Gromas

Gromas 16

Astrographical Information

Region: Mid Rim

Sector: Perkell Sector

System: Gromas System

Orbital Position: 16th moon of the red gas giant Gromas (nicknamed the “Blood Moon”)

Moons: 32

Grid Coordinates: R-11

Physical Information

Class: Terrestrial

Atmosphere: Type 1 Breathable

Primary Terrain: arid, cold desert, rusty soil

Points of Interest: phrikite mines

Societal Information

Indigenous Species: none

Immigrated Species: humans (population approx. 200)

Primary Language(s): Galactic Basic

Faction Affiliation: neutral

Defense Rating: level 1

JediRP Canon History: The moon Gromas 16 is the sole source of the ore known as phrikite. When phrikite is melted down and added to tydirium, the resulting ore is called Phrik. It is extremely light and very strong, capable of warding off a lightsaber blade and literally bouncing all laser fire off of it, making it immune to blaster weapons. Its immunity does not, however, extend to explosive weapons and direct vibroblade attacks. As a result, the moon has mostly been used for mining the metal ore.

The only event of historical note was a large battle with the Arach’tar. The forces of the galaxy prevailed.

Old description:

((Summary compiled by Amidala Skywalker. Thank you!))

OOC: The moon Gromas 16 is the sole source of the ore known as phrikite. When phrikite is melted down and added to tydirium, the resulting ore is called Phrik. It is extremely light and very strong, capable of warding off a lightsaber blade and literally bouncing all laser fire off of it, making it immune to blaster weapons. Its immunity does not, however, extend to explosive weapons and direct vibroblade attacks. Phrik was used to make the weapons of General Greivous' MagnaGuards during the Clone Wars and then was used extensively in the Imperial General Mohc's infamous Dark Trooper project.

If you gather the phrikite ore and tydirium (it's more common, so you should be able to buy it), you can make Phrik.

IC: The Night of Vengeance appeared out of hyperspace among the many moons of the planet Gromas in the Perkell system. Its pilot, the Mandalorian bounty hunter and former Black Sun operative ShadowFett, smoothly entered orbit around the sixteenth moon. He needed something that was found there...something that would increase his resistance to damage as well as his ability to combat Jedi and Sith.

The moon had enough of an atmosphere to support life, and it was close enough to the sun to be a desert of a world. It was extremely hot during the day, when it was exposed, but conversely cold when the sun was on the far side of the moon. This baking-and-cooling process had done many things to the stones and mountains found around the globe, but, most importantly, there was phrikite ore here.

The guidelines here are mod approved- BLCKCLONE

EDIT February 24th, 3:23 pm EST:

OOC: Thanks, Will.

IC:

ShadowFett brought his ship down to the moon's surface and departed swiftly. He brought with him his standard arsenal of weapons as well as a hoversled with raised sides, making it deep enough to carry a good bit of phrikite ore. He wouldn't be making a whole suit of armor out of it, of course, but reinforcing his Mandalorian Iron as well as making a vibroblade to replace both his cortosis one and his regular one.

Phrik was even more immune to lightsaber blows than Mandalorian Iron was, its reflective qualities also giving it the ability to reflect blasterfire off at a directed correlating with the angle of the armor and blast impact. It didn't score when it did so, and only explosives and kinetic damage could fracture or destroy it.

He set out towards the nearby rock formation, carrying a sack of thermal detenators and rail charges to do the mining with. Using logs from 2277's information searches, Fett could identify phrikite veins and harvest them himself without aid from more experienced miners. He wouldn't want anyone to know what he was doing here anyway, if he could help it.

Meanwhile, 2277, still aboard the Night of Vengeance (as always), continued to do data search, attempting to locate large bounties on various criminals' heads as well as monitoring any possible chance of an incoming threat...for once, Fett didn't have too many enemies besides the Black Sun, his trouble with the Link paid off from his own pocket.

The search did turn up something interesting, though, and 2277 sent a comm to ShadowFett immediately. "Statement: Master, it seems that there is a certain 'Mandalore' in search of your whereabouts."

"Mandalore, eh?" Fett responded to the comm. "Sounds like someone I'd like to meet. Send a tracking signal to him so he can come here. I'll be waiting for him."

2277 complied.

EDIT February 28th, 3:05 pm EST:

Unsure of when he that was searching for him would catch on to the tracking beacon and arrive, ShadowFett continued to work the rock deposits, harvesting more and more of the valuable phrikite ore. It would take some time to refine, and he would need more than seemed necessary due to the possibility of losing some in the process, so he was sure to mine plenty.

He would be crafting a new vibroblade, one that could replace both his durasteel one and his cortosis one, both of which he constantly carried in a dual-sheath. The cortosis had a bit of an advantage over the phrikite, but if he trained long enough, he would be able to combat a Jedi in melee combat. It was possible for one not connected to the Force, and often droids had been constructed for the same purpose. Fett was more efficient than any droid and could formulate things that they couldn't, so it was possible for him to teach himself to fight better than they.

Additionally, he would be working on a thin undercoating to his Mandalorian Iron mainsuit, increasing his immunity to lightsaber blades as long as the target area was covered...of course, he would never be totally immune to a Jedi's weapon, but no being in the galaxy ever had been or will be. He would make a choker out of the phrik to protect his neck--the famous Jango Fett, who had been the last True Mandalorian at the time and was survived by a single heir, had been killed by beheading from the equally famous Jedi Master Windu.

This was history that one could learn a lesson from--ShadowFett had no intent of being killed in such a way.

Regardless, he had been here for enough time to have gathered an adequate amount of ore to allow for some error without compromising the quality and quantity of his armor and weapon modifications. If he had extra left over, he would enhance a few other things, and he wouldn't end up short.

Loading the raw ore into the Night of Vengeance, ShadowFett waited in the cockpit for another ship to appear from hyperspace....

A burst transmission came through a nearby relay station from Mandalore's R-41 Starchaser. The transmission stated:

-Message recieved and acknowledged.-

Well, it's a start, ShadowFett thought. At least he knew that this shady character had gotten his message. This one called himself 'Mandalore', the name reserved for the leader of the Mandalorian armies back when they existed. Mandalore was traditionally the greatest warrior among them, the most honorable and divine and the one that they all respected with unchangeable loyalty.

But Mandalore no longer existed. The Mandalorian supercommandos were gone into the past, survived, as far as ShadowFett was concerned, only by himself. It was his job to uphold their legacy, showing the galaxy what it meant to be a Mandalorian and representing them with his actions and convictions.

The simple thought that someone would travel the galaxy under the name Mandalore was insulting. Fett acknowledged the fact that it was possible, however unlikely, that another warrior had survived, another true representative of the Mandalorians. But he had not come across this warrior before, so he had no reason to believe it to be true.

He would find out when this 'Mandalore' came to him on Gromas 16.

Mandalore's starfighter reverted to realtime in an unfamiliar system. He was somewhere in the Mid Rim. His navi-comp listed the planet in closet proximity was called Gromas.

He manuevered his ship into low orbit, conducting a sensor sweep for life forms. After a few minutes, his scans showed one lifeform reading down on the planets surface. There was also an unidentifed ion trail emission detected. He pushed forward on the stick, causing the ship to descent through it's thin atmosphere toward the surface below. The surface looked dry to him, possibly a desert planet like Tatooine.

Just over the next dune, his eyes focused on something in the distance. There was an energy reading coming from the same direction as the object. He performed a quick flyby of the object to assess the area for possible threats. Sensors pick up nothing except for the energy reading coming of the object, that he had identified as a ship. The unknown ship sat in a flat area of the sand, isloted in plain sight.

A bold move. A bold one indeed.

Mandalore landed his ship his full veiw of the other ship. He sat there behind the safety of his starfighter shields, anticipating a sneek attack. While inside his ship he ran a chack of his weapon systems, both offensive and defensive. In a specially made holder above his head on the roof of his cockpit was a modified DC-17m assault rifle. He lowered his shields, exiting the cockpit with his rifle slung over his right shoulder. His black and silver hybrid Katarn class armor had been retrofitted with mandalorian ore and modern pulse wave technology, which generated thin layer of energy around the suit like a shield.

He stood out in the open and called out his quarry.

"ShadowFett!"

No sooner had Mandalore's ship exited hyperspace than 2277 made ShadowFett aware of it. It was a nice starfighter, but not the ship of a bounty hunter, with no extra room for captives and prisoners. 'Mandalore' was apparently not a bounty hunter. It was more likely that he had joined some vigilante group or something--lots of Mandalorians used to do that just to satisfy their lust for justice.

Fett waited until the starfighter detected him and landed a cautious distance away. Arming himself, he lowered the boarding ramp and stepped out, turning to face the character that he had arranged to meet. He began to walk towards him, passive scanners gathering a little information on him.

'Mandalore''s armor wasn't Mandalorian, per se, but a strange hybrid of something called Katarn armor that Fett wasn't familiar with. His scans picked up on the fact that it was reinforced with Mandalorian Iron and pulse wave technology. He would be very well protected by it against the normal combatant.

ShadowFett was carrying his assault rifle in his hands like he usually was, but if one looked they could tell that he was also carrying a pair of Westar-34 blaster pistols, a rail detenator, a Tenloss disruptor rifle, a carbine, and countless smaller weapons emblacements built into his gauntlets and other focal points on his armor, topped off by a concussion missile protruding from the top of his large rocket/repulsor pack, which he had armored well.

Continuing to walk, he was soon face-to-face with 'Mandalore'. His helmet, distinctive because of the Mandalorian T-visor, betrayed no emotion but a deadly silence. He broke that silence. "Who are you, who do you think you are, and why were you looking for me?" he asked, though his tone was more demanding and authoritative than questioning. His voice was accented and filtered through his helmet. Had one been alive 200 years prior, they would have recognized it as the voice of the entire Clone Army that had fought the Clone Wars. To him, it was the voice of Jango Fett, the last True Mandalorian of his time.

And so it begins.....

Mandalore watched the being known as ShadowFett emerge from his ship. He wore Mandalorian armor that was reminiscent of a commando group that used to call themselves the "True Mandalorians". That particular armor configuration was made even more popular by two notoriously cunning and deadly bounty hunters. Both with the last name Fett. Republic records confirm the death of one one them. Jango. Looking at ShadowFett, he wondered could there have been a third?

ShadowFett carried a wide assortment of weapons. Most of which were visible on holsters or clipped to a harness or pistol belt. In contrast, most of Mandalore's weapons were concealed in various compartments, in optimal areas of his armor. The larger items were concealed in a storage area on his back, similar to an armored ruch sack. The only weapon he carried in plain sight was his DC-17m and himself.

"My name is Mandalore. I am a member of a covert police unit known as the Death Strikers. I have come here to for two reasons. The first reason is because you were once affiliated with the Black Sun and I plan to take you in for questioning. The second reason is because I am curious to see what a true Mandalorian looked like?"

"You have the only surviving True Mandalorian before you," ShadowFett said. "I am the only true follower of the Mandalorian Codex laid down by Jaster Mereel, and therefore the only one worthy of the title 'Mandalorian'. Anyone can make the claim to be a Mandalorian, and there are far too many that do so in this galaxy."

Fett let the implications sink in for a moment before continuing, changing the subject. "I used to work for the Black Sun, and I did so for years. I was their top operative, a proven greater warrior than Piccolo himself. But he failed to understand how important I had become to the faction and deliberately violated the Codex. The Black Sun has already suffered because of it."

To provide more information, of course, would be foolish. He wasn't here to explain himself. ShadowFett changed the subject a third time, "You spoke of 'taking me in.' It's not going to happen unless I allow it. I led you here so that you could explain yourself. You masquerade under the name 'Mandalore.' Tell me--do you have the slightest idea what that name means?"

"The term Mandalore refers to two things. The planet Mandalore has figured steadily into Mandalorian history, through whether it was the planet origin remains disputed; legend has it the world was named after its conquerer Mandalore the First, whose warriors slaughtered the mammoth mythosaurs that dominated the planet. Historically the Mandalorians often made conquered planet their home, planets such as the great gladiatorial combat world Kuar during the great Sith War and the surreal Shogun year before that. This practice lead to the use of the name "Mandalore" as a title signifying the appointed leader of the Mandalorian clans."

He stood with his arms folded across his chest. ShadowFett showed no indication whether or not he was impressed with the detailed information provided by Mandalore.

"Masquerade, you say? I am no the pretender. I am a descendant of Mandalore the Indomitable. A third generation full blood Mandalorian. Not some clone. If anyone has the right to lay claim to the Mandalorian mantle, it is I above all others. Including you, Shadow Fake. Of course you know, there is only one way to settle this dispute. Trial by combat."

ShadowFett raised his eyebrows beneath his helmet when Mandalore spouted knowledge about the Mandalorian past. His posture didn't change in the slightest, however, so Mandalore wouldn't be able to tell his expression changed. It was curious that he knew so much on the topic and yet still chose to defile the name of the Mandalorian leader by bearing it himself.

"You have no more right to that title than a bantha," ShadowFett said, still mostly emotionlessly. "The title was not passed down by bloodright, nor was it handed out to whoever felt like they wanted to call themselves that. It was earned through great actions and valor."

The other man had then proceeded to deliberately attempt to anger him through insults and a challenge. That, in itself, was not very honorable--a Mandalorian never threatened unless he knew he was able to carry through with his threat. Neither of these two had seen the other in combat, so neither had the right to make threats. He wouldn't be angered, of course, but the challenge was a curious one.

"You called me a clone," he continued after a short pause. "What makes you think that you speak the truth? And even if I were a clone, what difference would it make?"

Mandalore admired the other Mandalorians' resolve. His attempts to enrage him or provoke a fight had failed. He half smiled behind the T-visor of his helmet. Maybe ShadowFett was worthy of the title of a true Mandalorian?

"I don't consider my name a title. I chose the name Mandalore to honor my great ancestor. When came into my "prime", I believed I was the last known Mandalorian operating in the Core regions. Republic records showed that after the Jedi killed Jango Fett, he was identified as the last of the Mandalorian invaders. All others were "disposible"clones that noone, even the proud Jedi cared about. My benefactor helped me search for others like me, though we only found pretenders. So in short, my name honors the memory of all great Mandalorians and stands as a reminder to all that dare take our name in vain."

Mandalore touched a small button on the side of helmet, causing the dark tint of his T-visor to to gradually lighten and become fully transparent. His brown skin and dark eyes, now visible, stared piercingly at the other man.

"This is who I am. A few of the others I mentioned before, were aliens in diguise, using our name and reputation to give then false authority or superioroty over others. I killed them all. There were at least three others, mercenaries that turned out to be clones. They died fighting for their employer. Naturally I assumed you were a clone, as well."

He moved closer to the other man, treading steadily over the soft sand. ShadowFett did not move. Mandalore's blaster rifle was still slung over his shoulder and his hands were in the open. He turned slightly to his right, pointing toward his starfighter. A red light blinked behind the canopy in a steady rhythm.

"I may have misjudged you, ShadowFett. That light represents a homing beacon. The beacon will bring a mutual aquaintence to our current location. A former teacher and friend, of your named Piccolo. I was propositioned by the Black Sun to find and eliminate you. I accepted the job, hoping I could persuade you to side with me, if I wasn't forced kill you first. I stand before you as a law enforcer, but I am a Mandalorian first and always. Consider that beacon a clock counting down to choice. Fight me! Show me that you are, what you say you are and you will have earned my respect and trust. Or you can kill me and go into hiding from Piccolo. Though I would think you would stay and meet your ex-teacher/friend in honorable combat. So which is it gonna be?"

His T-visor returned to it's opague darkness and he unslung his rifle, holding it at the ready awaiting the other Mandalorian's decision.

sorry

ShadowFett was unsure whether to be offended or moved. It was clear to him then that this man at least truly believed that he was a Mandalorian, and he at least tried to walk that walk. He had been in much the same position that Fett had been in since making his name known to the galaxy. Or he could just be a pretender, Fett reminded himself.

He was slightly angered when he learned that this man was helping Piccolo find him and that he had originally been working to come and attempt to kill him, but if this man actually turned out to be of Mandalorian ideals and values, there was something deeper here, something that ShadowFett could perhaps relate to.

"Regardless of my origins, I was raised by a Mandalorian that survived the civil war on the wrong side and repented. He no longer exists, but he relayed to me first the legacy of Jaster Mereel. I have no reason to believe anything that you say until you prove yourself," ShadowFett said, though his words revealed a little less hardness this time. "You can only prove yourself through combat. Let us begin."

The experienced bounty hunter turned his back to Mandalore and strode several paces away. He pulled his Westar-34s from their holsters and spun them once around his fingers much as Jango Fett once had, then gave a short bow to Mandalore as he would a Mandalorian, though that remained to be seen. Either way, glory would be obtained in this fight.

Without another word, in an almost anti-climatic crescendo, ShadowFett opened fire with a concentrated volley of blaster bolts. He had not trained extensively on accuracy with weapons of this kind (though he was an apt sniper), but he didn't forgo aiming as a typical mercenary would. He sent himself into a sideways flip unaided from his jetpack, taking several strafing strides first to get momentum.

As gravity shifted around him and the red gleam of blasterfire reflected off his deep black armor, ShadowFett began calculating his next set of movements. His initial barrage would be formidable, but he couldn't expect it to penetrate Mandalore's armor. If the other man stumbled, he could take advantage of it quite easily, but he didn't expect him to, so he shifted his feet just enough to land in a defensive crouch with one blaster still raised and firing.

The dallorian alloy the Westars were made of made them perfect for such a concentrated attack--they were impossible to overheat, lasting longer even than a blaster rifle that employed freelol or some other powerful cooling agent. This was their use emphasized until Fett selected a weapon more suitable to this specific scenario.

OOC: Just as we discussed over PM. Three posts each, then I'll make the concluding post, however it may be.

Piccolo's Firespray ship emerged from hyperspace. He scanned the surface below him.

It appears it was a moon not a planet. I hope Beltran can still find it.

Piccolo flew into the atmosphere following the homing beacon's signal. His synthetic eyes focused their vision, magnifying the ground below. From inside his ship, the form of two Mandalorians battling was clearly visible. Landing nearby, Piccolo took out his speeder bike, and zoomed to a nearby outcropping. He was still fairly distant, but with this powerful eyes the battle was clearly visible.

I still regret ShadowFett's betrayal. He will die in battle at least.

A small ship blasted out of hyperspace above the planet of Gromas. The red tint that the planet emitted was blinding, it was as though the planet was a giant sun, perhaps.

The gauges on his ship alerted him of overheating, but thankfully, Luthis spotted a small shaded area where he set the ship down. Cracking his neck, he walked steadily down the ramp, looking out into the red abyss. Smiling behind his helmet, he went back to the ship. He placed the dual E-11's onto his belt, just incase he met any... interference. Pressing in a 4-digit code, another compartment lowered, and a Sniper Rifle lay there, disassembled. Sitting at his work bench, Luthis placed it together in a few quick minutes.

Pulling his speeder off the roof of his ship, he warmed it up, and jumped on it. Moving out of the ship, he rocketed forward in search of the infamous phrikite ore.

--------

Luthis's luck turned out to be stale. Scanning what seemed to be the whole planet turned out to be empty. The desert seemed to have the same landscape for thousands of miles, but there was always something that pushed him to go further, there was something that was waiting for him.

Using his Thermal Vision that was installed into his suit's interface, he scanned the surrounding area. There were a few shaded spots that showed up a much lighter red, but there was something that drew him farther out into the desert, a shine that met his visor, something was here.

Jumping off the bike, Luthis scanned the rock that was present in the area. His suit performed a few inquiries that were sent to his ship's core computer and came back with a positive remark. This was just what the Dr. ordered.

Gathering a few rocks from the garden of phrikite, he placed them into a bag that was drooped over his bike's back. Luthis also took a few for himself, he would need to amend this armor, it wasn't up to present... specifications. Nodding as he grabbed the rest of the ore that lay in this particular spot, he jumped off the speeder and walked back into his ship.

Luthis was beginning to tire, but he wanted to get this job finished before the day would grow old. He placed the Dr.'s ore into a hard metallic box that was neatly placed in the back of his ship. He placed the ore that he gathered for himself into a bag at the front of his ship.

There was something about the planet that really turned Luthis off. It was a presence, but one that he could feel, not one that he could see. The planet seemed to be deserted by the look of it high in the atmosphere, but the feeling Luthis was getting deep inside his gut said otherwise.

"Always follow your gut." Those were the wise words that his father used to tell him. His father had, had a very big impact on his life, he showed him the ropes to his bounty hunting, his bounty hunting is what got him killed. He was too nosy one day, and a shot landed in his forehead. Luthis had learned not to be nosy, and this was a good instance to avoid.

Prepping his ship, he took back into the infinite realms of space.

He had not expected the other man or the swiftness of his movements. Time stood still as Fett committed himself to action, answering Mandalore's previous question with the blaster pistols he recognized as Westar-34's. It would appear that his opponent shared a liking for the more classic weapons. His own DC-17m was a relect of the "Clone War". Through his weapons training and master over dozens of weapons he had found that his current rifle was the only one versitle enough for his line of work.

Mandalore dove hard, to the right, firing two three round bursts at Fett. The ground where he stood less than two seconds ago, exploded leaving black holes in the sand. ShadowFett's other shot found thier marks also. One shot struck his armor on his thigh and another bolt caught his lower left shin plating. Niether of the shots penetrated his pulse wave shielding.

His dive, turned into a shoulder roll. He used his momentum, to bring himself partially upright, in a crouched position. The butt of Mandalore's weapon was instinctively brought up to his shoulder, his sights aimed at Fett. He fired the DC-17m on full auto this time. His shots lit up the landscape inside their makeship arena, leaving blackened areas of sand where his shots missed the mark.

With his finger still on the trigger, he lowered his hand from the bottom of the rifle's barrel and reach for the objects that had been released from the armored carrying(back pack) compartment. In a fluid motion he activated the objects and through them forward at Fett. As the objects left his hand, he returned his free hand back to its' original place underneath the rifle's barrel to steady his shots. The grenades exploded, throwing sand into the wind and high into the air. With his vision obscured, he released the pressure on the trigger. Steam rose from the barrel of his rifle after his cease fire, while he waited for a confirmed visual of his target before continuing his assault.

Several hours later, Beltran's vessel, the Shadowfax exited hyperspace. He had reached his destination at last. While Piccolo's instructions had in fact, been incorrect since Gromas was not a planet, but a moon, Beltran hadn't had any trouble located the appropriate system. As he entered the atmosphere, he used the ships sensor suite to home in on Piccolo's ship. His sensors alerted him to the fact that two other ships also appeared to have landed on the surface. One, he knew, belonged to the bounty hunter Mandalore. The other he did not recognize, but figured that it belonged to the mysterious ShadowFett.

I'll give the whole area a wide berth, He thought to himself. I don't want to give myself away before I have to.

He brought his ship to a small clearing, located several kilometers away from Piccolo's Firespray. He landed it without incident and quickly shut down all of his systems.

I'd better get moving, Piccolo may require assistance. Today ShadowFett will come to regret his betrayal, and I will have a chance to prove myself once and for all.

Beltran was definitely not one to garner sentimental feelings, but he couldn't help feeling a little excited. The leader of the Black Sun had chosen him to fight alongside in one of the more important battles in recent Black Sun history. Moving quickly from the ship's cockpit, Beltran made his way down to the storage lockers. He opened the locker and quickly dawned a suit of protective armor. He tucked both of his blastech side arms in separate waist holsters. Then, he grabbed two of the Merr-Sonn repeating rifles he had bought earlier and slung them across his back. He then made sure he had several power packs for each of his weapons safely tucked away. Finally, Beltran pulled out a Golan Arms FC1 Flechette Launcher from his locker. Without so much as a pause, Beltran quickly loaded the flechettes into the weapons and cocked it. He didn't bother bringing spare cartridges for it.

I won't have time to reload it anyway. He thought to himself.

Fully prepared for battle, Beltran exited his vessel and closed the hatch. Then he pulled out his datapad and quickly scanned the area.

”œPiccolo is three kilometers in that direction.”

ShadowFett mentally nodded when Mandalore offered his own intense volley of blasterfire. His own shots had met the pulse wave shielding, a technology that Fett had never had to penetrate before. It seemed that it could stop limited energy bolts without even scoring the Mandalorian Iron armor itself, offering an impressive, almost impenetrable defense.

Of course, Fett had a pair of weapons that could easily penetrate such a field and even the armor beneath it with little luck, but he would hold off on drawing those until a later stage of combat. Presently, he had to worry about the volley of blasterfire threatening the cut the battle short.

Most of them were dazzlingly accurate, but the black-armored Mandalorian kept light on his feet, moving with a grace unexpected from one laden with armor. The armor, despite its obvious strength, was extremely thin, its secret being in that only an inch of it was required to stop fire from full-fleged laser cannon.

Blasterbolts hit the ground and whizzed past all around him, but none found their mark. As the small grenades flew in, ShadowFett had to leap backwards to avoid their detenations, which produced a cloud of sand. While Mandalore fired blindly through it, Fett instantly switched his visor to a visor that filtered out such debris and vision-hampering chaff. He fired a few well-aimed shots that hit Mandalore in the chest hard enough to knock him backwards into a stumble.

Immediately Fett activated his rocket pack and thrust into the air, still hidden by the sand. Even as Mandalore recovered from his stumble, Fett landed in front of him, holding an assault rifle now. He bashed his opponent's helmet with its butt, then hooked his foot around the man's knee and dropped him to his back, delivering another hit with his other foot as his opponent fell. Each hit brought Fett into interference from the pulse wave technology, each sending a shock of pain through his body, but pain was nothing to a Mandalorian, whereas the aspect of physical combat was essential.

Rather than pressing the advantage, he strafed off to the left, attempting to disorient Mandalore temporarily. He crouched and waited for Mandalore to turn and meet a barrage of laser fire from his assault rifle.

Pulse wave technology had saved him many times before in the past. The only problem with it is that it didn't absorb the force of the bolt upon impact. Mandalore was sure that every area where he had took a shot would have a new bruise for him to attend to later, if he survived.

Fett's attack from the air, caught him off guard although he expected it to come sooner or later. He noticed his rocketpack intially when they first met. He had declined the option on his current configuration of armor, settling for a solid defense over ariel manueverability.

What happened next was a blurr. Fett had managed to a land a couple of well placed shots to his chest, knocking him on his back. The instant after that Fett was on top of him and the butt of his rifle was rammed into Mandalore's helmet. The hit did nothing more than rattle his head inside his well protected housing. Fett's follow up attack was more a show of force and reckless abandonment. Noone in their right mind puches shielding of anykind due to the electrical feedback. He was sure Fett noticed his strikes had no effect no effect on him. His opponent fled from close quarter combat, leaving a flurry of blaster bolts in his wake.

Mandalore was trying to sit up when he noticed a series of shots coming his way. To avoid them him simply fell back and rolled toward the source of the blaster fire. He brought himself up onto his knees, with weapon at the ready. A scan of the terrain showed Fett had concealed himself behind a dune. He switched his ammo type to tracer, firing florescent green bolts at the ground in the other man's general area. From his forearm gauntlet he fired what appeared to be pellets, into the air over the dune where his quarry sought temporary cover.

Sparklers are a series of 15 small orbs that pulse with bright lights that hover in the air until their small powercells burn out(within 5 minutes). Each individual orb increases its' intial flash brightness by 25 pecent. These random and increasingly bright flashes make it hard for someone with light dampening technology to adjust their equipment so they can see.

Mandalore's T-visor was covered by a T-designed armor plate, shielding his eyes from the flashes. The tracer rounds he fired off earlier where now visible, inside his helmet display. Each tracer turned into a fine powder upon impact covered anything in it's 35 meter range in the powder. His helmet carried a filter designed to target and outline everything covered by the powder. He had a near perfect representation of the terrain. As he walked over the nearby dune, he saw Fett. It was clear that his sparklers were having the desired effects.

He moved in swift and silent, until he was within three feet of the other man. Grabbing the barrel of his DC-17m, he swung it at Fett's helmet(baseball style). The loud crack and the way the man fell to the sand made him think he had broke his neck, but the other man quickly recovered by trying to stand up. Mandalore threw two concussion grenades in Fett's direction, then dove for cover as they went off.

The last flash of the remaining sparkler had ended. Mandalore removed the armored plating over his T-visor, now looking upon the other man with his own eyes. He raised his rifle and fired two shots. The first grazed the right side of his chest plate and the other caught Fett on the shoulder, spinning him around to the ground.

Mandalore's vision was blurred and his head was aching slightly. His usually tight shot group was off. It was then that he realized that he was suffering from minor exposure to the concussion grenades. He gave himself a little distance between the two of them, while firing off random shots in Fett's direction.

sorry double post

"We wait until Mandalore kills him. Be prepared, Fett will attempt to flee if Mandalore loses. We must not allow him to escape. Be especially careful of his starship. He will try to use it against us."

Piccolo knew Fett's battle tactics well. He hoped Mandalore would do his job, but right now the battle was too close to call. The hunter watched the two warriors, recording the scene with his helmet. Regardless of which one was victorious, the information recorded would be a valuable insight into their battle strategy.

"I will be ready, sir."

Beltran nodded, hefting his flechette launcher to one hand. With his free hand he pulled his datapad out and checked the map he had created using his ship's sensors. He determined the quickest route to ShadowFett's vessel. I should be able to intercept him before he reaches the vessel, He mused. After we are finished here, I should spend some time collecting phrikite ore. It may become useful at a later time. It was becoming quite apparent to Beltran that if he was to continue in this profession, he would have to arrange for some better equipment.

OOC: You underestimate and misjudge me. Fett wouldn't hide behind a dune.

IC:

The random flashes from yet another of Mandalore's technologically sound arsenal were easily filtered out by Fett's automatically light hampering visor. He didn't need to take the time to manually adjust it each time, effectively negating the effect of Mandalore's tactic.

When the other man approached, Fett was prepared to defend himself from a melee attack, but not quite fast enough to evade an unexpectedly-precise and fast attack that mirrored the one he had dealt out earlier. Pain erupted through his neck, but he simply refused to let it slow him down whatsoever. He wasn't damaged, so there was no reason to lose efficiency over it.

ShadowFett braced himself when he next saw a pair of concussion grenades. If he stood and took them, he would be knocked unconcious. Instead, he launched himself into a repulsor pack-aided backflip that mostly cleared him from their range before they detenated. He landed slightly dazed to take two blasterbolts, one to the chest and the other to the shoulder, but he stayed on his feet, strong and defiant.

Mandalore once again retreated to ranged-combat distance, where he was apparently much more comfortable. Fett was somewhat contrary to that, much preferring melee combat with his vibroblade and fists, but Mandalore's shielding practically negated that possibility...unless the shield was overloaded and decomissioned.

Drawing his rail detenator, Fett leapt over the peak of the dune that Mandalore was on the other side of and rolled as he reached it. He came up on a knee and fired the four mini-blasters on his forearm in rapid succession, each hitting Mandalore's visor. Even if they were nowhere near enough to penetrate the shielding, they blinded the man temporarily.

Temporarily was enough. Fett took his time, aimed, and fired a rail charge. It sizzled through the air and struck Mandalore full on. The charge exploded into a large blast of fire two meters across. Mandalore's pulse wave shield was overloaded ((assuming that it can be and that you're not invincible)) and he was sent flying backwards by the blast.

Fett lauched himself after his opponent with his rocket pack and fired his whipcord, which wrapped Mandalore's arms up so that he could not cushion his fall with his arms. It had been a perfect shot at the perfect moment--this was maximum efficiency, something Fett experienced only in the most difficult of battles. His head was clouded from the grenade, but instinct and discipline enabled him to do the impossible and perform incredibly well despite other factors.

But the fight wasn't over.

OOC: That was three for me.

Mandalore fell to the ground face first. The impact knocked some of the air out of him and left him slightly disoriented. The whipcord's hold on him was like a vice, tightly securing his arms at his sides. Above him he could hear the familiar sound of a jet pack, accompanied by the occasional tug of the line as Fett hovered above.

His armor was at 50 percent. Fett had managed to disrupt the pulse wave's frequency dispersment apparatus, overloading it causing a temporary shut down. This was a problem, but not one he couldn't resolve given time and opportunity. All power to remaining weapons were still green lighted. The hybrid armor he wore was good at taking direct and indirect small arms fire, though a well placed shot from anything of blast rifle caliber or higher, would surely be fatal.

Mandalore could feel the whipcord begining to cut off the circulation to his hands. Right above his wrists, were the housings for an unusual weapon or countermeasure. He rolled himself over to get a better look at the substance the whipcord was made of. He couldn't place its' origin though his new it was a kind a metal. That info was all he needed.

He activated his offensive countermeasure known as an arc caster. It was borrowed technology from a failed Imperial experiment. The arc caster fires jolts of pure electricity. Enough to disable or kill depending on the desired voltage. Mandalore dialed the voltage to medium, hoping the built in insulation of his armor would hold long enough for his gamble to work.

The current traveled along the binding whipcord around Mandalore's body then up to it source, Fett. The metal alloy in the whipcord was an excellent conductor. The current overloaded the mechanism attached to the whipcord, causing the tension in the wire to loosen and he was able to get free of it's hold. Fett also was feeling the effects of the arc caster. He wasn't sure if the current shorted out his jetpack or if Fett manually cut the engines, but the other Mandalorian was no longer airborne by the time he got to his feet.

Pulse wave shields were still down, as he rose to his feet. His DC-17m was about six feet in front of him partially buried in the sand. A quick surge of energy to his magnetic gloves brought the blaster rifle to his hands. Across the way Fett was back up with weapons in hand. The time for games was over. He fired at the other man, fully automatic. Fett returned fire. With every shot fired Mandalore advanced forward, dodging and weaving through blaster fire. The two warriors moved about each other, firing and dodging the others attacks.

Mandalore caught a shot to his lower rib area. The effects of no shields were more apparent now. The shot didn't go through, but it more than likely cracked a rib and knocked him off his feet. He managed to make his body move with the force of the shot, turning it into roll and bringing himself left of his previous position in the prone. More shots came and he rolled away from them, finally getting back up on his feet. A few of his shots found their marks as well. He was sure that he had hit one of the thruster units on Fett's jetpack. Neither man gave ground and the battle raged on.

OOC:My third post in our fight.

Sorry. It seems whenever a make a long post it posts it double. To the powers that be, please delete this.

ShadowFett couldn't help but be impressed by Mandalore's resourcefulness. It paralleled his own in a way, reflecting a Mandalorian's love for technology and self-advancement through its means. They had always stolen or purchased the latest weapons and security measures through the years even before the Mandalorian Wars, something that aided in their many successes before their defeat at the hands of Jedi Revan.

Fett landed when the electric pulse erupted through the whipcord and cut it off early enough that it didn't effect him--his reflexes were well-attuned. Finally things were brought down to an intense flurry of blaster fire which added several pockmarks to Fett's black armor. One shot snuck through and hit his jetpack, but its design protected it from suffering loss of performance ((it doesn't really have thrust nozzles)).

Finally, the Mandalorian fired from his gauntlet (without slackening the speed of his outgoing blaster fire) a grenade, which Mandalore detected. As he moved to evade, Fett sprinted forwards, holstering his blasters and grabbing a silver, cylindrical item that was dangling from his belt. The grenade exploded, producing a cover of sand that Fett knew Mandalore couldn't see through, though he could.

Leaping through the screen of sand, Fett thumbed the activation switch on the cylindrical device as he identified Mandalore as once again on his back from the detenation.

Snap-hiss.

A blue blade of energy erupted from the cylinder, extending a meter before halting its loop. Fett held the lightsaber blade down to Mandalore's neck, still appearing completely emotionless.

"You may recognize this weapon as that of a Jedi. This lightsaber belonged to one that can be identified as Jedi Master Kirlocca, a wookiee Jedi Master that is considered a focued warrior in the Jedi Order," Fett said. "I killed him not long ago and claimed this weapon as my trophy.

"But that is to underscore my point. You, Mandalore, fought with the skill of a Mandalorian and have displayed the honor through your speech and actions to some extent. You could not be expected to defeat me," the way he said it was respectful, not arrogantly. "I hardly consider you worthy of calling yourself that which you call yourself, and I think that you rely too much on your technology to the point where your skill is undermined, but I can see past that for now.

"Let it be known now that there are two Mandalorians in this galaxy," ShadowFett declared. "Let it also be known that one defeated the other in honorable combat. Finally, let it be known that the victor spared the life of the defeated just as was done in the training circles of the Crusaders and Neo-Crusaders thousands of years ago. You are not my enemy, Mandalore."

With that, ShadowFett deactivated the lightsaber and returned it to his belt. "Now, I believe we have visitors to deal with."

The Mandalorian, his head clearing from the effects of the concussion grenades that had been launched earlier, turned to face Piccolo, who was watching from afar. He didn't say anything, only relaxed into a posture Piccolo would possibly be familiar with--his head was turned slightly down and to the side, his feet slightly less than shoulder-width apart, and his left hand rested on his right gauntlet, his right hand holding once again his assault rifle.

It essentially made the declaration, "I'm not going anywhere--fight me if that's what you came for." He simply didn't need to say it.

The armor of boldness was the only protection he needed right now. Against any odds, he would triumph this day.

The battle was over, and Fett was victorious. Beltran, who had been prepared to intercept the Mandalorian before he retreated, was surprised to find Fett had not moved. Instead he simply looked at them, as if daring the Black Sun leader to come down and fight him. Beltran for his part, was prepared to do just that. He leveled his flechette launcher at Fett menacingly. He didn't expect to scare the bounty hunter, Fett more than anyone would know that the weapon Beltran was carrying was only lethal at close range. Instead, Beltran was sending a simple message to his enemy.

Make no mistake, I fully intend to get close enough to use this.

Beltran's heart beat heavily in his chest, but not from fear. Beltran rarely felt fear before a battle. To feel fear means that one is afraid to die. I am not. He was excited. He had been waiting for this moment ever since he had entered the Citadel on Coruscant. Now is the time to prove my worth. He thought to himself. Beside him, he could hear Piccolo's breath begin to slow. His knew his employer was preparing for combat. Beltran waited for the order to go...

Piccolo activated his wrist link, and sent the Howling Runner into the atmosphere. The ship's advanced computer had preprogrammed sets of battle tactics for unmanned airfights. On the off chance that Mandalore lost and Fett was too cowardly to fight, Piccolo wanted to make sure he would have an obstacle preventing his escape.

OOC: Uh, Pic? The battle's already over.

Mandalore rose slowly from the ground, dusting sand off his armor. This fight had not gone the way he had played it out prior to the engagement. He had been insulted. This younger, shorter man declaring him a suitable Mandalorian was a slap in the face. Then questioning his claim to his name? He was thoroughly insulted.

His pulse wave armor was just now begining to power up again, flickering on and off as it's power level increased to full. He extended his handout to his right and activated his magnetic gloves, calling his rifle back to his hands. He briefly inspected it for damage, then slung it over his shoulder.

"I don't how things are done where you are from, but the galaxy I live in is populated by Jedi and Sith who have sever god complexes. They never hesitate to stop your heart, bombard you with large heavy objects, or crush your throat without a thought. I designed my armor with one purpose in mind; the total annihalation of anyone who dares stand across from me and challenge my obstinacy. My technology and ingenuity are the equalizers. And yes I do rely on them, but as I said before I didn't come here with the intention of killing you."

Mandalore looked over Fett's shoulder in the direction he was staring. An adjustment to his T-visor showed movement in the distance. Although the face wasn't clear, he knew it was Piccolo. He had been so preoccupied with the battle that he had forgotten about the tracking beacon in his ship.

"Piccolo is all yours, ShadowFett."