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Weapons Testing (Attn: Mandalorian Empire)

Bareesh Kajidic

Bonnie Appetite
Character
Gargon
A stealth shuttle flew through low atmosphere along with several others, heading for a small mining colony in the northern hemisphere of the planet. Officially, there were no members of the Bareesh Kajidic onboard.

Unofficially, the kajidic had hired a team of mercenaries and members of the Golden Company to do some light field testing on the new series of Krupx ordnance.

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The Arkanian, clad in power armor and carrying a number of heavy weapons, smoked a cigarra in the shuttle bay, waiting for touch down.

[member="Khonsu Amon"]
 

Tusk

Guest
T
Gargon was a resource world for the new Mandalorian Empire. Dirt poor people with nothing to live for except the clothes on their backs and to keep their own bellies full, it was a merciless place run by the corporations that made their profit here. It was also a place where the Mandalorian Empire turned a blind eye in favor of discounted rate for goods. It was a large part of the Rebuilding Effort, but now...Now Tusk was stationed at this mine as a favor. The Mando'ade had weaseled themselves Mandalorian protection.

He let out a heavy sigh that sounded more like a grumble than a rush of air and leaned against the dirt wall of the mine. His heavy rifle leaned against the same wall. <Karking Gargons and their karking,> his speech was interrupted by chewing as he tore into a piece of To Vhin jerky. He swallowed the hunk whole, <credit grabbing fingers...>

The stealth shuttle passed over him.

[member="Bareesh Kajidic"]
 

Alkor Centaris

Son of Liberty
Writer
Spice Production was one of the major highlights of Gargon's infrastructure... if you could even call it that. The world was a hive more than anything, scum and villainy the most prominent portion of residents. While it was in the Mandalore sector and fell under the scrutiny of the Empire, they hardly forced people to take the Resol'nare as their lifestyle. In fact, it was economically more sound to allow them to filter the vile substance out into black markets across the Galaxy and let the credits flow back into Mandalorian space.

It was that which brought Alkor to the lowbrow world on this occasion. Mand'alor wanted to see those credits go to building their armies and enhancing the might of Mandalore, at least as much as possible. It was understood that these people needed to make a living.

They were just expected to contribute to society, a little.

He stood with his weight on one foot as he waited for the Toydarian to finish with his business and acknowledge his presence. All they understood was money, and violence- the two things went hand in hand, after all.

No one expected anything to go any different than usual.
 
Keepin Corellia Weird
Writer
Within the shuttle, Daymon sat checking weapons and armor, head free of a helmet for the moment. Quiet, taciturn almost. This was a job. Credits were the aim, and he didn't need to make friends or worry about swapping firefight stories. His armor had some wear and tear, as did the weaponry, but it was very obviously cared for beyond most, oiled and polished and cleaned regularly. Sighing, he pulled off a glove and began picking at a fingernail with his combat knife, getting the grit out of it with a frustrated look on his face, heavy brow knitted tight above blue eyes.

He didn't even really hardly know much about the target beyond what he needed. Now was not the time to get a conscience with what this Hutt was paying.

[member="Bareesh Kajidic"]
 

Ashin Varanin

Professional Enabler
Writer
GARGON

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

The Toydarian drug dealer would not be finishing his business.

See, when you make too many waves in the spice world, you become an obstacle to your rivals. People are glad to replace and forget you. They hire companies like Lythronax and people like Cradossk to handle the first part of that, sometimes the second. This time around, though, a highly visible kill was a goal, not a liability.

Cradossk's Stouker concussion rifle put the Toydarian through at least two walls. His spine did the popcorn thing. Cradossk's stomach growled.
 

Alkor Centaris

Son of Liberty
Writer
Highly visible was an understatement.

The alarm blaring in his ear alerted him before the weapon fired, but he still had precious little time to react. Alkor threw his arms up in front of his face, a futile effort, but nonetheless a normal reaction to danger. The blast, no more than a few feet in front of him, sent the Toydarian flailing like a fish through duracrete. The concussive force sent Alkor sprawling backward, thrown off his feet and groaning. "Oh," the man muttered in the confines of his buy'ce, "you're gonna regret that."

He glanced over at the fringes of his HUD, checking both armor integrity (still well over ninety percent, thank Manda he wasn't the target) and the status of the man he was sent to deal with. The bioscan delivered immediate results. No pulse.

A low, thrumming sound in his ear told him the danger was still well within proximity. His display assessed the threat level as fairly high, attempting to identify the weapon as it painted the target and ran calculations. "Stow the combat data," Alkor hissed through gritting teeth, "I can see him."

He scrambled to one knee and rapidly drew the pistol from his hip and fired. Forcing the enemy into cover would give him time to find some of his own.

Meanwhile, he blinked out a command to send a distress signal to the other Mandalorian forces in the area, and to local authorities to help with containing the situation in the throes of madness.

[member="Cradossk"]

[member="Kaine Australis"] | [member="Gray Raxis"]
 

Ashin Varanin

Professional Enabler
Writer
[member="Alkor Centaris"]

One didn't go looking for a fight without at least moderate protection and backup. Neither of the above was relevant at this particular moment. Other Lythronax Trandoshans were elsewhere in the port town, waiting if needed. Cradossk's light armor provided exactly zero resistance against the railgun pistol. A hypervelocity round slid through his left tricep at a few hundred metres per second. He dropped the concussion rifle unceremoniously - it was too heavy to use with one hand - and skidded into the nearest alley. That put the Toydarian's freshly ventilated shop between Cradossk and the Mando. The railgun would punch through the building easily, but the structure's size obscured sightlines decently enough.

Cradossk lobbed your basic grenade over the wall - not all the way over the building, but inside it, closer to the far wall. The goal here was to pepper the Mando's general area with pieces of the flimsy structure, maybe even bring down a wall on him. Cradossk drew his ACP repeater with his good hand a heartbeat after the grenade toss.

His arm, incidentally, hurt an awful lot. Trandoshan regeneration would keep the precise, clean wound from bleeding him out, but that arm wouldn't be fully functional for a couple of days.
 

Alkor Centaris

Son of Liberty
Writer
Beep... beep... beep beep beep beep beep-

The proximity warning started as soon as the grenade came into view, lobbed over the wall. Alkor saw it only because the helmet picked it up- and what a godsend that damn thing was- and threw himself into motion. His vocabulator ramped up to near maximum output as he barked out "Frag Out!"

More screams than the initial attack rose from the myriad market goers, even as Alkor rushed toward the man-made hole in the wall. He threw himself face first out, only barely escaping the wrath of a concussive blast. It belched flame out directly behind him, scorching at his heels.

Shrapnel peppered the building and the sheer force of the explosion rocked the foundation. Large chunks of the wall fell away, closing the easiest path toward the assassin and placing a building- or several- between them. His HUD lost track of the mark in the confusion, preoccupied heavily with ensuring the safest course of action to evade death.

Alkor looked over his own bioscan and cursed slightly at the impacts. Bruises mostly, some scrapes, insignificant blood loss, minor trauma, first degree burns- nothing enough to take him out of a battle, but cumulatively more than he intended to deal with on this particular day.

"Chakaar," he growled as he swiveled his head from left to right, slowly returning to his feet. Pain was his world just now, but pain was a fact of life. There were more important things to deal with.

"Is everyone alright?" he asked of several people huddled together in terror. There came disjointed answers, some nods of uncertain assent, but nothing to give him any feeling of relief.

An isolated killing? Maybe. In a place like this, there was no telling.

It would be best to put the area on high alert, though.

Alkor kept his sidearm ready as he shifted his weight and began to move toward the promenade, a major row that connected the shops and led to the bazaar proper. The Trandoshan could not have gone far.

[member="Cradossk"]
 

Bareesh Kajidic

Bonnie Appetite
Character
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"We're here," said the pilot.

The Arkanian grunted, took a last tug on his cigarra, then tossed it to the bay floor and ground it out with his foot. He picked up his helmet and locked into place. The suit sealed with a satisfying hiss. The face of the helmet was fully transparisteel, giving an excellent line of sight, unlike the Mandalorian T-Visor. Bigger target, sure, but Akron liked to know where he was shooting.

"Time to earn our pay, Vale."

Akron Altunen, sporting a buzzed mohawk and a big old scar across his eye, picked up two rocket launchers and handed one to [member="Daymon Vale"]. Over the comms he said, "open the bay ramp."

The pilot flicked a switch and a moment later the bay door lowered as they circled over the mining town. Akron picked up a rocket, loaded it into the launcher, then moved to stand on the bay ramp. His boots magnetized and he peered out through the howling wind.

"Alright, one round, Trihexalon, for that pocket of tenements." He hefted the launcher and sighted, using his suit's aim assist systems to ensure the rocket would be on point. "On my mark. . . . Mark."

He squeezed the trigger and the rocket hissed out, trailing a clean white line. A few heartbeats later the rocket struck the tenements far below in a red-hot burst of baradium that was quickly followed by an even larger secondary explosion of Trihexalon. From this high up it looked like a fast-moving green wave rolled through the building.

"Mm. Nothin beats the sight of Dragon's Breath in the morning. Alright, that's the Trihexalon, what sorta surprise you testing today, Vale?"

[member="Cradossk"] | [member="Alkor Centaris"] | [member="Tusk"]
 

Ashin Varanin

Professional Enabler
Writer
[member="Alkor Centaris"]

Cradossk's eyes prickled but he held back tears. That had been a truly excellent concussion rifle. Even if he dug it out of the rubble, though, carrying that thing drastically increased his odds of detection. Nobody noticed one more Trandoshan spacer unless a big gun was involved. Tale as old as time.

And speaking of 'all look same,' he stripped off his armor in the alleys and rendezvoused with half a dozen other Trandoshan mercs. One gave him a jacket to cover the hole in his tricep, which had already stopped bleeding. In no particular hurry, they headed for their ship.

The particular hurry came about when a nearby group of tenements vanished in green fire.
 

Chiz Ne Ordo

(Jawa) The Mad Tinker Gnome
Character
Chiz Ne was short. Yes he was Jawa but not that type of short. Chiz Ne was short on spice. Chiz Ne loved that chiz-nit! He was coming to get lots’a spice and bring it home. Wobbling through dirty city streets heading to his favorite Toydarian spice dealer. Then through HUD Chiz Ne noticed big kaboom in direction of shop.

“Wat’da podoo”, the words spilled out of Chiz Ne’ss cybernetic voice box. With a bark Chiz lifted his Mando automatic assault slug thrower up into the air and held it tightly with both his hands. It would have looked like a normal size to a human but this damn rifle was almost the size of him. Chiz took off in a mad dash to the direction of the spice. The little armored Jawa was muhc’a angry!
 

Ravenfire

King of Pumpkins
Writer
Markets
Rex was in the markets when the explosion happened. He missed [member="Cradossk"] running into his bunch of buddies. So by the time he turned around there didn't appear to be anything suspicious but that explosion the green flame ball that wasn't normal. He ran towards the building as he did so he saw the trail lines lead to a shuttle. He immediately got on the horn with the space port.
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At the space port
They received a call from someone near by. The comm officer lazily open the comms. "What seems to be the problem today?" It was usually one ship had taken another ships spot or something alone those lines. He wasn't expecting to have to deal with much. "This is Field captain Rex of the mandalorian empire, I need you to get our patrols to find and shoot down a stealth shuttle currently hovering at these co-ordinates." The Comm officer looked shocked for a second. "Of course we can sir, my apologies I didn't realise it was you. I will get them to those co-ordinates right away." He would then call the patrols to that location.
kytzqkd1.png
[member="Chiz Ne Ordo"], [member="Bareesh Kajidic"], [member="Alkor Centaris"], [member="Daymon Vale"], [member="Tusk"]
 

Chiz Ne Ordo

(Jawa) The Mad Tinker Gnome
Character
Chiz Ne went straight for shop. He did not stop nowhere else. Not worrying about Toydarian he could not remember name. Chiz Ne went straight in through hole of shop wall. Looking around crazy like he scanned shop with HUD.

Shoulders went slack and Chiz Ne eyes started to water. “Spice”, Chiz Ne said weakly and dropped to his knees like he lost his mommy again.

[SIZE=16pt]“NOOoooooo”,[/SIZE] the mechanical scream of Chiz Ne echoed down the street! Thar be much’a hell to pay and Chiz Ne haz come to collect!



[member="Rex Taff"] [member="Bareesh Kajidic"] [member="Alkor Centaris"] [member="Daymon Vale"]
 
Keepin Corellia Weird
Writer
[member="Rex Taff"] | [member="Bareesh Kajidic"] | [member="Khonsu Amon"]

"Tell the pilot to aim for the middle of the town with the payload... We need to be sowing our fruit and leaving"

Taking his missle up, he sat down a case with three shells, and loaded once with Pacifog. Taking up the launcher, he zeroed it on a choke point. People ran in patterns, and sadly he knew this well from watching the atrocities of the First Order. They often bunched up at road intersections and builing fronts in situations like this, and in one such intersection he fired the payload of his rocket, smiling thinly behind his visor as he stepped back, chuckling darkly.

It wasn't a huge crowd, but it was enough to get the point across. Turning back to the other 'rocketeer' he gestured to the crate labeled 'PIKE SYSTEM' and nodded.

"Just a little present, a hygene treatment of sorts"
 

Chiz Ne Ordo

(Jawa) The Mad Tinker Gnome
Character
Stepping out of the rubble Chiz Ne looked around. He eyed the growing crowed around the damaged shop. Maybe around three feet high the armor Jawa looked at each one of them. He eyed all of them through the ruby quartz t-Visor. Chiz Ne wonder if one of them knew who done this.

Lifting up his assault slug thrower that was almost as big as him he cocked back the side pin shoving a round into the chamber. The crowed naturally flinched. It was still an assault slug thrower that could kill. It did not matter that is was a Jawa holding it.

Chiz Ne want know”, his mechanical voiced sound creepy and inhuman. “Who seen who blew up spice”, the Jawa asked not caring if anyone had been killed!
The crowed quickly backed away and there was one Gamorrean still standing there. Maybe the pig man was too stupid and did not back up when everyone else did. Maybe the crowed just ousted him because he had witnessed what happened.

It did not matter because Chiz Ne was too focused on hurting someone. The little Jawa walked over to the towering Gamorrean. The pig looked like a giant next to the little guy. The Gamorrean looked confused and even held his arms up like he was confused.

Chiz Ne kicked the big best knee. When the man came toppling down Chiz Ne used the power of his armor to take the more physically stronger man down. With a boot to the back and a slug thrower to the Gamorrean’s head Chiz Ne asked again while the piggy was squealing.

Chiz Ne understood piggy squeal talk. He just had no sympathy. “Who did it”, Chiz Ne asked again, more forceful this time.

The piggy squealed again this time saying it was a lizard man who done this. Chiz Ne knew what piggy meant. It was a Trandoshan.

“The Empire Tanks you for your service civilian”, Chiz Ne took his boot off the back of the piggy. “Chiz Ne will hunt down bad lizard and kill it!”


[member="Alkor Centaris"] [member="Daymon Vale"] [member="Rex Taff"] [member="Bareesh Kajidic"] @Tusk @Cradossk
 

Ria Misrani

It's a New Day
Writer
Ume was always late to these things, "I am totes blaming that Zeltron lady for keeping me late." She secured the harness over her body as she flipped the switches on her TIE Y Bomber Mishmash. Gargon she thought to herself as she punched the coordinates into the navcom. "Right, right wh- Oh, shiz, they let the Trandoshan out then, huh? Well. That's fine, I'll take sloppy seconds." The roar of the Bomber could be heard as it started up and the Mirialan let out a breath as the ugly junker brought up its landing struts and moved out of its docking ports. It was a nice day for a spice ride she figured and sure the Mandalorians might notice but that'd require them to look beyond their own helmets for a change.

Guiding the junker into atmo Ume let it cross into the black depths of space, and flipped on a few tunes. She was in for a trip and at the very least she could put on the mood music, mood music was important for everything. Especially dropping a few loads on Gargon, unless she forgot to reload with a nice payday sized load. And if that was the case, then guns blazing they were going, either way. "Okay boys, hold on, I'm coming."

[member="Cradossk"] | [member="Chiz Ne Ordo"] | [member="Daymon Vale"] | [member="Bareesh Kajidic"] | [member="Alkor Centaris"] | [member="Rex Taff"]
 

Tristan Wren

Character
Character
Tristan stood back a few inches back from the small Jawa . pointing his E-17 “Gladiator” Assault Rifle at the crowd surrounding them. Tristan was making
sure his little friend had room and time to finish. He couldn't see his comrade at work but The squeals erupting from behind Tristan let him know he was wasn't in the mood to play. Most of the crowd kept sizable distance until 3 ugnaughts crept closer towards the site of interrogation most likely trying to help their little friend. They didn't get to close before the first pigs face meet the stock of his rifle causing the other 2 to quickly retreat into the crowd. Looking at the little pig on the ground he took his rifle into his left hand letting it hang at his side before pulling his Westar-35 pistol from his hip pointing it at the ground directly at the ugnaught. The pig oink and squeal for his life " Wanna fry, little piggy?" ​he kept his Westar pointed at the pigs a few seconds longers before pulling it away flipping it into his holster. Looking back up at the crowd before speaking " Let this be an official warning interfere with mandalorian affairs and next time I wont be so merciful." ​He spoke firmly trying to instill fear into the crowd .​just as he was about to return to his guard like postion he heard his comrade speak “The Empire Tanks you for your service civilian”,Chiz Ne will hunt down bad lizard and kill it!” ​seeing his comrade moving out from the corner of his eyes he followed not saying a word.


@Chiz Ne Ordo Alkor Centaris Daymon Vale Rex Taff Bareesh Kajidic @Tusk @Cradossk
 
M E A T B A G
Character
0b983febc33bf95fda92c69559583bd9-dc976k8.png
Trickery had seen the gathered mercenaries to the surface of Gargon, and while the Thyrsian understood the reasoning - the man wasn’t fond of such cowardly tactics. Unlike several of his burnished kin, the Twisuns Legate remained silent; having withdrawn into his own thoughts to prepare for what was to come. There was little interest held in joining the others in their trading of worthless banter, or thinly-veiled insults. These fellow mercenaries were likely to be dead before the sun had set, turning their boastful words into meaningless phrases mocked by the ashes of history.

Instead, Khonsu focused on clearing his turbulent mind. It had been a gamble to deal with the Hutts, especially after having given them the price for this contract. His superiors weren’t fond of the deal, as it was significantly less than what they’re garner from the Sith Empire, but as the Sun Guard had reminded them - credits were credits in the end. Thus, with the accord struck, the Golden Company had sent a Cohort of their best - as well as several specialists - to test their mettle against their ancient cultural rivals.

When his thoughts were cleared, and his mind was honed to a sharpened edge, Khonsu entombed himself within his armour with a twist of his hawk-swept helm and an audible atmospheric hiss. In the moments after the Sun Guard was made whole once more, the Shuttle’s rear hatch had opened like a yawning maw; filling the entirety of the compartment with the rushing torrents of Gargon’s wind.

With stilled tongue, the Thyrsian watched as the armoured Arkanian and Human moved towards the parted hatch, and fired a rocket into the tenements below. The twinned explosions of baradium and trihexalon had swirled together in a viral inferno, engulfing a portion of the encircled settlement in an emerald-hued fire. That had sparked his interest and brought forth a serpentine’s approximation of a smile to his lips.

The untold destruction such weapons could bring…

It was magnificent, and the Sun Guard hoped they would remain airborne long enough for him to study the aftereffects. There was plenty of potential for this weapon to be utilized in the future, and while it was a pity they were wasted on the meek and seemingly defenseless, it would prove to be enough. With a gentle tap against his hawk-swept helm, the burnished Mercenary began recording the carnage, knowing that his superiors would desire to see the resulting chaos for themselves.

However, as his positioning within the vessel wasn’t ideal to garner a clearer picture, the man stalked forward and came to a halt behind the two figures - before the other had repeated the actions of his Arkanian companion. This time, aiming for a partially crowded intersection near the town’s centre. As he watched the chaos, Khonsu sought to justify the day’s wanton slaughter by cloaking those below in the silvered hair of the Echani; knowing that his desert-born kin would relish employing these dangerous weapons against those filthy Scions of the Moon when the appointed hour of vengeance had come.

| [member="Cradossk"] | [member="Chiz Ne Ordo"] | [member="Daymon Vale"] | [member="Bareesh Kajidic"] | [member="Alkor Centaris"] | [member="Rex Taff"] | [member="Umedara Zaar"] | [member="Tristan Vizsla "]| [member="Tusk"] |​
 
Zahori Denko
Writer
Azula was inconspicuously excited for the weapon testing operation she had been brought along for. She was an expert in all things that went bing, bang, and boom. She'd offer no advice unless approached and asked, but in her head, she silently judged. Each missile that was fired roared with such beautiful intensity as they flew towards the targets below. Beneath her helmet, she grinned. She cared not for the unfortunate denizens below. They were no friends of hers. All were expendable in the name of science, in her mind.

"Twisuns Legate, I know I've asked before, but do remind me: What is our purpose on this operation? To merely observe? Or is there more to us needing to be here?"


[member="Khonsu Amon"]
 
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