The Best Is Yet To Come... (The Death Watch Attack on Mandalore)

[Kaveh Garshasp]

Mandalore
Keldabe City streets

Geared up and ready to fight, Kresh was a behemoth of war. Alongside several other Red Legion Commandos and Mandalorians they rushed into battle. The Vong and their many servants hissed at them from the other side of the street. With a smirk the half-breed charged forward with a wild cry, his bes'uliik mount propelling him into the thick of combat. With a metallic screech the beskar bred titan of war fired its shockwave generators rods into the enemy, blasting vongspawn to bits. The strange insects they used as grenades and throwing weapons exploded around him but they were simply shrugged off by his bes'uliik's sheer strength.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

"Oh...Kark-" a mine exploded, destroying the underbelly of his mount. It screamed in simulated pain and groaned as the heap of beskar fell to the ground in a cloud of dust and sparks. Its red eyes flickered and then shut out. The sudden fall sent Kresh tumbling into the dirt. Flanked by his comrades though he was up and ready to fight in no time at all. Plasma weapons fired, flashes of green, blue and red flew across from side to side. Kresh's shoulders found comfort behind a duracrete wall as the enemy, seemingly endless, pushed through.

"Damn Vong.." he muttered changing the energy cell in his blaster. With a huff he rounded the corner, charging headfirst into battle. With a savage cry he moved. Something within him shifted, snapped, as if a floodgate had been opened. Rage and passion poured from within providing him previously unknown strength. Vong hissed, he did not listen, Chazrach screeched, he could not hear. The Force filled this man now, propelling him forward, his massive shoulders plowing through Vong after vong. He pivoted and activated his wrist mounted vibroblade and stabbed a horrifying vongspawn just under the chin, ending its life in an instant.

Behind him lay a path of destruction and as if he were a stone in a river, the battle had been split by his rage.

This was battle. And it raged.

"Kresh...KRESH," a hand touched his shoulder. Kresh turned wildly to him, breathing heavily with his arm raised above his head, the limp arm covered in crab armor ready to be used as a maul. "Its over, we're moving on, more city to save." Whatever power was flowing through him left in an instant. He paused and looked around him. Carnage. Had he lost himself to the rage? He sighed and dropped the arm. It didn't matter, the skirmish outside of the stadium was over, it was time to move on.

"Right...Keldabe, Death Watch," he reminded himself of his sanity and the people he loved in this city. "Where to?"
[member="Tralik U'rik"] [member="Kiber Thaxton"] [member="Vassara Raxis"] [member="Krenis Skirata"] [member="Krenis Skirata"]

 

[Jak Skirata]

Mandalore
Ciryc Gar Oriya - Ori'ramikad Headuarters

The alarms were blaring everywhere. Zip's head flew up in surprise, his ears perking up and his tail wagging excitedly. But Davin had sensed the danger, almost seen it clear as day.

The Death Watch were here.

Already standing in his armor, he looked at the black and blue paint job and smiled behind his visor a little. "Stay," a whine came in response, but there was no arguing with Davin. Not today. Darting from the room he grabbed a rifle from one of the many weapon racks in the secret vheh'yaim. Shuttles were leaving the hangar already, and he wasn't about to miss this. Defending his homeworld...It was in his blood. His brother had fought against the Sith, toe to toe with a powerful Sith Lord, he too would this day defend his home from these pirates.

As the shuttle lifted off into a mild snowstorm he closed his eyes, his grip tightening on the handle hold of the LAAT. He let his mind wander into the Force, feeling for the well being of his brother. The chaos was throwing the To Vhin into a frenzy, he could feel it in the Force. He understood their plight, sometimes being connected to the Force was a terrible thing. He only hoped none grew Feral and decided to attack the smaller settlements around Cold Iron City.

His thought was cut short. A sniper shot the pilot just as they entered Cold Iron City's air space. Alarms blared but the Ori'ramikade weren't afraid. No, in fact quite the opposite. The battle had just begun.
The troop door slammed open, the wind blew around them making it incredibly hard to hear even with their helmet coms. Cursing in Mando'a about how cold it was he and several others jumped from the falling shuttle, their jet packs making their landing safe. The hairs stood up on the back of his neck and in an instant the crude red lightsaber at his waist was activated, deflecting a blaster bolt aimed for his head. The Ori'ramikad beside him retaliated with a shot of his own, taking the sniper out of commission.

"Alright vode, fan out, consolidate our forces and figure out who is and isn't good to fight."

"The mines are under attack specifically,"

"I'll head to Ge'tal then, keep your coms open!" With that he dropped his jet pack and with a running start used the Force to leap onto a nearby rooftop and sped away, his lightsaber hissing from the evaporating snow.

"Damn...I wish I had the Force sometimes."

[member="Nolan Detta"] [member="Tralik U'rik"]

 

[Ailyn Kelborn]

Mandalore
MandalTech Shipyards
Objective: Orbital Bombardment
Allies: [member="Tralik U'rik"]
Opponents: [member="Gilamar Skirata"] [member="Anija Betna"]

The process of cutting through the blast doors to the shipyard's fusion core was tedious and altogether boring for her. She wasn't the engineering type. Though she had managed to tap into the control console nearby and was monitoring what she could of the shipyard's sensors. Her eyes narrowed when she heard the announcement. Her thoughts churned for a moment and widened as she heard Tralik's pronouncement regarding the shuttles. It would indeed be a warriors death. For the approaching shuttles were moving as quickly as they could given the debris field.

As she watched the sensor feed, she frowned. There were more than just the shuttles inbound. The sensors classified the other vessels as starfighters of some kind. This was about to get interesting. She shook herself a bit at Tralik's order and grinned behind her visor. 'Finally, a chance to show these.... pretenders what being a true Mandalorian was all about'. Hefting her carbine, she nodded once, and motioned to a few others as she moved past him and towards the area where they were projected to land. "At once, Mand'alor..It appears there are also a few fighters working to clear some of the debris. What should we do with them?" she replied, her voice firm, and her footing sure, even on the unstable deckplates. Her team made quick progress towards the area where the shuttles were projected to land, and quickly set up a defensive position, weapons pointed downrange, including some heavy mobile artillery.

 

[Kangofett]

Location: Keldabe, Cu'ja'ge Halyapr (Lucky Inn)


Kango Fett awoke amongst the rubble of his room. Sitting up he checked to see if he was injured. Nothing was broken and he wasn't suffering from any major wounds. Only a slight headache was all that reminded him that he had been unconscious for who knows how long. Taking a look around the room he hoped he wouldn't have to pay for the damage.

"Bu'nas'a. I was lucky to get off without a scratch in this."

Then he dug through the rubble and eventually found his helmet and his weapons, a Ranger Sniper Rifle, a ACS-205 Blackblade Modular Rifle, and a MP-77 Heavy Blaster Pistol. Dumping out the debris in his helmet he slid it on and turned on the comms. As he scanned the comm waves to see what was going on he checked his weapons. There was reports of Vongs and Death Watch attacking the city. It was time to fight once again as a Mandalorian amongst his battle brothers. Slinging his sniper rifle he headed towards the hole in the wall were the window used to be and fired up his jet pack. His pack propelled him into the air and Kango took to the rooftops to provide sniper support for the troops defending the south wall of the city.

 

[RC 212]

[member="Kiber Thaxton"] @Strider Garon [member="Krenis Skirata"] - If I missed you, tag me.

Location: Southern Walls
Unit: Red Legion, Mando'ade Milltia.

"We're losing the line, Hold! Interlock fire and sweep the fronts!"

Commands were roared above the din as the fields burned from explosions. Kiber was laying waste to Hover Tanks but they kept on coming. The vong had put up a mighty fight, now leaping towards the walls, some kind of biological shielding was being grown almost as if a trench was going up right outside. From atop the walls the Mando'ade continued to blast fire down into the fields. Mixed with Red Legionares in plated armor and Red capes they were a sight to behold.

Vassara ducked as a fresh wave of thud bugs and acid goo sailed over the parapets. The E-web beside her was running hot, booming in her ears,. All she could hear was a dull ring, and all she could smell was the smoke of burnt flesh in her nostrils. Two more valiant warriors took a hit, their armor pulverized by thud bugs kinetic force smashing into them. Whatever plates weren't dented inwards, the compression of the hit would mush the organs.

BOOM!

Another E-Web emplacement was taken out. A ball of roiling flame exploding engulfing, and sending warriors scattering still aflame and screaming. The fuel cells flew across the wall smashing two more bodies, crushing them.

"Replace the E-web, get it up and running! Snipers shift fire to the Deathwatch, knock them off those bikes."

Vassar popped back up ears ringing and blood still flowing freely from cuts in her forehead.She squeezed the trigger again, sending hyper-velocity slugs into the Vong below. One fell, the rounds punching through its carpace and exploding flesh. She shifted, aiming a bit higher and laid into them. The Shattergun jumped and bucked in her hands, and the shots found their mark separating heads from bodies. From her peripheral she caught another E-web gunner go down.

A smoking hole appeared in his chest and he fell, clutching the hole, sliding down to his knees. Bodies had begun to stack up around the E-web emplacement. They were ten maybe fifteen meters away and pinned down by a heavy sector of incoming fire. She knew what she had to do. She had to shore up the holes.

"Mando'ade, on me! Rally, rally!"

From the ground she scooped up a banner, emblazoned with the Mythosaur skull and crossed blades. To whom it belonged she did not know. She did know it was a powerful motivational tool. The banner went up in the crisp air and she took off running. Verpine shatter gun bouncing, hair and jacket flying in the wind as she ran full tilt down the battlements to the besieged E-web. Blaster bolts and Thud bugs skipped around her feet. A razor bug caught her shoulder, slicing open a gash of flesh.

She was beyond pain now, sustained by the force and in an unyielding rage she kept her footing. Her jaw clenched and she reached the E-web, Mando'ade and Legionaries in tow. The banner slammed down into a space between two bodies. It waved proudly in the wind a symbol that the Mando'ade would not fall today.

"Cover fire, supress these dogs!"

"Death to the Auretii, you heard the woman, line formation, send em back to the holes they crawled from!"

"Oya!"

Renewed vigor gripped the left section of the wall. Under the hail of fire Vassar slid into position behind the E-web, ignoring the lancing pain from her shoulder. Her thumb's depressed the trigger and the repeater jumped, spewing torrents of fire into the closest Vong as they attempted to bring their formation closer to the wall.

Another round caught her arm, singing the flesh. She cried out in pain as the searing pain lanced her body, punching through the adrenaline rush. Synthetic fabric burned into the wound and the skin bubbled from the burn. For a second her hand slipped and she growled forcing her self to lay it back upon the weapon and fire again. There was no quarter now. No time for retreat. They had to fight to the last man....

 

[Kiber_Thaxton]

[member="Vassara Raxis"]

Kiber laid waste to four more enemy hover tanks, before he was swept up in Vassara's charge. He then fired his Verpine Shattergun sniper rifle point-blank into the waves of Vong, until it ran out of ammunition. "Damn it!" he roared. Placing the sniper rifle on his back, he unholstered the disruptor shotgun which he had christened "Warmonger" from his right leg and continued firing, the green disruptor balls exploding and going in all directions. He took down several waves of Vong until a well-aimed shot impacted his helmet. It threw him back a few feet and he lay in a state of minor shock for several minutes, before dragging himself back up onto his feet and then regaining his place in the line.

"Come on you bastards! I can do this all day!" a hysterial laugh left his throat as "Warmonger" tore into the continually advancing Vong troops; they fell in twos and threes, creating a pile of dead that, much to his surprise, acted as a temporary barrier of sorts.

 

[Tyran Vizsla]

"Death is only the beginning."


A lone hand fell against the cold, unforgiving concrete as it brushed lightly against the broken rock and debris that had rained from the Hell that had taken hold of the skies above Empress Teta. The grogginess slowly wore away as sight returned to the sentient, shapes and figures began to take definition as the warrior awoke to his surroundings. The instrument of his revival, the limb that gave him his sense of touch, shot upward gripping hold of the medical capsule as a pair of hands held down it's host.

A voice cried out from the front of the capsule opposite of the figure holding down the lone warrior, "He's in shock, give him another anesthetic!"

"That might kill him!"

Slowly his sight focused deeper upon the background chaos, a monster of titanic proportions came down into the buildings below, crimson beams of light danced back and forth in the distance as the fury of the Mando'ade came down upon the enemies of Mand'alor. The One SIth and their abominations fought on, creating havoc and despair upon the battlefield. The horrors of the Sith were unleashed upon both soldier and civilian, Basilisk War Droids scattered across the hellish sky fighting for superiority against Sith fighters, and among the chaos a single human child emerged from the rubble of Cinnagar. The small child strode toward the medical capsule slowly, was she looking for safehaven from the bloodshed? Or was she fulfilling the wishes of her oppressors? The warrior elite remained vigilant.

Holding a single damaged doll, the petrified little girl steadily moved to the injured Mandalorian despite several warnings from his vode.

"Stay back!"

"That's FAR enough! We will open fire on you!"

The child ignored the empty threats, they were warriors not murderers. Not a single man in the group could pull the trigger on the innocent girl, they could only watch in horror as the girl approached the medical capsule. The One Sith were not above using children as bait or worse, it had been done before and would happen again if it proved to provide an edge in battle. The small girl gripped hold of the Mandalorian's hand as the injured man's gaze fixated on the child, his helm rotating revealing a face underneath the damaged helmet. Tyran Vizsla, the future Silent Wolf, smiled softly as light engulfed everything, tearing apart the very fabric of reality.

Fade to black, a lone voice spoke with the authority and prideful pitch only a Sith would showcase,



"Death is only the beginning."

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

Mandalore
MandalTech Orbital Shipyards
Objective: Wake up!

Breathe!

Tyran awoke with a gasp as he gripped hold of the nearest tangible object in his reach, grabbing hold of the nearest pile of rubble he continued breathing heavily as he struggled to regain his composure from the devastation that had taken hold of the complex station. Rising slowly, the Mandalorian stood in the hall that not moments ago filled with life from dock working employees to savy business associates and consumers. Smoke filled the area as a fire raged on nearby.

The Silent Wolf drew his holocommunicator in haste, wasting no time in his attempt to contact Verda ures Alli'gai, his Private Military Company on Yavin IV.

"Cero do you read me?"

White noise and static scrambled whatever image of the individual known as Cero over the holocommunicator, his voice inaudible through the device.

"Damn."

Tyran rubbed his hand across his face feeling the cold, wet sensation of blood dripping down his face from the hit to the head he took earlier.

"It was only supposed to be a supply run..."

 

[Strider Garon]

K E L D A B E, Oyu'baat
Enemy: Death Watch/Yuuzhan Vong Mercenary Raid
Allies: Aden Dral | Mesh'la Detta Hokan | Kiber Thaxton | Vassara Raxis | Krenis Skirata | Strider Garon | Kresh Danner

His son's voice put the old man at ease. He was still alive. "Sur'ulur gar norac ad!" «Watch your back son! » He would reply affectionately and yet still a gruff resonating tone of voice. The boy was a warrior and Strider had to trust in that if he was going to keep his focus on the defense of Keldabe and running the invaders off. Death Watch was confirmed and now there was confirmation of Vong mercenaries. Situation was getting worse by the moment and the Field Marshal knew he had to rally his troops first before effectively mounting a proper defense and then hopefully a counter attack.

As he walked down the stairs of the tavern Strider could see a rather sizable force gathering with in. As the door swung open with foot traffic coming in and out, he could see that there were a mix of Mandalorian warriors and Red Legionnaires taking up defensive positions around the Oyu'baat, awaiting for the Marshal to give the word. For times like these, it was always good to be a mando for war was in their blood, violence was their talent, ingrained in most from a early age and now just muscle reflex.

He got to the bottom of the stairs and was greeted by a beskar clad warrior "Marshal!" he would extend his arm out for a proper hand shake. Strider recipucated the gesture and met the warrior forearm to forearm. Bond between warriors was everything, respect was paramount and Strider was well respected amongst the ranks. He was the longest serving Field Marshal and probably one of the oldest, long in tooth, still gearing up to fight on the front lines. Be honest, most Mando'ad don't make it to such a venerable age but the old man still felt he was on top of his game and still able to provide.

Word was getting out that he was going to make claim to Mand'alor and he knew he would serve his people well in such a capacity. In the absence of Azrael and this Death Watch crisis, the people would need a savior. Strider would step up to the plate and lead the mandalorians head on through these dark times and back to former glory. He would grip the warrior's forearm in proper etiquitte "Vod!" He would accept the embrace with honor.

The unknown warrior, his reflexes of panther quality, got a blade under the Hound of keldabe's chin and thrusted deep into his throat. The old man was confused as he felt the piercing pain and the ever need to gasp for air. " For Death Watch!" The assassin snarled before tearing the blade out from the Marshal's neck and turned to make escape.

Strider reached out with both hands, gripping around the death watch agent's throat. He always thought that his last act in life was going to be panting and slobbering over some young whore he had bought, but chocking the life out of the very man that had ended yours was a good compromise. The mechanical strength behind the crushgaunts aided in collapsing the man's windpipe while at the same time breaking the man's neck.

Strider stumbled backwards and fell into a large chair, as he felt the blood rushing form his open neck. He could feel the queasy light headed rush of life escaping his body. This was it, death had finally found its elusive target. Fitting he would take his last breath in the Oyu'baat. His head tilted forward lifelessly, his body poised in the very chair he had landed in Stoically as if it were a throne of ancient times, fitting for a king. It was just a chair, but those around him that witness the murder would tell the story different, immortalizing the very man.

 

[Micah tol Powl]

M A N D A L T E C H
Objective: Orbital Bombardment of Sundari
Allies: [member="Ailyn Kelborn"]
Opponents: [member="Gilamar Skirata"] [member="Anija Betna"] | [member="Tyran Vizsla"]

As a shuttle made its escape from the orbital platform, it became clear that there was something out there.

A stealth or cloaked vessel. Coward technology, no doubt stolen from Imperials or Sith. Avoiding the conflict, when there was battle and blood to be shared. The Gen'Dai trusted Lieutenant Kelborn to deal with their... shadow. A spread of explosive charges, most likely. Laid out along the shuttle's trajectory.

Word had not yet reached him of the successful assassination of the would-be Mand'alor, [member="Strider Garon"]. Similar marks had been placed on the heads of all the sitting members of the Alor Council. After all, the fastest way to solidify his own claim to the title of Mand'alor was to quickly incapacitate the greatest threats to his rule. And that meant disrupting the heads of the Clans. Shaking the Mando'ade and letting them feel their own inadequacies with the blood they would shed.

But, the gains and losses on the planet below were not of any immediate concern. As the Gen'Dai stood watch over the engineers laboring to open the door to the station's reactor, the warrior was presented by the foolish charge of a Mandalorian brandishing a blaster rifle. "Ah," Tralik murmured, mildly amused at the prospect of mortal combat presented him. "...the entertainment has arrived."

Holding the besk'ar maul close to the weighted head, the behemoth warrior began walking toward the man holding the blaster. Holding out his arms, the Gen'Dai motioned for this man to go ahead and take his best shot.

And, together, they would dance with the devil in this pale moonlight...

 

[Anija Betna]

Mandalore
Orbital Shipyards
Mandalorian Protectors Defense Fleet (Orbit)
NPC Units Controlled: Bes'uliik Traat'aliite (24)
Personal Vessel: 1x Bes'uliik Starfighter "Angel" Variant
Allies: [member="Gilamar Skirata"] | [member="Tyran Vizsla"] | [member="Ashtah Ordo"]
Enemies: [member="Tralik U'rik"] | [member="Ailyn Kelborn"]

Anija watched the shuttle make a break for it - against GIlamar's orders. Not that she could blame the pilot in the least. She was well familiar with the types of tactics used by Kyr'tsad. In her mind, it wasn't a cowardly move. It was a calculated move so that the pilot, and whatever passengers he carried could live to fight another day. Dying in battle was one thing.... but to live to fight another day was important. Anija was familiar with that as well. Flexing her fingers around the flight controls, she rolled the Bes'uliik to port, and up and away from the shuttle's flight path. A few murmured commands over the secured comm channel, and three of her wing began providing cover fire for the shuttle, while working to disable the station's defenses.

Her mouth quirked slightly at the thought. The orbital shipyards were a project of her buir's - [member="Ordo"]. And to a degree, it pained her to have to destroy or disable it. But if that was the only way to wrest control of it from Kyr'tsad hands, that is what she would do. Even so, she was careful in her directions, making sure her squadron only targeted weapons. It was as she was looping back around that she caught sight of something on her sensors which sent a chill down her spine. The light from the burning shipyards glinted off something or several somethings littering the space between her squadron and the shipyards.

Rolling her bes'ullik again, she oriented herself towards the station, and scanned the area with the sensors again. The area was littered with debris, which she expected. And yet..... Her eyes narrowed, and she cranked the sensor gain again. Mines. Fething mines. Swearing softly, she began plotting the locations of the mines between herself and the shipyards. Could she safely clear the mines and leave a path to the station?

 

[Tyran Vizsla]

Mandalore
MandalTech Orbital Shipyards
Allies: [member="Anija Betna"] | [member="Gilamar Skirata"]
Enemies: [member="Tralik U'rik"] | [member="Ailyn Kelborn"] | Death Watch



"It was only supposed to be a supply run..."


The Silent Wolf rose from his prone position after inspecting his head injury, he was lucky. The nearby explosion had caught him by surprise but hadn't caused any severe injuries, the blast had sent him flying back into the nearby wall and... lights out. The dream still lingered in the back of his mind of his time on Cinnagar but that could not deter him from rooting out the cause of the explosion on the station. He suspected it wouldn't be long before he found the answers he sought.

Wolf took a quick, mental inventory of what he was carrying, aside from his civilian clothes and holocommunicator it seemed the only weapon he had brought was the sheathed combat knife attached to his belt. Knives, never leave home without them. He was at a heavy disadvantage when it came to armor and weaponry, if the enemy was still onsite then he would have to utilize 'other' methods to combat them and avoid direct confrontation until he could get his hands on a set of armor and possibly a blaster.

It was time to move, Tyran drew his combat knife and held it reverse grip to match his combat style. As an expert in close quarters he was no stranger to getting up close and personal with an opponent, it was actually his preferred method of dealing with enemies to avoid detection during assignments. As Wolf neared a nearby hallway intersection he made for the corner and began to press his back against the wall with his knife gripped tightly between his fingers. Footsteps. He listened in on the footsteps that gave away his two possible targets, the way they walked, the small shuffle in their feet as they moved down the hallway.

These were military targets.

He recognized the sound, he was a soldier as well and had learned to adjust the way he walked when he wore Beskar'gam and Durasteel. It was something not many would catch except those trained to hear it, you learned many things when you began solo infiltrations and this was one of those skills.

A blaster rifle slowly peaked itself from the neighboring hallway, the moment a pair of arms could be seen the Silent Wolf would spring into action. Slamming both of his elbows down on the enemy's arms, the Death Watch affiliated Mandalorian lost his right hand's grip on the rifle swinging the blaster away in his left hand. Immediately without a second to waste, Wolf shoved the knife still clenched in his right hand straight into the enemy's throat. The second member of the Death Watch fired without hesitation as soon as he laid eyes on Tyran, two bolts of energy flashed off toward the Mandalorian within seconds of witnessing the deed. Wolf quickly pulled his knife and rolled his shoulder in one fast motion, pivoting his body behind the corner as the two bolts barely missed their mark, sending sparks across the wall.

"Death Watch."

Tyran pressed his cheek against the wall, this was not good. The Death Watch had returned to Mandalorian territory after such an extended absence, why now? Were they trying to take the shipyards? Had they finally amassed the strength to carry out an attack on Mandalore itself? He listened as the male soldier began his approach once more, his walk told a story on it's own, this was the walk of a seasoned vet. The footsteps halted just short of a few meters away, enough room to get a couple shots in before Tyran could strike.

That's when 'it' sounded off, the sound every soldier dreaded, the sound of a thermal detonator priming. Tyran's eyes shot wide open as he dove from cover into a barrel roll, the Vet quickly realized that his opponent had closed the gap and swung his rifle as the Mandalorian rose to strike at the Veteran Soldier. Wolf rose his left arm taking the brunt of the hit, knocking his footing off enough for the Vet to take advantage. Disarming the detonator, the Vet moved to seize the knife from Wolf. Grabbing hold of Tyran's wrist the Vet squeezed down with his Beskar gauntlets, Tyran grunted in pain as he struggled to maintain control of the weapon, thinking fast he moved his right knee into the lower abdomen of the Death Watch foe.

"ASH'AMUR!"

The seasoned Vet speared into the midsection of Wolf pushing back the mercenary commander a few steps by surprise. The two struggled for a moment, fighting for control of the combat knife for dear life. A sudden sweep by Wolf sent the enemy plunging downward to the floor below. Swing. Miss. Swing. Miss. The enemy still held onto the blade moving the course of each swing out of harm's way.

Swing. Miss. Swing. Scrape, the blade scraped against the Vet's durasteel armor. Tyran noted the fight was going to come to an end soon in either of the two's favor and decided to act. Pressing the enemy's helmet to face away, the Mandalorian pressed down on the blade with all of his body weight in an attempt to overpower his foe.

Stab.

Tyran moved his left hand over his right and pounded down on the knife with all of his might.

Stab.

Once more Tyran rose his left hand and closed it into a fist sending it crashing down on the handle of the blade.

Stab.

Wolf exhaled in relief as the blade plunged one final time deep into the enemy's throat, the Vet gasped for air as life slowly left his body. Tyran rose over his defeated foe and turned toward the way the two originated from, the direction of the reactor unknown to the warrior. His gaze moved toward the enemy's armor equipped to the dead traitor below.

"Hmm..."

 

[Vilaz Munin]

Location: Cold Iron City
Allies: Death Watch, [member="Tralik U'rik"], [member="Ailyn Kelborn"]
Enemies: The True Mandalorians, [member="Anija Betna"], [member="Tyran Vizsla"], [member="Kiber Thaxton"], [member="Vassara Raxis"], [member="Kango Fett"], [member="Davin Skirata"], [member="Kresh Danner"]
Objective: Sabotage
Gear:

Spoiler

-Beskar'gam (with jetpack and poncho)
-Two WESTAR 34 pistols
-Two flashbangs
-Fett-Kal knife
-Orar'Bev

Truth be told, Vilaz disliked and wasn't in favor when the clans were divided and attacked one another. It had happened before to the Mandalorians in the past and it cost to both sides almost everything. In general, civil wars doesn't benefit anyone whether they were elitists or poor workers in a society. But it wasn't just during the battles between brothers and sister that affected the whole community, but it was also when the process of reconstruction that would affect everyone else. Bonds would have a difficult time being healed back, total damages would cost billions to the people, and strengthening their might would cost them equal to, less than, or greater than the actual conflict. He and everyone hoped that Death Watch would rise up from their grave and bring turmoil and blood to the clans.

Unfortunately, those hopes and prayers couldn't stop Death Watch's resurgence.

He was one of the many Warriors to be the confronted by well discrete members of the splinter-cell group to see if he would join them. It wasn't just the only option they have given him. They would kill him where he stood or beat him and take him as hostage. Of course, he would much rather beat them to the ground for their lack of respect to him; however they gave him enough reason on why someone like him should support, for him to turn his back on his friends. It would be painful to know what he had done, but the Mandalorians needed to live up to the legacy that their proud ancestors left to them. He would make sure that his closest friends would be given sanctuary if taken as prisoners.

Here, at Cold Iron City, was Vilaz with legions of Death Watch Mandalorians to sabotage the miners' mining the precious Mandalorian Iron in hopes of breaking the economy of the True Mandalorians. Maybe they could steal some for weapons and armor. In the middle of battle the Warrior reached out to the head of the clan he pertained to, which was the Dragon of Carnage, [member=Darth Vulkan].

 

[Olivia Dem'adas]

Location: Keldabe City
Status: Angry
Gear: Towel, Pistol, Beskad Saber

"WHERE THE FRELL IS MY ARMOR!?" Olivia demanded as she frantically rummaged through her hotel room wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around her torso.

The city was under attack and here she was, Alor of the Dem'adas clan, naked from the shower. Her attendants were missing, likely fighting in the streets below, and the room was a mess... ransacked by the looks of it. Her clothes, her belongings, and her armor were all gone. Her weapons were still with her, she had brought those into the bathroom with her. Ret'lini. But even her belt was gone.

Another explosion shook the building and the sound of distant gunfire echoed up the 34th floor where she resided.

"Frell this." She spat out as she grabbed her weapons and ran into the hallway, bare foot and naked, but for the towel.

People ran in every direction. Some wore armor, others did not. Some to their rooms, others to elevators or stairs. Olivia knew not if those making their way into rooms were seeking to hide from the conflict, or a window from which to leap into it. Either way, much of the city was likely in chaos. Naked or not, it was Olivia's duty to engage the enemy of Manda'yaim, whomever they may be.

It was when she reached the crowd gathering at the elevator and stairs that she realized she had a problem. 34 flights of stairs in bare feet, or wait on an elevator that would likely be getting called to every single floor.

"Out of the way." Olivia demanded as she shoved her way towards the elevator doors. Holding her pistol, holster and all, between her teeth, Olivia unsheathed her sword and thrust it between the closed doors. A quick shove to the side and the doors automatically opened the rest of the way. Resheathing her sword, Olivia leaned forward into the elevator shaft and looked up and down. Luckily, the elevator was still above the 34th floor. Ignoring the crowd of Mando'ade behind her, Olivia removed her towel and wrapped it around the elevator cable before leaping down the shaft.

Stopping was not an enjoyable task. Without boots, Olivia couldn't use her feet to brace against the cable. Instead, she had to hold onto the both ends of the towel with one hand, and hold her baskad with the other. Pistol still gripped between her teeth, Olivia crunched herself up and used her feet to brace against the beskar sheath of her saber... while hoping that the towel would withstand the abuse.



On the ground floor, a saber thrust forth from the elevator doors moments before they were pried open and a very angry looking blonde woman wearing a mangled bath towel stomped her way to the parking garage.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Concordia
Clan Vereen Fortress

The mountain fortress of Clan Vereen sat nestled deep within the artificial caverns the miners had carved out several years ago. The walk from opening through the great hall and into the throne room wasn't long, but one did have to walk through the death trap that was the great hall, three stories tall, shielding balconies providing vantage points, massive turadium blast doors sealing it off from all other entries, defensive turrets and barricades that rose from the floor. Warriors of the clan milled through the hall as always, but outsiders were treated with suspicion, even other Mandalorians paying an uninvited visit. That was probably the reason Death Watch had avoided Clan Vereen. They were warriors, like any other Mandalorian, but they were not as social as their cousins might be.

In the throne room, light only provided by a few torches, the Dragon of Mandalore sat on his worshyr wood throne, surrounded by four small chairs on the dais. The furs that covered the back of his chair, and the spotted nexu fur cloak that draped his shoulders bristled from the slight cold wind that blew through the room as the Dragon sat in silence, red ringed grey eye's cast down in front of him, looking at nothing. His comm-link, worn on his wrist beeped quietly with the tone that suggested he was receiving a transmission. Almost lazily the big Mandalorian turned the beeping off and answered the message. "Vilaz. What is it you need from me that you have called at this hour?" The sun was set on Concordia, it was dark and night, only a few warriors up and moving, but those that were moving were sober and carrying their weapons as always. There was always a watch in the Dragon's lair.

[member="Vilaz Munin"]

 

[Vilaz Munin]

Location: Cold Iron City
Allies: Death Watch, [member="Ailyn Kelborn"], [member="Tralik U'rik"]
Enemies: The True Mandalorians, [member="Olivia Dem'adas"], [member="Tyran Vizsla"], [member="Anija Betna"], [member="Kiber Thaxton"], [member="Vassara Raxis"], [member="Kresh Danner"], [member="Davin Skirata"]
Objective: Sabotage
Gear: First post

"It's not just me who needs something today, vod," Vilaz stared replying to Draco, "more like what we all need from you today. It's time that we refurnish our people, Draco. I ask you that you support Death Watch in hopes that we will make the Mandalorians like our ancestors in the past. That's all that we ask from you. I hate being a radical, but if we don't do this then all that we care for will be taken away from foreigners like the Republic. It's either revolt against the chains, or be weak and be trampled on."

He was telling nothing but the truth to his Clan's Leader. It was time to teach their vode and the rest of the Galaxy the true might of the Mandalorians. The Field Marshal grew tired of seeing his brothers and sisters being the laughing stock of the Galaxy, and everyone doubting them. Soon, everyone would take the Clans of Mandalore with much caution and much seriousness.

Civil war was something that he tried to evade, but if there was no other way to have the Mandalorians rise up and become the feared and legendary warriors that they truly were then it would have to come to measures such as the ones happening today. It was sad and tragic, but it was all or nothing. Survive or perish. And Vilaz wanted his culture to survive for as long as time and space flow.

[member="Darth Vulkan"]

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Concordia
Clan Vereen Fortress

The Sith Lord sighed deeply as the vod, ally, spoke through the communicator. Secure, maybe. People listening in, possibly. He paused, waiting as though he was considering the offer, the request. "If the Would-be-King wants me to get his throne for him, he will ask me himself. In person. Here, in the Hall beneath the Mountain." Darth Vulkan turned his gaze towards the closed doors of the domed throne room. As much as Draco had respected Vilaz, Vulkan did not. Vulkan didn't even necessarily like the man. He tolerated the existence of most others. Here on Concordia, in a fortress built into a mountain and well defended, with clansmen armed to the teeth, the Death Watch would have difficulty rooting him out. But, there was Seela to think about, more importantly there was Abigail.

But this offered opportunity. A would-be-king seeking aid would need lieutenants and generals. And those generals were always close by to the king. How long would it be before Vulkan challenged this pretender for supremacy and cast his lifeless corpse from the steps of the Fortress. His lips curled upward in a devilish smile. "Clan Vereen awaits word from the Would-be-King." Mand'alor the Marauder had a nice ring to it. This Death Watch was a tool, just as the last one had been for the Sith of times long dead and forgotten. There were those on Mandalore that wanted him dead, he had only to judge the situation and where his enemies were alligning themselves. His weaknesses were hardly known, even [member="Ember Rekali"] couldn't be sure whether Vulkan cared about Abigail.

The truth was hidden in the shattered, fractured psyche of Draco's mind. As he closed the comm channel he raised his voice loud enough that the guards outside could hear him, "High alert, assemble the Clan. We either have a war to fight, or a king to impress."

[member="Tralik U'rik"]
[member="Vilaz Munin"]

 

[Kangofett]

[member="Kiber Thaxton"] [member="Krenis Skirata"] [member="Vassara Raxis"]


Location: Keldabe, Rooftops overlooking Southern Wall

"Snipers shift fire to the Deathwatch, knock them off those bikes."

Kango started shifting his fire to the traitorous Deathwatch. He took aim and fired two rounds at the lead biker. The first round impacted the mans beskar'gam but the round did not penetrate it. The second round did the job. The round hit the soft armor at the mans neck. Reaching for his bleeding throat the rider lost control of his bike and impacted with his neighbors. Both men flew from there bikes, hit the ground, and did not get back up.

Shifting his aim Kango sighted another rider and fired. The driver, seeing what had happened to his comrades, maneuvered out of the way of the shot. The rider wasn't the only one who saw where the shots were coming from. They started firing at Kango's position. With rounds hit near his head Kango rolled out of the line of fire and onto a different roof. Hefting up his rifle again, he took sight on the rider who had avoided his shot. Holding his breath for a better shot, he fired his weapon. The rider could not avoid this round and took the round in his visor. The mans brains blew out and the bike quickly came to a rest. The now dead rider slid off the bike and onto the muddy blood soaked earth. Loading in a fresh magazine and taking a glance over his cover to sight his next target Kango thought of his family. He said a quick prayer to the Gods that his family was safe and far from this bloody war.

Popping again from his cover Kango continued to fire at the bikers. This war was far from over and many more vods would die before the end of this war.

 

[Ailyn Kelborn]

Mandalore
MandalTech Shipyards
Objective: Orbital Bombardment
Allies: [member="Tralik U'rik"]
Opponents: [member="Gilamar Skirata"] [member="Anija Betna"] [member="Tyran Vizsla"]

The defensive position near the hangar was quite sound, Ailyn and her team had settled in well, and were scanning the area carefully for any sign of the shuttle crew that had just landed. So far, there had been not much sign of them beyond the sound of shuffling feet and murmuring voices from the direction hangar. She frowned, and carefully ran a passive scan again. They were there, all right. She could read their body hat signatures even from here. So what were they waiting for?

That question was answered a few moments later as she heard the sounds of a scuffle - coming from the other direction. Turning easily in her crouch, she swept the area carefully with her eyes, and sensors. There was someone there ( [member="Tyran Vizsla"] ). That she was sure of. But what was he doing all by himself? Did he have some sort of death wish? If so, she would more than happily oblige. her fingers flexed almost impatiently around t he grip of her weapon. if there was one thing she had learned during her time with Death Watch, it was that their enemy would reveal themselves in time.

Out in the black, what [member="Anija Betna"] had found was true. There were mines seeded between the approach vectors and the shipyards itself. They had been laid in such fashion that if a ship were to try and escape and the mines had not been cleared, the ship would be blown to dust. Alternatively, if one tried to clear the mines, they had to be extremely careful not to damage the station in the process. Would the shuttles try to escape the station and risk being blown to bits... or would one of the Mandalorians be successful in clearing a path? There was only one way to find out. Personally, she was looking forward to the fireworks display regardless.

 

[Vilaz Munin]

Location: Cold Iron City
Allies: [member="Ailyn Kelborn"], [member="Tralik U'rik"], Death Watch
Enemies: [member="Kango Fett"], [member="Olivia Dem'adas"], [member="Tyran Vizsla"], [member="Anija Betna"], [member="Kiber Thaxton"], [member="Vassara Raxis"], [member="Davin Skirata"], [member="Kresh Danner"]
Objective: Sabotage
Gear: First post

No luck into getting Draco on Death Watch's side right now when they needed a powerhouse Clan, but that didn't mean that there was no hope into getting Draco on his side. It was all up to Tralik to persuade Draco into having the whole Vereen Clan to join the Deathwatch, and the Redneck was sure that the Gen'dai would be successful in those negotiations. "Very well, Draco. I do hope you choose wisely," the Field Marshal said to the Dragon. Of course, he didn't mean it in a threatening way but more in a "hoping" tone of voice. The entire legions of Deathwatch would have access to piles and piles of weaponry and vehicles for battle, and have access to the ancient beskar mines of Concordia. He who controlled the Clans of Rekali, Vereen, and Dem'adas would have the upper hand when it came to times of civil war.

After the commlink went off the Redneck focused his attention back to the operations taking place in Cold Iron City. He wouldn't lead his Warriors behind the front lines. No, he would bear the flag and lead them against the True Mandalorians. What a pathetic thing to call themselves. The Deathwatch were the purest one. Vilaz didn't agree some of their approaches, but he did agree on the commin idea to make the entire clans proud and strong again.

Only the strongest survive.

 

[Tyran Vizsla]

Mandalore
MandalTech Orbital Shipyards
Allies: [member="Anija Betna"] | [member="Gilamar Skirata"]
Enemies: [member="Tralik U'rik"] | [member="Ailyn Kelborn"] | Death Watch


The durasteel armor of the deceased foe before him fit with room to spare, as the last glove came on over his right hand the Silent Wolf turned his attention towards his new destination and then the blaster rifle he 'borrowed'. Tyran grunted, walking slowly past the dead member of the Death Watch and reached downward as he passed by. His hand grasped around the top of the abandoned helmet which was endorned with the markings of the enemy and a lone mythosaur emblem on the back, donning the helm after observing it, thus completing his disguise.

He assumed as long as the bodies remained undiscovered he too would be undetected, Wolf would have to keep in mind that any allies would easily mistake him as a foe which would be a deadly situation in the event of a firefight. Tyran moved through the halls quietly making his way towards the origin of the two dead traitors, the direction of the hangar bay and the reactor several halls beyond that. He could only assume that the hangar was in enemy hands by now, he would have to be careful.

Tyran thought to himself, 'I may have to take one of the shuttles in the hangar for my getaway, it wouldn't be a bad idea to secure a vessel before I venture further. It all depends on what level of opposition I face.'