The House of Broken Steel [Mando Open Thread]

[Startorn]

Startorn dropped out of hyperspace and flew towards the target location, he got sensor readings of multiple ships so he landed a good way off and walked the rest of the way, as he crested a hill he laid down and took in the situation, a bunch of mandos, seems he's not the only on here, he walked down ready to pull his gun out anyway, as he reached the group he asked "this him?"

 

[Ellie Omera]

Lujo

The galaxy didn't make much sense to her anymore. Not that it ever really did before, but now it was even worse. Allies, friends, factions and empires she once knew were now gone. Nothing more than memories in the pages of time, or forgotten all together.

After eight hundred years in stasis, the galaxy was a whole new place. Empires she never heard of dotted the galaxy. New forms of Jedi and Sith orders arose while old ones faded. Worst of all was what happened to Mandalore, her home. The Sith had done the unthinkable and taken it from them, then scattered her people to the solar winds. Now they gathered in small groups around the galaxy, or drifted aimlessly looking for purpose.

Their were many, like Ellie, who couldn't just sit and do nothing. When she recieved a bounty on a Sith freighter loaded with Beskar, she had to take it. What she would do with that much Beskar, she had no idea, but it would be worth it just to strike out at the Sith.

The tracking fob had led her here to Lujo and from the looks of things, she wasn't the only one. She stood on the small hill a distance away watching the small group of Mandalorians. They surrounded an old Mandalorian who just past and was more than likely the one who sent out the bounty. A last attempt to being Mandalore to what it was before. Maybe they could.

Ellie made her way down to the group just in time to hear them discussing if they should bury him or build a pyre. She did agree with the [member="Connory Monroe"], a funeral pyre would be more traditional. "A pyre would be the best way for him to go."

[member="Beskadala Ordo"]

 

[Careena Fett]

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

---

---

| Location | Lujo, Planetside
| Purpose | Pay Respects

It would take some time to reach Lujo from their previous destination, but it was a journey that Careena and the few Fetts she had with her chose to take. As the Sith supply transport they had stolen made its way through hyperspace, Careena would be seated near the cockpit, replaying the message sent from the lone Ori'verd - She personally did not know the man, but it was out of respect that she indulged the Mandalorian's final request. With the wound on her pride and honor as a warrior still fresh on her mind from the Sith, this was a chance to right past wrongs and break even with all the Mandalorians that would come, if there were any. She'd flip off the projection as she glanced at the cargo hold, a few of the Fetts present with her running inventory on what they had stolen - Enough supplies to last a month, plenty of tibanna gas for blasters as well as a number of crates filled with weapons. Barely a dent to the Sith overall, but still a blow nonetheless.

The gravity of the shuttle would shift slightly as they exited hyperspace, the voice of one of her clan members piloting the vessel chiming in through her helmet, " We've arrived at Lujo. Scanners are picking up a few Mandalorian signals and ships already here. " Careena would stow the projector as she stood up, raising a hand to grab one of the overhead rails to keep steady before speaking, " Transmit friendly codes. Don't want them to be firing on us after we've commandeered a Sith vessel. " There was a couple clicks over the comms as acknowledgment. The transport would fly down through the atmosphere as Careena made her way towards the rear of the ship. She'd tap the ramp controls as the deployment ramp lowered itself, a rush of air flooding the insides of the ship. The cargo had been secured so there was no need to worry about it all flying out. Careena would slowly step towards the ramp as she glanced down, using the built in macrobinoculars to figure out where the meeting place was from high up. Soon after she'd simply step off the ramp, letting gravity take her as she plummeted towards the surface.

The clouds would rush past her as the brilliant blue ocean soon came into view - how free and natural it felt for her to be in the skies. After a few seconds of just freefalling her gaze would lock on towards her destination. Her body would twist and turn as she regained control of it as she was in freefall, using skillful bursts of her repulsor boosts and jetpack to reorient herself before her jetpack blasted off towards her destination. It wouldn't be long as she descended, her repulsor boots slowing her descent as she gradually shut off her jetpack and felt her feet finally hit the ground. She certainly stood out with her white beskar'gam as the cloak she typically had on was not active. She'd make her way to the gathering, seeing that the Ori'verd had already passed on - a pity that old age had taken him rather than battle. Her weapons were holstered as she observed each of the individuals who were present. Was she distrustful of them? Yes - even if they were Mandalorians. Trust was something earned as was her respect, so it remained to be seen whether these individuals were worthy of it.

She silently walked over to the group who were already talking amongst themselves, her gaze fell upon the covered Ori'verd. There was no need for words to mourn the dead - she would leave it to the others to decide on the proper way to send off the deceased. All she simply was here for was to pay her respects and honor the final request that the deceased had wanted to see carried out.

-​

| [member="Beskadala Ordo"] | [member="Atin Alo'ran"] | [member="Startorn"] | [member="Styr Armod"] | [member="Tyran Numeck"] | [member="Karsan Munin"] | [member="Connory Monroe"] | [member="Cero Pax"] | ​

| [member="Laandur Solus"] | [member="Obran"] | [member="Stardust Solus Skirae"] | [member="Galaar Fett"] | [member="Seris Vant"] | [member="Ghed Saya"] | [member="Ellie Ordo"] | ​

 

[Seris Vant]

Back in the saddle of her ship. Seris knew instinctively where the controls and switches were. Screens came to and the engines whined to life. Lightly the ship took to the air to hover a few feet from the duracrete. Seris went once over performance values to make sure things were in order. Set, and sure she was ready to go the throttle went forward slowly. The engines roared as Seris was slowly pushed further back into her seat. She pulled back on the control stick. Up she went into the blue again.

Hyperspace gave way to the black. In her sights was Lujo and whoever sent the message was down there. Seris punched the engines this time. In a short time she was burning ozone and punching clouds. Seris was soon low in the atmosphere and homing in on the target location. Upon arriving in the general local she spotted several ships already around some shambled structure. She touched down a ways further out than the rest. Cautious as ever. She shut down the ships engines, then reset for takeoff. Useful if this were an ambush. Seris grabbed her rifle and slung. Drawing in a breath as she released the ramp. For the first time in twelve years she was to reunite with her people. She felt anxious at the task, but with some excitement as well. Seris tarried no longer and make her way to the others.

Closing in she took stock of those present, and one who was quite not. Likely the very man who sent out this mission. A terrible loss. As for the others there were none she recognized. Had it been to long to remember their Beskar'gam's look, or maybe they all came of age since she had been away. They could have upgraded, or repainted. She looked as she had fourteen years prior, just more battle damaged. Seris came to a stop near to the group. She unslung her rifle and planted the butt end to the ground ahead of her right foot. Nothing was said as there was no need. She just stood tall and silent before them.

 

[Ghed Saya]

[member="Beskadala Ordo"] | [member="Atin Alo'ran"] | [member="Startorn"] | [member="Styr Armod"] | [member="Tyran Numeck"] | [member="Karsan Munin"] | [member="Connory Monroe"] | [member="Cero Pax"] | [member="Laandur Solus"] | [member="Obran"] | [member="Stardust Solus Skirae"] | [member="Galaar Fett"] | [member="Seris Vant"] | [member="Careena Fett"] | [member="Ellie Ordo"] |


Since they'd all reached something like consensus, Ghed went up to the dead man. He put the holodisk, blaster, and gunbelt aside on a rough-hewn table. Next came the fuel cartridges from the wrist weapons, flamer and blaster, and the armor's own power cell. None of those things belonged in a pyre, but he didn't take them for himself; he had enough. The practiced, solemn field strip took about twenty seconds. He left the corpse's armor as it was, of course. Once the pyre burned down, an armorer could reforge the annealed beskar into something worthwhile.

The longhouse had a cavernous firepit close by. Ghed yanked the huge chimney's flue open, listened for the wind, then sprayed the armored body with his flamer. Rotten flesh and tough underlay caught fire stubbornly but inevitably. The chimney drew foul smoke up and out of the longhouse in a streamer as the fire grew hotter.

Few warriors could say they'd been put to honorable rest in their own home, armed and armored, ready for anything. It struck Ghed as appropriate. If anyone objected, well, the deed was done and the pyre was lit, right there on the stone floor.

 

[Startorn]

Startorn found it sad that this was what his people were reduced to, this warrior was luckier then most, he had some kinsman come along and give him a proper send off,but what about the hundreds of others? What had become of them all? Not dieing on there home world much less for it, what had become of his people in which you couldn't even fight for your home planet? He sighed, guess it's time to get to work, there will be plenty of time for grieving later, "I assume you all got the same message, I figured it might be a little tricky but with how many of us there are? Should be able to make quick work of it"

 

[Connory Monroe]

Cory opened her mouth beneath her helmet to object about the lighting of a funeral pyre in a house but it was done before she had a chance, bathing them all in a wave of warmth. She closed her mouth, reaching a hand up to the tooka on her shoulder, scratching Princess behind her ears eliciting a happy purr.

There were a lot of questions on everyone’s mind, some voice allowed. Who was this man? Would they be able to complete the task he asked of them? Was the task even real? Hell, if she was concerned about a trap before, she definitely was now. Following the information laid out by a dead person who could no longer prove their own sincerity? Sounded a lot like a trap.

Still… something told her that whatever this was, here was where she was meant to be. “Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum.” She bowed her head to the old man in respect and found herself a seat on a long bench at the edge of the firepit. “So, we have a dead man with a trail of breadcrumbs to a lot of beskar.” she glanced around the room, taking in armour, the few revealed faces and clan signs. She knew the Ordo clan sign anywhere, she was, after all, raised by them. The others? She was less familiar with. “And a room full of strangers to do it with. “Before we get excited and learn of more details, perhaps we could start with names.”

She reached up and removed her helmet, dislodging the tooka again. “My name is Connory Monroe. You can call me Cory.”


[member="Ghed Saya"] [member="Obran"] [member="Cero Pax"] [member="Tyran Numeck"] @Starthorn [member="Ellie Ordo"] [member="Careena Fett"] [member="Seris Vant"]

 

[Ordo]

Lujo
One klick out

The man lifted his buy'ce high enough to stuff a handful of jerky into his mouth and scratch at his slowly greying beard.

"Hmph." he said to himself as he pushed his helmet back down and adjusted his optics to focus on the old man's hole in the dirt.

He flashed back as he lay belly down peering at the home of the last person he had talked to before he left for the deep black sea. There was activity down there, a lot more than he had expected and he hadn't seen a clan ship or marking since he had made it back through the slipstream.

"Feth." He mumbled to himself before dragging himself back away from the hill crest and stood to make his way back away from sight. "...feth."

He took his concussion rifle off his shoulder and unsnapped the clip to check his ammo. He was low, he'd been low for a decade, low since he'd lost his entire unit. He slammed the clip back in and checked his gear before making a slow winding trek, behind cover as much as possible, to the old man's home.

"Feth." He said again.

 

[Beskadala]

Beskadala watched the ship land and to her surprise someone dressed in Mandalorian armor departed. She kept an eye on the silver and blue warrior ([member="Ghed Saya"]) as he came to the threshold and stepped in while whistling a tune to declare his entry.

“I'm a Mando, not looking for a fight, I'm coming in,” he coolly said, before walking in and offering to carry out funerary rituals for Ori’verd.

Beskadala lowered her RSK-44’s. She holstered one but kept the other in her hands, but, as a sign of trust pulled her trigger finger from the trigger hold and instead let it flap against the barrel of the blaster.

More engines sounded, this time from many ships. Another mando arrived ([member="Obran"] Mereel), this time, he passed right in and delivered a carved bone blade as a tribute. Beskadala watched it all in disbelief, she stepped back and sat onto a durasteel crate set beside Ori’Verd’s body.

“How many answered the call?” she whispered to herself and holstered her other blaster.

Another came through, a young warrior ([member="Cero Pax"]). Coming in he marched to the body and gave a lamenting greeting, "So the old man was closer to the end than we thought." The young warrior then strode off to take a seat in the longhouse. Beskadala turned her eye from the young warrior back to Ori’Verd. It was at times like these that she was grateful for her helm covering her face. It contorted with combative emotions, ripping at her soul and will. Yet, in that maelstrom was relief that these new mando did not witness the broken women she had become. All she did to acknowledge the young warrior’s lament was a slight nod and a pat of her hand on the dead warrior’s shoulder.

“A funeral pyre would be traditional,” said a woman’s voice from the door. Beskadala turned to see a female mando warrior at the door ([member="Connory Monroe"]). Behind her, came a rough looking and rough sounding warrior, another mando ([member="Tyran Numeck"]). One who seemed to have seen his share of battles and scraps.

"Did anyone know him?" He asked as they all stood there around the body.

Beskadala sighed and smacked her palms against her knees as she rose up. She walked away from the pyre and paced around a central hearth.

“I knew him,” she said quietly.

“Ijaat Ori’Verd. Alor of the Old Ori’Verd,” she continued. “I knew him…and his sons. They all died in the civil war. He was left.”

She let slip a rye chuckle. “In some other lifetime I was actually betrothed to one of his sons…”

Beskadala cut the end of her sentence and stood stewing her own silence. The blue and silver Mando ([member="Ghed Saya"]), went about the work behind them. Working with the body and leading it to a funeral pyre and setting it a light. Beskadala didn’t turn around, she couldn’t look. She didn’t want to. Every crackle of the fire and hiss of the steam leaving Ori’Verd’s body made her mind ache and her body reverberate with it.

The woman wandered off to pay her respects and returning to face the group she spoke, “So, we have a dead man with a trail of breadcrumbs to a lot of beskar.”

“Before we get excited and learn of more details, perhaps we could start with names.”

She reached up and removed her helmet, dislodging the tooka again. “My name is Connory Monroe. You can call me Cory.”

“Monroe,” parroted Beskadala in a low gruff grumble. She turned her head and stared at the woman. Her black visor fixed on the woman’s revealed face. Blonde hair and a strong look to her. Just like Mia. But, something was different.

“I haven’t heard than name, in a decade or so,” she said. “Not since the war.”

Beskadala turned and face Cory fully. She reached up and removed her helmet, revealing her face. Bright yellow eyes, with the sides her head shaven bald and the rest of the hair on top of her head pulled into a single long braid that cascaded down her back. Beskadala clipped the helmet to her belt and stepped right up to Cory, looming over her as she sat on the bench across from the make-shift pyre.

“I am Beskadala,” she announced herself, turning to face the others she finished her name.

“Beskadala Ordo…” she looked back to Cory and then walked off. “Or I once was.”

Another mando broke the funerary mood and asked the question of why they were all here ([member="Startorn"]). As he did so a mando in crisp white armor ([member="Careena Fett"]) made her way to the pyre and paid her respects in silence.

"I assume you all got the same message, I figured it might be a little tricky but with how many of us there are? Should be able to make quick work of it", the mando said.

​

Spoiler

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

​

​

Beskadala searched over Ori’Verd’s personal effects. She picked up his holodisk and carried it back to the group.

“Let’s find out,” she said, activating it.

Ijaat Ori’Verd appeared once more. Beskadala could feel herself breaking again but, she swallowed her pain and watched on.

In seamless, old Mando’a the old warrior gave his final sermon.

“My brothers and sisters. If you have found this holodisk, then you know I am no more. That the Ori’Verd are at an end. But, in our end, our ashes will feed the seeds of a new. My clan is gone. My generations destroyed. I had wished to make this a will to my kin, but, now that I have none…you, are my kin. So I give to you this…a final crusade. The Last Crusade.”

He temporarily vanished and was replaced by a star map of the Corellian Trade Spine, which cut across the galaxy into the Outer Rim. Lujo was highlighted but, soon the map moved down the trade spine into the outer rim.

“I have been tracking this shipment for the least few months. In my old age I gathered what intelligence I could. Took whatever job was required.”

“I have discovered that the shipment is on its way to Bespin, to be delivered to the machinations of some Imperial Remnant that is under the patronage of the Sith curs.”

Bespin showed up and the dot highlighted as the world then ballooned to a massive planetary map. Hovering above the planet itself was a space sation.

“It will be delivered here, at a space station that has been converted into a massive construction facility. The Beskar is to be smelted and used there, for the construction of a Star Destroyer of horrifying power. If completed it could ravage the worlds around it.”

“End this project and recover the Beskar.”

Ijaat Ori’Verd returned and placed on his helmet.

“In days of old, an Alor would arise and in his cry let out a call. From all over, no matter the location, the creed or history, we would answer it…Here my call, my brothers and sisters. Use this Beskar to rebuild, to re-forge and to strengthen what is left.”

“May the gods bless you.”

“For Mandalore…For yourselves.”

“Goodbye.”

“And good luck.”

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

 

[Atin Alo'ran]

Damn it! He was late, the Hyperdrive failed mid-way through jump and he had to stop to repair only to set off again--the old Kom'rk shot out of hyperspace at high speeds the entire hull shuttering and sadly, the glass of blue milk Atin was sipping on rattled off and shattered against the floor with a annoyed groan coming from the Warrior. No matter, he had other business to attend to as he dived the ship straight into the atmosphere of the planet pressing the throttle all the way to the console to give bring it max speed.

He was always a thrill seeker, keeping the ship rather close to the ground and taking out and lose vegetation with the force that zoomed past and it wouldn't take long for the blips to appear on his radar--several ships? An old Firespray? It hasn't been ran in years but many who engines were still cooling down. Atin would pull the lever back as he approached the landing zone, lifting the ship up as the wings spun to a vertical position allowing landing rushing down the ramparts towards his very obvious brothers and sisters in arms. The Red coated Warrior would stop short of speaking "Br-" is all he got out seeing the pyre burning he went silent, in respect. Simply approaching the group he gave them a respectful nod, then his tone of voice changed

"I'm late. I'm apologize, what is our purpose here?" his voice was proud and eager, spoken to the group.

 

[Tyran Numeck]

Tyran turned his head in the direction of Kaine in acknowledgement but otherwise remained silent as the funeral for Ori'verd played out. It was after that, that names were starting to be given and the tense atmosphere started to break, a little bit at least. Beskadala Ordo and Connory Monroe were the only ones to share their names right away. It was Beskadala who drew his attention though with her story about Ori'verd and how he was the last of his house. Tyran was the last of his family line as well, the last in a long line of fierce Mandalorian warriors. That was when he'd been accepted into Clan Cadera, but now even that was gone.

"Tyran Numeck, I used to be from Clan Cadera." He said as he removed his helmet and revealed his fresh scars to the death tinged air of the longhouse. The stench of the burning body was a little more tolerable than the smell of a rotting corpse. Beskadala reached for the holodisk that had been clutched in Ori'verd's hands and played it for the group gathered in the longhouse. Tyran listened to the message and the mission the old Mandalorian had for them all.

When it finished Tyran scratched his chin with a gloved hand. "Well I think one thing we can all agree on is that the Sith having a beskar star destroyer is bad for everyone." He said. "Beskar aside, I think depriving the Sith of that kind of weapon is good enough reason alone for us to do this mission." He pointed up at the hologram of the Bespin installation hovering above the group. "We can't let the shipment reach Bespin though, we'll never get in there, it'll be too well fortified and we're not exactly on speaking terms with the Sith anymore. If someone here has a sensible plan for infiltrating that place, then I'm game but other than that I think we need to ambush the shipment somewhere before it reaches that destination."



[member="Connory Monroe"], [member="Startorn"], [member="Ghed Sava"], [member="Seris Vant"], [member="Careena Fett"], [member="Ellie Ordo"], [member="Cero Pax"], [member="Stardust Solus Skirae"], [member="Ordo"], [member="Laandur Solus"], [member="Karsan Munin"] [member="Atin Alo'ran"], [member="Styr Armod"]

 

[Seris Vant]

Seris tightened her fist at the last words of the dead. It seemed Mandalor was lost and her people scattered. How it pained to think of such a thing, it was the truth. Seris looked to the pyre. Seeing the body burn away to ash. She may not have known him but for his honor she would recover the Beskar and slay Mandalors enemies. Seris stepped forward and removed her helmet. "I am Seris Vant. Of no clan was I raised Mandalorian. Through war I became one. I like Tyran's idea of intercepting the shipment. It would be far easier to recover the Beskar that way. But do we know where this ship is? And we need to take into consideration it may already be at the shipyard by now. If it is then we'll have no choice but to assault it. Beskadala is there any more information we have, routes, timetables he may have figured out in his discoveries?"

[member="Connory Monroe"], [member="Startorn"], @Ghed Sava, [member="Careena Fett"], [member="Ellie Ordo"], [member="Cero Pax"], [member="Stardust Solus Skirae"], [member="Ordo"], [member="Laandur Solus"], [member="Karsan Munin"], [member="Atin Alo'ran"], [member="Styr Armod"], [member="Tyran Numeck"]

 

[Thal Mantis]

The language to him, sounded sing-song but guttural at the same time. A testament to the people, he imagined.

The first part- the part spoken in Basic, he understood. But when the dialect switched, Thal had a hard time.

It was easy to blend in here. Mandalorian armor wasn't hard to come by, when the stars had been littered with the dead for years upon years- most recently at Silver Rest. [member="Vilaz Munin"] had brought him home- and revealed the truth. The truth was supposed to set him free. It only left him with more questions, answers only to be given by ghosts or, as he was doing- seeing it on his own.

It was obvious that he was difficult as a Jedi. His anger, either his own, or inherited from his father, was going to doom him if he did not control himself. But he doubted his ability to be a Jedi, if not in the future, for another minute or so. But they did teach him how to hide his presence in the force. It took only a passive concentration after a while. To him, it felt like wearing heavy boots. He just had to make sure that he kept them on.

The armor didn't quite fit him, but it was close enough. He could lie and say he put on weight. But he sat silent, watching the Mandalorians interact. He twirled a knife between his hands, examining each person that spoke, watching the translation of what they said in Mando'a fly across his visor. It was having a difficult time picking up each person's speech when multiple people in the room, but it did fine with a singular person.

Thal realized, that maybe, in the room of hardened killers, warriors, Bounty Hunters, and general has-beens and whos-whos of the Mandalorian world... that he was in over his head. He hoped that no one approached him. He hadn't even thought of a name for his persona yet. The armor itself was worn, but not damaged. The death blow came from a broken neck. The SJO had taken his body to be buried with all the other honored dead, and Thal was aiding in making sure they were properly cleaned and laid to rest.

But then saw his opportunity. Even in death, the warrior would benefit his people by helping just one more.

Maybe this was where Thal was supposed to be. Sat in the back, Thal remained seated, having slipped in with the gathering Mandalorians.

Something was calling him here. Maybe it was his father's ghost. Maybe it was his family's legacy, yearning for a better outcome than what Yasha had tarnished their clan with. Maybe it was Thal's own soul begging for belonging, for hope, for a purpose. His revenge on his slavers was complete, his vengeance satisfied, the raging sea inside of him now calm, if at rest.

But, now, standing in stolen armor- the son of the Wolf was trying to make his own way. But he had to do it carefully, for now.

 

[Ellie Omera]

A few more vod had found their way to the old mans home. A collection of warriors, bounty hunters, mercenaries and the like all stood near the pyre. Some left items of importance on the pyre while others spoke words of remembrance, the remembrance. All of this for a man they didn't know, but it didn't matter. He was Mandalorian and one of the many who fought to the bitter end to see his home free once more.

Ellie turned slightly from the pyre to get a glimpse of the group that had gathered. A handful of different clans stood in silence. The fire gave their beskar'gam a soft orange glow that highlighted dents, scrapes and scars. A story of their lives written in steel.

Her blue eyes turned to the holo of Ori'Verd, his final message and last request. A message that was as somber as the mood in the room. Not only were the Sith un-rightfully taking Beskar from them, but they were also building a star destroyer with it. That was bad news for anyone unfortunate enough to draw the Sith's ire, and all the more reason to get that Beskar from them.

The voice of [member="Connory Monroe"] brought her out of her thoughts. The young Mando had a point, if they were going to work together, they might as well know who they're working with. After several Mando had introduced themselves, Ellie pulled off her helmet and spoke. "Ellie Ordo. I agree with [member="Tyran Numeck"], we can't let that shipment reach Bespin. An ambush would be our best bet. Except without knowing the vessels route we won't be able to accurately depict when to ambush it." She paused for a moment as she cast a quick glance at the group. "In the scenario that the shipment does make it to Bespin. Then we may be able to slip in on an Sith shuttle. Once inside, we quietly make our way to the freighter before it has a chance to offload. Eliminate the crew and find whoever's in charge of the landing platform or a computer that stores information on what ships have offloaded what. Maybe we can trick them into thinking the freighter has already offloaded the Beskar. Then we can just undock and the shipment is ours." Ellie shifted her weight from one foot to the next. "It's a long shot, I mean....a really long shot, but it's a thought."

[member="Beskadala Ordo"]

 

[Startorn]

Startorn looked around at the group and said "names Startorn" he however did not take off his helmet, "swiping it from Bespin might be our best bet, unless we can find a place where it'll stop, I don't feel a attack in space would go over well" Startorn commented

 

[Obran]

The pyre was started in an unconventional but almost fitting manner. Then introductions came. A few spoke with the voice as Obran called it. Their tone and posture reeked, even still, of being used to their words taken as a command. Obran didn't dismiss them out of turn like some. But marked them as ones to watch and e wary of. Egos always caused trouble. Tactics were sound enough, but once the bigger mouths had spoken, he voiced his own opinion.

"Taking it before Bespin would be best, yes. But, unless someone has intel that has yet to be presented... It's a pipe dream. We can't find them before they land. There are dozens, if not hundreds, or routes and jump paths between here and there. So we should, instead, focus on how to hit it at Bespin. We have advantage not mentioned. The Empire and it's fledglings think of us as servile at the moment. We can simply arrive at the port in staggered groups. Figure out the shipment arrival and be waiting. It's a larger craft with escort, so they will stop more than us. We can maybe have a slight lead. Secure a shuttle or Imperial marked vessel, jump the shipment when it lands and make off like all the Underworld were behind us."

Here he coughed, realize he hadn't introduced himself, and looked up.

"Name is Obran. No Clan or anything of the sort."

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

 

[Ordo]

He continued his circuitous route through cover to the old man's door. His pace slow and methodical as he picked his way toward the home. There was far more activity than he’d been expecting. Body after body had entered and thus far none had come out. He didn’t like it. Something had called these seemingly Mandalorian people here. He walked along, echoes of screams from a war long lost whispered in the distance. He could still smell the cordite and burned meat of scorched bodies left to rot under the unyielding suns. He could almost taste it even now.

He drew closer and checked the sky for more ships inbound, but saw none. He decided he had to hurry up a step. There was no telling how long they’d be all wrapped up nice in the bunker walls, and no telling when a straggler or reinforcements might show up. Puffs of dust swirled in the air that was still fighting for balance from the heat and downdrafts of the ships that dotted the area now. It filled his mind of the black clouds of smoke that lifted off the wreckage and corpses of his units last dropship. Screams and artillery fire echoed inside his buy’ce as he neared the main hatch and wrapped his arm in the sling of his concussion rifle to give him a more stable aim incase he needed to end this little group hug aggressively.

He took a breath. The memory of heavy shells leaving craters where his vode had been a moment before made him close his eyes tight for a second to clear his thoughts. This wasn’t the edge anymore. He was back and he needed to find out what the feth was going on so he could report.

He thumbed the setting on his concussion rifle to have a wider spread and moved his large frame against the hatch casing and waited a moment. His audio enhancements hadn’t worked right for the six months it had taken him to limp back to know space. He took a calming breath, palmed the hatch lock and swung around the door frame low and ready to fire.

He saw the old man’s body, a lot of people standing around talking, and his finger started to squeeze the trigger.

“Talk fast or I turn everyone's insides to jelly.” His deep voice like stones in a washing unit came as steadily as talking about the weather.

Spoiler

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

 

[Startorn]

Startorn glanced at the man with the rifle in the doorway, "that's not a good idea, we got half a dozen blasters and flames, you take a shot and you'll be riddled with lasers faster then you can blink" he said setting his hand on his gun and fully faced him

 

[Laandur Solus]

The Nightwitch darted into the atmosphere as Laandur finally arrived. Only reason he could really justify his late arrival was where he was. He was staying as far out of Sith reach as possible, even if he was listening for them. Even the fighter's 0.5 class hyperdrive couldn't close the distance quick enough. Either way, he slowly landed the craft with the others. Osik! He did take a long time. The Mandalorian spy soon jumped out, walking inside. He was slow and quiet as usual, scanning the situation out. Multiple people in Besker'gam. Someone in the middle. He couldn't read the situation right. He began to walk closer, keeping to the wall until he heard someone speak ([member="Ordo"]). Really...? Jelly? He rolled his eyes under his helmet before sneaking up, extending the stun baton from it's gauntlet and laying it, uncharged for now.

"You would make a horrible spy and negotiator, you know that?" He then looked at the others, seeing the old man and sighing. "I guess I'm too late."

[member="Obran"] [member="Kaine Australis"] [member="Startorn"] [member="Ellie Ordo"] [member="Thal Mantis"] [member="Seris Vant"] [member="Tyran Numeck"] [member="Atin Alo'ran"] [member="Beskadala Ordo"] [member="Connory Monroe"] [member="Ghed Saya"] [member="Careena Fett"] [member="Styr Armod"] [member="Cero Pax"] [member="Galaar Fett"] [member="Stardust Solus Skirae"] [member="Karsan Munin"]

 

[Stardust Solus Skirae]

Like laandur, stardust took a little more time then others, however she was flying within a her old xwing, hopping system to system 10 minutes behind laandur. The swing dropped out above the planet and made it's way down towards the location which wasnt hard to find she just looked for the massive collection of ships gathered around a small old building

Here I am...looks like a lot of people already here [/color]

Landing in a clear spot, she opened the canopy and hopped out, looking towards the building and group assembled as she started up towards it. Taking a deep nervous breath she let it out as she drew closer, however once she grew closer she heard someone throw a threat and drew her westar as she aimed

put the weapon down....show some respect for the dead