Well, well, well. What do we have here?

[Laira Darkhold]

Draco stood on the bridge of the Bes’drahr lazily letting his eyes drift over keyboards and veiwscreens. This was a simple shakedown cruise around the system, just having been sent from the docks above Taris to Mandalore. Mandal Hypernautics had recently assisted in the refitting and retrofitting of the class, taking great pains to ensure the vessel met its meticulous standards. Certainly Larraq was running a tight shift on that side of the planet.

“Alor, I have something you might want to look at.” A warrior, young woman from the looks of her armor and sound of her voice, tapped him on the shoulder. She was holding a datapad that the warlord took quietly.

He skimmed through it softly letting his gaze flow over the screen. “And, a little shop outside Keldabe.”

“Look at the owner and the catalog.” She said, her grin behind the mask basically audible.

“Myra Hadrix...” the name trailed off and the Bridge crew all visibly flinched at the sound of the name. One of the monsters like Darth Vornskr that had never been brought to justice. At least Vornskr had died a few times over the years, but Hadrix liked to hide after suffocating a bunch of children in a hangar and using Wookiees like cannon fodder. Flipping through the catalog he nodded angrily. “These gunships and walkers were present on Castameer used by a Force of commandos known to be aligned with Hadrix. Put eyes on the facility and ready a rapid response group, interdict the area and get a call for a fighter group to secure the atmosphere. Cover all the bases of escape. We are storming it and holding everyone for questioning. Put out the call to the other clans. Worst case, the place is guilty of stupidity. Best case, its feeding time.”

Draco grimaced as he tossed the datapad to the floor. “Call for the Cult.” Some small justice for Roche might finally come. His armored foot smashed the datapad on the deck, and the warriors on the bridge held steely gazes. Truth Serum, electroencephaloscans, and Empaths were all excellent tools for determining the truth of what someone was saying once they were captured. And of course, if you run from the cops, you've definitely got something to hide.

Deep in the belly of the Ship, Sklor got the news and roared an unearthly sound as the cult rallied around their master and prepared to enact painful, delicious justice.

[member="Myra Hadrix"]

@O'saam Echoy'la | [member="Gray Raxis"] | [member="Stardust Raxis"] | [member="Alec Rekali"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

RACH KOL-REKALI MONUMENT
NEAR OUTSKIRTS OF KELDABE

Her father's statue was life-size: a man in light beskar'gam, plunging a beskad into a tactical nuclear warhead. It hadn't happened anything like that, but still, this was the place. Radiation cleanup had scoured the soil and rocks and, heck, the remaining buildings until a geiger counter barely skittered. The statue stood in a grassy hollow, a cleaned-up blast crater. As a rule, Mandos didn't put up monuments much in this day and age. His father, her grandfather, her predecessor as aliit'buir, had footed the bill. But then, Ember Rekali always had been anachronistic.

Alec's Force-sensitivity wasn't much, and she'd spent a lifetime ignoring it. Even so, she felt something of her father here, the absentee libertine Dark Jedi who'd been the very first Rekali to take up the banner of the resol'nare. "Worthless fether," she said with a smirk, pouring out a measure for him like she did every year. She slugged back a good portion of the bottle and set it aside, then picked up her helmet. The comm had buzzed.

Vereen. Right here insystem. Hadrix.

She loosened the Hellburner in its holster and started walking for a little place called Improvised Designs, bottle in hand.

 

[dan12x1]

O'saam sat quietly aboard the ship he had called home for several centuries. Yet his frustration and anger was beginning to surmount.

He absolutely despised the crafting of anything from Wicker. He couldn't begin to wrap his head around why a Culture so vastly advanced as his own used this gods-awful technique to honor their dead. After a few moments his hands tightened, and he broke the weave. In a bout of rage, he chucked the wicker across the room.

Somebody is calling us, lover. Somebody needs our spear and skills.

The Hunter paused, turning his head. The comms station in the main-bay hadn't been used in centuries. Nearly two at this present date. Walking over towards it, he'd swipe the small dust that had finally accumulated on it, before answering the comms.
"This is the Black Death," The Bristled Sephi growled into the Audio-Only secured link. "Nevermind how you got this frequency. It seems to be well traveled these days. Is there an issue I can rectify?" Speaking to the comms officer in charge of contacting what was probably long-thought to be a dead frequency, O'saam listened intently. After a few moments, he ground his teeth.

"Aruetii bat Manda'yaim? Tion'jor?" [Outsiders on Mandalore? Why?]

"Ol'averde. Gotal'ur besbe'trayce. Gehatyc buirkan par kyr'am be cuun ade bat Roche," [Company. Makes Weapons. Suspected to be responsible for death of our children on Roche]

There was silence on O'saam's line. His weathered knuckles gripped the line-piece he was holding next to his pointed-ear. His jaw grew taunt, his teeth running tighter upon themselves again. His blood pressure spiked and his head pounded. When he spoke again, it came through clenched teeth and with all the effort he could muster inside his frame to force the words to tongue.

"Taap bal sur'gaan," [Proof and Footage.]

There was a brief moment of silence, before the question was asked.

"Tion'jor?" [Why?]

"Ni copaanir majyce bah ja'hailir bat ner ara'novor." [I want something to watch on my approach.]

His armor, obsidian in color, sat on it's respective Rack. Swapping to his ear-piece, he'd walk over and slip into his combat-undersuit. After he was sealed up, he'd slip his feet into the plated boots waiting for them. It took a few moments, which was fine. The comms agent seemed to be juggling with something. When he'd finished, he stopped to stare at his helmet. In the right side of the visor, he swore he could still make out the imprints.

This is the Color of Justice, his father had taught him from youth. Justice is bringing the wrath of our people into physical form. Those who paint their armor in this fashion according to the Old Faiths are the Avatar's of Justice. You are my son, we live by the old ways, Os'ika. Gods, had it truly been this long? He remembered the words of a man long-since reclaimed by the moon of Dxun. But yet, right now? They rang in his head like a blown eardrum or the explosive wave from a detonated grenade that left you ringing.

After a few more moments he'd answer another 'Why'.

"Ni haar adenn tor par ner tsad droten. Ni gaanader hettir o'r ner a'den," [I am the merciless justice for my people. I choose to burn in my rage.]

Hopefully they'd send it, regardless he'd start pulling up recordings on the main screen of his laptop. He would figure out what happened. Justice, regardless, would be made as if it were a buffet waiting for a Republic Senator. He would have vengeance, if not for himself then for another. Popping his knuckles in the semi-powered gauntlets, he'd lift the helmet and stare at the strand of the two bracelets he'd made his Deceased wife and Son many Summers ago on the planet of Tanaab. Their deaths, brutal as they were, flashed before his eyes like a holo-horror he couldn't hide from. His fingers tightened and a burning sensation started at his feet. Hooking it onto his belt he'd shift to the locker next to it retrieving the traditional hunting spear, his trench knife, and the old E-11 carbine he'd carried for years as a debt to an old friend. The carbine and the knife found their places on his gear, and the Bevii'ragir sat in his hands as he lifted it and pressed it into the magnetic counter-weight that allowed it to double as a walking staff. The memories still burned at his mind.

"We hunt, Cyar'ika," he'd state after closing the commlink. "And regardless of what we find, we kill," He was in system, he'd been rotating around the moons for a bit as he burned fuel and avoided hyperspace lanes. He'd begin the docking process.

Hell would follow in his wake. He'd make sure of it.

 

[Stardust Solus Skirae]

A dragon never slept, and was always ready to roar and attack when needed

Though when she received the message she looked it over carefully, she then sat the pad down as she shook her head" so it is true the enemy will be under your nose and you'll be blind to them unless you look down..."she spoke to herself as she stood and moved towards her armor and weapons, she started to armor uo as she sent a message to r8 to get her fighter warmed up, she tapped a message to [member="Draco Vereen"] quickly, it read

Sender/////stardust raxis
Message priority-high

Draco I'm am heading that way in my fighter, send a few my way and I can take command of them so I may patrol the area

Receiver/////Draco Vereen

With that she was fully armored both westars ready bith Sabers ready and her sword ready, she made haste to her fighter and took off towards the battle

She wasn't there at roche...but the injustice done there was a sin that need to be punished....with extreme prejudice
@O'saam Echoy'la [member="Alec Rekali"]

 

[Verz Horak]

[member="Alec Rekali"] [member="Draco Vereen"] [member="Stardust Raxis"] @O'saam Echoy'la

Verz walked up to the statue, the one dedicated to his friend Rach. The crazy bastard had given his life trying to stop that bomb. The scarlet Mandalorian would never forget him, and the warrior's name always came up when it was time to honor the dead. He could see a girl there, looking at the statue with a bottle of alcohol. He had seen her before, when the statue was dedicated. Rach's daughter.

However, catch up would have to wait. The comm buzzed. Something was afoot.

"Ibic Verz. Me'bana?"

 

[Laira Darkhold]

"Oh yeah, I can see it." Draco said, the gunship rocking as it slipped through the atmosphere and continued its descent into Keldabe's airspace. "No, do not allow any bombing run or orbital strike. Its on holy ground as far as I'm concerned. Besides, I want prisoners to interrogate, Lethals are open for anyone that is a clear and present danger. Everyone else should be detained as humanely as possible." His mutterings across the secure comms went out, informing those in charge of different groups what the restrictions were of their current mission. Not every grunt knew who they worked for, but any that did, would be rabid dogs like their master, without honor or souls.

Draco knew well that if they found resistance, it would likely use efficient weaponry designed to cause collateral damage. Anything with Hadrix's name attached to it normally used Sith tactics, and so did her followers. They hid behind their inability to use the Force as though it made them just and right in their wholesale butchering of civilians, their willingness to force civilians to be first into the fight, but Mandalore had always seen through that veil. Mandalore wasn't filled with saints, and never would be, but they owned their evils unlike the Republic and its rabid dog. Their ability to justify their actions no matter how cruel had made them far too dangerous, far too delusional to let be. Soon Kaine would also be Self-Identifying as Light Side like them too.

"Rekali's responded with 'on our way' to the secure call." One warrior said over the roar of rushing wind passing by the open hatch of the gunship as it kept moving towards the facility in question. "Ships are scrambled and we are in route with the assault group."

"Good. We don't know for certain if its hers, but I'm pretty damn sure. I want to detain and interrogate everyone. Anyone we find who was in the know, we detain and interrogate their family as well. Pay can't be that good to work for and supply Dar'manda with a hot bounty on their heads." Draco glanced around the cabin, the heavily armored veterans all kitted with lethal and non-lethal weapons.

O'saam would find a plethora of data, including Hadrix ordering the use of ventilation tactics on hangars to her command group, her command group ordering civilians to the perspective hangars, and her admittance that ventilation tactics would only work on non-combatants as Mandalorian warriors typically wore sealed and pressurized suits. It was all common knowledge to the sons of Mandalore that she preferred to kill the helpless rather than fight.

[member="Myra Hadrix"]
[member="Verz Horak"] [member="Stardust Raxis"] [member="Gray Raxis"] @O'saam Echoy'la [member="Alec Rekali"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Myra Hadrix"] [member="Draco Vereen"] [member="Verz Horak"] @O'saam Echoy'la [member="Stardust Raxis"] [member="Gray Raxis"]

KELDABE OUTSKIRTS
IMPROVISED DESIGNS FACILITY

Approaching the factory on foot, Alec kept an eye on the sky. Her helmet sensors and comms identified a deployment of fighters and gunships, keeping overwatch or on approach. The Rekali cruiser 'Like Hell' was in orbit: it sent her a note on the Mandalorian space assets. It would be enough, it would have to be. Then again, the younger Hadrix had slithered her way out of tighter spots than this. Even if everything went perfectly, Alec had zero doubt that Improvised Designs would survive the day in some way, shape, or form.

She dropped the half-full bottle and secured her buy'ce again, retracting the straw. She goosed the controls and her jetpack roared to life. Keldabe was the most Mandalorian of cities -- she could spot half a dozen flying Mandos with a glance -- so the pack's flames didn't stand out much. She wove through the trees and scattered buildings of an industrial park. In short order, she'd come to the front gate.

For the moment, she didn't draw a weapon. The barbaric Haran'hett disruptor at her belt was enough of a threat. She looked up at the nearest security camera and boosted her helmet's audio output.

"My name's Rekali. I'm here to speak with Hadrix."

 

[dan12x1]

Location: Mandalore, Keldabe. Short walk from Improvised Designs Campus.
Present Mood for Force-Users/Empaths: If a sun's core could be represented in rage.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sqo1bSiEFTs Music, should you wish it.

Forcing his way through the crowd, O'saam noted exactly what a few centuries would do to this once familiar world.

In truth, not much. The important bits, the few that mattered to him that was, were still relatively the same. The Oyu'baat, Mandal Motors, they all stayed in the same places. Loudly, he'd grumble in disdain. Inwardly, he'd note, 'Must be market. Streets are packed to the gills,'. He'd slip past somebody, damn near lowering his spear to smack them out of the way. Once he'd passed the main section of the Capital, shit cleared up a bit more.

Part of him was still lost, however. This was not the layout he remembered. That, and his helmet's mapping system may or may not have been about six centuries out of date as well. After a few moments, his frustration built to a climax and boiled into rage. Concentrating inward on it, he started to walk in a direction. There would be a gate somewhere, and if not he'd make one or vault over whatever got into his way. He felt something, a familiar tug against his soul. Something that she'd awoken in him.

And in a show of cruelty from the galaxy, she spoke to him again.

Lover. Need I show you where to go? I can taste the sin, you know. It weighs heavy in the air like a dense fog.

"Nayc. Gedet'ye," [No, Please]

But it was fleeting, a moment too late. She was there, ethereally, in front of his eyes. It was a trick of the mind, an apparition born from being broken. But it was a knife, like any other, and it cut along the stitches he'd sewn and ripped an old injury wide open. She stared at him, her hand holding something. His eyes shifted, and the child stood there gripping her fingers.

Come, lover, lets go for a walk.

And walk he did. Until he'd found himself outside of a gate, tears running down his face under his bucket. His spear clanked against the ground and grief turned to sorrow. And the sorrow turned to fire and rage. As he stood outside to the Improvised Designs HQ, he'd stare at a guard. He was not far from Rekali, and the black-clad warrior's tabard blew lightly in the wind, the Mandoa text scrawling across it archaic looking. "You will retrieve Hadrix, as she stated. Or One by one, I will carve my way through your hold. You have forty minutes,"

[member="Myra Hadrix"] [member="Draco Vereen"] [member="Verz Horak"] [member="Stardust Raxis"] [member="Gray Raxis"]

 

[Stardust Solus Skirae]

Roger that I'll keep the skies clean and warn you if any vessel attempting to leave the area" she said to [member="Draco Vereen"] as she started circling her fighter around the place checking her Radar and occasionally looking down at the place just so she didn't rely purely on radar

Nothing so far but until something happened or she was told to go elsewhere the sky was domain

@O'saam Echoy'la [member="Alec Rekali"]

 

[Gray Raxis]

Location: Keldabe, Mandalore
Forces: Raxis Rancor Company

Gray was slower than his wife in getting things organized and going, but that had a lot to do with him getting his forces rounded up and readied. It was never easy to get 200 people all into their gear and lined up. It had been done as quickly as possible though and they all loaded up into some dropships to head to the location of the target in question. He had heard it was a shop that belonged to a long sought after enemy of the Clans, and it came as a bit of a surprise that the place had not been dealt with sooner. But it was understandable given how a company could go unnoticed if they played their cards right, and it seemed the luck of this one had run out.

As Gray and his company got close, he ordered his men to form a perimeter around the place and evacuate any civilians that could be caught in the possible crossfire. As they gave him their confirmations and moved to follow their orders, Gray got onto the com channels being used and said, " This is Alor Raxis. My men are moving to help set up a perimeter and I am willing to help where it is needed. Just tell me where to go and I'll head there." He ended his transmission there and waited for a response. He wasn't sure where they would want him to go, but he was willing to do his part to help. Granted his wife being in the air was likely more support than him on the ground would be knowing how much his fellow Mandalorians loved a ground engagement.

[member="Stardust Raxis"] @O'saam Echoy'la [member="Alec Rekali"] [member="Draco Vereen"] [member="Verz Horak"]

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Improvised Design Headquarters
Outside Keldabe

The gunship landed and disgorged its group of Mandalorians. Some bestial shamans of the Cult, some black armored warriors of Clan Vereen bearing large heavy blaster weapons. Draco could see Alec and another giving orders to the people at the gate. The perimeter was set, with small air speeders and speeder bikes ready to chase down those that tried to run, and some light air support, enough to keep freighters or transports from fleeing.

"No. Drop em." Draco said, two of his men raising their weapons and rattling off Czerka Headbangers into the people Alor Rekali had been speaking to. "Company is publicly listed as belonging to a Hadrix and is believed to provide her with weapons and arms. I ask you both to use discretion with lethal force, but this is a sting. We grab everyone and everything and hash out who is and isn't guilty later. Leave me some alive, preferably those who seem to be incharge so I can probe their minds for useful information." And with that, Draco continued moving into the small complex.

"Any that are believed to be in league with her, living and supplying her while on our holy ground, bring them to Sklor. He's got something planned for them unless you want to do it yourself." Draco's stern features weren't visible, but they looked very much like the expressionless, emotionless buy'ce he wore. His intention was that not a one of her underlings were to escape. They had to know where to ship her goods, they had to know something the clans could use.

Draco spun his spear around and slapped one of the men at the gate across the neck with the buttspike, watching him spasm as he hit the ground, unable to move his muscles. The stun pike on max setting was enough to bring down a full-grown wookiee, and though it was a little toned down, it was still a potent weapon. As Draco moved, Mandalorian warriors would drag those captured back a ways, put them in beskar stun cuffs, and mag-clamp them to a wall for good measure. Couldn't have them running away to get shot by the perimeter guards.

[member="Ali Hadrix"] [member="Myra Hadrix"]
[member="Gray Raxis"] [member="Stardust Raxis"] @O'saam Echoy'la [member="Alec Rekali"] [member="Verz Horak"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Vereen's people moved in, Raxis' people made a perimeter and got bystanders clear, and Alec? Well, there wasn't a lot of worth in using a Hellburner on someone who'd just taken a HeadBanger to the face. Alor Rekali contented herself by disintegrating security cameras and shooting large holes in walls. The Hellburner, a low-penetration weapon, jeopardized nothing beyond the walls. It did, however, make satisfying holes in structural elements. Some of those gaps revealed walkers in varying states of assembly -- the same walkers that Ali Hadrix's commandos had fielded on Castameer, the walkers that had hung back while Mandalorians took the brunt of the casualties. A Hellburner couldn't disintegrate a walker.

Not the entire thing, anyway. A few shots into a knee joint, though? Whole 'nother story.

Alec kept walking, kept firing at targets of opportunity: suits of armor that Hadrix's PMC had worn when spacing Mandalorians. One empty helmet after another crumpled, then disintegrated into shining dust as the Hellburner tore apart molecular bonds. She kept the barbaric slow-disintegration disruptor off living targets for the moment. Doubtless she'd missed some cameras. Doubtless today's events could, would, be spun by the outraged. No point in giving them more ammunition, much as she considered everyone in here complicit. Besides, it wasn't like Vereen's shamans wouldn't exact the last full measure of devotion from the prisoners eventually.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Something was happening... Ijaat had come to Keldabe on business, to check on Beskar'yaim, and to see a few old friends. He had felt a sudden spike in the Force, a pressure rising. A Shatterpoint, as he had come to know it, centered around somewhere. There was no telling who, or what, or even when. But the vague feeling would only sharpen by drawing closer. This had a deep feeling, but not broad in his mind... Almost... Personal? Still learning the terminology and just how precisely to put into words for others what he just... Understood....

With the feeling he stepped up, rolling his hat up his arm and bucking his elbow, settling it low on his brow as he tossed a credit chit onto the table for his netra'gal and chugged in, slapping the pint glass upside down on the rough wooden table. Touching the brim of the battered hat in a nod of respect to the bartender he stepped outside and eyed the sky, just in time to see [member="Alec Rekali"] go streaking by. His senses twinged without knowing why and pulled at that form he didn't realize he knew. Reaching to his chest, he tightened (though it didn't need it) the baldric his gunbelt and hammer hung from and flared his hands down.

As hands met the ground, the catra'jair system kicked in and he shot from the ground in a swooping loop and arced hot on the tail of the Rekali Clan leader, his mind focused utterly on keeping track of her to follow her to whatever had disturbed him in the first place. As the Alor landed and began to work, Ijaat hovered, coat flaring and fluttering as he eyed the wall and smiled.

They were piece-mealing holes in, and that simply wouldn't do. He realized Draco, and the grin turned into a smirk as he unlimbered the massive hammer the other smith had made for him, hefted it, and began a swan dive with all the power the propulsion system whined, whirred, and he hit the wall hammer first a few moments later, a massive shower of dust and debris scattering up and around him as a concussive whoomph that sent out a shockwave that echoed in the Force. If he had done it right... There wouldn't be a lot of the wall he hit left.




[member="Ali Hadrix"] [member="Myra Hadrix"]
[member="Gray Raxis"] [member="Stardust Raxis"] @O'saam Echoy'la [member="Alec Rekali"] [member="Verz Horak"]

 

[dan12x1]

O'saam did so very much enjoy this Draco fellow now.

Launching himself into room, he followed the lady blowing holes through the building.

"Jate!" [Good!] He'd shout at her like somebody impressed with her ferocity. Turning his head, he noted another group of people. Greenhorns, half-armored trying to set up an E-Web turret. He'd turn to shout as a round or two spat out early on, they'd misaligned the power cells and discharged the initial burst early on. A good trick, he'd note.

"Slanar Daab!" [Get down!] He'd shout afterwards, trying to aid the Mandalorians with him as he assumed they didn't go in alone. One was struck by the initial bolt, and O'saam by the secondary. It send him sliding after a moment. He lay on his back, sucking air in. "Haar'chak," [Damn it] he grunted out. Gripping the Bevii'ragir tightly, he'd push himself onto his feet as they went to re-align their kit. "Kad'Harangir Copaanir Bic!" [Kad'Harangir Wills It] he'd roar as he roared to life in return. His kama flapped as he vaulted over the cluster of Vode together, launching his spear ahead of him. It made a loud, sickening whistle as it flew through the air. As it came close to landing, it went across the chord that cooled the weapon first. And then, it impacted into one of the team's thigh. His screams filled the air and were replaced by gurgles when O'saam buried his Trench-Knife into his throat. Yanking his arm back, he'd catch the other fellow across his throat, spewing a fountain of blood all over his armor. There was another stab, into the beings gut. It was followed by twisting the knife and yanking it sideways until his bodies contents emptied all over the floor. With a loud grunt, he'd retrieve his spear and remove his knife.

His blood pounded in his head as he breathed heavily. His chest was going to bruise, and shit would hurt. But that was a reminder. Pain was always Kad'Harangir's gift. He knew he was still alive, now.

"Vaii be Alor be Aruetii?" [Where's the Alor of the Outsiders?] he asked, in general to Rekali or those around. Surely, knowing where the Corporate Office was would help.

 

[Stardust Solus Skirae]

She looked down a s she gave a grin, lots of people around that compound now and she could see someone putting holes all over the wall and into production places

However stardust noted something she did not like, a shuttle looked like it was about to lift up, she quickly got to comms to [member="Draco Vereen"] " alor veeren I have spotted a shuttle at the place preparing to lift I am gonna shoot close and try to discourage them" she said as she aimed down aiming 20 feet in from of the shuttle and shot once. The ship stopped and landed as she locked onto it so she would be able to tell them they were locked now

Someone wanna get that shuttle secured I have a feeling they'll get bold

@O'saam Echoy'la [member="Ijaat Mereel"] [member="Alec Rekali"] [member="Gray Raxis"]

 

[Stardust Solus Skirae]

She looked down a s she gave a grin, lots of people around that compound now and she could see someone putting holes all over the wall and into production places

However stardust noted something she did not like, a shuttle looked like it was about to lift up, she quickly got to comms to [member="Draco Vereen"] " alor veeren I have spotted a shuttle at the place preparing to lift I am gonna shoot close and try to discourage them" she said as she aimed down aiming 20 feet in from of the shuttle and shot once. The ship stopped and landed as she locked onto it so she would be able to tell them they were locked now

Someone wanna get that shuttle secured I have a feeling they'll get bold

@O'saam Echoy'la [member="Ijaat Mereel"] [member="Alec Rekali"] [member="Gray Raxis"]

 

[Preliat Mantis]

The Wolf, sat in his own, at least an hour away from Keldabe. His comm unit, clicked to the chest piece of his armor, hummed. He stared blankly at the hung armor, and looked behind him. His wife and daughter were talking quietly, his wife going over some mechanical design. Smart girl, smart woman. He reached up to the helmet, worn from years of waging war. He looked back at his wife, who frowned and then placed a worried look across her beautiful features. Preliat however, was half-dressed into his armor by the time she began to speak. There wasn't much of a conversation, it was a 'I'm leaving and you can't stop me from helping' type deal. She was as stubborn as he was. Besides, he hadn't been actually doing anything for his people in quite some time. Then again, he hadn't done much of anything in his lifetime. This was the perfect chance to at least do one good thing.


Roche was bad.

He wasn't much better.

He could at least do one right thing in his life. And killing this son of a queen would be a good start.

 

[Verz Horak]

[member="Draco Vereen"] [member="Alec Rekali"] [member="Preliat Mantis"] [member="Stardust Raxis"] [member="Ijaat Mereel"]

Verz had followed the streets of Keldabe after hearing the chatter on the comm. He didn't have his rifle, but he had a knife and blaster pistol. He could help with the op. He arrived to see a skirmish in progress. Fighters and gunships had started patrolling the skies, denying airspace access to any on the ground for now. The fighting had broken out around a building in the corporate sector. Verz linked up to the comm net, and the chatter told him all he needed to know. There was a company owned by a Sith, or someone associated with the Sith. Thatw as enough for Verz.

The Mandalorian drew his blaster pistol and headed towards the fray.

 

[Preliat Mantis]

The ride to Keldabe was short, about as short as the man's temper. The speeder zipped over the roads, and past slower speeders. Preliat kicked the throttle, hearing the tell-tale chit-chat of a firefight. He narrowed his eyes, feeling the wind on his face. No helmet, no problems, he liked to say. Only a headband and a furrowed brow to keep him nice and cozy. He pulled hard right on the throttle, churning his one-man speeder to a skid. From the sound, the firefight was at least 200 meters away. No need to ride a horse into battle when the infantry were already out.

He stood, picking the M45 off of the back of the speeder. He threw his shoulder cape over, and spotted [member="Verz Horak"] as he made his way into the fray. Corporate sector. Why was it always businesses that were bad? Surely they had to have some sort of better business bureau or something of the sort to keep out vile cretins- especially from the heart of Mandalore.

 

[Myra Hadrix]

Myra looked over the schematics displayed in the air before her, narrowing her eyes at the noted inefficiencies. The design was for an emergency response medical droid and Myra's engineers were having a difficult time balancing the machine's agility with its weight in the face of all the gear it needed to carry as a first responder. "Osik," Myra muttered, closing down the projection for the time being. They'd been staring at it for fifteen minutes, shooting down one suggestion after another. No one could figure it out, but she knew they would. It would just take several caf-filled nights and fits of rage before the epiphany hit one of them. "Disperse for now, leave me be," Myra announced, waving her hands in frustration. One by one her engineers began to split off and return to their workstation hubs on the manufacturing floor. She stepped out of the dev chamber and leaned against the railing of the walkway that overlooked the floor. Below, objects of all kinds were being assembled, from shield generators to weaponry. The bulk of their production, however, was in material refinement. Armor and guns were all made of something, after all, and it was here Myra made the majority of their income.
She looked sideward, down the length of the facility at the weapons division. As small as it was, Myra wouldn't mind if it became a little smaller. She wanted to be able to focus on more productive designs, such as the EMR droid, but couldn't free up the manufacturing staff to expand the Civilian Robotics Division nor could she afford the capital loss in downsizing Weapons. Governments and people wanted guns before they wanted anything; an unfortunate fact of the matter. Myra frowned and returned to the developer's chamber to retrieve her thermos of caf. As she reached over a desk to grab it her eyes caught sight of activity on the local security feed. Someone, several someone's actually, were charging through her facility killing and destroying. The general noise of the manufacturing floor must have drowned out any noticeable activity, and their security teams certainly weren't Ori'ramikad.
A familiar rage blossomed, but Myra quelled it swiftly, clipping the thermos to her belt and slapping the general emergency alarm. The plant's manufacturing machinery began to shut down as power was severed and automated systems began prioritizing needs. Staff responded as they would to any other call for evacuation and began securing important personal possessions and filtering toward near-by emergency exits until Myra grabbed the master commlink and stopped them.
"Don't bother trying to leave. We've got intruders, and they've doubtless secured the exterior. Stay put, I'm going to meet them." Myra had often wondered if her security measures would protect them against a high-profile burglary, but she felt something deeper coursing through the actions of the intruders. As a precaution, Myra keyed the nearest console with her personal access codes and initiated the self-destruction of the company's databanks. They offloaded all their data at EoB every day so it didn't much matter. Losing fifteen hours of manufacturing data wasn't a big deal, and they hadn't made progress on that EMR droid either, so there was nothing there to lose.
Reaching into her desk, Myra grabbed her Verpine shattergun and checked the magazine, then holstered it on her leg and made her way down the stairs to the floor. She reassured her employees along the way, most of whom were standing around on their datapads looking bored. They assume it's a drill, Myra thought. This might prove to be a benefit by keeping panic at a minimum.

She met with one of her security staff in the main hallway, there was only one that led to the front entrance. "What the hell is going on?!" Myra demanded, her arms held out away from her sides. The staffer, Jerison Radel shook his head. "I have no idea who they are, they showed up at the main gate a couple minutes ago. We got words out of a woman, she demanded to speak to you before someone else attacked the guards." Jerison's face was concerned and distraught. "Do you have a voice print ID?" Myra asked. Jerison shook his head, "No match on the woman and we didn't get any actual audio out of the male."
Myra felt her jaw tighten. Whoever these people were, they weren't exactly organized if different members were wanting to talk and others were wanting to fight. "I've already sounded the silent general alarm, the rest of the security teams are prepared to consolidate around here." Myra shook her head. "No, let them stay where they're at, tell them to hunker down and stay out of the way. I want to talk to these bucket heads, and a ready distraction might prove handy. Where are the vehicle munitions?" Myra added. Jerison looked from side to side, "The only rounds we have are stored in that MAT-TE you set aside the other day. I can't remember the designation and it's been moved around the floor a couple times since."
Myra nodded, "That's good enough, I think I remember the one." Jerison frowned, "What do you want me to do, ma'am?" He asked. Myra stepped passed him and beckoned for him to follow, a small smile on her lips. "You're coming with me. We're going to find out what these people want."

It didn't take them long to reach the end of the corridor and reach the administrative wing of the facility where all the fighting was taking place. Several holes had been blown through the walls and debris was scattered across the lobby floor. Smoke filtered into the air from all around as the skirmish continued without reason. Myra and Jerison were just arriving to the scene as a particularly elderly man was recovering from having killed several of Myra's staff, and was now demanding an audience. The fighting suddenly halted as Myra's arrival was noted by the would-be combatants. She crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes, which burned laser burns into anyone who met her gaze. The anger in her was palpable, and she was no longer damming its flow.
"I don't know who you're calling outsider, but it sure as folk isn't me." Myra's voice echoed through the lobby, cutting down the silence for a moment before fading once more. Placing one hand on her hip and the other on the shattergun holster at her thigh, Myra glared from one invader to another. With a jerk of her chin she ordered her security staff toward her. They left their positions and reconsolidated in the hall where Myra stood, their weapons tentatively trained on any given one of the various intruders.

"If you were thieves, you would have come in the night, when everyone slept, not blustered in here like morons." Myra stated bluntly, staring at [member=O'saam Echoy'la]. "If you were mercenaries, I would have seen a bounty." Her gaze turned to [member=Gray Raxis]. "If you were serious, you wouldn't be drunk." Her eyes fell on [member=Alec Rekali], the smell of liquor was apparent to Myra's acute senses. "And if you were government I would have seen a warrant," Myra finished, as [member=Draco Vereen] stepped into view. She shook her head, "I should have figured you'd show up eventually. What do you want, Vereen?..." Myra demanded. "...that isn't my products, my cash or my crew."