Private The Big Gundown

[Zandra Ruus]

Location: Hijarna
Objective: Make it out alive
Tags: Itzhal Volkihar

Hijarna was a spit of a world, barely into the space age, but unfortunately positioned between The High Republic and The Mandalorian Empire. This made it a key hideout for smugglers and criminals that sought a safe haven. Wanted by neither faction, these criminals began to plot, forming an uneasy alliance of many banners. A bounty had been put out on one of the criminal leaders on Hijarna. An offer made to hopefully create a power vacuum in the organization.

Zandra, ever the thrill seeker, was one of the hunters who took up the bounty. A nameless benefactor had offered substantial compensation, as well as accommodations from which to hunt from. Many hunters were drawn into the idea of a free stay in an ancient castle turned tourist trap. This was all according to the crime lord's plan however, as the hunters would soon see.

In the night, as the hunters made their plans, flares lit up the sky with blinding white light. What followed was a scene of unparalleled violence. Explosive rounds battered the castle, and a gunship raked the roof of the fortress. Bands of mercenaries had surrounded the hunters. Only one objective remained, survive the onslaught. Whether that was by extraction or sheer brutality was yet to be established.

Each passing moment, more hunters dropped, traps sprung and explosions rocking the castle. Zandra wasn't going to run though, she had come to kill a crime boss, and she never left a job half done. Her beskads were sharp, and her armor primed for a long battle. All she needed was to cut her way through the rabble and find their boss, if he died, the horde would thin in time.

The map room of the castle was where she was now, she needed to make it down to the main lobby, that was three stories worth of building and who knows how many mercs to gut. Under her buy'ce though, there was a smile. Slimeballs like these weren't worth the time it would take to mourn them, so she had no qualms about killing them. She fluidly maneuvered herself between rounds of blaster fire, firing away with her own energy gun. Thanks her her reflex augs, it was child's play to keep out of the line of fire for now.

"Might as well be shooting stun shot boys! I could dodge these in my sleep!"

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

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| Location | Hijarna, Inner Rim

It really was a beautiful night for so much death.

Itzhal descended the tower's narrow staircase, each step resonating against the weathered stone like the thunderous crack of artillery fire. Silvery moonlight trickled through the fissures in the ancient stonework, illuminating the timeworn bricks and mortar that seemed to shudder with each forceful impact that rattled the keep. Outside, an endless drone of whirring repulsorlifts drowned out the familiar, comforting creaks and groans of the venerable structure, replaced instead by the unsettling chours—the howling tide of those who had come to hunt those who considered themselves hunters.

Across the stone bastion, sharp reports of blasterfire echoed through the air, mingling with the acrid scent of overused slugthrowers, their smell carried on the same winds that dragged billowing clouds of smoke up into the rafters, accompanied by the familiar crackle of sprawling flames that grew with every moment that passed, the heat rising higher and higher. Further beneath his feet, deep within the bowels of the keep, piercing screams erupted from the throats of the damned, their vocal cords ravaged and raw.

Another step down the staircase sent another groan swirling through the tower, the sound insignificant against the chaos that had swept the night into blood and glory.

Through the cracks, a vivid glow of encroaching crimson approached, intensifying with a ferocity akin to the first light of dawn. Itzhal slowed, his steps faltering as he felt a flutter in his heart, a weighty warning gathered in his chest, compelling him to brace for what his conscious thought had only just begun to notice. In a heartbeat, the solid wall exploded inward, shattering like splintered glass as plumes of dust and debris filled the air, showering him in a gritty veil, while oppressive waves of heat washed over his armoured form.

Chunks of masonry flew as if they'd been launched from trebuchets, sending a spray of stone and mortar cascading through the other wall, the remaining shrapnel hurled deeper into the keep, while the structure groaned ominously. Flashes of red seared through the gaps, searching for survivors as Itzhal slipped down to a crouch, one arm raised to cover the side of his buy'ce, while he forced himself to move forward deeper into the fire, where the smallest remnant of hope lingered on the other side.

His heart raced, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

In an instinctive rush, he hurtled—not down, deeper into the mess—but instead through the battered remnants of the interior wall as hissing steam and shuddering stone collapsed around him.

On the other side, he appeared in a shroud of blazing fire and a sprawling cloud of darkness that seemed to swallow the light before he drove forward into a startled weequay—their weathered skin, burned under the heat, crisping around the points of connection with the beskar, their back shattering against the holotable that stopped the Mandalorian's charge.

Tags: Zandra Ruus​

 

[Zandra Ruus]

Location: Hijarna
Objective: Make it out alive
Tags: Itzhal Volkihar

It had only been a few minutes that Zandra had been using her reflex enhancers, but the time felt like an hour. It was one of the many small quirks of her neuromesh nerves. They caused a small amount of time dilation, where things seemed out of sync with her brain and reality. She only knew how long it'd been by the obvious overcharging of her brain. Eyes blurred, and a headache started in her temples. Not idea to have mid-combat. Thankfully, she'd survived, for now...

As she was cooling down, Zandra heard a rumble in the room she'd just been in. A dead weequay laid on the table, and a Mandalorian stood over him. It would have been an inspiring scene if half of the room wasn't blown in. Zandra wanted to make a smart remark, but she stumbled instead.

Braced against a wall, she caught her breath, sweat soaking the internal padding of her buy'ce. She still wasn't used to the transition from augmented nerves into more normal function. For her it was as if time was speeding up, and her head was spinning like a turbine. It caused her to grit her teeth, before looking over to Itzhal.

"For an old wolf, you've still got... guh... Some teeth..." Zandra sounded nauseous, about to ruin the inside of her helmet. "I think it's just us in here now. Most of the other hunters are dead or gone."

It didn't take long until the lights returned, bright white ones this time. It wasn't a flare, nor was it blaster fire. This time it was the gunship, getting a targeting solution for its rotary blasters! In a flash her augs were active again, and she dove to pull Itzhal towards a pillar. If she was going to survive this, it involved keeping the old wolf alive.

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

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| Location | Hijarna, Inner Rim

Over the taut fabric of his bodysuit, the older Mandalorian's fists bore the marks of battle, dappled with scattered flecks of crimson that glinted in the erratic light of the shattered war room table—a haze of blue and red hues, distorted with sparks of yellow and orange that outlined the silhouette draped over the surface. It was not the first body he'd left to rot tonight, nor would it be the last. Beneath the buy'ce, his breath drew in deeply and slowly, the air moving through his lungs like thick molasses, each inhalation a struggle against the fatigue that clung to him. He rose with laboured effort, every inch of his powerful frame straining under the mountainous plates of beskar armour that encased his shoulders.

Crying out for a moment of rest, where none could be provided—he rose, not out of any desire to move, but out of sheer necessity.

Screens that had once displayed briefing data now flickered sporadically, their glass cracked and smeared with the residue of plasma scorching and ballistic rounds. In the intermittent glow of the failing displays, the other survivor prowled—her armour gleamed, with stark white streaks of paint against a dark canvas of night, angular and sharp, accentuating the fierce lines of a woman who, despite all odds, remained not just alive, but still fighting and still killing.

"Not for much longer at this rate," he conceded, his voice flat and devoid of feeling, mechanically conveyed through the vocalizer that transformed his words into a harsh, unyielding monotone. His steps shifted through the debris scattered across the room. "They might not have been of any help anyway. One of the others attempted to plunge a knife into my back; a blaster bolt took him in the throat before I could figure out if he was part of the ambush or simply desperate enough to hope that no one on their side would mind him switching loyalties."

Seconds later, he was slammed into the nearest pillar. Instincts baying for blood, he twisted around, driving his heel into the stonework beneath their feet for purchase as he pressed his fellow Mandalorian's back against the solid cover, while his fingers stopped inches from Zandra's neck—the ejection port of his vibroknuckler in perfect position.

A thermal envelope the size of his chest punched through the exterior wall, a second followed, then another as the situation registered and the hand dropped to her shoulder, pulling her closer as he slung his arm over, past the pillar—then, with a hissed word contained to his Buy'ce, the wrist-mounted launcher screeched to life, a trail of pollutants following in its wake. An instant later, an explosion rocked the room—an echo of an echo, vibrating through his bones.

The targeting light was gone, for now, at least.

"We need to move."

Tags: Zandra Ruus​

 

[Zandra Ruus]

Location: Hijarna
Objective: Make it out alive
Tags: Itzhal Volkihar

Zandra's senses were still momentarily stuck in the transition from hyper-nervous activity and the normalcy she usually inhabited. She was raw and vulnerable, she hated that feeling. No amount of beskar or durasteel could ever remove the human underneath it all. That was something Zandra was becoming uncomfortably aware of. However, she couldn't let herself get bogged down by thought, now was the time for action!

"Right," She was still shaken by having Itzahl's hand around her neck just moments ago. "I'll follow your lead. Vod watches each other's backs, and tonight, you're Vod to me."

It was strangely sentimental, almost sweet. Zandra felt encouraged to be at the side of another Mandalorian, even if they may not agree on every detail. She activated her shield, and picked up one of her beskads. Tonight, she would watch Itzhal's back as if he were her own flesh and blood. Empire or Covenant, they would be as brother and sister.

Zander ran out like a battering ram, into a hail of fire that plinked off her deflector shield. Every moment she felt slow, but she had to persevere. The both of them would depend on it. Triumph was in getting out, not slaying every scuzzbag in her way. Though, she would endeavor to do both as best she could.

"We can have a competition of kills on the way out. Bet I rack up double digits before you do!"

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

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| Location | Hijarna, Inner Rim

At the edges of Zandra's blaster-scorched pauldron, calloused fingers glided over the cooling surface of the beskar slab, the metal still warm to the touch. Weathered straps, rough with age, anchored the protective layer to her bodysuit-clad frame, resistant even to the decisive tug that pried at the seams, where the leather creaked softly but held all the same. After a moment of inspection, he gave a gentle yet firm push, allowing the substantial weight of the renowned metal to settle back into position, his hand finally relinquishing its grip on his fellow Mandalorian.

"Well, you won't hear me arguing against an offer like that," he remarked, his words devoid of further connection. He nonchalantly dismissed their previous position, making a subtle sidestep that allowed the armoured woman to step forward, into the breach. In a faint flare of light, the deflector shield burst into existence, shimmering and pulsating with a breathtaking spectrum of colours that blasted across the dimly lit room, only to be returned in due time with a haze of red bolts. "I've got your back."

With a casual flick of his attention, he glanced towards the haze that lingered in the corner of his own HuD, a faint blue that formed an assortment of symbols, words and numbers as the radiation output flickered across the visor, rising slowly but surely with every second that the reflector shield remained in use. Unfortunate. Then again, he could hardly call it a poor option as the volley of bolts flew over her shoulder and scarred the pillar beside him, before he raised his blaster and put a bolt between the triggerman's eyes.

He dropped to one knee, a blaster bolt clanging against his pauldron as errant sparks splattered against the side of his visor, the transparisteel holding while another bolt swooped over his buy'ce. His second arm raised his blaster, following the line of movement, and pulling the trigger as ancient stone melted and another body dropped to the floor. Another death added to the night of slaughter.

Perpetrators scurried beyond the corridor, faintly outlined in his HuD, from where they gathered for the next shot. Pushing back to his feet, he rose, building momentum as bolts flew around him, skittering over the plates and narrowly missing otherwise. Until he returned fire, a hail of bolts lighting up the dimly lit room as he shifted, a skitter-step carrying him into the line of the deflector shield, then past the other side with only the barest of pauses between shots.

"I'd rather focus on getting out alive, but if it's what you desire, feel free to count to your heart's content," he began, then the rubble to his left started to rumble, a faint dusting of brick and mortar sloughing to the ground as a armoured figure covered in dusted black plates, clawed their way to the surface, then just as quickly launched themselves forward. Bursting from the leather holster at the criminal's hip, a slender blade of metal glinted in the yellow hue of Itzhal's blaster.

With a swift movement, the Mandalorian twisted, the blade vibrating with a faint haze as it scratched the layer of paint across his chest-plate, then carried onwards, the assassin's arm extended. Striking quickly, Itzhal's armoured boot shattered their kneecap with a sharp crack, a scream muffled beneath the clack of teeth on teeth. He pivoted backwards, a single step aligning with his lowered blaster, held at his hip, before he pulled the trigger and rattled a handful of bolts through the assassin's torso. His other hand, still holding Oath, pointed towards the back of the room where a sealed metal door sat. "Top left corner, that set of doors should lead to a mezzanine over the grand hall."

Tags: Zandra Ruus​