower. So it’s very easy to figure out if they’re lying, planning something. It was easier to interrogate others. Because since I was the warlord's lover, I have defended his position. I hunted down in the shadows those who tried to get his position and kill him.

By subtle methods, I have incited others to these, or I have managed to get them into a fight and they lose there; sophistically, with poisons, toxic words. I nearly never got my hands dirty. There was always someone else who did it for me. Of course, I also had to show my own strength and abilities. I had to challenge some who also thought they were strong and thought that they were able to kill the warlord. Perhaps I wasn't that strong physically, than they were, but I was quicker and smarter, and thanks to this they were already dead; and I was the stronger, so I laid the foundation for them to leave me alone and I was able to do my work, in secret.

And of course, there were those whose secret, under the cover of the night, I cut their throats or I killed them in a quiet and deserted alley. None of him was worthy of even thinking about taking his position. As long as I know, I will protect him. I didn’t even inform the warlord about my personal chosen task, although I had a feeling he knew about it. Are those who would question his power suddenly disappear? I was there to solve this situation, I was the shadow in the darkness, the silent and quick death…

Returning to the planet. I sent out the droids and kept an eye on the target area as well. When the signal arrived that ours had arrived, I went back to the landing zone, only the droids stayed out, continued reconnaissance and sent the reports that MANIAC had projected onto my retina through the biochip. I waited a minute or two only at the agreed place when I finally heard his voice. I smiled involuntarily and shivered pleasantly, however, since he was still a long way off from me, I didn’t try to send a telepathic message to him. I had my limits too.

<< Warlord, welcome! I made a detailed geographical and tactical analysis of the area, a comprehensive holographic map of the area was made, which I forward as usual. >> I said and in the meantime I also sent the data and then continued. << There is not much hostile movement in the area of interest to us yet. I only saw and sensed a few patrols, but no more serious force had arrived yet, nor their main army. The patrols are Mandalorians. The area isn’t exactly ideal for fighting, there was more rain recently, a lot of mud, and the jungle. True, it is an ideal terrain for us, we are used to it. Outside the area, however, I have already seen more movement. But they have to arrive if they want to intervene and we will notice if they are leaving their current positions. We are about ten to fifteen minutes from the landing point is the area we need… >> I said on the communication channel, with a normal voice and emphasis, with military respect, there was not the slightest sign that there is no sign of the old relationship between us, but much the new bonds are much more than that.

 

[Yenna]

KESTRI | TOR VALUM FIGHTING PITS
ALLIES: Enclave | Open
ENEMIES: Maw | Open
ENGAGING: Come at me bro
GEAR: In bio​

Joli Rouge​

With the recent mess over Kestri's secrecy, Yenna gained a lot more freedom to explore and learn of the Enclave's curious new culture. Needless to say, this was a wealth of new information for the little green Jedi to explore, all in hopes of compiling new quirks and curiosities for her book. It took some convincing to win over Runi Kuryida but she won in the end. She had come to adore her conversations and time together with the Shaman and her wisdom. She was going to get a special mention in the book, for sure.

But her time with Runi was set aside for this thrilling occasion.

A tournament for Mandalorians to beat the snot out of each other.

Yenna was right at the front, standing on a railing with a glass of tihaar in one hand and her other in the air as she cheered at the top of her lungs. "KICK HIS ASS!" She roared along with the rest of the crowd. "HIS LEGS, SWEEP, DAMMIT!" Naturally her faint voice got lost in the cheers, and every now and then she remembered that there was an academic reason for her being at the fight aside from the drinks and thrill.

Setting her plastic cup down, she plucked out her datapad and made a few more notes around the style and tactics used by the fighters, as well as the rules of the fight. Luckily those were quite simple notes to make, which allowed her to go right back to cheering and shouting.

Coming to Kestri was a bloody brilliant idea!

 

[Gwyneira Vizsla]

M A D E - F O R - T H I S​

No Sith. No Exceptions.

The mantra of the Enclave, the words she recited in her mind so many times while training. The Sith were a disease. A pox. A pestilence which needed to be eradicated. Yet, despite all this passion, she had been focused on another target as of late. The Arkanian purists who expiramented, cloned, and slaved "lesser species" had been experiencing her wrath ever since she was rescued from her own Arkanian father's lab. She had been plagued by the four months of torment she received, and had been getting carried away with her engineering projects between shooting up illegal laboratories.

This had lead to the finished product of her modified Howler Basilisk war droid, Cabur'tomad.

In hyperspace, Gwyn leaned back in her seat. Clad in her Beskar'gam, buy'ce on her lap. She was about to return to No Sith, No Exceptions. Yet, was she ready? Her mechanical leg twitched. The Brotherhood of the Maw were evil, vile beings. Her lover had hunted them prior to coming home to the Enclave. The existence of Sith in their ranks confirmed their depraved monstrosities. She looked into the blue lightsaber blazing outside her ship. "You ready, Cab?"

A light switch flickered on and off, her buddy's signal that he indeed was ready to fight.

"Remember, show no mercy. The Maw will show us none. Defend our Vode, destroy all Maw. No Sith, no exceptions."

She then hastily added, "Oh! Remember that the nebula will make it near impossible to communicate with our fellows. Do try not to mess anything up while shooting things..."

A snort from a pipe sarcastically asked, Who? Me? Gwyneira chuckled and fondly patted Cab's steering wheel. "May the Force be with us, we're coming out of hyperspace."

As they slipped out of hyperspace, Gwyneira could not help but be astonished. This nebula was gorgeous! The swirling colors and thick gasses made for quite an artistic design. Yet, she had to remember why she was here. Gwyn was intimidated, looking into the beautiful nebula. She always had had potent Force Sense. Today, she would have to rely on it. As Cab slipped into position outside the nebula, she pulled her buy'ce on and spoke through the com channel of the Enclave's fleet, "<<Hail, Vode. Gwyneira Krayt, in position and on standby for further orders.>>"

 

[Jin X]

Richard Ramirez by SKYND

Character Voice: X

Location: Roon
Objective: Collect Artifacts
Gear: Nightmare of Exegol (Lightsaber), The Fiend's Grin (Lightwhip), Pistol, Sniper Rifle
Tags:​

War Chiefs from different war bands gathered in conference under a human skin-stitched tent, debating and arguing like siblings over the potential scraps of Sith artifacts. Every chief desired such a relic, knowing one relic alone could increase their power: potentially elevating them over their rivals. The debates intensified; curses were spat, threats of skinning alive hurled about, and on a few occasions, chiefs had to be separated. The need for power was the fuel that fanned the flames of jealousy. Proposals were made, later discarded because one War Chief thought he was getting short-ended, while another didn't want to send his band into the teeth of the Enclave if the tally of spoils did not favor him. And so, they squabbled.

Leaning with her back against a rusty tent pole, arms crisscrossed over one another, simply stood watching and listening to the debacle. She wondered if these jesters would finally get around to acting, or if they would let slip a grand opportunity. She held no allegiance to any War Chief; she was a Knight of Ren and her loyalties were of such. She didn't care if these over bloated war mongrels ever got their paws on the Sith treasure, nor did she concern herself if they tore themselves apart debating over such shiny trinkets of power and strength. She knew that every Sith artifact, regardless of whatever boon it promised, always came with a high price to pay. What these chiefs were really seeking, unbeknownst to them, was a lifetime to slavery if they chose poorly. The Sith were cruel, their objects of power even crueler.

And their squabbles continued until the last threads of her patience frayed. "Fools," she said drawing her eyes across the faces inside the tent.

 

[Vulcan Krayt]

Location: Roon
Objective1: Fight for fellow Vod! Hold nothing back.
Equipment: Sword, M.I. Beskar'gam Mk.1 M.I. 'Sunstroke' jetpack M.I. Model 6 hybrid pistol, M.I. Model 12 shatter rifle x2, Thermal Detonators, Magnetic Detonators, Perun's Call
Tag: Open

Roon, the birthplace of the Enclave and the land that they are gearing to protect. He had learned about it during his time with his clan, it was the first thing he was taught. He volunteered almost immediately as soon as it was announced they were going to protect it, mostly because it was a fight, but equally it was important and Vulcan can't stand by and do nothing, he never will.

That is not the way

He remembered his promises, the first is No Sith, no exceptions and a far deeper one, to Shai, to return from the battle alive and to keep coming back, no matter what. He knew how scared his Alor was when he got hurt on Dromund Kass, Jos filled him in good and proper on the aftermath, it was such a close call, but he's too stubborn to quit, to lie down and leave the world.

He had in his satchel, a loaf of bread made of a mix of Cement and Beskar in a small bag, he can use it as a weapon if he sees fit. Nothing hurts quite like Beskar and it will do damage. Good, he hoped to use it on someone.

This time he will be keeping close to the Enclave and not charge too far ahead so recklessly. He decided to use his jet pack to survey the area before striking, not scanning for hostiles ended rather badly for him. Not this time, he has learned from his error in judgement. Who he was looking for, he had no clue. What mattered now is getting stuck into a good fight and hopefully blowing up a few sith along the way.

He's armed with enough thermal detonators to blow up a mountain. Touching down on a high point miles from where he left his fighter, he knew if he had a high ground he may fair better in battle.

He grinned at the memory of his handiwork, his fellow Vod earned joint credit for it too, but he did that amount of destruction himself. But he's not here to touch Roon, and the only thing he hopes to blow up is a Sith. But the hard part now is finding one to pick a fight with. Depending on his luck, he could get caught slap bang right in the middle of a duel or he has to go to the Maw.

 

[Jiriad Galaar]

W A R

​

Objective: Kill Some Maw
Equipment: Beskar'gam, Orar Power Hammer, Sólarnál Particle Bow, Crushgaunts
Tags: Open

​

Ever since Jiriad became chieftain, then became the Aliit'alor of a Mandalorian clan, he had become more level-headed, if still stubborn as ever. He and his people had adapted to the Mandalorian way of life quite well. There were few things that riled up Jiriad's temper these days.
​

​

Oh, but Sith? Sith were one of them. Nothing made Jiriad's blood boil quite as hot as Sith did.
​

​

​

Sith had conquered Krownest. Sith had killed his kinsfolk in droves. Sith had forced Clan Galaar from their home until they sought refuge on Kestri. And now, Sith picked apart Roon like vile carrion birds, searching for a crumb of sustenance to extend their fanatical crusade. Jiriad had sat on Kestri as the Enclave expanded, working the forges and supplying his brethren with arms and armor.
​

​

Not any more.
​

​

​

Jiriad, for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, donned his warrior's full warrior's beskar'gam, forgoing his smith's armor for something much more protective. With his index and middle finger, the Mandalorian Jarl marked his face with Valkyri war paint, then put on his crushgaunts. He paused for but a moment as he looked at his reflection in his helmet's visor. It had been far too long since he saw a warrior looking back at him. Turning to the warriors of Clan Galaar assembled with him, he donned the helmet and hefted his power hammer high above his head, letting his voice boom through the transport.

​

​

"Látum blóð þeirra renna eins og fljót, sem vér skulum sigla á til Björnskalds! Fyrir Óða! Fyrir Mandalore! Oya!"
Let their blood flow like a river, upon which we shall sail to Beornskald! For Odiir! For Mandalore! Let's Hunt!
​

 

[Runi Kuryida]

CALM BEFORE THE STORM

:: Ringside, Tor Valum, Kestri
Objective II​

Spectacle was not the Mandalorian Way, but that did not preclude Mandalorians from participating in tournaments. They honed their bodies as one of several means to strengthen their soul, and in so doing bring honor and strength to the Manda. Ritual combat was just another means of training, and it did help people work out their aggression in a group in a... dignified fashion. A means of emotional and mental relief in an otherwise strenuous world. It was for that utility that the Speaker of the Mandokarla did not oppose the precedings.

In fact, the Shaman was on the sideline as one of several prepare to render aid. Either in the event a fight went too far, or to ensure a worthy fighter didn't collapse out of sight of others from unseen injuries. Most were trained in the art of medicine, which Runi did not impose upon. She held her strength back in the Force unless an injury was grievous enough a combatant's life was in jeopardy and even bacta might not be enough.

What would be the point of learning how to be a skilled medical technician if someone with the Manda's Gift kept healing everyone? It would only weaken the Mandalorians in the long run.

As her hazel eyes slowly passed over the crowd while a fight unfolded, they came upon a green sprite perched upon the railing. Anyone else there'd be guards flanking her afraid she meant to jump or might be pushed off. Yenna, however, despite her stature and ordinarily poor choice in footing, was not in any danger. Well, perhaps of liver disease and from dancing up and down the railing after getting drunk, but not from falling like almost anyone else in her position.

Naturally, the Jedi Knight had a datapad in her hand when she didn't have a drink in it instead. Runi had a thought to wean the woman off her drink, but so long as she didn't not become incapacitated by the indulgence, the Shaman wouldn't make a big deal of it. At least the short woman seemed to be enjoying her time among them, which pleased Runi.

:: OPEN | Yenna ​

 

[Shai Maji]

ROON | CLOAK OF THE SITH NEBULA
ENCLAVE | TASK FORCE 3
FLEET: 2 Bes'drahr-class Heavy Cruiser | 6 Kyr'am-class Strike Frigate | The Vhipirheim
COMPLIMENT: Beviin-class Space Superiority Starfighter | 'Howler' Mk.1 Basilisk War Droid
ALLIES: ENCLAVE | Gwyneira Vizsla | Open
ENEMIES: DA MAW | Open
ENGAGING: Come at me bro
GEAR: In bio | Standard loadout​

Spoiler: tl;dr and fleet details

• Enclave fleet moving into Nebula
• Compensating for Nebula’s interference
• All ships ready to fight with defenses at the ready
• Vhipirheim main cannons charging

Fleet formation:

^ ^
^ /\ [||] /\ ^
^ ^
​

-Frigates:

• Phantom Queen:
  • Structure: N/A
  • Shields: N/A
  • Armament: N/A
• Surprise:
  • Structure: 100%
  • Shields: 100%
  • Armament: 100%
• Speedy:
  • Structure: 100%
  • Shields: 100%
  • Armament: 100%
• Purgil:
  • Structure: 100%
  • Shields: 100%
  • Armament: 100%
• Milk Maid:
  • Structure: 100%
  • Shields: 100%
  • Armament: 100%
• Harrier:
  • Structure: 100%
  • Shields: 100%
  • Armament: 100%

-Cruisers:

• Acheron:
  • Structure: 100%
  • Shields: 100%
  • Armament: 100%
• Silence:
  • Structure: 100%
  • Shields: 100%
  • Armament: 100%

-Flagship:

• Vhipirheim:
  • Structure: 100%
  • Shields: 100%
  • Armament: 100%

IF I HAD A HEART​

:: Welcome to the Mando’ade ::

It was a simple open frequency projected to the rest of the system as the Task Force entered the Nebula. Immediately their navigation systems went dark and other systems were fluctuating in reliability as well. But for the most part they still had scopes and targeting systems. The Enclave ships were in control.

Their comms were unreliable as well, but the crews all knew dadita in order to communicate in dire straits such as these. By simply using the static in the comms of their secure systems, they were happily communicating back and forth to maneuver through the clouds in search of their enemy. Standing on the bridge of the Krayt mothership, Shai watched as her crew conducted their business and constantly updated the holomap in front of her. ”Targeting systems are still fine at close range, but I ain’t takin’ chances. I want men on every viewport with commlinks open and rangefinders at the ready. If they spot something, we need azimuth and range immediately for the guns.” She spoke up, looking to her comms officer. ”You got it, boss.” He swiveled around and pinged the orders to the other ships before opening the intercom of the ship as well.

”Just got a message from the Silence. ‘This soup is thick’ they say.” A few snorts and chuckles rumbled on the bridge, including the Wardog’s. ”We’re good at least. These kriffers think they’re all that. We rule this void. Clan Krayt lives in this void. What’s the status of the assault team?”

”Assault team’s touched down on the surface, they took a beating in the Nebula but all ships were accounted for. No first contact as of yet.” One of the officers responded, turning to face Shai.

”Good. They’ll hit ‘em hard, they know their job. Let’s just make sure we do ours. Make sure the marines are ready to rock… and tell the Basilisks to stand by.”

”Roger that!”

The starfighters were all inside the ships who had the hangar and cargo bay space to house them, but littering the hulls of each ship in the fleet were several Basilisks clinging to the armour plating, waiting patiently for orders to let loose. Their signature was perfectly masked by their close proximity to the other ships and the Nebula’s interference. It was certainly not the only surprise Shai had in store, but they were a solid backup once first contact was made.

The tension was thick on each ship as they navigated through the Nebula. The occasional asteroid bounced off the bigger ships while the smaller frigates flew around. Their armaments were ready to rock and their defensive systems were already working hard, either jamming signals or putting out bogus pings in the event the enemy got close enough to pick them up.

”Make sure the solars are charged. If I say I wanna launch a star at someone, I want it fired by the time I crack open a cold one.” Shai ordered the gun crews, leaning forward to study the holomap. Any information picked up by the ships were all compiled in a neat map for each ship to use collectively. It helped them stay organized, and certainly helped to prevent anyone from floating away in the thick Nebula. ”I’m waiting for the day DECEASED Erskine Barran realizes that ships are simply tanks in space. Watch that madman climb into a cruiser faster than we can say ‘oya’.” She joked.

"<<Hail, Vode. Gwyneira Krayt, in position and on standby for further orders.>>"

The message was distorted, though they could make out what the girl said over the comms at least. Using Dadita once again, Shai broadcasted a quick message to Gwyn. :: Gwyn, this is Mothership, we copy. Be on the lookout and await further orders. :: With the message sent, it was only a matter of waiting and searching.

ROON | DABA’R
ENCLAVE | MARINE DETACHMENT
GEAR: Repeaters | Missile launchers | Rifles | Pistols | Shields | Varying armour
COMPLIMENT: Keldab-class Assault Dropships | 'Howler' Mk.1 Basilisk War Droids | 'Badger' Main Battle Tanks | Mandalorian Assault Walkers
ALLIES: ENCLAVE | Vulcan Krayt | Soloman Priest | Jiriad Galaar | Open
ENEMIES: DA MAW | Jin X | The Mongrel | Keilara Kala'myr | Open
ENGAGING: Come at me bro​

Spoiler: tl;dr

• Enclave main force landed
• Soldiers ready up and roll out
• Commanding officer contacts the Mongrel
• Patrols and recon teams dispatched into the jungles

ANICA KNINSKA KRALJICA​

The trip through the Nebula was hairy. Even with their knowledge of routes and the plethora of defenses on the gunships, they still took a hell of a beating before they got to Roon’s atmosphere. Luckily all hands were accounted for and the support equipment got through as well. They were going to need it in such a desolate fighting environment.

The marine detachment, made up of Mandalorians as well as volunteers from the liberated planets, were ready for the jungle conditions, with armour painted and various types of camouflage littering their gear to keep their silhouette scrambled at a distance as well as up close. What also helped was the drenching storm concealing the Enclave and encroaching on the Mawites, all conjured up by the detachment’s commander.

Jos Krayt, once a Baran Do sage, now a Shaman in the Mandokarla and hardened warrior of Clan Krayt, was sent by his Alor to aid the Enclave Marines in their assault. The Maw was already on the ground, but the Marines had solid space between them and the Mawites to get ready and deploy. Though it certainly wouldn’t last for long. The landing zone needed to be secured and fortified if they hoped to keep a solid footing on the planet. They didn’t have a supply line, and if the Enclave lost the fight in the air, they would be cut off as well. They needed to be ready.

:: Get those tanks and walkers ready and low to the ground. This storm isn’t going to repeat anytime soon. :: He ordered as troops scrambled around them. It took a lot of effort to conjure such a spectacle, but it was all he had in him. Anything more and they would sit without a commander for a day or two.

The Enclave’s advantage was their technology and discipline, their drawback was their numbers. Mandalorians and Mawites were hardened fighters both, but the Maw specialized in this kind of war. Overwhelm and tear apart, with the help of grotesque animals and slaves piloting barbaric vehicles to deadly effect.

He turned to a nearby comms operator. The Kel Dor’s mask hid any expression, but the mischief was clear in his voice. :: And open a channel to the Mongrel. Open Frequency will do. :: His man did it while tanks howled to life and Basilisks circled overhead, the noise masked by the snow to any and all at a distance.

:: Mongrel! Welcome to Roon. My Alor would also like me to tell you that she would love a ‘rematch’ with you, but unfortunately the Nebula is keeping her busy. She did ask me to deliver to you one message that she is sure you are familiar with. ::

He took a deep breath.

:: MAW! DELENDA! EST! ::

The message was sent and the rest of the main force got ready to roll out. In the meantime, scouts and patrols were dispatched to reconnoiter and send back valuable information. Information that turned out to change up the entire situation.

”They aren’t here yet, sir. Almost, but not quite. Their forward parties, however, have been spotted a number of times. It seems that both sides are going to clash hard and fast, boss.” One of Jos’ troopers reported. The Kel Dor caressed his face mask in thought. ”Then we move out. Send smaller teams of Si’kahya to harass and disrupt if possible. This terrain is ideal for us, but our heavy vehicles are going to take time to operate.”

Sliding his helmet on, he signalled for the force to move out and take to their separate duties.

Hell was going to rain down on Roon.

Jos looked at Vulcan and gave the boy a nudge. "You ready for this one? I hope you packed enough explosives, there's going to be a lot of them." He quipped as they rolled out.

[/font]

 

[Marlon Sularen]

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S H A D O W_ O F _ M A N D A L O R E
Chapter 1 :Shadows Fall

FINAL DAWN
CLOAK OF THE SITH , OUTER RIM TERRITORIES

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“Grand Overseer , we have arrived at the Cloak of the Sith Nebula” the Captain said as the FDS Dark Zealot emerged from hyperspace arriving in front of the Nebula followed by a Trio of Tyrant-Class Star Destroyers , the FDS Inferno , FDS Oppressor and FDS Enforcer. This was the Second Official Deployment of Task Force Tyrannus after their decisive engagement with the forces of House Io over Naboo which eventually resulted in a victory for the Final Dawn and a rout for House Io Forces. Now in the wake of open conflict between the the Maw and the Enclave at Roon , the Task Force had been deployed once more this time with the goal of securing control over the known routes of the Cloak of the Sith Nebula and hunting down any opposition they would meet in the form of Enclave Warships.

The Final Dawn had been quite wary of the Enclave since its emergence as a Major Power in the Galaxy especially now that the Confederacy had collapsed and that they were now moving into former Confederate Planets to prop up proxies as part of their overall plans for the Core Worlds. While the Final Dawn had kept it’s distance from the Enclave , the Maw chose the opposite and now , Task Force Tyrannus found itself being mobilized once more this time under the personal command of Grand Overseer Marlon Sularen as they headed to Roon with the intent of supporting their Mawite Allies and testing the capabilities of the Mandalorian Enclave.

“Very good.” Sularen said in response to Wilhlem’s earlier statement. “Activate the Dark Zealot’s Cloaking Device and maintain our position.” the Grand Overseer said. “Then have Colonel Wilhelm and his Ship proceed to move into the Nebula and seek out whatever Mandalorian Forces are present. We will lure them out and annihilate them in one single stroke. Let’s see what these Mandalorians are capable of.”

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TASK FORCE TYRANNUS - GROUP AUREK

Commanding Officer : Colonel Viktor Wilhelm

FDS Inferno [100|100] FDS Oppressor [100|100] FDS Enforcer [100|100]

Onboard the FDS Inferno , Colonel Wilhlem watched as Task Force Tyrannus emerged from hyperspace arriving in front of the Cloak of the Sith Nebula. It was known to make all sorts of navigation impossible with the exception of two select routes that ran through the Nebula. According to Sularen , the Mandalorians might use the Nebula as cover , hiding their warships within the Nebula itself and outside the two routes running through the Nebula as they waited for Mawite Forces to pass through the routes before ambushing them with the goal of utterly annihilating them. Thus the Grand Overseer had laid out a simple plan to defeat them. Use Colonel Wilhelm and his Tyrant-Class Star Destroyers as bait to lure the Mandalorians out of the Nebula before outright annihilating them with the Dark Zealot which had just activated it’s Cloaking Device while patiently waiting for the Mandos outside the Nebula.

Therefore , once he had received a transmission from the Dark Zealot , Colonel Wilhelm gave the order to move his trio of Tyrant-Class Star Destroyers into the Nebula with the goal of drawing out whatever Enclave Warships lied within the Nebula despite the fact that the Dark Zealot had the ability to cruise into the Nebula and annihilate any Forces they encountered , which was what Wilhelm would have done had he been given command over the Operation. But according to Sularen , the Final Dawn knew little of the Enclave and instead it would be better to simply test their abilities on the Battlefield to begin developing tactics to be utilized against them rather than going fully in and getting annihilated by an enemy they barely understood.

Within minutes , the Three Tyrant-Class Star Destroyers found themselves inside the Cloak of the Sith Nebula traveling along one of the two routes that ran through the Nebula in single file as they waited for the Mandalorians to show up. It was about time the Mandalorian Enclave got a proper taste of the Final Dawn and a glimpse of the war to come should they choose to continue challenging the Brotherhood of the Maw and the will of the Dark Voice.

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Spoiler: TL;DR

• The FDS Dark Zealot along with a Trio of Tyrant-Class Star Destroyers (FDS Inferno , FDS Oppressor & FDS Enforcer) arrive at the edge of the Cloak of the Sith Nebula
• The FDS Dark Zealot activates it's Cloaking Device and remains outside of the Cloak of the Sith Nebula
• The Three Tyrant-Class Star Destroyers move into the Nebula advancing along the Manda-Roon Merchant Route

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Tag | Shai Maji ​

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[Alora Vizsla]

Location: Gambit, Don't You Wish You Knew, Nebula, Roon System
Objective II: Hiya!

Saw forward. Saw backward. Saw forward. Saw backward.

Lounging back in a chair on the flight deck of the Gambit, a woman with a colorful mane of hair was practically horizontal with her hands clasped atop her belly while the rhythmic sound of unperturbed sleep filled the chamber. Some might say she might be suffering from sleep apnia with some kind of blockage in her throat with all the racket, but nothing could be further from the truth! Alora just liked harassing Gambit with the noise.

A soft moan interrupted the performance followed by a few murmured words. "Khan why is your moon haunted?" Alora shifted slightly in her chair. After a soft sigh the sawing resumed. It wasn't her fault she'd watched a holovid about haunted moons and a nebula before the mission!

A minute later as lights on the console flashed, Alora leaned back slightly further with a soft creak. The dull thud of a body as it hit the floor and the sharp snap of a chair going upright followed.

"Did we hit something?" Alora's cried as she sat up on the floor with wide, honey-brown eyes.

"You know very well I am capable of flying without your vigilant and nimble hands at the controls," the Gambit's synthesized voice replied with a serenity that was not shared by its emotive core.

Alora sniffed before she crawled up to the console and dropped back into her seat. After a quick peek at the readouts, her eyes lifted to the swirling colors and currents of the nebula that had surrounded them for a while now. It was a beautiful sight. Best seen before the pewpew lasers might ignite a pocket of gas and make it a lethal beauty.

"Yeah, well," Alora paused to stretch and yawn, "you are navigating with thrusters only in this soup." The mains were offline so the Gambit was for all practical purposes invisible to most forms of detection. They'd sailed through blockades and out of war zones without anyone being the wiser before. Not that it wasn't without its drawbacks though. Passive 'cloaking' meant you couldn't turn it off, and big bright engines flaring to life could give you away to the right kind of sensor so you had forego them and rely on a more lethargic form of navigation.

I have no esophagus and I must sigh was the Gambit's plight. "And I have yet to plant myself into some Brotherhood's hull like a lawn dart nonetheless."

Alora smiled. It wouldn't be long before things got heated in the nebula. From what she was picking up now the number of festive freaks attending the space party was growing.

POYO! :: Gwyneira Vizsla | Shai Maji
ARA ARA :: Onrai | Marlon Sularen​

 

[Siv Dragr]

B R A W L

Objective: Win a Fistfight
Location: Fighting Pits, Tor Valum
Tag: Runi Kuryida | Yenna | OPEN

Rarely did Siv have the chance to fight against other Mandalorians, and even more rare (unfortunately) did he have a chance to fight on non-lethal terms. Combat was one of the most essential parts of Mandalorian life, and it could be argued that warfare was a defining aspect of Mandalorian culture.

But that didn't stop some of these foundlings and trainees from being bad at it.

"Throw your weight behind it," Siv grunted as he checked a haphazard swing from an adolescent whose armor looked too big on him. It probably was, he reflected as he returned with a straight punch to the gut, given the habit for Clan members to inherit their ancestor's armor. Siv's own beskar'gam had been inherited from a passed-on member of Clan Dragr, making it one of the few surviving relics he had of his Clan and its many-thousand-years worth of heritage.

The young warrior-to-be fell to one knee, clutching at his abdomen with one hand. "Can you take it easy for a bit?" He pleaded, exasperated as he tried to catch his breath. All around them, Mandalorians dueled one-on-one or in group melees as spectators cheered from the stands that ringed the fighting pit.

Siv drew back a pace, but his hands remained in fists, raised to strike at any moment. "In battle, your opponent won't go easy on you. Now get up," he barked, and wearily his young opponent drew himself back to his feet, before yelling another punch. Siv shifted his stance so the throw went sliding down his chest instead of landing squarely, grabbed the extended arm, and threw the kid to the ground with a forceful yank. "Get out of the fighting pits and try hitting the sparring mat," he remarked to the downed opponent as Si'kayha commandos playing referee moved in to retrieve the fallen boy.
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[Gwyneira Vizsla]

D E A D L Y - B E A U T Y​

As she entered the nebula, trailing a ways behind Shai Krayt's formation, Gwyneira was swept away by the view of this nebula. In some ways, it was eerie and chilling. The loneliness of being surrounded by the heavy clouds, the inability to use computer systems to figure out what was happening. It was only through her connection to Shai that she knew where her armada was. As she continued to steer in that direction, Cab irritably shook himself. Gwyn sighed at being jostled, but could relate. <"You're spooked too, huh?">

Yet, despite the vacant air, this nebula was beautiful as well. The many colors and patterns, swirling together to create new stars. As an artist, she definitely appreciated it. Still, she had to recollect and remember her duty.

She closed her eyes, stretching her sense out with the Force to try and figure out if anyone else was out there. She reached out, opening her ability to sense Force Signatures as she branched out, into the nebula. Indeed, she sensed them. Mass collections of lifeforms, teeming like fireflies in a lamp within three separate bulges. Three larger ships, somewhere in a general direction. But the coordinates, the distance? She was unable to figure it out. The Force was way different than scanners, after all. She just knew it was to her left, somewhere, in this soup of space.

TLDR

Spoiler

- Gwyn is behind Shai Krayt's formation, not within visual distance but able to sense it with the Force. Gwyn can't sense Alora because she's Force Dead. Shai Maji Alora Vizsla
- Gwyn senses that the three Final Dawn ships are to her right, but has no idea of the distance or coordinates. Marlon Sularen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

ENCLAVE | TASK FORCE 3
An Old Girl's Revenge​

It was all of a sudden that another capital ship popped out of hyperspace, near enough to Gywn's smaller vessel for her to see it in its entirety. An old one... The Venator Class Star Destroyer that IFF designated the Clanless propelled itself forwards at full burn to catch up the rest of the Mando formation. The old girl might have been cobbled together and had a skeleton crew but she was ready to fight again which was a blessing to her captain.

Omen stood upon one of the ship's twin bridges, monitoring the situation in front of him and receiving status reports as crewmen that had either been exiled from their clans or were just the last of their clans, in general, sat at their stations. The Clone had hand-selected his fighter pilots and crew as the best of the best and they would do their duty to their ship and their toddler nation to the last.

"All fighters, launch." At his command, the Venator's forward bay doors started to creak open as squadrons of old-fashioned modified ARC-170 and V-Wings starfighters started to rev up their afterburners and eventually poured out into the vast blackness of space, before swraming around their mothership as their squadron leaders waited patiently to be given a target.

Only as the old warbird would the rest of the fleet see a large line of text having been painted onto the sides. The "Up Yours Shai!" certainly went well with an accompanying picture of Omen kicking a certain horndog up the rear while she howled in pain. As the ARC sipped his caf he decided that no, life couldn't get much sweeter than this...

Gwyneira Vizsla , Shai Maji , Alora Vizsla

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Roon, Continent of Daba'r
Allies: Keilara Kala'myr | Jin X
Foes: Shai Maji | Vulcan Krayt | Jiriad Galaar

Spoiler: TL;DR

• The Mongrel lands and begins deployment
• He answers the Mandalorian taunts with taunts of his own
• He orders Mercy to keep watch for any attempted ambush or skirmishing attack

Her voice reached him, and his thoughts became clouded.

The Mongrel knew that Mercy made him vulnerable. For the first time since this decade-long crusade had begun, someone other than the Avatars Themselves had something he wanted. No longer was he fully focused on serving his dark gods, on achieving glorious martyrdom in their name. He was distracted now, pulled back to the galaxy he had sworn to leave behind in order to reach the Galaxy To Come. She made him remember the way life had been, the pleasures of living before the Maw had stripped away his history and his very flesh.

It was a dangerous thing, dangerous for them both, for the Heathen Priests would not tolerate such distractions - nor would their leader, the Dark Voice, who made manifest the will of the gods. And yet there was a paradox, for even as Mercy was his weakness, she was also his protector. He was not blind to what was happening within his tribe. He could see that those brash and glory-hungry warriors who might have challenged him, especially if his relationship with her became known, were dying at unusual rates, even for Mawite marauders.

She was watching over him from the shadows, as always.

"Excellent work," he praised her, impressed as always by her thoroughness. The tactical data Mercy had gathered flooded in, and his implants set to analyzing it, drawing up battle plans for the forces he had available. Yet while his mechanical mind cycled through these military matters, the few organic parts of his brain still remaining - the last remnants of the man he had been when the Brotherhood took him all those years ago - fluttered with excitement at the prospect of seeing her, of being close to her again. It was intoxicating. It made him weak.

And yet he could not, would not, turn away.

They were not the first Mawites to arrive on Roon, of course. The petty, squabbling warchiefs that had so disgusted Jin X were already fighting over how to divide up the Sith relics they might soon uncover, relics whose significance they could not possibly understand, for they had no knowledge of sorcery. It would fall to The Mongrel to bring them into line, to cow them with the well-known might of the Scar Hounds and their legendary leader. In this mission he would act as the iron hand of the Dark Voice himself, enforcing the Avatars' will.

Just as Mercy had warned, he could see a few contact icons popping up on his tactical feed, Mandalorian patrols that Mawite forces had already identified; the likes of Vulcan Krayt and Jiriad Galaar , roaming Roon's surface in search of Brotherhood warriors to engage. That meant both sides had deployed their scouts at a minimum, the vanguards of the armies that would soon clash here. It was a prelude to war, a foreshadowing of the bloodshed to come, Mandalorians and Mawites alike jockeying for the early terrain and intel advantage.

But that early stage was already coming to an end.

With a sound like the shriek of claws raking across durasteel, the Mawite dropships disengaged their sublight engines and switched to their repulsorlifts, coming in for a landing amid Roon's muddy jungles. Rain pattered against the hull of The Mongrel's transport, a gentle drumming against the outer armor, almost soothing... but also a clear reminder of the brutal conditions under which the raiders would be forced to operate. In such an environment, marching feet would sink into the muck, and slick leaves and vines would block easy passage.

Still, the warlord felt only anticipation. Anticipation for blood and glory and service to the only true gods. Anticipation for Mercy, to have her close once more, to hear her voice in his mind as clearly as he did in the auditory sensors that had replaced his ears. Anticipation for this long, long war to enter this next stage, bringing them all closer to the final cleansing and the paradise that the Avatars had promised. Such simple obstacles as rough terrain and nasty weather would not keep him from his goals. The Mawites had fought in far worse conditions.

Yet as the dropship set down, a final shudder running through it as it met the uneven rocks and roots of Roon's rugged surface, a new distraction: a transmission on an open channel, an unencrypted Enclave frequency. It was clearly a message intended for the Mawites to intercept, and so The Mongrel obliged his foes. He listened as Jos Krayt spoke, though he learned little. The message contained only two things for him: an assurance that Shai Krayt, the woman who had fought him back on Carlac, was not here this time...

... and a tiresome taunt, more a wish than a truth.

For the Maw was far from destroyed. Indeed, its power grew with every system that fell before it, and system after system continued to fall. Their industrial capacity grew with each new world. New marauders flocked to their banner as they defied Alliance, Empire, and every other power of Known Space. New captives fell into their hands day after day, month after month, to be pressed into service as laborers or slave-soldiers. Though the Scar Hounds still reeled from their frontline losses, the Brotherhood as a whole had never been stronger.

"A gift of your head," The Mongrel growled in reply, "will remind your Alor that we are not to be taken lightly. So come, face us. We shall see how brave your warriors are when nailed to the cliffs of Daba'r, staked out beneath the open sky, so that they may look up and watch your vaunted fleet shatter before their eyes." With that, the warlord turned and stalked down the boarding ramp, righteous anger running through his figurative veins. This was just a raid, not a world he could win and hold... but he hungered for blood.

And there she was, waiting for him. It was strange; he did not see beauty in Mercy's physical form, though many would call him lovely. He had lost the capacity to appreciate physical beauty. But the presence of her, the moment when he could feel her mind touch his, the way she brought back what he had lost... he hungered for that like a stimm addict lusting after the next fix, or a starving predator for the kill. He needed her, whether he wanted to or not. "Mercy," he rumbled, inclining his head. In the rain and muck they watched each other.

In the silence, something passed between them.

"We must find this Mandalorian commander and draw him out," The Mongrel growled. "No doubt they will harass our advance, using the terrain and the mobility their jetpacks afford them to their advantage." He regarded the forested cliffs that rose up from the planet's rough surface, recognizing that each and every crag could hide a sniper. They would have to find a way to counter that possibility. "Keep watch on them," he commanded. "Ensure that they cannot ambush us before we are ready for them."

Behind him, the Mawite forces began to deploy...

 

[Keilara Kala'myr]

Ziare Dyarron | Keilara Kala'myr (Mercy)
COMPNOR (ISB) Junior Agent, Nite agent | Marauder and Agent of the Maw​

Objective I.: Doing her job and follow the warlord's commands.
Location: Surface, Roon
Equipment: FS-18-UP2 Assault Rifle | 2x Sunfury Pistol | Light Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger || Cloaking Device | 5x ASBF Probe Droid || OPBC-01m
Allies: The Mongrel | Jin X
Enemies: Shai Maji | Vulcan Krayt | Jiriad Galaar

[ New Order ]
"Galactic Basic" | ~"Telepathic" communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

Spoiler: tlŁdr

• Thinking about the relationship
• Flirt with Mongrel
• Sending the spy droids to scan the area.
• Suggestion to send the wolf droids out

I watched the approaching dropships, on one of which he was there too. I felt a growing lump in my throat, my stomach twitching into a pleasant spasm. I didn’t even pay attention to my surroundings for a few moments, I just wanted him to be here nearby so I could be there next to him. Preferably alone, like on the nights he calls me, or I just sneak into his personal sanctum. When only we are two and no one else. I’m not saying it was a traditional relationship because it wasn’t. Starting with the fact that we were both freaks. He is a brain, in a jar, and I am not an original personality. I was born when my body's owner was just over twenty years old. But yet…

I was his. In all respects. I got everything from him in the relationship that a woman can get, except one thing. The kiss because in this body is quite impracticable. Though I longed, I wanted more than anything, so I will be able to kiss him physically, not just his mind with my own. Despite the brutal robot body, I recalled for a moment the gentle touch he was able to do as he caressed my skin all the way, or just the careful embrace of his arms, so as not to hurt me. We both wanted the same from the other in a different form. I moaned; I also wanted to feel his hot breath. Damn it!

A moment later, I realised that these thoughts had completely distracted me about standing right on the edge of an upcoming battlefield, or right in the middle. It might be good if we could spend a few hours together before we meet on the battlefield. It would be easier to concentrate and not expect to be just the two of us again and no one else…

And that signal, that made me realise it was nothing else that the droids indicated that people were approaching here. I also got pictures from the droids who they are. I was sure the dropships detected it too, in any case the pilots got the data. Meanwhile, the dropship also arrived… with him!

I looked up to him and… I know he’s not interested in traditional military respect, but I was interested in it. I saluted and bowed my head in front of him. We were not equal in this field. Here he was my boss, I was just a subordinate. But I could have said I was his slave, since he was the warlord of the tribe. However, that boundary disappeared when we were two. It was still novel and infinitely exciting. I stifled the urge to go to him and…

No! That would put both of us in deathly danger. And I couldn’t afford that for a moment, no matter how much I longed for her touch, hug, and closeness. Ironically, I had never seen him as a human being, that is, when he and Ziare first met, the warlord was already a cyborg, strongly. It was only in his mind that I saw what it once was like. He was like Ziare… and from that broken, weak something he became the warlord. The similarities attracted each other...

We stood there against each other, the warlord and the agent, at work, but on the other hand passionate lovers, in secret.

"Warlord! It is an honour to fight on your side again!" I said in my usual official voice, as I had spoken to him in front of others.

~ Mongrel… ~ I purred telepathically at the same time as my words spoke as I touched his mind again.

No one saw it anyway, it was raining, he showed no feelings and I was wearing a helmet, they couldn’t see my face. By now, I could easily find my way into his mind. Maybe because of the longer time spent separately, he got a long, impatient and passionate kiss, meanwhile he could feel it as I stroked it seductively with my hand through his nape and then all the way down along his spine's line. He could feel the heat of my lips and fingers as if they were actually touching his lips and skin, as if he really still had a body and it wasn't just a mind game. I longed for him to do the same, but I knew I had to wait for the end of our mission to do so. Painful and endlessly long wait.

~ I wish we had a few hours together in private... I yearn for you... I want you… ~ my voice was now really sultry in his mind.

However, I nodded at the words spoken and in a thought I instructed the droids through the biochip to rise higher, setting the sensitivity of the scanners to maximum. Now they will be flying in the area we are heading to, so there will be fewer surprises for us and the data will be sent to me and the warlord as well. When I spoke out loud, my voice fortunately did not reflect the desire and impatience I felt, to be his again.

"Task completed, warlord! I set my spy droids in position in the air as they will circle over the trees, watching and scanning the area. After jetpacks and snipers, and of course watching the forest and our surroundings after heat signals, movements, and energy signatures. I'll get the reports in real time, just like you warlord, in that case if they detect anything. They cannot really ambush us." I said the answer, I was quick and effective. "If you allow me a suggestion, warlord. The wolf droids are great for use in this terrain as well. We could send some in advance to scout the area again, they move much faster as we do, good scouts, and they could even hunt down some Mando if they meet them. See if they can find our real target faster than we do."


//OOC: If someone feels that I was beyond the PG13, it was not intentional, please let me know, and I'll edit the post. :$ //

 

[Kale Onara]

TAG: Siv Dragr , open

Kale Onara wandered around the fighting pits watching various melees taking place. Brawling like this was a unique experience that he never got tired of. Here the Mando'ade came from all over to fight, to prove themselves to themselves and everyone else. The environment, the smells, the sights, the yelling oft he crowd, it was all enough to really get a warrior's blood pumping through his veins. It made a Mando' feel alive and appreciate life almost as much as actual combat did. This was life worth living. Fighting, living on that fine edge between life and death, testing oneself against a worthy foe and conquering said foe. Yes, this was the way of the Mando'ade.

He heard some hit the ground particularly hard and turned to see Siv Dragr tossing an opponent that looked so green to the gills, Kale wondered if Siv's opponent had seen any real combat at all. As the commandos moved the kid out of the pit, Kale stepped up and into Siv's line of sight, "Well if you're done playing with the kids Siv, maybe you'd be interested in a real match?" Kale challenged as he rolled his shoulders and tilted his head left and right stretching his neck out a bit as he entered the pit.