Mission Thieves Landing [Open to Iron Cov. & Galactic UW]

[Celt Saxon]

Location: Boarding the Dread Horizon
Objective: Objective 2
Tag: Romul Saxon Kamon Hourn Carduul Akahl Tal Kaja Darion of Myrkr
Equipment: In bio

The beach head was established quickly and a few of Celt's men were now tossing stunned guards into port containers where they could safely await processing by her second line soldiers. A part of her did consider tossing them out of the hangar shield into space, but doing that to unconscious soldiers was an efficiency that even Celt didnt want to admit that she was considering.

The Saxons moved quickly through the paralysed star destroyer, the multitude of simultaneous boarding actions had left the defenders a bit disorientated and unsure where to attack. Celt was heading to secure the main tramway for the ship. If she could control that she would control movement of personnel, making it hard for their opponents to reinforce their side and allowing stronger parts of the Mandalorian forces to move in support of each other in this huge vessel.

A blaster bolt pinged off of her shoulder armour, followed by another and a third. She turned her head and saw a group of pirates at the end ofna corridor behind a makeshift barricade. Her HUD gave her firing solutions and the auto-gimbal that supported her shoulder mounted gatling ripped angled towards them. It began spitting visciois death into the barricade, punching cleanly theough the thin barrier that was never going to stop a real attack. Three short burts from the ripper and her HUD confirmed no further targets.

"I want that barricade down, flamer team, makes sure there is noone else holed up behind there.". Her super commandos did not miss a beat and a pair of them approached, one of them jamming the nozzle of the flame thrower into the barricade and letting rip. There was a couple of screams but they did not last long. The other commando began moving chunks of the debris that had once been a defensive point and Celt left them to do their work.

She arrived at the cantina as expected, the cantina station would be her ingress into the tramway system. It was not quite as busy as expected, but there was several pirates in here. It was a spectrum, some were that nice kind of drunk that they would just live and let live, heading off to sleep out the attack. Others were more drunk, and those were the ones that needed to be put down. One swung a pool cue at her that she easily defelcted with her vambrace before returning the strike with a metallic punch to his face that sent him backwards. Another drunkard took a shotgun blast to the stomach from a supercommando and didnt even get to take a swing.

She looked around, daring people to try her.

 

[Darion of Myrkr]

Darion did not answer the captured brother's call. Others would go. There were always other brothers and sisters for that. His place was ahead. The ship was not yet taken and the bridge pulled at him like a siren pulls a lone sailor at night.

He had swapped the beskad for his old repeater. It was a Mandalorian piece, close in make to the ancient DC-15 blaster rifle: long, heavy, and good in the hands. It fired loud in the corridors and each burst struck hard and went through armor and flesh alike.

In the chaos he somehow found himself falling a step behind Celt Saxon and her kin as they drove toward the main turbolift. The lift would take him up. To his coveted price.
"Come on, Saxon," he called through the fire. "Is that all you've got? A few pirates to slow you?"

 

[Belok Karr]

BELOK KARR​

OBJECTIVE 2
TAG: Romul Saxon Celt Saxon Darion of Myrkr Tal Kaja Carduul Akahl
GEAR: Concussion Rifle Scattergun Warhammer​

Belok Karr lumbered through the breached corridor of the Dread Horizon, his red beskar plates still warm from the pod's rough entry and the first flurry of blaster fire.

The big Mandalorian had caught the open comm chatter mid-stride: a vod calling for aid at the armory, Carduul's voice barking the push in crisp Mando'a.

Sounded like proper work. He adjusted the sling on his concussion rifle, checked the underslung grenade launcher with a quick thumb flick, and kept moving.

Smoke hung thick in the passage, lit by flickering emergency strips and the occasional muzzle flash from farther ahead. Belok stepped over a twitching pirate corpse, boots thudding against deck plating.

A pair of Klatooinians rounded the corner ahead, blasters raised. He did not slow. The rifle came up smooth, and a single concussion blast roared out. The shockwave slammed both raiders into the bulkhead with wet cracks; one slid down lifeless, the other twitched once before going still.

"For feth's sake," Belok muttered, voice low and gruff. "At least make it interesting."

He paused only long enough to yank a scorched circuit seal tighter on his chest plate. Blaster scoring had already heated the beskar uncomfortably. He was a large target and there was not much cover. He then pressed on toward the armory's reported position.

He keyed his comm open on the shared channel.

"This is Belok Karr," he said, tone easy.

"Heard the call. Where is the action?"