LiveDieLiveAgain

This time, the reaction speed of the fast-moving Imperial assassin failed her, and the rain of bullets from the heavy machine gun cut through her outer limbs as she reached for another tree. Her balance gone and her legs bleeding their fake blood, she hit the ground hard, collapsing near the spot where she had begun. Weakly, she reached for her weapon, only for her hand to be shot through by a burst of fire from the machine gun. As Borsk approached, he put away that weapon, drawing his long curved sword from it's resting place on his back. With deft strokes, he removed any belts and weapons she had on here, then readied himself to deliver the final blow. Before he could swing down, a weak kick interrupted his focused mindset. Borsk paused, looking down at the inhuman girl for a long moment, before sheathing his blade upon his back. The Trandoshan leaned down, crouching awkwardly next to her as blood dripped down his ruined helmet. "Ye fought well, an honorable opponent. I bear no hate for your kind, far better than the spineless cowards that consist of your allies. Perhaps, one day, we shall meet again on the field of battle, and there decide our fates." With one hand, Borsk reached up, drawing his long fingers through the mess of blood on his face and helmet. Having accumulated a good amount of it, he gently touched the forehead of the girl, wiping a streak of his blood on her, and taking a bit of her imitation blood for himself. He then left her, and quickly found the Moff she had been protecting. He didn't know which one it was, and frankly didn't much care. A single heavy punch knocked out the older moff, and lifing his unconscious body onto his shoulder, Borsk limped away toward the dropship he had arrived on. No doubt there would be others looking to return, and woe be to any who would try and stop his progress. All he wanted to do was get the moff dropped off, get paid, and get some food. (Three day posted by permission. Hopefully we get to duel again some time)

Borsk's head snapped back, his face a mask of pain and anger. A rogue bolt, fired by the wily girl he was attacking, had struck true, shattering the facemask of his gift-helmet. Blood dripped down his forehead, blocking any view from the left side of his face. He didn't know whether it was from his eye itself, whether he would ever be able to see from it again, all he knew was the blinding pain, pain like he had not felt in many years. Through the broken glass-like material, his good eye squinted forward, his target focused with a greater passion. She moved fast, with an agility he did not believe any human could possess, leaping between ornamental trees and expensive rocks. He noticed that she did not widely vary her angle, however, keeping herself between him and something hidden behind. The bolts continued to fly, joined by the rolling form of a grenade. To the practised eye of the veteran warrior, it was a fragmentation grenade, preset with standard imperial codes. It was unlikely, particularly while carrying the body of the deceased mercenary, that he would be able to kick away or avoid the explosive range. Also, he had no idea of when the grenade might go off, trying to pick one up and having it blow up in his hands was not an enviable fate. Thinking quickly, Borsk threw the body of the mercenary down toward the grenade, his bolt ridden form hopefully enough to cover up the explosion. However, he was now devoid of any cover from the endless fire as he charged across the open ground towards his enemy. The body blew up beside him, corpse launching up and to the side, only a few shreds of exploded metal impacting the armor of the Trandoshan. His success in protecting himself from the grenade was counterbalanced by the impacts of more rounds, several getting into the gaps of his heavy armor, leaving burning wounds and limiting his mobility. Taking the offensive again, Borsk charged into close range, only a dozen paces from his athletic opponent. He moved like a carrier, slow to start but difficult to stop once going. Dropping the concussion rifle, Borsk pulled the LS-150 Heavy Accelerated Charged Particle Repeater Gun from his back, spraying rounds as he pulled the machine gun toward his target. His aim on target, Borsk continued firing, trying to stop her rapid movements and get her into close range, a hundred tiny rounds ready to tear her to fleshy shreds with the traditional weapon of the Trandoshan Heavy Mercenary. ((2))

The best part about the advanced set of armor the Trandoshan bounty hunter had received from the Black Sun leader was no doubt the helmet's noise canceling abilities, and the fact that he could wear his sound spliting SpaceBuds (STM) inside of its protective casing. Borsk's head nodded back and forth as he rocked out to his favorite Space Metal, by the up and coming military band Spaceaton from the frozen land of Hazor. In his other ear, of course, he had the other, less useful and more annoying sounds, like local comm traffic and the sounds of battle and death around him. There were some, no doubt, who would have frowned on the warrior disregarding standard battle methods or orders in so cavalier a manner, but for them, the mercenary cared little. He was here to complete his mission, the opinions of other be damned. His reverie was shattered as a hail of blaster bolts splattered into his armor or whizzed by him, their grouping tight and regular, a mark of a skilled warrior. Most of the head on bolts, while powerful, had little effect on the powerful frontal armor he wore, and did little more than scratch and scar the heavy gear. However, their number allowed for odd angles and lighter pieces to be hit, and Borsk rapidly gained several light wounds on his extremities, plasma scarring already punching through his scaly secondary line of defense. A few more minutes in this fire, by a skilled and heavily armed opponent, would no doubt tear even the massive trandoshan to pieces. In addition, there was little cover in his area, no thick walls to hide behind or destroyed equipment, only oriental trees and bright green bushes. "Hey, we need to break through the lines at..." A Black Sun sub-officer slipped up beside and behind Borsk, using the frame of the much larger warrior as a shield from the incoming fire. His words of direction were quickly interrupted as the Mandalorian mercenary grabbed him by the back of the neck with one armored hand, yanking the short human in front of him to act as a body shield against the incoming fire. A scream of pain from the officer was amplified by the sound ports of the helmet, the mercenary refusing to donate a second thought toward the fate of his former 'ally'. He cared little for the lives of any but those who had proved their worth, and cowering behind someone larger was not a way to prove bravery. As the body continued to jerk with the impact of rounds, Borsk got his first look at his antagonist. It was but a girl, crouched some distance away behind an ancient tree. Unlike some killers, Borsk knew better than to underestimate even a child, for they were often Force Users or assassins, and the fact that she was actively participating in the battle, and had drawn his blood, marked her as an opponent not to be disregarded. Half carrying, half pushing the body in front of him, Borsk charge headlong at the girls position. Ignoring the potential to be flanked from the side, he had seen no other specialty warriors, and few of the regular troops would have the battle acumen or skill to switch targets and land accurate and effective shots with their weaker blasters. Covering ground rapidly, Borsk knew his heavy bayoneted LS-150, its blood red frame resting on its back, ready to rend flesh from bone and soul from body, would be more than sufficient to end the fight at closer range, and he only hoped the corpse of the man he held would sustain the barrage till he could reach the girl. At the same time, Borsk braced his current weapon, an LJ-50 concussion rifle, on the shoulder of the body he carried, firing rapidly with the hand that held the pistol-style grip. Though his rapid motion might throw off his normal accuracy, the five-meter radius of explosive effect would tear the girl to peices if he could land but a single shot upon her small frame. ((1))

The small dark dropship had barely grounded on the hard and battle-scared grounds of Kuat, when the single passenger the assault vessel carried exited rapidly out the back, his armor glisteneing beneath the array of rare and deadly weapons he carried. The mercenary knew that even a small dropship like the one he had taken from the Black Sun would be a target for any weapons batteries planted around the palace of the Moffs, or for hidden ground troops with launchers. On his own scaly feet, he had little fear of what opposition might await him. Black Sun vessels, some intent on capturing priosners and others no doubt focusing solely on plunder, had already landed and commenced their assault, the screams of the dying and the explosions of blaster bolts and grenades already reaching his ears. Blood and slaughter awaited his arrival, and rather than share the glory of the battle with the dropships that were continually landing, Borsk charged for the front, the heavy impact of each step shaking the thin layer of dust from the ground. As he got nearer, several stray bolts impacted his heavy armor, the high-quality protection dispersing the superpowered charge before it could impact the scales below. It was not his job to assist the front lines, however, nor did the veteran bounty hunter particularly care about the soldeirs fighting and dying there. He would scout the battle, and find the Moffs. The Black Sun would pay well for their capture.

A hail of blaster bolts thudded into the wall that Borsk was taking cover behind, the screams of the wounded and dying and the explosions of battle making an unholy symphony in the now crowded mess hall. The Black Sun troops that Borsk had accompanied were currently engaged with a company of Imperial troops that had intercepted them in an abandoned mess hall. The two sides fought with a true contrast of styles, the very mindsets and beliefs of the different factions clear in their combat. The better trained and armed Imperials fought with calm and dogged resolve, relying on their skill and coordination to defeat the varied attackers that were thrown against them. Each life was sold dearly for them, a struggle to survive and defend the all important shipyards. The Black Sun, however, fought with reckless abandon and endless tenacity. Their numbers were their weapon, throwing themselves forward into combat with little regard for life or limb. Victory was all that mattered for the crazed soldiers of the criminal syndicate. Borsk leaned around the wall, his heavy rifle sending out a hail of rounds against the positions held by the officer commanding this Imperial group. Both sides took cover behind overturned tables and counters, using whatever limited cover that could be accessed. The fight was, however, tipping slightly in the favor of the Black Sun. The inability of the Imperial troops to set up functional defensive positions, the preferred fighting style of the Imperial troops, and the greater numbers of the Black Sun personel told heavily against them. Several members of the Black Sun strike force had strapped themselves with thermal detonators, and crept through the wreckage of broken tables and seats toward the Imperial positions, ready to give their lives for the cause and for their families far away. The tall Trandoshan grabbed the shoulder of the Black Sun commander as he reached the forward position, towering a full foot over the smaller human, "Mine mission is elsewhere. I must go. Continue the assault here." Borsk quickly turned away, making a dash across an exposed area as he headed toward the nearest dropship. Though he respected the desperate bravey both sides had shown, unlikely the cowardly armies of some of those he had fought, he cared little for the lives of the individual soldiers on either side. His coordinates were for the planet below, and taking a light dropship that had deployed some of the special forces of the Sith, Borsk headed for the planet, and the Moffs that waited there. His time as a bounty hunter had prepared him well for this mission. The Moff's palace lay before him, lightly defended only by their guards, and he feared them not.

Borsk paced restlessly on the bridge of the powerful ship, the lord of the Black Sun only a few feet away. He felt almost helpless as the two mighty fleets moved to engage each other, a sense of being only a tiny part of a massive machine. This was not his style of war, and there was little one such as he could do upon the bridge, save wait and hope for a victory. Veteran Warlords and well trained crews staffed each of these titanic ships, most fulfilling duties and performing tasks of which the bounty hunter knew nothing. No, Borsk knew his place was on the planet, in the chaos and bloodshed, hunting the enemies of the Sith and of the Crusaders. "Lord Delta," Borsk hissed, leaning toward the man who had welcomed him to the battle. "I go to hunt, to prey upon the weak and the hiding. I can do little here, my skills are wasted. I go to bring glory, for the Crusaders whom I serve, and for yourself, who has honored me with this gift." Without waiting for a reply, Borsk strode rapidly away to the long bays of smaller ships. The blood lust could be felt in the air, the rining screams of the dying and the war cries of the living already calling through his comm. Borsk worked alone, and had little need of orders over the comm, so he listened with a sadisitic smile to the sounds of war in one ear, the other listening intently for any signs of present danger. Dozens of transports ships still remained in the ships, and Borsk choose one smaller and faster than most, his former time as a ship's captain serving him well as he expertly piloted the small craft away from the battle of titans. Heavy feet pounded on the nearly empty corridor as Borsk landed in a nearly empty mess hall, his ship cutting an entry way for him. It appeared to be a mess hall, deserted by the warriors that had rushed to battle and death. The tall Trandoshan purposfully avoided the front lines, knowing he could do but little to change or aid the tides of battle. Instead, he was heading deeper into the shipyards, weapons at the ready. In his hands he held his concussion rifle, primed to send a imploding energy charge at whoever might be unfortunate enough to cross his path. A heavy shotgun, stun carbine, light machine gun and his precious sword also waited on his back, while a layer of thermal detonators, stun and fragmentation grenades sat below them. He had come to hunt, and would return with a prize, or not at all.

The shipbuilidng world of Kuat opened up before the Axis fleets as their forces emerged from hyperspace like a silent explosion. The massed fleet of the Empire could be seen going through manuvers above the planet, a truly impressive sight. Unlike the failed attack of the Galactic Alliance and the Jedi upon Onderon, the better trained and better commanded Empire had been successful in all of their recent efforts. Now, though, they were trapped, and their end was nigh. Unlike the GA and Jedi, whom Borsk regarded as cowards and weaklings of the highest order, due to their inability to function as governments and their numerous failures as military organizations, the Empire had held its own well even as they changed ideals and leadership. The trandoshan bore them no particular ill will, but he was getting paid, and a job was a job. Already, some of the strike force and Sith assassins had been detached from their main body to infilitrate and assassinate upon the planet below. Borsk had never been to Kuat before, none of his contracts had pointed him there and it was too heavily guarded to be a worthwhile vacation spot. Other planets were far more friendly to men like him. Now he waited upon the bridge beside the legendary Black Sun commander, slowly stretching in his tight fitting armor. "Well, Vigo, looks like I'm working for you at the moment. Most of my comrades are elsewhere, and I must represent them, in life or in death. What would you have me do?"

It was impossible for the hard, scaly face of a Trandoshan to show as much expression as the faces of the soft-skins, but the face of the bounty hunter-turned-Crusader was twisted and scrunched into an almost human expression, worthy of the great stages of Coruscant or Trandosha. It bore a mixture of confusion, surprise and something else entirely as Borsk pondered the last statement made by the Blood Prince. He had heard stories of the legendary.. appetites of the famous criminal, but perhaps those stories had been underrated. "Are, are you saying you'd... prefer her dead? I mean, dead as opposed to alive? I guess the Empress would probably try and bite, if she yet lived." Realizing he might have said to much, Borsk stopped quickly, his face regaining its normal passive scowl. Perhaps the interests of the Blood Prince ran toward the deviant, as well as the prolific. However, the business of the Vigo was not his concern, and he could do whatever he wished, should the Empress be captured dead or alive. "I am with you, my Lord."

Borsk stared down at his comm as he received a message from his elusive and deadly child-leader, the wanderer-Sith known as Terra. Short and brief, as were all her communications to the veteran warriors under her command, his contract was complete and new orders were issued to return to their fire-bound home, Qat Chrystac. New jobs and oppurtunities to win glory and blood were sure to follow, as the forces of darkness advanced toward the Core Worlds. A victory had been won, inspite of the fact that the Trandoshan had narrowly avoided being fried, the fleets of the Tri-Partite Pact destroying his ship as they blocked for the massive Super Star Destroyer of the Sith. Borsk figured it would be most ungrateful to leave without wishing farewell to the dashing Commander of the Black Sun, the legendary clone Delta. In his interactions serving beside the Clone Prince of Crime, Borsk found that the hype was indeed founded, (although the man was somewhat shorter than the Trandoshan expected.) Before Borsk departed for his shuttle and his home base planet, he asked around amongst the hordes of Black Sun personnel, and eventually tracked down the Black Sun leader as he made preparations to depart. "It has been an honor, Money-Hunter." Borsk grunted out, a tone of respect almost audible in his gravely voice. "My thanks for the armor. I think we shall meet again on distant battlefields, and perhaps hunt the Lowe Ja (Jedi Cowards). Ashkrik (Bleed your foes dry)."

It had been long since the scaled Lizard-Man had been near a ship the size of the Golden Dawn, and the assembled battle fleet of the Black Sun pirates was a truly magnificent and dangerous sight. He thought back on his choices as a small bounty hunter, and wondered what his life might have been like if he joined such an organization instead. All he owned, save his extensive weapon collection, could be carried in the large military back which currently rested at his side upon the metal floor of the troop shuttle. He looked rather out of place amongst the troopers that filled the shuttle, larger than most and lacking any distinctive armor. Most probably took him for a new recruit, but those who recognized some of the weapons he bore and his many scars would know him to be a warrior to him violence was an old companion. Borsk scowled slightly, he knew nothing of the interior of such a massive ship, far more comfortable with the insides of small freighters and raiding vessels. He waited outside the now empty shuttle, slowly growing more irritated as none stopped or even glanced his way in the constant press of the docking zone in war preparations. Finally, he stopped the first officer who looked to belong to the ship, clapping one heavy hand down on the smaller human male's shoulder, "Command Center, Now. Clearance phrase is Rot Festug, or Rotei Fesung. No... think it's Rote Festung? Damn your language."

The hard muscles and bone beneath the scales of Borsk's face flexed as he spotted several Black Sun officers sitting at the Onderonian bar, drinking and laughing seemingly without a care of the millions who would die in the upcoming battle, the suffering of every side. Borsk knew well how celebrating could relieve the tension, purge the thoughts momentarily from their minds, but that time had since passed, or had not yet come. With a frown, he strode over to the table, slamming a thick hand down on the table to get the attention of the drunken mercenaries, "Your leader has killed Jedi. Bring me to him."

Borsk stared down at his wrist, now discolored by the charred scales and the burned flesh underneath the tattoo-contract he had been given by the Sith girl. Her strange abilities in the Force had created it upon him, without his permission or even any actions by his part. Now, he had been given a contract to slay a Jedi, another of those damned force user. He was going to tell her that he didn't usually deal in ambigious favors, but she had wandered off, looking a little worse for wear. First he had to figure out how to kill one, then he had to find one and get them alone so he could execute them. "A lot of kriffing work for a damned favor. Kriff these force Users, and kriff the Jedi." Borsk figured speaking to the Sith about killing Jedi would be pointless, they were a haughty and annoying bunch, outside of the girl he had so recently met and been lightly tortured by, and they also used the Force in their battles. Borsk had heard some of the Black Sun were on the planet, and so he headed off to find them. If reports were to be believed, their leader had slain many Jedi in his time. Perhaps he would have some advice to killing Force Users. The tall Trandoshan figured the nearest bar would be a good spot to start looking.

Borsk smiled slightly, the dangerous grin of the young warrior Sith infectiously spreading to his tired face. It had been some time since he had fought alongside someone of her young age, but it would not be the first time. His mind drifted back to the ship he had once commanded, the skilled crew he had worked with, the struggles of recruiting and trying to find those whom he could trust, and the many bounties he had collected. He turned his face back to the girl as the troop commander and the older Sith talked togethor. He had seen troops trained in many different ways, and the aggresive attitude of the warrior, his strange skin and eyes closer to Borsk's own than most others. "Not yet, Child-Warrior." Borsk growled, his voice sounding tired and worn as he remembered times he had done his best to forget. "I've run from them before, but I was never contracted to slay them. Perhaps that time will come."

The furious activity of the busy planet continued endlessly, the preparations for war clearly showing to even the most uninformed of passerby that a struggle upon massive proportions was about to begin, to burst like a massive storm upon the planet shrouded in darkness. The colors of the Sith, dark and powerful with a history of bringing war and terror upon the galaxy, and of the Black Sun, the famous organization responsible for much of the crime and infilitration across the mass of planets, were spread everywhere, warships gathering and thousands of troops readying for battle. Borsk growled out a response in his heavily accented Basic as the small girl, whom he assumed was some kind of Sith by the way she carried herself, requested him to follow the girl to the place where the troops were being readied for the conflict ahead. "As you will."

"Kriffing hate those ships, no room to stretch and stuck with the same idiots in hyperspace where you have nothing to do but suffer and wait." The tall Trandoshan grunted as he exited the small transport in the busy Black Sun Golan of Onderon, his final destination in the preparation to defeat the combined attack from the enemies of the Sith. His pilot had decided not to wake him as they dropped from hyperspace, and had decided not to alert Black Sun officials of his passenger, likely hoping to avoid any unneccsary contact and get on with delivering the supplies he had been paid to bring. Now alone, Borsk stretched as he looked about amidst the flurry of ships arriving and departing and the harried faces of dock crew and ship masters. "I guess I have to find someone, I wasn't even given a contact to report to. Ugh."