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The Valen Job

Gilamar Skirata

Life before death. Journey before destination.
Gilamar hated snow. Never liked it, even on Mandalore during the cold seasons. It made things freeze, hard to move, electrical systems short, and a whole plethora of other technical problems. But...the snow is where they were called. In the Galaxy, many Mandalorians in this time of relative peace had taken up bounty hunting and mercenary work. Gilamar had personally been trying to bring in more credits into Mandalore and his baby, MandalMotors through selling commercial freighters and star yachts. The company had even recently developed an aquatic mining vessel, with matching suits and speeders on the way. As part of an out reach program to smaller companies, he had even given Daw Motors access to a few of the older factories that were no longer in use with the expansion of MandalMotors' shipyards.

Of course, he and everyone else, knew that their vacations from the Mandalorian military force would be short lived, especially with the rise of a new Sith Emperor and the deterioration of trust between the Sith and their perceived allies. War was just around the corner, and he knew that the Mandalorians would play the same role they always had. But galactic war was for another time. For now, it seemed as if there was a war on some new planet. He had gotten a call from an old acquaintance, one that had dropped completely off the grid for decades. He needed their help on a planet called Valen. He had said that the Sith and several other factions had arrived on the planet to take its Cortosis and that even though he was Mandalorian, he couldn't teach an entire people to defend themselves against the monstrosities of the Sith.

After bringing this to the attention of his Mandalore, the Mandalore gave the okay and organized his people again for the promised credits and potential spoils that would thrust the Mandalorians into another period of large economic boom, which was where they were headed now. Which is how he got here.

The city of Enduril.

From what he could tell from his own map, they were on the Southern continent, and almost as far South as one could go on the planet. The planet's natural defense kept large ships from coming in and dropping, but with a single Bes'bavar and a trio of quick Xerob-class blockade runners sent at precicely timed intervals, they were able to get what they needed on the ground for what it was worth. Crudely constructed vheh'yaim dotted the white snow filed just outside the city, forming a perimeter around the city. With the initiates hard at work creating the series of trenches that would connect these constructs he sat with his hands folded in a larger vheh'yaim, the current command post of the small forward operations base. Looking at the other Mandalorians in the room he sighed, his breath forming a small cloud. "How are we with getting the Dar'aranov up and running? We can't move to the next city unless we get that up." Looking to his fellow field Marshall, @[member="Azrael"] he searched for some sort of answer as if the young man knew everything about the current situation.

@[member="Dred Varad"] @[member="Basaba Willamina"] @[member="Zack Danheir"] @[member="Preliat Mantis"] @[member="Azrael"] @[member="Adenn Gra'tua"] @[member="Verz Horak"] @[member="Adelaide Baldesarra"]
The young Mandalorian was fascinated with it all. The snow, everything. He had never seen snow. He ran his hands through it, ripping off his helmet to feel it all. His hair swept behind him as he stared at the white expanse, blinking several times to take in it's beauty. He was riding on the side of a ground transport, and jumped down. He had heard somewhere that crushgaunts were warmer, and he wished that was the case with him, even though he had the traditional armor, the sting of cold was still coming through his armor. But he didn't care, he really enjoyed the view and feeling. He was ecstatic as he looked around, his tan skin coming red with the sting of the cold. He entered the small FOB with the other Mandalorians, holding his rifle in one hand, and adjusting the Beskad on his back with the other. He stopped, forgetting his helmet. He stopped, slinging his rifle over his shoulders. He took out his datapad, his handheld version. He recorded a video, smiling widely.

"Hi Mom! You'll never guess what I'm seeing! It's all white here! I love you, I'll call you later!"He said happily, jumping up and down before putting his datapad away. He looked at the other Mandalorians in the room as he entered, bright and youthful of a smile as ever as he glanced to the older ones. Some of them didn't seem to be enjoying the snow as much as he did. He put the datapad away, not wanting to reveal any sensitive information to his family. They were worried enough, but he seemed to be enjoying himself in the military, which comforted his mother somewhat. He smiled as he spoke, shaking some snow out of his hair."So..what's the plan?"The young man said, unaware of the hell that war truly was and what they were really getting into.
@Dred Varad @Basaba Willamina @Zack Danheir @Preliat Mantis @Azrael @Adenn Gra'tua @Verz Horak @Azrael


OOC Account
Enduril: Mandalorian FOB
The cold and the snow did not bother Dred Varad for he was of the northern breed of Mando’ad hailing from the city of Enceri. The colder seasons his home would be covered in this white crap and in the warmer seasons it would be non stop rains. Rain, Snow or Shine……Dred had been harden to working in the vast climates and this day was just another job within the elements.

Dred looked about the room, his helmet resting under his arm, all brothers and armed to the teeth with Skirata at the center stage where he belonged. The old dog commanded respect and deserved every inch of it that he had earned. Varad himself was off to the right side of the main entrance, behind the young pup that had just entered all smiley like and eager.

“Looks like you ate smiles for breakfeast” Dred jousted at @[member="Preliat Mantis"]. “You will be shitting joy by lunch” The mando warrior chuckled affectionately while giving him pat on the back. A sense of humor was a mighty ally and this mando was not one to let jibes go un said.
@[member="Gilamar Skirata"]
Jerrick trodded behind the other Mandos, truching through snow was like swimming in permacrete. Jerrick watched as the older two Mandos conversed, it was obvious they had a bond of some sort, bonds Jerrick did not have with anyone here. The black sheep of the group. He contiued following them rifle shouldered, watching their six.com

Adenn Gra'tua

Well-Known Member
Mandalore, now snow covered and cold, none of it could get through Adenn's air tight and heated armor though. Standing in a room along more Mandalorians He felt his armor stand out, in color more then design, but he didn't care about that. One Mandalorian seemed too exited for the situation, another joked with him "the shab are you on." Adenn said to @[member="Preliat Mantis"] "actually I don't want to know. But whatever it is, I don't think you will have wanted to take it later today." Looking around again at the Mandalorians Adenn stood waiting for orders of any kind.

@JerrickShado@Dred Varad@[member="Preliat Mantis"]@[member="Gilamar Skirata"]@[member="Verz Horak"]@[member="Azrael"]
Jerrick noticed only two Mandos he knew. Aden, and Dred. He decided to walk over to Aden since they had more history. "Aden, ner'vod, I'm glad you're here. I feel, out of place here, been to long since I was arounf other Mandos." Jerrick explained holding his arm out. Aden was about as close as a battle brother as Jerrick had here. It wasn't that Jerrick was scared, he just didn't know what to do here.
"You guys just don't know how to smile...it's beautiful here."He said, his brown eyes glancing around the area. The young Mandalorian was ecstatic, and none of the negativity of the older Mandalorians in the room could bring him down. He smiled with his roughed up face, thanks to Preliat being an avid and slightly amateur Smashball player. Preliat glanced around the room, rubbing his hands together in an excited manner. He was an avid Smashball player, and could go pro if he really tried to.
@JerrickShado@Dred Varad@Preliat Mantis@Gilamar Skirata@Verz Horak@Azrael

Tysk Willamina

The Mother
Tysk kept her arms crossed as she awaited the orders from her little spot against the wall. She looked up and over the others who had assembled and here. There was much she wanted to see them all do after Yaga and much that could really be done to truly wreck their enemies. The thought though of breaking the sith and bombing them to dar'yaim brought warm feelings to her all over. "We're going to be tearing apart the sith forces there correct?"

Basaba Willamina

A'den and Alor be aliit Willamina
Basaba clenched her crushgaunts a few times into the small moan of protect came, that stretching but also her own hands. The knuckles white white from it, her face a glare of annoyance and anger. She just wanted to get onto that world that was now being contested and wreck things. The sith had pulled out the stops at Yaga or at least it seemed like that and so now she wanted to take a missile boat and just target all of their locations to let hell rain down upon them.


Merc with a Mouth
"So when do we get to fire those big explody things, cause those are fun. Or oh we can stab things, the sith are still on our hit list right. Lets go and bomb them until they cry and then bomb them again just for the fun or if. We need some stress relief and I have a boner for murder and violence. Might even find one of those local girls and rescue her from her virginity."


Blind Seer
Lavania stood off to the side, one of the few witches who had come to aid their allies and even more one of the few who had been at Yaga. Not that it had mattered, once the spell was interrupted the support they had raised turned to dust. It hadn't helped save the day more then it needed to and she just stood there holding her staff while she leaned on it letting the force show her the room. "There is much we could learn on this world. Their technology as I understand is unique."
Shane stood there with his arms crossed, there wasn't much else he could do it seemed but there was plenty once they started blasting. The world was rich and the people force the taking credit wise. They had one fo the rarest and strongest things in the galaxy. They didn't need cortosis but what they could do with was a victory here or there to show they had some fight in them still. Show they were still strong and kicking. "So what is the plan?" He asked crossing his arms over his chest and looking around to take in the rest of those in the room.
@Mirshen@Lavania@Shane Sisko Skirata@[member="Basaba Willamina"]

Preliat didn't particulary care for Mirshen's tone of voice, so he showed it by sneering at him."Have some karking self control and respect, why don't you. I'm going to guess it's pretty hard for you not to be an nerf herder, but when you're representing the Mandalore and your brothers and sisters, it might be a good idea for you to be less than a douchebag about it."Preliat said, staring at Mirshen, holding his helmet under his arm. He wasn't about to let this yippy jerkwad run around Valen and make them all look bad.
Dark Sovereign of Strength
It seemed that everybody was all in one place. I was the fresh meat. Adopted what seemed a such long time ago, was less than a week. I had a rough understanding of what the Mandalorian culture was, and how it ran by my brother Dred. Standing there in my white armor, I seemed to blend into the landscape. The only thing that stuck out, was the slight lime green visor on my helm. and the discolored weapons that I carried. Two pistols on my thighs, and a Gladiator rifle. I decided not to have the under barrel grenade launcher named after a beast with claws and teeth larger than my head.

Currently others were talking about how they ether liked or hated the snow. I didn't want to pipe in my two cents, for a fear of revealing that I was from a place different from them. Hell, not even of this galaxy. Still, I had to follow Dred around as he would be teaching me how to properly act as a "Verd" I knew that it mean't warrior, but Even if I was to their standard, I would push myself to become better. Because from here on out, I would have to prove myself, while learning through mistakes.

Then all of a sudden I heard about a man talking about having a "boner for murder" and instantly, I knew he was going to be a tough one to handle. One of the other "brothers" that I had spoke up and told him to act like a real mando. Thats when I spoke. "War is not about getting the girl. I have not fought with any of you, but one thing is for sure. War is no laughing matter. Just as he said, act like a Mando'ade that has a real brain, not a Di'kut." I slightly smiled under my helm as I spoke in some of their native tongue. Maybe becoming like them would not be so hard?
@[member="Preliat Mantis"], @[member="Mirshen"], @[member="JerrickShado"], @[member="Dred Varad"]
Jerrick noticed Adeen a bit busy and took his cue to leave him alone. He sighed in his mind, then took a deep breath, and slif of his helmet. He closed his eyes and let the cold crisp air wash over his face, then took a deep breath of it, and exhaled blowing out smoke. "Shabla, these auretii have no clue what's coming for their shebs." He sat down a few ways away from the group. Relaxing for a bit before the snow ran red and black, from blood and smoke. It was kind of depressing, but also reasurring.

Gilamar Skirata

Life before death. Journey before destination.
All of this chatter and back chatter between the men and women assembled was begining to get to him. The wind picked up and began to howl outside as a blizzard kicked in, blowing chilling air underneath the makeshift HQ. Of course, through the bodyglove Gilamar couldn't feel the stinging cold of the south pole, but he shivered on instinct. The sound of cranes and repulsors from outside were starting to get louder and louder.

<Alright, alright kids.> He spoke up, using his first language. Pressing a button on the cold, durasteel holo projector two images came up, the blue light shading the room with its vibrant color. <This is where we are.> Zooming in on the image of the planet Valen. <Just outside the the city Enduril. As you might have guessed, its a bit chilly out here. OUr equipment might freeze over, this post is going to be Hell. But after we set up, we leave a small garrison here and we move north. Arthamir. From what I've been told its warmer, more like Keldabe. That's where we go. When we get there, we set up fortifications and garrison and we move on. Deal?>

He wanted to get out of this snow as soon as possible, and now that it seemed everyone was well and here, it was time to let the construction crews do their thing and move on.
@[member="JerrickShado"] @[member="Preliat Mantis"] @[member="Shane Sisko Skirata"] @[member="Zack Varad"] @Lavania @Basaba Willamina @[member="Tysk Willamina"] @Mirshen @Levy Willamina @[member="Preliat Mantis"] @[member="Adenn Gra'tua"] @[member="Dred Varad"]
Preliat released the mouthy Mandalorian and paid full attention when the briefing began. They weren't exactly close to where he wanted to be, pushing the Sith back to the most northern corner of the region, but the aspect of gaining more ground did actually make him sort of happy. His facial expression was stern, and he had a rigid pose when Gil was speaking. He nodded after he was done speaking, glancing around the room. The general consesus seemed to be that they wanted to be closer to the fighting, but truth be told, Preliat just wanted to be moving on. He liked the cold, though he couldn't speak for anyone else, Gil being very obvious.

He put on his helmet, tightening the seals so that it hissed and clicked. He nodded, responding with a nod and a salute."Yes sir."He said, stepping outside the tent, holding his rifle at his side. The rifle was heavy, and as was the Beskad on his back. He wondered if anyone else was as ready for combat as he was.

The air around him was stale, even through his helmets filter he could tell how dry the air was. Cold air was crisp, and it sort of refreshed his nostrils from being in such slimy conditions all the time."Mishuk gotal'u meshuroke, pako kyore..1"Preliat said to himself, sighing.

Basic Translation:
1. Pressure makes gems, ease makes decay...

@JerrickShado @Preliat Mantis @Shane Sisko Skirata @Zack Varad @Lavania @Basaba Willamina @Tysk Willamina @Mirshen @Levy Willamina @Preliat Mantis @Adenn Gra'tua @Dred Varad

Adenn Gra'tua

Well-Known Member
"Arthamir, eh?" Adenn said while cracking his neck "sorry Jerrick, I'm gonna have to get back to you." He took off both of his gloves to check on his synthetic arms. When he finished he slid his gloves back on and stepped out of the tent, revealing a snow covered landscape "I don't know if you guys have your suits sealed or not," he started "but mine is, and it's heated too." He was only slightly gloating, as it seemed that none of them had heating in their suits.

@[member="Preliat Mantis"]@[member="Gilamar Skirata"]@[member="JerrickShado"]
Arrbi Betna entered quietly and took a spot near the door. The tall Mando wore his black beskar'gam and dark red armorweave flight suit underneath. The metal was traditional beskar, handed down from generation to generation, modified to fit each new wearer. It was older than most others' and it showed. Nicks, dings, and scratches were visible here and there, though nothing major enough to threaten the protectiveness of the armor itself. As it wasn't sealed to the cold, only to atmosphere, and because the matte black stood out in the white snow, he'd taken white cloth and wrapped it around his body here and there. Partially for warmth and partially to hide him in the snow drifts.

He slung his long rifle over his right shoulder and listened without a word. The weapon was a standard slug thrower rifle, though he'd customized the thing heavily. The metal was worn, but well taken care of and rust free. The wooden stock was weathered and chipped here and there, but sound and in excellent condition. Here and there the sniper had made little adjustments to maximize the weapon's accuracy. The stock was perfectly set for Betna's shoulder and arms. The scope was zeroed precisely and two caps covered the lenses. White rags covered the foregrip of the rifle to provide cushioning while bracing on an object and to help camouflage the user. The moving mechanisms on the old bolt action were well oiled and well kept to maintain smoothness and accuracy in all weather. All in all, the weapon had become less a tool and more of an extension of the man's body.

As he heard the new orders, he cocked his head, letting the light reflect dully from the helmet he wore.

"Do you want me to scout ahead?" was all he asked, his tone neutral.

@[member="Gilamar Skirata"]