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The Shape of Things to Come [Sith Empire/Dar'jetii]

Gregor Gideon

Guest
G
Command Bridge -- Tulak Hord-class Star Destroyer, Spiteful
Edge of Sith Empire Territory

It was not often that Gregor Gideon found himself traversing the edges of Imperial space. Unfortunately the naval task force to which he had found a kindred spirit, and in particular, the command ship - the Spiteful, whose crew were renowned for their loyalty to the Imperial way of life - a loyalty that Gregor would never cease to appreciate, had been rotated to an assignment patrolling the far reaches of their territory. Searching for pirates, maintaining the trade lanes, and all other such important, but rather mundane tasks.

The ship had become something close to a home away from home, so Gregor was content to remain aboard.

However, the journey was about to take a particularly unexpected turn.

Alarm bells sounded throughout the bridge, and out unto the various other essential locations throughout the ship. An unidentified starfighter-scale contact, of Mandalorian specifications but utilizing CIS Identification Friend/Foe transponder codes, had breached the Imperial territorial boundary and was headed on a course that would allow a swift interception by the mighty Star Destroyer and her support warships of various classifications.

"Captain, hail the vessel immediately." the Sith Knight spoke to the Spiteful''s captain, before turning to face the ships' Starfighter Corps Wing Commander. "Launch a flight of Tarals to intercept and shadow the contact."

The starfighter commander saluted and withdrew to a console staffed by two crewmen. Undoubtedly to make a call down to the hangar bay for an immediate scrambling of fighters.

The naval captain had already reached the communications officer and was relaying the hail. "Unidentified starship, you have entered restricted Imperial space. Power down your engines and submit to an identity check immediately. This is your only warning."

@[member="Dar'jetii"]
 
D O M I N U S
Writer
The events of recent years had caused a tremendous deal of anger and dissatisfaction to erupt into existence within the Mandalorian known as Isley Verd. Originally, he was a faithful Initiate under the rule of Mandalore the Rebuilder; a man he looked to with as much adoration as a son did his father...but fate had twisted his seemingly shining future and torn Isley away from the man he nearly idolized. Through betrayal, a Sith he had "befriended" turned on him and had him locked away in a remote camp on the desolate world known as Tatooine. From here, he was tormented, day and night, and interrogated for information that could be used to strike at the Mandalorians.

This confused Isley to no end, for he and this Sith were supposedly friends...allies...weren't his people and the Empire to be the same?

When at last he made his escape from his sordid prison, he found himself clinging to life...only to be liberated from the brink of death by members of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. They bandaged his wounds, made certain that he had the means to return home, and allowed him to go in peace. Upon returning to Mandalore, he learned of the fate of Mandalore the Rebuilder and how his title had been passed down so many times in such a short period. He was...disgusted with the current state of his people, but regardless assisted them in their offensive on Mon Calamari.

Following this, he took his leave of the world, vowing to return in times of trouble. His destination was the growing space of the Confederacy, where he was determined to pay his debt. They liberated him from death, and so he would serve them for such time as he felt his honor was restored. This time was unspecified in his mind, and as such he would have held no reservations about spending many years there. In fact, over the course of the many months he served alongside their military faithfully, he was given a reward for his service: knowledge.

He learned of his Force Sensitivity and began a small sum of training alongside the Confederacy's Templars.

However, his time within the Confederacy came to an abrupt end, at present, following the events of Polis Massa; where it became publicly known that the Empire and Confederacy had a standing alliance with the Sith. He just...could not bear the thought of the nation he served choosing not to take the fight to those who had harmed his people. Sure, his rationale was the definition of irrational; but to one who had gone through the hellish torments he had, only to learn that his liege and friend was slain and replaced by a line of Mandalores who did not command his respect...

That was the Final Straw.

He departed from the Confederacy as swiftly as possible, with full intentions on landing at Dromand Kaas and claiming the lives of as many Sith as possible. Once again, completely irrational, but driven by the wounds of the past. Eventually, his progress was halted at the very edge of Imperial Space, where he was hailed and instructed to power down his vessel. This spelled the end to his plan...and so he changed gears and opted to utilize this vessel as his means of vengeance. His people would sing songs of his valor in sending as many Imperials as his blaster could claim into the jaws of hell.

As such, he complied and was immediately caught into the tractor beam of the largest vessel. It did not take long for him to be dragged into the hanger bay of the Star Destroyer and for his ship to be surrounded by Stormtroopers and the like...so he drew his blasters and opened the cockpit of the starfighter. He leaped out of the seat and began firing as swiftly as his twin blasters would allow, claiming the lives of two of the Stormtroopers before he was quickly overwhelmed and battered on his head by a rifle butt. Dazed, he was robbed of his weapons and dragged upright as one of the troopers hailed the Sith Knight, requesting his presence.

"Sir, by the look of his armor, it's a Mandalorian. You may wish to come down in order to question him, over."

@[member="Gregor Gideon"].
 

Gregor Gideon

Guest
G
Gregor had observed the events as they transpired within the hangar bay from a audio-less display terminal on the command bridge. As the first blast silently struck out from the Mandalorian's twin weapons, more alarm bells began to ring out in the bridge -- alerting them to unauthorized blaster discharges.

"Shut that noise off!" the ever increasingly annoyed Sith Knight yelled out over the blaring klaxons sounded.

Just as the alarms deactivated a personal comm message rang through from a subcutaneous comlink, to which he had installed when he was still merely an agent of the Empire, and not yet a Sith himself. The increasingly exasperated Gregor responded with an overly loud confirmation, his ears still ringing from the chain-reaction-alarms. At the same time, he began to stalk down the bridge's walkway, to a turbolift waiting to take him down to the docking bay level of the mighty warship.

This Mandalorian was brave, Gregor would have to acknowledge that much. But bravery when not tempered by discipline was about as useless as a domesticated taun-taun with no rider. A suicide attack was, in Gregor's own mind, not an act of discipline, but instead, was an act of self-defeat.

"Inform our Mandalorian friend that he has until my arrival to come up with an excuse for his actions. Or we release him back to space. From the airlock. He has five minutes."

The stormtroopers, for their part, were particularly rough on the newly captive Mandalorian, at least initially. They interrogated @[member="Dar'jetii"] crudely, thoroughly untrained in the art of information retrieval. No, the stormtroopers made better blunt instruments than they did anything else. But oh, how grand of instruments they were. Questions were asked in the most basic of ways. Shouts of, "What is your name!?" "Who are you!?" and "Why are you here?!" in rapid succession. Luckily, their ace in the sleeve, a Sith Knight of their own, would be here soon to take over.
 
D O M I N U S
Writer
For a brief span of seconds, the Mandalorian was completely silent in their grasp...yet this was the calm before the storm so to speak. The blow to his head had dazed him quite considerably, but with each passing moment the throbbing was reduced to something that could easily be ignored through grit...and that was something that he had plenty of. As the Stormtroopers began their "interrogation", Isley had just begun to see the room as not...spinning...and therefore the will to fight was reignited within him.

"My name is Isley Verd, and I'm here to feth your mother." he spat, before wrenching his right arm free of the grasp of the Stormtrooper holding him firm. He then used his liberated limb to throw a solid punch straight into the helmet of the Stormtrooper holding his left; and by the time he had both his arms free, the situation became something akin to a dogpile. Those attempting to interrogate him began to grab and leap at him, for they did not wish to wish angering their commanding officer by outright shooting him to death.

As such, the Mandalorian found himself punching, kicking, and clawing his way to his feet over and over again, only to be tackled down and battered by balled up fists at awkward angles. If not for the fact that he was wearing his armor, he would have been much less apt to attempt scrapping with a hangar full of Stormtroopers. However, at long last his endurance gave way; as a single man could only wriggle out of so many dogpiles before he became tired, and by the time the Sith Knight would arrive, Isley was held in the same position as pefore.

Both arms seized, and this time the blasters were set to fire.

With teeth clenched, the Mandalorian remained quiet as he decided to utilize the last weapon in his arsenal. It was something newly acquired, with its potential untapped. Focus overcame him, and despite the fact that he was throbbing all over the place, he was able to reach out to the connection he had with the enigmatic entity known as the Force. He drank it in, concentrated, and then made one last ditch effort. He managed to rip his offhand free from the grasp of the Stormtrooper once more and thrust it forward towards the circle of blasters pointed his way...

...and projected a wall of telekinetic force...

It was feeble compared to what a decent Apprentice could do, let alone a fully trained Knight, but such a feat would come as a surprise to anyone; especially the pair of Stormtroopers who were plucked off of their feet and sent skidding across the floor. With such anger, and the potential for power, Isley was essentially the reward for a lucky lottery ticket...if the right strings were tugged.

@[member="Gregor Gideon"].
 

Gregor Gideon

Guest
G
Gregor was taken by surprise, but not taken aback, by the display of Force prowess immediately upon the opening of the turbolift doors. He was surprised, to be sure. The Sith most assuredly expected to find himself stalking towards a captive Mandalorian warrior, and instead, he found himself approximately thirty meters away from some kind of Force User. Mandalorian warrior, force user.

As such, and without first taking the opportunity to feel through the Force the degree to determine the level to which this Mandalorian himself was attuned; of which Gregor assumed the worst, that the Mandalorian was of equal or greater strength to his own.

With only that in mind, Gregor took an immediate offensive footing. Wearing only a crimson-hued jacket atop a standard Imperial uniform tunic and slacks, none of which bore any insignia nor display of rank, the Sith Inquisitorius charged forward out from the confines of the turbolift and out into the vast - but cluttered - hangar bay of the Spiteful. His arms launched forward, his fingers out stretched as he pooled a burst of telekinetic Force energy over the course of the first several rapid steps forward.

The next footfall as he accelerated further came with it the release. A coned wave of telekinetic energy burst forward, indiscriminate to who or what it touched, and a sizable display of what Gregor Gideon was capable of. That was the first lesson he adopted as a Sith; always lead with your proverbial best foot.

@[member="Dar'jetii"]
 
D O M I N U S
Writer
It was as if there were something...tugging at his attention. Something unseen, but very obviously there. This "something" started off as miniscule in form, but then concentrated and grew several times larger in times. Little did the Mandalorian know that what he felt was the unique presence that the Sith Knight known as Gregor Gideon had in the Force; and that the concentration was the burst of telekinetic energy that he was preparing. Due to this ignorance, Isley continued his fruitless battle against the Stormtroopers that sought to hold him fast and subdue him...

...Until what was done to the Stormtroopers sent skidding across the ground occurred once more. However, this time, Isley was the intended target; and those around him were unfortunately caught in the radius of the strike. They all were plucked off of their feet like a weed yanked from the earth by a gardener's hand. For a moment, Isley was dazed; for he was smacked with a wall of telekinetic force that was immensely stronger than his own and tossed across the hanger like a rag down.

However, the initial impact paled in comparison to smacking against the floor, then being landed on by several Stormtroopers. If not for his armor, he would have been in quite the pickle; but fortunately he was liberated from any concussive injuries due to wearing it. A groan escaped his lips as he pushed his way up from the Stormtrooper pile and struggled to his feet. Those who were not sent flying had formed a semi-circle about their superior, blasters raised, and Isley was...all but defenseless.

"I take it you don't want me to feth your mother...alright...No need to fling me around." he said, cracking a smirk from his visor. A confident step forward was taken, but then the Mandalorian's form buckled. Being battered against the head with a rifle but, pummeled by Stormtroopers, and being hurled across the room would do that to anyone. He dropped to a knee, succumbing ever so slightly to the throbbing pain that characterized his entire body. 'Feth...FETH....' he thought to himself, willing himself to stand.

"So, you know my name," he began, shakily standing up, "but I don't know yours. Not exactly the definition of manners..."

@[member="Gregor Gideon"].
 

Gregor Gideon

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G
Gregor continued forward as the results of the telekinetic blast were made clear, though his pace began to slacken. He was not done sizing up his opponent just yet, and as such, did not want to close the gap between the two immediately.

The Mandalorian's endurance was commendable, but Gregor could not sense a great deal of control within his Force signature. Raw power, yes, most definitely, yet lacked proper fundamental training. He was certainly no Master, and of no threat to the Sith Knight's life - at least momentarily. The Mandalorian was beaten and battered, clearly. But still standing. Barely.

"Your name is meaningless. Inconsequential. You reek of weakness," The Sith Inquisitorius lunged forward again, closing the remaining gap between the two. The Mandalorian was obviously hurting, and Gregor was particularly fond of hand to hand combat himself. This may prove one of the few times the Sith Knight could readily defeat such an obviously skilled Mandalorian opponent in more-or-less one on one fisticuffs.

His hands came up before the last few steps, establishing a blocking position against any blows to his head - at least until he was ready to strike, rotating his torso to get a stronger blow prepared as he rained down his right fist in a hammering-like strike directed at the visor-piece of the Mandalorian's helmet.

@[member="Dar'jetii"]
 
D O M I N U S
Writer
The Mandalorian was battered, more than likely bruised, but he was far from being out of the fight yet. Sure, there was absolutely zero chance of him leaving the fight unscathed, or victorious for that matter; but if he was going down, he was going to do so with as close to on his own terms as possible. He recognized that killing the wielder of the Force before him was a nay impossibility in his current state; so he would settle for making the fether bleed at the very least. As such, when the Knight made his swift approach, Isley managed to, painfully, straighten his posture even more.

He then elevated his arms in a defensive stance, with palms open. If he was going to go toe-to-toe with someone, he was going to attempt to do as much damage as possible. Despite the pain nagging at every fiber in his being, he felt as though he had enough endurance in him to score a blow or two. But even that was a stretch...then came the moment of truth. The Knight was on him like the white on a Stormtrooper's armor. The punch was thrown and Isley, with body screaming in protest, stepped into the blow and managed to swat it aside with his right hand.

Then, using the momentum of the Sith Knight moving forward against him, the Mandalorian threw his shoulder forward; hoping that his armored form would do some damage against his opponent. However, that was the absolute best that the Mandalorian could do; as the moment he moved, his body failed him once more. If the Knight simply stepped aside, he would see Isley crash to the floor unceremoniously...but there was a high possibility that he'd score a few blows before doing so.

"Ne shab'rud'ni." came the final snark of the Mandalorian, completely ironic in nature.

@[member="Gregor Gideon"].
 

Gregor Gideon

Guest
G
The Sith Knight reacted with immediacy as his hammer blow was diverted and a counter-attack was initiated by way of a bulky, armored shoulder. His left arm rotated, his palm twisting to face outwards.

This time he did not rely on a blast of telekinetic energy, but rather utilized the Force to create a solid barrier of energy around his left hand. It was intended to act as a buffer and shock absorber from the kinetic energy of the blow.

All the while, he was resetting his right arm back into the original position only to near-instantly crash it back down in the same fashion, directed at the same location - the Mandalorian's helmet visor-piece.

"I can sense you breaking. Weakness is all you have left!" He growled to his opponent, while supplanting the words with the Dark Side of the Force. Twisting them in the fashion known as dun möch, in an attempt to demoralize the Mandalorian, and further degrade his already diminished capabilities.

Gregor was becoming far more curious than concerned by this point. An all-out barrage could swiftly secure victory he was sure, but instead he chose to test the armored man. The potential prize for an otherwise uneventful task in the far reach of Sith space. Gregor knew with certainty that the Dark Side was rewarding him for his most loyal service. The Dark Side provided. Always.

@[member="Dar'jetii"]
 
D O M I N U S
Writer
The Mandalorian had fully expected a swift and prompt introduction with the floor below, but instead found himself held aloft by something that was not a human hand. By the time his mind put the pieces together that this was some form of Force utilization, there was a fist coming directly for his visor. There was no time to flinch, no time to react...he took the thunderous hit that caused quite the echo to bounce across the hanger. Though his helmet absorbed the initial brunt of the damage, it still was a direct punch to the face that caused Isley's head to snap back.

His eyes lulled back, and so did his entire body. Like a tree, he tumbled down to the hanger floor with a solid thud and laid there. Motionless. He was not unconscious yet, and in all honesty he would have much preferred to have been. This was due to the fact that he was aware, painfully aware, of the throbbing sensations characterizing his body. For those brief span of seconds, he was content with staying down, though he highly regretted coming here in the first place. Then came the taunt.

'Weakness...no...There is no Glory in being weak.' he thought to himself as a weak groan issued from his lips. 'Get up.' Isley roared to himself, arguing with the aching, throbbing body that desperately wanted to stay down. 'GET UP!' he commanded his body, literally forcing himself to overcome the pain with sheer grit. Yes, just as the taunt had lingered in the air for a span of a few seconds, the Mandalorian was stirring. He was not weak by any stretch.

Battered, yes. All but defeated, yes. But weak? Never.

"Ne shab'rud'ni!" Isley growled as he forced himself into a sitting position, then back upon his feet. He was shaking all over; his body was literally hairs from giving out once more, but he would not be called weak and let it stand. Not now, not ever. "Ne shab'rud'ni!!" he roared once more, elevating his arms, palms open once more.

@[member="Gregor Gideon"].
 

Gregor Gideon

Guest
G
Gregor knew the moment he struck the Mandalorian's helmet. He felt it, heard it, and knew the full weight of what it could do to a person. What it could take out of them. The results were clear, as the man laid on the ground.

'Get up,' he further tauntingly beckoned while further utilizing dun möch principles, this time unspoken. He utilized rudimentary telepathic principles in an attempt to plant the whisper into his mind. Lulling him into a false sense of opportunity to strike. To which Gregor would retaliate most grievously.

Unfortunately, Gregor would instead fall victim to the same maleficence he so vehemently opposed in all other Sith: arrogance, and overconfidence. While he sought to bolster the Mandalorian's will, so that he could inflict one final finishing - and ultimately demoralizing blow, he failed to fully reset his spacial positioning, as well as place his arms back up to protect his head. Instead they were both partially lowered, in no good position to assist in defending against what would come next.

He raised his right hand, never deviating from his former style of attack as he attempted to seize the opportunity to rain down another blow directly onto the visor of his opponent's helmet.

"There is no glory in being a beaten man! If you are even a man at all, under this!"

@[member="Dar'jetii"]
 
D O M I N U S
Writer
This was it, Isley could feel it. Despite the fact that, with every passing second, his battered, brusied, and aching body wanted to quit...he stood firm. He was ready to do what he could to combat his adversary; and in this case, he saw something that was not there formerly. Being born, bred, and raised to be a warrior, the Mandalorian was well-trained in seeing an opening. It was this particular skill that allowed him to stare down a den of Rakghouls, easily step up to the reigning Emperor prior to his ascention, and now square off against the Knight before him.

So, with his body screaming in opposition, history repeated itself. Through the sheer force of true grit, the Mandalorian stepped forward into the incoming blow, repeating the maneuver that had gotten him in the position to counterattack before. However, this time it was his left foot that stepped forward, and his left forearm rose to block the impending blow. This made the opening even wider, and like a rocket surging forth into the heavens, the Mandalorian closed his fist and threw an uppercut as hard as he could.

He put every ounce of strength he had left and aimed for right underneath the jaw. A blow of that force, coupled with the fact that his fist was covered in beskar, was certain to do some sort of damage; assuming that it made contact with the Sith's flesh that is. Isley prayed that it did, for he was at his limit. Sure, the sum of the damage would not be enough for a one-hit knockout, or to even end the fight...but perhaps it'd be enough to spurn some response other than utter decimation.

@[member="Gregor Gideon"].
 

Gregor Gideon

Guest
G
Gregor saw the uppercut coming too late to block it, or do anything other than attempt to back step in time to avoid the blow connecting.

His footwork was disrupted by improper placement, causing his dodge to fail, and the heavily armored, fist-shaped gauntlet to impact quite squarely in an upward fashion, to his chin. The force of it caused him to begin to tumble backwards with sharp pain, as his near-limp limbs flayed about in a terrible attempt to re-balance himself.

He heard only ringing in his ears, and might as well be seeing stars; as little specks of 'visual snow' resonated in his eyes.

He was cognizant enough to realize that he was about to topple over, himself, due to his own foolish pride, and took a last ditch effort to halt any continued forward momentum gained by the Mandalorian. His wild hands conjured up simultaneous blasts of telekinetic Force energy - just enough power behind them to hopefully knock his opponent backwards, and perhaps even onto the ground again if he were caught off guard by the wildly directed blasts.

Perhaps it would give Gregor just enough time to reboot his brain, stand back up, and for the love of the Sith Empire itself, to put his hands back up to protect his head.

His experiment in utilizing dun moch was tragically a failure, at least at this stage in his Sith career.

@[member="Dar'jetii"]
 
D O M I N U S
Writer
The Mandalorian could not help but feel a hint of satisfaction in the fact that his blow, despite the protests of his body, had landed...and with a decent sum of force behind it. The uppercut was such that, upon the metal impacting the flesh, it caused quite the thud and had that oh-so-satisfying effect of causing the Sith's head to snap back and send him tumbling backwards. What added to that smug moment was the fact that the Sith's limbs flayed about attempting to halt his tumbling body from crashing to the ground; which he did successfully.

Yet, before Isley could even think of turning this single strike of tremendous effort into something more aggressive, he was struck again by a concentrated blast of concussive force. While far from being as pronounced as the original, it still did its job quite effectively and set the already-weakened Mandalorian promptly on his bottom a good meter or so away from the Sith. Unfortunately, despite the how great it was to score a such a blow on a Sith who obviously was stronger than him...the Mandalorian was far from having anything close to an advantage.

As such, from his position on the hanger floor, he once more attempted to force his body to obey his command...and he was met with so much protest that the temptation to stay down nearly trumped his grit. However, the Mandalorian would not waver...nor would he die on his back. If he were to perish, it would be on his own terms. And that meant getting on his fething feet! So he rose, body aching and battered, to his feet once more and sluggishly stood there. He could barely elevate his arms, and now the weight of his armor was beginning to make itself noticeable.

However, despite it all, Isley was still Isley.

"How many times did I tell you...not to mess with me? See what you went and made me do? Had to smash that ugly mug of yours a bit..."

@[member="Gregor Gideon"].
 

Gregor Gideon

Guest
G
Falling was the least of Gregor Gideon's worries at the moment. He could tell that his tactic had been successful, and that had granted him a considerable amount of time to recover and react. In that order.

The magnitude of the blow was something the Sith Knight hadn't quite anticipated and even on a good day, that one would've hurt. Never do that with a Mandalorian ever again he thought with an overriding sense of resentment, anger, and embarrassment. He really wanted to have won the old fashioned way.

But plans change, and this was shaping up to be a most unexpected plan B...

Gregor scrambled back to his feet at a much swifter pace than did the Mandalorian, as Gideon's body was nowhere near as wracked as the others. He took several steps backwards as the Mandalorian rose up, allowing for a nice safe buffer zone between them as Gregor called harnessed a torrent of Dark Side energy.

After the Mandalorian spoke, Gregor released the torrent with a singular purpose: to immobilize the man in a oppressive grasp of the twisted Force energy. He followed this by calling on the Force to levitate the Mandalorian up off of the ground, and then abruptly jerked the man away with his unseen hand. @[member="Dar'jetii"] was sent flying away in the direction of the magnetic shield separating the hangar bay from the vacuum of space. The Mandalorian passed through the shielding and remained floating away from the star destroyer, guided by an invisible power, until he found himself approximately fifty meters away from the ship - in which case the invisible Force eased him to a stop, and then @[member="Dar'jetii"] was released. Released, to float in the deep sea of space.

--

Hangar Bay -- Tulak Hord-class Star Destroyer, Spiteful

Gregor shook his head and blinked roughly for a moment, before being approached by the ranking naval officer present; whom immediately inquired as to orders.

"Inform the communications officer I want access to that man's comm network immediately. NOW!" He barked at the officer, before turning his back on him.
 
D O M I N U S
Writer
Just as the snark had exited the Mandalorian's lips and escaped into the air of the hanger, he found himself subject to a utilization of the Force once more. Unlike the previous, painful bursts of concussive, telekinetic force that had battered him about; this one came in the form of immobilization. Isley, despite attempting to struggle against the invisible power that held him bound, found that he could not do a single thing to resist. He partially blamed the sorry state of his battered and bruised body, but was ignorant to the fact that, even in prime condition he would be helpless.

To make matters worse, it seemed as though his means of dying were selected for him. This was one of slow, torment, not one characterized by fighting until being struck down...there was no glory to be had in such a passing, yet there was absolutely nothing that the Mandalorian could do. As such, with his mind set upon the depressing reality that was his impending doom, Isley remained still as he was cast adrift into the void of space. He loathed the fact that his final sight would be a hulking, Sith vessel. He loathed the fact that he would die without glory...

Yet, as he continued to wallow in his thoughts, there was something that occurred that he did not anticipate. His HUD came to life, with what seemed to be an incoming transmission. Sure, the outside entity did not have authorized access to his private channel, but they sure as heck made a way in. Once the line of communication had been established, Isley rolled his eyes and sighed into the microphone; as he was certain that it was his opponent calling to gloat until the moment he died.

"You've reached the Mandalorian Hotline, our service representatives are unavailable at this time. Please leave your message after the 'go feth yourself'...GO FETH YOURSELF."

@[member="Gregor Gideon"].
 

Gregor Gideon

Guest
G
Gregor would perhaps have mustered a smile, or a grin, perhaps even warrant himself a laugh, if his jaw didn't hurt so damned much. The throbbing pain made it difficult to concentrate on the subcutaneous comlink's audio link.

The Mandalorian had a strong arm, he could certainly give him that.

Physical strength wasn't why Gregor was so interested in him, however. The Force. Now that intrigued him.

"How long do you think you have left before you die? Will you suffocate, or will you be a true warrior and release your helmet's pressurization? Give yourself to the abyss? Your call." He spoke aloud, but not to anyone inside the hangar.

Gregor approached the safety barrier separating the crew walkways and hangar bay facilities, and the magnetic shield separating space from the ship's artificial gravity. He peered out into the backdrop of the stars, trying to locate the Mandalorian floating out there.

@[member="Dar'jetii"]
 
D O M I N U S
Writer
That was just what the Mandalorian expected to hear from his adversary, taunts about quickening his eventual demise. In truth, Isley had not contemplated whether or not he wanted to go our by his own hand, or death by suffocation. In truth, he had five minutes or so to make up his mind, as that was the time span that his oxygen tank would allow. In any case, the Mandalorian simply folded his arms and looked to the Star Destroyer's hanger, squinting whilst he searched for his adversary.

"I've got about...five minutes. Haven't decided whether I'll pull the plug or not, the view is spectacular from over here; might just take these last minutes to sit back, relax, and enjoy the stars. But, I'm sure you didn't go out of your way to bust into my comm to ask about my plans, what do you want Dar'jetii?"

@[member="Gregor Gideon"].
 

Gregor Gideon

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G
Gregor allowed himself to smile, painfully smile, this time in smug satisfaction. As he heard the newest response from the Mandalorian, in particular regards to the view, Gideon began to pool his Force energy again.

This time he reached out in a more intricate manner; locating the Mandalorian's presence within the Force, and then applying just enough Force power into creating a spin into his floating pattern.

Not enough to discomfort the man, merely to visually disorient him.

"To offer you another option. But first, why did you come here? Why have you thrown your life away so carelessly? Wastefully."

@[member="Dar'jetii"]
 
D O M I N U S
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The Mandalorian had to contemplate the answer for a moment. Why did he come there? There was silence on the line for a few seconds, then even more so when the disorienting rotation began. "Urgh," he began, trying to keep himself from becoming utterly disoriented, "I'm here because...I'm sick and tired of many things. The title of Manda'lor has been tossed around so many times in my absence, and I could have prevented it. My people have suffered, and I could have prevented it. And yet, my hands were tied because one of your fething comrades had me locked up in a cell!"

He took a moment to inhale a breath. The disorientation was getting to him. "And to make matters worse, the one hope I had for striking against you...the one hope I had for turning the tides and making it so that you couldn't just simply bomb my people at your leisure...has fething declared itself neutral!" Isley was, of course, referring to the Confederacy and his hopes to align the nation with the Mandalorians so that they could be on the offensive more so than defensive. "I can do nothing at home. I can do nothing on the world stage. So I decided to do something."

"That is why I came, to take some lives and to prove that Isley Verd has some shred of fething worth; to snatch some shred of glory before the dishonor weighing upon my shoulders crushes me into oblivion. Now, what is this 'option' that you speak of, a quicker death?!"

@[member="Gregor Gideon"].
 
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