We'll See You Now [Mandalorians vs The Primeval]

[Boethiah]

Every war is a quiet breeze coming before the storm.

It's inevitable, you know it's coming; you just can't see it until it's too late. In the eastern fringes two vying powers are brewing that very terror and delight called war. Fleets are constructed, armies are raised, soldiers are armed and trained. In the remote system of Muunilinst a Ja'hailir-class Shokita Station is charged with early warning detection duties. If a fleet did arrive they would be the first to know.

So on an eventful day, 6 years after the beginning of the Netherworld Crisis, that small space station received an alarm.

Warning: UNKNOWN VESSELS DETECTED!

Jumping out of Hyperspace near the edge of the gravity well: x2 Boar-class Assault Cruisers | x3 Maladi-class Strike Frigate | x1 Prim'ra Carrier | x2 Bastion-class Gunboats

In the midst of this confusion, already a small shuttle carrying infiltrators is landing on the station; including those Mandalorians loyal to Malik Rodarch. Their goal is to capture and hold the station to prevent the signal from being sent to Mandalore. If successful The Primeval would have a route towards planetary invasion of several border worlds.

"Battle Stations!"

Orders were given across The Primeval's vanguard fleet. Some of the warships were themselves under the command of Malik's Mandalorians...

And so the Battle above Muunilinst had already begun. The first of many. The victor here may very well determine the tide a war to come.

What championed names will rise from the unknown?

Please Read!

Spoiler

Alright, so this skirmish has two very simple objectives.

The Primeval are going to attempt to hold the space station whilst the Mandalorians attempt to take it back. Neither side is going to try and destroy the station during the battle.

Two fleets of a maximum 4,000m will face off in the space above. Their goals are simple: Destroy the opposition fleet and secure the space around the station.

There's no worrisome time limit, no allies to think about. Just our two factions having a battle! All questions and commentary should be done via PMs or the OOC discussion thread.

One character per writer.

Spoiler

[member="Aleksandyr Gaillard"]
[member="Alexandra Imura"]
[member="Algan Crow"]
[member=Anja Aj’Rou]
[member="Apoc"]
[member="Ari Jade"]
[member="Azrael Asura"]
@Bal’gul
[member="Bant Mezaras"]
[member="Boan Rein"]
[member="Carlos Castillo"]
[member="Catalys Maijora"]
[member="Cei Hyst"]
[member="Ceska Starshield"]
[member="Charmisokay"]
[member="Chen"]
[member="Choden Yonten"]
[member="Ciara"]
[member="Ciara Jevnaker"]
[member="Condor"]
[member="Cordelia deWinter"]
[member="Danger Arceneau"]
[member="Darth Arcis"]
[member="Darth Legion"]
[member="Darth Metus"]
[member="Darth Nephthys"]
[member="Darth Vashti"]
[member="Delyna Karthoys Haymire"]
[member="Destiny"]
[member="Dott Vel"]
[member="Ebenezer"]
[member="Ekaro"]
[member="Enigma"]
[member="Faye Terrik"]
[member="Felix Dunst"]
[member="Geronivous"]
[member="grimAuxiliatrix"]
[member="Harrip"]
@Hutuun’Kyramud
[member="HWD-002"]
[member="Isley Verd"]
[member="Jarel Reverie"]
@Jorda Uluto
[member="Julian Solo"]
[member="JX-XS Visser"]
[member="Kadri Ughad"]
[member="Kael Kessler"]
@Kel Thayne
[member="Killasin"]
[member="Kitsune"]
[member="Kyr Jendri"]
[member="Kyra Moonwood"]
[member="Laaba Rancisis"]
[member="Laguz Vald"]
[member="Loman Calrissian"]
@Lucullus Lacar
[member="Malik Rodarch"]
@Marth
[member="Meliodas"]
[member="Mikkel Markov"]
[member="Mongalore"]
[member="Morrigan"]
[member="Naja Ardiln"]
[member="Nalar Lims-Kragma"]
[member="Netherworld"]
[member="Nickolas Imura"]
[member="Nrahsol Enelram"]
[member="Nui Akona"]
[member="Nulgath Zardai"]
[member="Omag Don"]
[member="Ozuvyn Sar-Sargoth"]
[member="Parmi Miemant"]
[member="Pel Duval"]
[member="Perla Pirjo"]
[member="Phoebe Draclau"]
[member="Ragnar the Destroyer"]
[member="Ragos Terrek"]
[member="Rush Basai"]
[member="S1-000384"]
[member="Salacious Vile"]
[member="Scorch"]
[member="Semaj Srehtam"]
[member="Seren Ordavo"]
@Shargon’Ta
[member="Sigourney Xanthius"]
[member="Sirak Kolar"]
[member="Spook"]
[member="Taneith Vizsla"]
[member="Telthòr"]
[member="Tesar Osted"]
[member="Thanatos Eligos"]
[member="The Dark Man"]
[member="The Primeval Storyteller"]
[member="The Queen"]
[member="The Smallest One"]
@Tyro’din
[member="Unit 843"]
[member="Valerie Vizsla"]
[member="Venus Rose"]
[member="Vereor"]
[member="Vilox Pazela"]
[member="Vishune"]
[member="Walks With Spirits"]
[member="Wanderer EXO"]
[member="Warlord Bobdonovich"]
[member="Xalus"]
[member="Xilo Gale"]
[member="Zambrano the Hutt"]

 

[Garza]

Location: Bridge of nameless cruiser.
Objective: Attack
Allies: All Primeval
Enemies: All Mandalorians, [member="Verz Horak"]
Gear: Armor, Lightsaber, Sword One, (Storm) Sword Two

Standing aboard one of the cruizers, I was decked out in my armor. This was a time of war. And hence why I would be here with every tool and weapon I had within my arsnel. Giving me ample chance to fight in the name of the Host Lord, and the Primeval. Being one of the Top dogs within the Primeval structure, I had to lead the troops. A deploying force was on every level of the playing field.. Preparing for the skirmish against the Mandalorians, and to take over the station. I smiled under my helm as the sirens came on for battle stations. They were coming. And we were preparing for war.

Looking around as orders were being called out, everyone was doing as they should. I felt good knowing that these soulders, even in the face of death, would be fighting well by my side, and knew what they needed to do and not be told. I walked around the bridge. Preparing everything.

"Prepare all battle stations. Warm up those batteries. Keep the detonation charges high. We need to make sure we can blast through their armor!"

Looking around once more, I saw that it was already done. Smiling I looked down at the twin swords at my left side. Ready to be drawn in and instant. I could use just one, or both if I wanted. I also had my old lightsaber with me. Should things get a little more hazy than I want, then I could use it as well. Likely, I would use Storm first. If that didn't work, Lightsaber. Powerful weapon that could incease my avaibility to the force. And last of all, my pride and joy. The sword in which I had created from the blood of the guilty, a sword forged in blood, sweat, and tears. Literally in some cases.

Taking my little walk down from the bridge, and into the hangar bays as we were going to attack the station, I was borrowing one of the man fighters that were within our fleet. And would use it to board one of the many vessels. Going to fight against them, and possibly turning the tides against the Mandalorians. If I could take over even one of their ships, It would mean one more step closer to taking the station. One more step to taking over the Mandalorian wars, as well as claiming some of my own beskar in which I could make armor to become one of the Primevals Mandalorian Crusaders.

I smiled brightly as I fired up the engines. Readying myself for the coming war.

"Locked and loaded."

 

[Laguz Vald]

[SIZE=13pt]Location: [/SIZE][SIZE=13pt]Primeval vessel[/SIZE]
[SIZE=13pt]Objective: [/SIZE][SIZE=13pt]Shoot 'em up[/SIZE]
[SIZE=13pt]Allies: [/SIZE][SIZE=13pt]The Primeval[/SIZE]
[SIZE=13pt]Enemies: [/SIZE][SIZE=13pt]Mandalorians[/SIZE]

[SIZE=13pt]_______________________________________________________________________________[/SIZE]​

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7gwO8-oqwFw​

[SIZE=13pt]Wearing armor was such a nuisance.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=13pt]It felt alien and heavy on xir skin, like anything non-organic was wont to when it came to Laguz. Oh, well. In the light of the upcoming conflict, the shifter was willing to admit that an additional layer of protection between a stray bolt and xir flesh did sound rather appealing.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=13pt]"Ugh," the sniper sniffled a bit as xe picked at the unfamiliar weight on xir body, pulling faces that would make the Top 10 for stuff of nightmares; if anybody were around to see them, that is.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=13pt]As it was, the only thing Laguz would scar for life was the rare dust mote wafting in the air in xir vicinity, but even those were quickly swept away by a wave of xir hand. This was no time for idle reminiscing, not when they would come knocking on the doors of the man-bests in a matter of minutes. Xe would be in one of the many smaller ships headed for the station, a sitting duck with crew that would be hopelessly under-prepared for the assault of this scope. Xir job? Pick them off one by one.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=13pt]Oh, woe is me! [/SIZE][SIZE=13pt]What a terrible fate indeed.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=13pt]Laguz smiled to xemself as xe settled into a comfortable position in one of the seats, closing xir eyes to find an inner calm. Xe was a good shot — excellent, even — but a steady hand required a steady mind to wield it, or all that experience would be for naught.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=13pt]The hunter would operate on xir own, removed from the main fight with xir trusty rifle dishing out death like the monster it was. Both silent and lethal; just the way xe liked them. He'd brought along a backup weapon just in case the tide of battle took an unexpected turn, but Laguz was confident that the combined effort of the Primeval forces was going to be more than enough to fend off whatever defenders would dare stand up to them. Failing that, the shifter was always happy to shower them with grenades.[/SIZE]

 

[Verz Horak]

Location: Aboard the Ash'amur-class Dreadnaught Monroe'kot (Strength of Monroe)
Objective: Defeat Primeval Fleet
Fleet: 1 Ash'amur Dreadnought, 2 Nexus Class Cruisers, 1 Bes'bavar Pocket Carrier, and 3 Haranuliik Frigates

The Mandalorian Defense fleet patrolled the system, looking for pirates, smugglers, and hostile warships. It was often dull duty, as pirates had learned to stay away from Mando space, lest they be destroyed by the warrior clans' defenders. The fleet was a good size, strong enough to scare off pirates and undesirables, and strong enough to help hold off full scale invasions until backup arrived. The Monroe'kot was the flagship of this fleet. An Ash'amur class dreadnaught, it was a hull that inspired fear across the galaxy.

Verz Horak, formerly Mand'alor Naast, or Mandalor the Destroyer, and resident Mandalorian badass was defending the system. It was good work, but was often boring. At least he would be off of duty rotation in a month or so, and could see [member="Arla Balor"] again. Today however, promised to be exciting.

The scanners onboard the command ship and their operators revealed something amiss. Several hyperspace exit signatures were detected. Too large and precise for merchants or pirates. Something big was here. A war fleet.
Horak activated the comms, signalling his fleet's captains.

"All ships, battle stations! We have an unknown fleet entering our space. Presumed hostile until shown otherwise! Time to remind whoever this is why the Mandalorians are in charge here!"

At that moment, a comm officer ran up to Verz.

"Marshal Horak, sir, we have a distress signal from the orbital defense station!"

"Run it through to the display, Rally Master."

A Mandalorian Rally Master appeared on the screen, a Togrutan. Those proud hunters were often Mandalorians.

"Marshal Horak, this is the defense station! We are under attack by unknown warships! Boarders are inbound! I repeat, boarders are inbound! Detecting about half a dozen capital ships sir. We are charging up defense cannons but we won't last alone!

"I am on my way. You must hold the line!"

"Aye sir!"

The veteran Field Marshal smiled. As the Mandos always said, "Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur".
(Today is a good day for someone else to die)

Spoiler

[member="Nickolas Imura"] [member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

Ship links

Spoiler

http://starwarsrp.net/topic/8214-ashamur-class-dreadnought/
http://starwarsrp.net/topic/19138-nexus-class-cruiser/
http://starwarsrp.net/topic/10359-bbc-75-cavalry-class-besbavar-pocket-carrier/
http://starwarsrp.net/topic/21848-haranuliik-class-light-frigate/

 

[Strider Garon]

Location: Space Station
Objective: Repel invaders/mando posers
Allies: The Real Mandos
Enemies: Prime and their Mando-wannabe lap dogs

The Klaxon alarms ripped through the entire station sounding the Mandalorian aboard to purpose. They were a special breed of warriors, most all trained from an earlier age for battle and to greet war with open arms. They were a proud culture that has survived countless attempts of forced extinction but here they were, harder and sharper and truely tested as conflict was their whetstone to their beskad. Field Marshal Garon and company were on a routine inspection of the station as this outbreak of chaos took place. Either this was pure coincidence or by design it seemed the Primeval had chosen the perfect time to strike.

There wasn't much that needed to be said as the Old Warrior watched the station commander organize his warriors that had practiced for such scenarios rigorously. He was impressed on how fast the Mandalorians were stationed but then again that fell under continous drilling to make soldiers act on pure instinct and answer the calls of their leaders with out hesitation. Such cordination was going to be their main instrument to survive this encounter..... and they all knew it.

"Marshal, they have blocked comms!' The station commander would inform the visiting field marshal. The tactic was sound, as they did not want the rest of the mandalorian forces to mobilize upon these coordinates. So, the odds were stacked in against them. He would have to rely on the the defence fleet to know their duty and know it well.

"So bit it!" The old man calmly replied. He did not need to explain the tactic to the commander, he knew exactly what was happening. "I lend my services to fending off the invaders, you know the drill. Hold the command center at all costs".

Thing about mandalorians, they were always geared for war and this day was no different. Strider would detach his helmet from the magnetic clip on his utility belt and covered his old leathery scarred face with the Legendary T Visor Buy'ce. He would do a quick once over to make sure his gear was good to go and would make his way down to the Mandalorian main rally point where he knew he was best suited to be of use. The hound of Keldabe was infamous and legendary, his saga has stretched for many decades and most new the stories well. He knew hos vode would feel more inspired with him at their side as this Curs come knocking.

Didn't take long, but Strider was amongst the finest warriors the galaxy has ever seen. All of them waiting to be set to purpose, waiting for indication on which proper or improper entrance the enemy was going to explode from so they could make true to their duty and repel them back into the oblivion of space where they belonged.

"Today we bath in aruetiise blood!" Strider motivational snarl would echo off the station's durasteel walls, mechanized by the helmet itself. "No quarter will be given for non will be had. I don't need to tell you how to fight for you all are Mando'ade and this is what you were born to do. Now lets give em a lesson on how many of em we can make die!"

Then the deadliest warriors, all clad in beskar'gam and oridance would break out in their tradition war dance "The Rage of the Shadow Warriors". The dance itself was violent but it was enough to get the vode pumped for bloodletting.

 

[Valerie Vizsla]

Location: Hangar of the Prim'ra
Objective: Take the Station
Allies: All Primeval, [member="Malik Rodarch"]
Enemies: All Mandalorians

Valerie tightened her grip on her spear.

It was not a weapon suited for space combat. Not suited for the small confines of the Starship halls and bridges. In fact the weapon was almost entirely useless without having a massive amount of space. It was why she hated fighting on starships, she felt vulnerable, less powerful. Her grip became white knuckled, and for a few seconds she shook.

She shifted her feet slightly, then looked over to her companion.

“Would not a field have been better?” She asked quietly. “A glorious fortress to fell?”

Her words were poetic, but she felt anything but. Casting a glance towards one of the shuttles she frowned slightly. This was not what she liked, not at all. Her eyes twisted, and slowly she slipped the helmet in her off hand onto her head. The seals hissed, and she once again looked over to Malik.

She supposed there was no choice.

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

An Iyra floated on his hover chair in the hangar bay of one of the Primeval vessels - he'd forgotten which. Impending battle set the emotions of all those around him spinning. Foolish quadrupeds, always losing their minds at the slightest hint of death.

Bal'gul waited for something to happen.

Blub, blub, blub.

 

[Malik Rodarch]

LOCATION: Hangar of the Prim'ra
OBJECTIVE: Glory
ALLIES: The Primeval, [member="Valerie Vizsla"]
ENEMIES: The Mandalorians

“Yep.”

The response was short and sweet, as the man held nothing but agreement towards Vizsla's own discomfort. In his gauntleted grip there was held a small tumbler filled with a dram of amber liquid, neat. It was the pre-battle ritual of Malik Rodarch, ever since he had set foot upon Tattooine all those years ago as a young man with thunder in his eyes and fire in his belly. Easier to get whisky on that dustball than water, ya know?

One for the road.

With his nose poised just above the glass, he took a generous inhale, still even now years later enjoying the amber and honey notes that his vaschean rye so faithfully provided.

There was a severe absence of asharl panther. Mullet's presence upon the space station was not an advisable one, and thus the beast was left reluctantly upon Dantooine where he was no doubt disturbing the local kath hound population. Space is no place for a beast to roam, and even he in his infinite lust for battle understood that.

Just another reason for why he preferred the field. The glass was titled upwards, the amber liquid pouring down the man's throat in one fell swoop, coating it with fire. Space combat, technology, maybe the forte of some, but not Malik. He longed to strip away the technology, the ships and the guns, right down to flesh, muscle and blood, bringing it away from the world of the arms race right down to what really makes a man.

He placed the empty tumbler down and joined Valerie, taking his old battered helm from beneath his arm and securing it on top of his head.

“Y'ready, Vee?”

 

[Azrael Asura]

LOCATION: Hangar of the Prim'Ra{With False Mandos}
OBJECTIVE: Get To Station- Capture It
ALLIES: All of Primeval + Friends {[member="Malik Rodarch"], [member="Valerie Vizsla"]}
ENEMIES: True Mandalorians
-------------------------------
There wasn't to much reason for the large lizard to be riding with the False Mandos, the Iron Crusaders, the Future Vod. He really didn't care what they called themselves, or what he was supposed to call them. What mattered was that they had proven to be incredibly strong warriors. And so when he had been told to ride with them into glorious combat, he had accepted without a moment's delay.

Now he waited with them. Waiting as their sky-trolley brought them closer to what would be paradise. A fight like no other, where together they would destroy their enemies and secure a foothold into new territory. It would be incredible. Azrael Atrium Asura checked over his equipment one last time. All six of his fists clenched in anticipation. Waiting was, quite apparently, not his strong suit.

The rush of war was upon them
-------------------------------
EQUIPMENT: Two regular lightsabers (red), two light clubs (yellow), two Dissuader KD-30 blaster pistols,
INJURIES: None at the moment. Wanna change that?
NOTES: Totally none yet. Maybe later?

 

[Werdla Dardalab]

Location: Space Station
Objective: Repel invaders
Allies: The Real Mandos [member="Strider Garon"]
Enemies: Prime and pseudo-Mandalorians

'La had rather been enjoying station duty. It was a nice break from getting shot in the head in jungles. Not that that had slowed her down any, but she did resent the meal it had ruined. Blood of her enemies maybe, but her own blood was not a welcome addition into her daily dietary intake. It hadn't stopped her from finished said meal before going to have the slug removed, but that really wasn't the point.

It looked like the break was over however, as klaxons started to go off over head. Fine, she'd been starting to get bored anyway. She wasn't bred for sitting around doing nothing. With a grin, she pulled her helmet on, and began checking her gear, running through her HUDs systems, as she jogged down the station corridors. First to her bunk, grab the extra ammo for her 500 riot gun and ACP repeater. Wouldn't do to run out.

That thought improved her mood immensely. Granted it was their station so ruining the walls was likely going to be forwned upon, but oh how she loved the riot gun in enclosed corridors. As the commercial went 'Riot? Not anymore..'. Surely she'd be forgiven a little property damage. She made her way to the rally point where her brethren were already gathering. She immediately recognized and moved towards [member="Strider Garon"], she'd fought beside him in the last few campaigns, and would be honoured to do so again. That was one of the fun bits about being a Mando she reckoned, if you wanted honour and glory, it was there for the taking.

Which was a damned good thing because nobody paid you. Though they had given her a nice little medal that one time, so that was something.

Heavier than usual armour aside, the Mando bounced on the balls of her feet as Strider spoke, feeling the growl welling up in the back of her throat. She was ready now. Let the enemy come!

As the speech ended, her cry of "OYA!" blended in with the same cry coming from all the other throats assembled, before someone started the war dance. Good. It wasn't battle, but it was close enough while the enemy left them waiting.

 

[Naast'ika Laaran]

Location: Orbiting over Muunilist
Objective: Defend Mandal Hypernautics Assets, Show off PewPew
Allies: Mandalorians, [member="Verz Horak"]
Enemies: Primadon- I mean Primeval

Naast'ika Laaran's black and red hull dimly reflected light from Muunilist's star as the engineered creature lazily orbited the planet. His guns were retracted into their housings and his crew busied themselves with routine tasks that had been repeated hundreds of times before. Naast'ika passively scanned the planet's detectable lifeforms while members of his bridge crew kept their eyes and sensor stations focused on the space surrounding Naast'ika and the planet. He watched large land and aquatic creatures from the safety of low orbit and drank in the thin helping of radiation that flowed over and around the small planet's electromagnetic field.

It was a simple and routine day.

And it bored Naast'ika.

Even the engineered creature was aware that the Mandalorian Territories were not what they once were. Disaster had struck the galaxy at large and the clans had fared no better than the rest of the individuals that call this particular galaxy home. And while the formal territory of the United Clans of Mandalore may have withdrawn of late, the financial and military assets of Mandal Hypernautics were stressed and spread wide for the sake of holding tight to the investments of the company. Of particular concern was the heart of the galactic banking clans and headquarters for Hyperion Consulting, the primary legal arm of Mandal Hypernautics. Naast'ika and his crew knew full well the value their employer (Naast'ika's creator) placed upon the security of his investments. Particularly those that helped control his finances and taxes.

And so, as Naast'ika and crew patiently waited for a shuttle to approach them from the planet that they might escort Don Megla to Mandal'yaim to meet with CEO Rygel Larraq, a most unexpected turn of events caught the attention of Sensor Technician Sirra Demona. "I'm picking up hyperspace signals at the edge of sensor range." The young Zeltros officer stated to the bridge.

"Are you picking up IFF transponders?" Asked Shia Armada, the cold intelligence specialist from Bastion. "There should be a pickett fleet patrolling this area."

"Yes mam." Responded Ensign Demona. "But the IFF signals are coming from another quadrant..."

"Well then, we'd better take a look." Interrupted Captain Lani Tupu as he turned to face the two female officers, his beskar boots clunking soundly within Naast'ika's head. "Junior Lieutenant Tersu, an intercept course if you will." The older Mandalorian officer continued as if unconcerned by the current situation. "Junior Lieutenant Lassiter, send a burst transmission to Mr. Megla's office informing them of our delay... And Naast'ika... we'll be running silent after the transmission." Captain Tupu finished as he turned his attention to the forward holodisplay and let his crew get to work.

Naast'ika Laaran's voice chirped happily on the bridge as he increased power to his Dovin Basal's and distanced himself from the planet. In his three dimensional awareness of the space around him, artificial highlights burst into life as his Navigations Officers plotted a course for him to follow. The Mesen'loras powered his own systems on and off as needed, increasing and decreasing power where appropriate to make himself both combat ready and cloaked from sensors. The background noise of the urbanized planet at his back would help nicely in that regard. As would the utter rarity of gravitational and magnetic sensors among most starships. But for the sake of caution, Naast'ika silenced his Dovin Basals once he reached an optimal speed and continued to coast towards what would hopefully turn into prey.

It had been a long time since the young creature had been able to indulge in a good fight, and he happily hoped for only the best outcome.

 

[Pa'Kar Sang]

Location: Just outside the space station
Objective: Prevent landing craft from...landing
Allies: Mando'ade
Enemies: Primeval

Alarms blared throughout the station and the hull shook as capital weapons fire bombarded the shields of the surveillance station. Who was attacking them? The once jolly mess hall was now bustling with activity. Disciplined silence spread like wildfire as the idle Mando'ade shifted gears. He could see the look of surprise on their faces though. A relatively quiet posting, Muunalist station was staffed by a few more Red Legionnaires than usual and their faces spoke volumes of their combat experience.

Cursing under his breath he grabbed his helmet from the counter and followed the rush to the Hangar. A squad of Ori'ramikade War Droids, Jaden included, had taken a routine stop here on their way back to Mandalore...It seemed to be in good fortune for the station.

"Alright, lets get those fighters out!" a Rally Master shouted and one by one the fighters flew from the hangar. The Rally Master's gaze fell to the Ori'ramikade. He gave them a nod and the magnetic locks disengaged from the War Droids. Pushing on the throttle the beast's high boost engines flared to life and thrust him and the squad into the chaos of all out war.

Turbolaser fire from the station flared over his head. His visor became even darker to protect him from the glare of celestial bodies and weapons fire. Coms were ablaze with reports of casualties and shouts of victory. The sound of his own breath filled his ears, the eerie silence of space embracing him. Flipping a switch he connected to his Bes'uliik's aural sensors, bringing sound back into his life. A red arrow blinked on his HUD as an enemy starfighter blasted past.

"Naszha!" The beast responded, its beskar claws ripping into the fighter's wing. The sudden impact sent both the fighter and Jaden and his droid spinning in different directions. He shuddered as he faded in and out of consciousness from the spin.

 

[Anastasia Rade]

Location: Space Station
Objective: Repel invaders/
Allies: The Real Mandos [member="Strider Garon"] [member="Werdla Dardalab"]
Enemies: Prime and their Mando-wannabe lap dogs

Ana hated being cooped up here in this Space Station. It had been interesting at first to explore and poke her head around everywhere but now not so much. There were only so many times you could clean your weapons and armors. Hers were so shinny now that you could see your reflection in them. The only saving grace for her was her commlink as she was able to keep in touch with those she cared for. Soon though she would be out of here just a few more days and she was back to her regularly scheduled program.

Just as she was about to get up and get herself a bite to eat for something to do the alarms sounded and Ana spun into action putting on her fully polished gear and grabbing her action she headed out to see what the buzz was. It would be just her luck that someone had accidentally pulled the fire alarm and it would be nothing. She could hear though from down the hall Strider's speak which meant that it wasn't nothing but something big, intruders.

She had gotten to the rally place just in time for the war dance as they waited for those whom would dare test the might of the Mandalorians.

 

[Xalus]

Location: Space Station
Objective: Hold the line
Allies: [member="Werdla Dardalab"], [member="Strider Garon"], and the True Mandalorians
Foes: Primeval and their Prime Suspects
NPCs:

Spoiler

Commanded by: Xalus

Spoiler

• TA1 Battle Droids (30)
• TA2 Super Battle Droids (10)
• TA4 Ultra Battle Droids (4)

There were a lot of things true about this situation.

It was true that there were attackers.
It was true Xalus was a bit uneasy, yet prepared.
It was true that he was in the bathroom as well.

It never hurt to look the best while you were on the job. Hyperion Security officials were here along with a few Field Marshals - even the Mand'alor. Xalus had been brushing his fang-like teeth just moments before, in the odd event that one of them asked him to remove his helmet and peer at his gruesome visage.

It was true that he was pretty ugly as well.

Oh well.

"Ready up," the bounty hunter snarled as he slipped his helmet back on. "Be prepared in two minutes. Go."

He didn't come with just his personal guards - oh, no. When you were going to be inspected by security officials, it was best to bring what you could offer to the table. So that's exactly what he did. A multitude of droids had come with him on his little freighter.

"Roger, sir."

It was true this was gonna be a lotta fun.

 

[Arrbi Betna]

Location: Dreadnought, moving to open space
Objective: Engage and destroy invading ships and starfighters
Allies: [member="Anija Ordo"], [member="Verz Horak"], [member="Naast'ika Laaran"], All Mandalorians, All Mandalorian Protectors
Enemies: All Primeval, Primeval Fleet

Battle stations. The call to arms. To battle once more. For the Glory of the Mandalorian people and to defend the Mandalorian borders.

Betna knew this was to be a moment of excitement, announced by the rush of blood and adrenaline and welcomed in the deepest reaches of the Mandalorian psyche.

Secretly he wished he could sleep in a bit more.

The rattle of armor and armaments crashed against his senses as he threw on his beskar'gam and strapped on weapons. He had woken to the klaxons and noticed that Anija was absent from their cabin, which wasn't hugely unusual. She probably hadn't finished her shift quite yet or got sidetracked tinkering with yet another piece of machinery. Manda knew that woman often wasn't happy without her arms elbow deep into some sort of engine or pump or project of some kind.

The door to the cabin opened and Betna ran out. He was clad in weathered and beaten beskar, the black paint showing chips and scratches here and there. The deep burgundy flightsuit beneath was equally as weathered, though sound. The plates were old, nearly ancient. An heirloom of his clan passed down from parent to child, adjusted and tailored to fit the new owner. The armor had protected dozens, maybe scores of his ancestors and witnessed thousands, if not tens of thousands of battles. To wear it into war once more was to honor his clan and the Manda, something he did not take lightly.

He reached the hangar at a near sprint and made his way to his own starfighter. It was a custom job, one that he and Anija, his girlfriend at the time and his wife now, had built. It was plated in beskar and showed as much wear and weathering as his own armor did. The ship had shrugged off weapon's fire time and again, even holding up to the heavier guns he'd faced on occasion. Beneath the armor plating was something that made his and Anija's starfighter special: a stygium cloak. The two of them had searched for and found the crystals on Aeten II on one of their first dates. The system now gave them a way to keep each other safe and hidden in the worst and best of times.

As Betna climbed into the cockpit and began his startup and check off sequences, the starfighter's engine came to life. Louder than the rest of the hangar and providing far more efficient power, the engine was a custom design as well. It gave more power and more kick than any other fighter engine he'd seen and, if needed, he could shunt full power to the mechanical beast to kick the starfighter forward much faster than most believed an assault fighter could go. Sure, he couldn't do it while cloaked, but that was okay. He didn't really need it then.

Engines now checked and systems operational, he glanced over his weapons. Three heavy blaster cannons were online and ready along with a pair of missile tubes. Each tube was loaded with concussion missiles rather than proton torpedoes. He often preferred the conc missiles, mainly because they were so versatile and also because they couldn't be stopped by ray shields. Sure, particle shielding and deflector shields were a pain, but not everyone expected kinetic weaponry. The last gun that came online was the heavy mass driver mounted on the ship's hardpoint. The hardpoint was an add-on to both starfighters, allowing them to better tailor their ships for the missions at hand with another heavy weapon or a mounted bomb. The upgrade gave the fighters formidable firepower and fearsome armor, something that had helped the Mandalorians dominate the skies above Empress Teta against the One Sith.

All things ready and waiting, the last of his equipment was handed up to him from one of the flight crew in the hangar. Betna took the item and placed it carefully in the small jump seat behind the pilot's seat. He strapped the Ysalamir in its nutrient harness carefully and security to the seat and sat back down himself, sealing the cockpit overhead. Happy that everything was in order, he glanced over his data screens and saw that his half of the wing was signalling they were ready and waiting. Betna keyed his comms to Anija and to the ship's traffic control.

"<This is Beroya squad, Beroya one speaking>," he said calmly despite the rise of adrenaline in his system. "<Fighter wing is ready, thirteen fighters waiting for deployment>."

Spoiler

Anija and I are commanding two halves of one fighter wing. 12 fighters each, plus our personal ships for a total of 24 NPCs and 2 PCs.

 

[huggin_munnin]

Current Location: Primeval fleet, a ship
Allies: The Primeval
Enemies: Mando'ade

It was just like the training exercises, she told herself. Except it really wasn't like her time with the Jedi at all. She knew it and it was her more uneasy then she'd care to admit. It wasn't so much a fear of death as it was the unknown element.

Ceska wore her usual robes, trusting to the Force and her lightsaber to turn away blaster bolts. If she died today, she wouldn't be said to have died a coward. Come what may, she would die with her boots on!

 

[Azrael]

[media]https://soundcloud.com/rinkin-1/star-wars-mandalorian-theme[/media]

Location: Bes'bavar Pocket Carrier / Command Bridge
Objective: Get to the source of the insurgents
Allies: The Mando'ade
Enemies: Kyr'tsad


"War, not peace, produces virtue. War, not peace, purges vice. War, and preparation for war, call forth all that is noble and honorable in a man.
It unites him with his brothers and binds them in selfless love, eradicating in the crucible of necessity all which is base and ignoble.
There in the holy mill of murder the meanest men may seek and find that part of himself, concealed beneath the corrupt,
which shines forth, brilliant and virtuous, worthy of the honor before the gods."


The match head had been struck, ignition of a flame that lit a fuse in the very heart of the Mandalorian culture. Already out of the crisis across the galaxy had the Mandalorians found another threat encroaching on their territory and seeking to take what had been there for quite sometime. It was always their backyard of the Galaxy that caused so much trouble, and though their borders were consistently buffeted by the Galactic Republic, relations there were at best nominal. There was no such formality of platitudes offered by their new and greedy neighbors that had sought expansion among the stars, claiming even a fortified vein of Besk'ar. Now it seemed they wanted to test the waters, and rock the boat of indifference and toleration - seeking to put and end to the silence and tension. The die had been cast, the writing hand had writ, and the crushgaunt had been thrown down in a challenge. This was the Mandalorians answer.

Breaching the cerulean blue hyperspace field in time to warrant the call from the various forces used to patrol the edge of their territory, information from the Hyperion Security Forces, and the Protectors flooded in and alerted the salvager to the need for action. Besk'ar booted feet sprang into a jog from one of the compartmentalized hangars and towards the turbo-lift. Once inside the buy'ce slipped on and locked in place. The cry of war rang throughout the Calvary pocket carrier in the vein of alarms that doused the various decks in a bright orange hue. Mandalorian soldiers scrambled into position and began to man the weapons while pilots headed for some of the reserve fleet. Beams of blue light flashed in solid streams as the lift rose up and took the Mand'alor towards the command deck, of which he swiftly traversed to head towards a mission outpost.

"A'lor, the vessels are scattered but are focusing their attention on the station, several incoming fighters already trying to land on the station. Long range communication is jammed, but short range still functions to the fighters."

Standing in scrutiny, Azrael viewed the holographic display before him. Fleeting had never been his biggest venture, and though he could work on just about any of the fleets ships, and had already done extensive repairs to most of them in his time working through the ranks of the Mandalorians, he was not one to position himself in that role. For this he relied on those far more suited to the task. This new faction had sought to start their insurgency by challenging the fleet strength of the Mandalorians. This was a grave mistake as they would soon discover. On screen three visor covered faces fell into his view screen, as they captained the ships that had come en masse to meet the opposition and defend their station. Truthfully it wasn't about the station at all, it was about the battle cry. Once through the barrier of cerulean blue hyperspace lanes,

"Patch through the fleet generals - and keep them apprised of the situation. Target the larger ships and keep them at bay until we can find the source of the signal block and then concentrate fire on that. Alert the legion on board the station and prep them for border lock. No one gets on or off that isn't already approved." Raising both hands as if conducting a symphony, tactile graphics began to shift around the screens as he called up schematics looking for the entry points and best places to cover. "They want the station, but they haven't tipped their hand yet - we don't know whose coming in yet. Get me patched to clan Garon."

:: Vode, the station is their main target, and they don't appear to be firing on it, so it's a capture mission. Strider, Garrus - ner'vode, find out whose running this show and shut them down. Their fleet is meaningless once we find the sorry excuse for a general that's leading this cabal. Their ability to talk or breathe is inconsequential. I don't care to know why if I can know it's taken care of. ::

[member="Strider Garon"] | [member="Garrus Garon"] | [member="Arrbi Betna"] | [member="Naast'ika Laaran"] | [member="Verz Horak"]

 

[The Spark]

Location: Space Station
Objective: Stay out of trouble.
Allies: Mando'ade [[member="Strider Garon"] is closest in the vicinity.]
Enemies: Prime and their Dar'manda

“BORING!” She yelled at the closing door as [member="Strider Garon"] left the Command Center. She said a few words in the Mandalorian dialect that caused some others to look at her with shock and some to snicker. She brought her arms to her chest and folded them tightly, pouting in the most obvious of ways as she moved across the Command Center towards the more secure sides of the station. Well, was anything truly secure? She didn’t know. She had her comlink attached to her left wrist and wore the body suit that typically went under her armor – which wasn’t finished.

She hadn’t realized it took that long to forge Beskar in such a manner – plus field test, then adjust, field test some more and make even more adjustments. Her arms would finally unfold from her chest as she adjusted the holsters on her hips as different forms of her vod ran past in their own armor – some being close to her age. She watched as they passed, jealous of their ability to run into battle like that.

She had weapons! She had the Force! What else could she need!?

She scowled in such a way that it caught the attention of one of her peers passing by – an ori’vod one might say. At first, it took her a moment to realize that he approached her, and quickly she shook her head and gestured.

“Aren’t you supposed to be going with them?” She said with an unimpressed glance towards the Mandalorians moving down the hall.

He laughed as he removed his helmet to reveal a youthful face, maybe three years older than Mira.His name was Jax Virai, someone she had met a few times when she had been around her jagyc ba’buir during training sessions. He was one of the top fighters in his class and she had fought him once and it was a moment she wouldn’t forget.

She remembered [member="Aton Gyndar"] mocking her a bit but she didn’t really recall his childish banter – instead she remembered those dreamy eyes that Jax had. It wasn’t until he began to speak that Mira realized she was staring in a star struck manner.

“I had to stop cause I noticed this mesh’la sarad that looked as if it needed some sunlight…in other words, cheering up.” He chuckled softly and brushed away locks of dark hair from his face.

Why was her face so hot? Did someone turn off the ventilation system? Her cheeks were hurting for some reason and it wasn’t until he chuckled more that she realized that she had been smiling like a Faren Zany Cat from Yavin IV. She’d quickly shake her head, trying to shake off both the embarrassment and the fluttering sensation she had somewhere within her gut.

She stammered out as she turned away. “Yo..ou might wan..na go.” She gave him a quick nod and quickly rushed off in the opposite direction, making a quick right and then a left before coming to a halt somewhere in a corridor – well, somewhere.

She’d hit the wall hard and slide down it, breathing deep. Man, she felt stupid. What was she supposed to do again?

Oh right.

She stood up and tried to make a mocking voice of her grandfather, sounding gruff and mean. Her facial expression would shift to an exaggerated scowl. “Command Center or your room, no exceptions. Stay out of the way.” She’d roll her eyes and throw her hands up before looking around at her current location – now where was she?

 

[Boethiah]

Objective: Destroy the enemy fleet; secure space around the station.
Location: Aboard the Divergent , Maladi-class Strike Frigate.
Allies: The Primeval.
Enemies: Anyone who isn't with The Primeval.

Fleet: x2 Boar-class Assault Cruisers | x3 Maladi-class Strike Frigate | x1 Prim'ra Carrier | x4 Bastion-class Gunboats

Anja sat in the befitting command chair aboard the Divergent, a design provided to them by their long-standing ally, Titan Industries. At first glance the four-hundred and sixty meter vessel was nothing less than a frigate. In reality it boasted superior firepower than even many cruisers; bringing it near battleship territory. Like any pocket warship it did have its downsides but to the Host Lord such matters were not of personal concern. Guarding her were twelve BH-series Nemesis droids, considered amongst the most impressive synthetics ever built. The droids were traditionally in service to the Fringe Lords but a dozen were granted to Anja by the man who made them, Lussk.

"It looks like their fleet is actively taking formation against us but they're not attacking, yet." Her advisor stood by her side, giving any insight the veteran commander could. The human male stood tall and looked to be anywhere in his mid forties to early fifties. Brown hair speckled with grey laid atop his head like a mop, hanging over bushy eyebrows of a similar colour.

The witch too saw this but it was more likely they were waiting to see what she would do. Regardless the fight had only just begun and if anything it was as good a time as any to rally morale. For Anja she did not give speeches, or rally people under her. She was quiet and delegated such matters to subordinates. "What is our current formation?" She asked.

The advisor cleared his throat, "Standard formation, really. Our two Boar-class Assault Cruisers are spearheading on the left and right flanks and our ship is in a wedge formation with the other frigates, protecting the carrier behind us. The Bastions are taking a loose formation in th ecenter.

A naked hand found itself resting at the corner of her lips, an elbow supporting itself on the chair's armrest. "Let's not keep them waiting... Move into range and fire all long-ranged weaponry on that dreadnought. Order all hangers across the fleet to prepare starfighter and bombers for launch. They may retaliate with fast-attack craft; order the Bastion's to spread out and focus on anti-fighter duties for now. I don't want them getting in range. Maintain formation for now, but send orders to reform: I want our carrier in the center, with bastion's close. I want our Boar-class assault cruisers to be on eon each flank, with two of the Maladi just the same. Have the captain maneuver the Divergent just in the center behind the Bastions. Reformation is to be complete the moment we're in range."

Anja's orders were somewhat crude to say the least... She rarely recognized the names of vessels and referred to each of their class. To established naval commanders this wasn't very traditional as many deemed a ship had a personality and it was bad luck to not recognize their names.

"Understood, Your Worship." He began to coordinate the orders across their small fleet.

It was irregular of the Host Lord to appear in such a small operation but she was curious to see firsthand what the Mandalorians were capable of.

Actions:

All ships are changing formation whilst moving into range.

Once in range: All long-ranged weapons firing upon the Ash'amur-class Dreadnought

Fighters/Bombers are on standby.

[member="Verz Horak"] | [member="Arrbi Betna"] | [member="Azrael"]

 

[Anija Betna]

Location: Mandalorian Dreadnaught - Muunilinst System
Objective: Engage and destroy enemy starfighters and fleet assets
Allies: [member="Arrbi Betna"], [member="Verz Horak"], [member="Arrbi Betna"], Mandalorian Protectors, and the True Mandalorians
Foes: Primeval and their Prime Suspects; [member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

Arrbi would have been right. Field Marshal she might be, but she always liked to be hands on with whatever ship she was on. She knew it probably rankled the ship's engineer to have her just... insert herself and start tinkering, but she didn't much care right now. This time, she was tinkering with the dreadnaught's shields - seeing if she could squeeze a little more power into them. And, she had done so. A grin spread across her face for a moment as she glanced down at the power output readings on the console display. 105%. And it didn't seem like it was overtaxing the ship's power system. either.

Her buy'ce rested on the console near her elbow, and she started as the alarm sounded. Battle Stations. General Quarters. Her lips thinned into a line, and with a push she was on her feet. Carefully, she dropped her tools back into the mechanic's bag she'd brought with her. That done, she turned and dashed out into the corridor, pulling her buy'ce on as she went. Instantly, she was uplinked to the fleet's comm net, and she found her ears assaulted by many voices at once.

With a few eye movements, she isolated the command frequency. <Marshal Horak. Marshal Ordo. I'm enroute to the fighter bays, as will launch ASAP.....> She didn't wait long for a reply, bolting into a lift and jabbing the button for her destination a bit harder than intended. She could feel the adrenaline beginning to pump through her body. The ride down to the fighter launch bays was short, and when the lift arrived, she ducked out and sprinted around the corner.

Anija practically lived in her armor. Feth, she wore it all the time while working. The rationale was that, if something fell, it would provide her a bit more protection than she might have otherwise. Chuckling a bit at that, she looked up to find herself just inside the launch bay to which the Protectors' squadron had been assigned. As she strode across t he decking towards her own bes'ulik, she noticed that Arrbi's fighter, and those of his squadmates were warmed and ready. 'That'll teach me to go tinkering at a time such as this...' she thought to herself with a slight grin.

Shaking her head, Anija climbed up onto the fuselage of her own bes'uliik from the ladder, and then dropped carefully into the pilot's seat. Once she was settled, she began running through her pre-flight sequence, much as Arrbi had done. It was completed in a handful of minutes, and the sound of her engines joined the dissonant symphony of noise which echoed off the hangar bulkheads. As she glanced around the hangar, she caught sight of Arrbi's fighter. His indicator glowed green on her side console. As she watched, the status indicators for her squad slowly shifted from yellow to green. <Voxyn Squad. Voxyn One. Voxyn Squad is ready for launch.>