handofthrawn

OOC: Nice fight. I can only feel relief. IC: Burning pain engulfed the warrior ShadowFett. Fire was everywhere, licking through his flightsuit and around his armor. His vitals were well-protected by his Mandalorian armor, which was heated by the blast but hardly damaged. The iron was designed to be able to fall through the atmosphere atop a Basilisk war droid without being killed. But Fett sensed the same thing that Piccolo did as he forced himself to his feet and spun around--a good shot on either side now would win the battle. Fett spun and jerked his hand forward, his Westar-34 in his palm. As soon as he had a good shot--not before--he pulled the trigger and his cracked visor lit up red as the bolt lanced out. He was faster than Piccolo and it won him the battle, when all was said and done. The bolt slammed into Piccolo's own visor perfectly, penetrating it and the metal plate in Piccolo's forehead. The half-trandoshan spun around, but Fett realized that he wasn't dead yet. He fired three more times, perfectly targeting weak and stessed points in Piccolo's armor from the battle. The bolts punched through and tore through flesh, burning and ravaging it. Finally Piccolo fell, his life fading into nonexistance. ShadowFett allowed himself to display his current weakened state and dropped to a knee, pain the only thing he could focus on. His head hurt and his arms and legs burned, though there was nothing seriously wrong with any of his vital organs. He wouldn't die due to these burns, but he wasn't in much of a condition to fight the elusive operative Piccolo had brought with him. Slowly, defiantly, Fett stood again. He regarded Mandalore, waiting vigilantly off to the side. "Only darkness there is in vengeance. But my vow against Piccolo is complete," he said, more to himself than Mandalore. With more purpose, he continued, "You may ask your questions, Mandalorian, but I would ask for a little time to recover first. There is another Black Sun operative out there--if he does not flee due to the death of his leader, continue to watch him if you decide to stay." Fett then trudged over to and boarded the Night of Vengeance, which was on emergency systems. 2277 could use the quad laser cannons as well as the dropdown turret to defend the ship, so Fett would have privacy as long as he needed it. Inside, he stripped off his armor and jumpsuit and removed his helmet. His face bore a cut due to a small piece of visor that had inserted itself in his skin when Piccolo had closelined him, though he hadn't noticed when it happened. He opened a storage compartment in the main room of the ship and began applying bacta to his arms, leg, and neck, which was also effected by the explosion, though to a limited degree due to his metal collar. He had killed Piccolo, the one who had brought him so far. Through his experience in the Black Sun, he had become the warrior that he was now, though he would never amounted to anything without his Mandalorian training. Mandalorians may often be killed in combat, and I may follow a code that originated a long time ago, but the alternative is failure.

ShadowFett felt a flash of anger tear through his veins as he was caught by the same trick that Mandalore had used only minutes before. Electricity fried his hand and he flinched as the charge made the jump in the form of a thin tendril of light to his helmet, where it disabled most of his scanners and the command system that allowed him to use his armor's weapon functions. It was a frustrating development, but not one that Fett would dwell on. He would worry about his mistakes when the battle was over. For the moment, he had to work on getting there. His anger disappeared completely and he cleared his mind as he found himself being pulled rapidly through the air towards Piccolo. He released his useless disruptor rifle and braced himself for physical impact, knowing fully that his momentum would carry him on through an all-too-predictable course. Piccolo hit him high and slammed him violently to his back. It didn't hurt, but it was incredibly jarring. His visor cracked and his spine strained, coming close to breaking and killing him. But he was strong and refused to be beated in such a way--he would not be overcome due to a mistake of his own. With the hit and the cracked visor came incredible pain blasting through his head. He was utterly stunned for a moment, like one who had been blinded by a blow to the eyes, only the blindness was mental. It was incapacitating for someone like Fett, who based each of his actions on his mental ingenuity and prowess. Still, instinct prevailed and he rolled for reasons that were unfounded in his mind and he heard (as well as felt through a tremor in the ground) Piccolo's foot slam into the earth where he had been with enough force to have crushed him between the layers of his armor. Coming up on his feet, the warrior shakily (but not slowly) grabbed his Westar blaster pistols and fired point blank into a flat-footed Piccolo. The bolts hit hit armored shoulders with force, force that was exponentially increased when the Mandalorian threw himself bodily into his former leader, who now corrupt and in combat with him. Already internal systems were beginning to come back online--they were almost as hardy and capable as Fett himself. Fett landed atop Piccolo in the sand, where the former treated him to a punch with his good arm. Fett returned the hit with his left arm (it didn't matter which as he was ambidextrous), then slammed his helmeted head into Piccolo's when the half-trandoshan attempted to rise. Fett rose first and got his bearings, though both sharp pain and dull, resounding pain were the dominant things he could feel. It made concentrating difficult, but ShadowFett knew that he only needed to hold on a little longer--both combatants wouldn't be able to keep up this intense combat much longer without one making a fatal mistake. He hadn't given any thought to Piccolo's words when they were said, but not that he had a second or two, he quickly reviewed them. The half-trandoshan had outrightly insulted the Mandalorian Codex and the Mandalorians as a faction. He had pointedly and tauntingly referred to the deaths of each Mandalorian throughout history. Almost all had been killed in combat. But to Fett, this was the single most important truth about the Mandalorians, and it was what made them truly great. They had all been killed in combat. They had been given great glory and unbelievable honor. Fett, too, would one day meet that same glory, surpassing that which could be obtained among the living. But that time was not now. His influence on the galaxy was not over, and his purpose was not complete. Piccolo would not kill him--for death's glory was only reduced by an opponent who lacked honor himself. This was not honorable combat for Piccolo, and that was yet another difference between these two combatants. Approach to combat was as important as the outcome, for ShadowFett. Just the same, the outcome of combat dictated the next battle's approach. As Piccolo stood, Fett regarded him for the last time with remorse. This was Piccolo, the one that had always been there in the most difficult combat situations of the past. He had been a mentor, a pillar in the sea of enemies that flooded the galaxy. He had been a guiding light once, one that Fett could respect and follow unquestioningly. He had been more loyal to Piccolo than he had ever been to any being save one, the one that had taught him the path of a Mandalorian. But every quality that Piccolo had was overcome by a dozen faults, a dozen dishonors, and a dozen reasons that him and Fett were never meant to be on the same side. There was too much darkness in the galaxy, too much evil that directly offended the Codex. There were too many reasons that Piccolo would never fill the mold of the leader and friend that he was simply required to be. Perhaps Fett's standards were too high. Perhaps they were impossible. He didn't care. Regardless, he didn't answer Piccolo's taunt with words. He answered them with another flurry of blasterfire. With no shield, Piccolo would have little with which to defend himself, and Fett targeted the weakened points and typcially underarmored places found on the half-trandoshan's armor. It would only take a few more well-placed shots to wound him enough to bring him down despite his strength and convictions--if he was even capable of having conviction. The climax of my training is now. I will emerge from this fight victorious--in one way or another. Victory will grant me glory that will only be surpassable by defeat. This was the end of a long road and the beginning of another one. ((3))

The vest that ShadowFett's Mandalorian armor was mounted upon was extremely resistant to the elements as well as energy blasts themselves--it employed a thick matrix that dispersed energy into a much wider spread, offering only kinetic force rather than the lethal blow that blasters had been manufactured to deal out. Piccolo's attack was nonetheless unexpected--Fett had never seen him employ such tactics in the past. His reflexes combined with his vest to minimize the spray's effects, but he would need to be mindful of that which had bypassed both forms of defense--later in the fight, it could numb his leg enough to hinder him, though as long as he kept active, he could prevent the freezing. As vibroswords crossed, ShadowFett came to many of the same deductions that Piccolo himself was. He could not win a matchup of brute strength, but he had never claimed to favor such a combat style to begin with. If he managed to land a solid blow and cause Piccolo a good amount of pain, the half-trandoshan would possibly enter a rage and make mistakes that resulted from being untrained in instinct. Piccolo had never been able to fully overcome his trandoshan instincts, and they had often gotten him into--and out of--trouble. The Mandalorian again crossed blades with the one that he had once respected. The metal alloys clashed, each emiting a faint but audible hum due to their hypersonic vibrations. The same vibrations created sparks that scattered from stress points, finding random paths outwards until they dissapated into the cold twilight that contrasted the pure heat of the battle that was building towards its climax. Fett followed a well-trained pattern for the next few seconds, attacking in points along a full arc, doubling them randomly in an attempt to get Piccolo to guard incorrectly. Once he did, but his blast shield raised to cover for his error. Fett immediately took advantage of the situation and triggered a command through his helmet. From his knee plates launched a pair of thumb-sized grenades that had been employed frequently at the most opportune moments over Fett's long career. They had only a short delay and had the option to be detenated upon impact with their target, and the latter situation quickly became true. The small explosives slipped underneath Piccolo's defenses and his his armor, exploding with the same fury that the half-trandoshan held against Fett. As Piccolo stumbled backwards, Fett advanced slowly and methodically. His face was hidden, so his appearance simply portrayed a complete lack of emotion. He was simply cold, devoid of feeling. It was only deep in the core of his being that thousands of complex emotions and calculations--the very essence of ShadowFett--were coming into and fading out of existance in the blink of an eye. Millions of possibilities clamored through, and out of them Fett picked his interpretation of what he would most likely come true--therefore, he could counter it properly. But truly it was not ShadowFett that fought this battle. There was something deeper, hidden even beyond those calculations and interpretations. Truly, ShadowFett was but a name, but a mask that one donned. His true self had a name that even he had all but forgotten. ShadowFett was a crude title given to him by those who observed him; the appearance of someone with armor such as his had been scarce since the beginning of the Galactic Civil War. The last truly known Mandalorians had been Jango Fett and his heir Boba. Fett's nickname had been sprung simply from their last name and his shadow-like armor. It was impossible for those who brought the name into existance to have understood the similarities Fett shared with a shadow beyond that, but it was equally impossible for them to see the plain contrast that was also there. It was the moral Fett that had to defeat Piccolo. It was Kandor Fett, one raised by the heir to a Death Watchman who seeked repentance and had recalled his heritage for what it truly was after the Mandalorian Civil War ended. It was a twisted reality, but a reality that was true and just in its own spectral way. Now this being, under the guise of ShadowFett, moved again to attack Piccolo, the representation of evil and immorality, Kandor Fett's uttermost antagonist. Fett attacked once to keep Piccolo on the ground, then made himself back off. Melee combat was not his path for this fight. His instincts dictated to him that things would need to be different. It was almost akin to a Jedi's Force sense, but it was even deeper and more engrained into his being. He withdrew and armed himself with his disruptor rifle, a weapon that could disentagrate even Piccolo's blast shield. It was illegal and highly powerful, capable of blowing through meters of durasteel with a single shot, consuming an immense charge in the process. It had killed Jedi Master Kirlocca. Fett raised it and fired.

OOC: Three-post duel. As a courtesy, I'll start. I prefer Will for the ruling. IC: His posture unchanging, ShadowFett sized up Piccolo as he approached. Already adrenaline coursed through his veins. He felt no fear concerning the possibility of his death, but to feel no fear was to get oneself killed. Fear often cleared ones mind and gave them the necessary strength and devotion required to win a battle. Adrenaline gave a man strength and unparalleled precision. The biggest problem with fear was that it often overrode actions and forced warriors to make very basic flaws. Their instincts took over and turned them into animals, desperate, seeking a way to become victorious against an opponent that they believed would kill them. They lost all hope of victory and babbled, begging for their lives when their death loomed close and dying a death devoid of honor. Fett was different. He was a Mandalorian. Death to him was not something that was to be feared or avoided at any cost. To him, death was glory. Glory was what every Mandalorian lived for, some even worshipping combat itself as the god that they followed. They prepared constantly for it, every moment improving themselves. Fett himself often stood motionless for hours to quell irrational impulses to move or twitch. No matter what gripped his heart or pulsed through his veins, he remained in control of himself. He had honed his very instinct to fight with precision and confidence even if he lost all control of himself. His appearance would never change, always exuding emotionless efficiency. He felt no internal struggle, no desperation. Combat was life, and he lived only for combat and self-improvement. His goal was to etch his name into the imperceptable stone of time as the first mortal being to reach the coveted status of perfection. He was to be the sum of all the skill of the Mandalorians since they were known as the Da Werda Verda. He was to be the product of millenia of training doctrines and moral values, the ultimate warrior, the ideal that was fundamental to all those inspired by combat. This was one step along the way. "Piccolo," he said aloud. "It is good to see you well. I must admit, there are times when I wish things hadn't turned out the way they did with Black Sun. But I assure you--if I was confronted with the same situation again, I would make the same choice. Last time we fought, we were on the same side. Now that things are different, I expect you to fight to your full potential, for I intend to do the same." Immediately ShadowFett's mind snapped into combat mode. Piccolo employed the use of a blastshield that could effectively block all of his blaster attacks save ones from his disruptor rifle. His rail detenator's blast could be mostly contained by the shield, but the force would easily knock it out of Piccolo's machine-enhanced grasp. The senior bounty hunter also employed an electro-whip at surprising moments, something that Fett would have to be mindful of. They knew how to fight each other, that much was clear. But who could improvise better? The Mandalorian sprung into action, running a strafe pattern while throwing fully-automatic fire from his powerful assault rifle at his former leader. The shots didn't come as quickly as they would from most automatic weapons, but speed was made up for with power and accuracy. Each went precisely where Fett directed it to go. Immediately skipping pleasantries and forgoing preliminary blaster barrages, Fett activated his jetpack and rocketed towards Piccolo at an angle that would lead him over the half-trandoshan's head. He continued fire from his assault rifle, then cut power to his jetpack and landed closeby, firing his flamethrower at close range to buy himself enough time to pull his vibrosword from its sheath. Piccolo was one he could fight in melee combat for at least part of the battle--the Black Sun leader's force pike had a reach advantage, but only the tip was deadly. The sun, meanwhile, was fading behind a sand dune, casting the world into twilight. The temperature began to drop as well, and a breeze picked up sand and scattered it through the air, mixing with debris and rubble from Fett's recent miniature mining excapade not long prior to his fight with Mandalore. It was one more fact Fett would keep his eye on, searching for an appropriate way to make full use of his surroundings. ((1))

ShadowFett was a little annoyed by the lack of respect Mandalore was showing him, but he didn't allow the other Mandalorian to get the scent of it. He would not allow himself to be enraged because this man disagreed with him. He was certainly a powerful combatant, but he had been defeated. "One will never learn if he shuts his ears to advice," he said simply, leaving it at that. A Mandalorian was about self-improvement, and someone who was defeated in combat should feel blessed to receive criticism from the one who defeated them. If improvement was stifled, then someone would come up with a way to defeat you. And it would work every time. Still, Fett did not dwell on Mandalore's stubborn attitude. It wasn't very Mandalorian-like for him to have it, but it was no longer Fett's concern. He needed to focus on Piccolo for the time being, and he could ensure that there would be no interference from Mandalore. Both men, Mandalore and himself, were stubborn and a little arrogant, but ShadowFett sounded more arrogant than he intended to. It didn't matter. Still untwitching, Fett gripped his assault rifle a little harder and used his macrobinocular viewplate to get a better look at Piccolo. Last time they had fought, it had been in the arena on Dubrillion, which was now a pile of rubble. This time, it would be to the death, the defeated gaining glory and the victor gaining experience.

"You lead him here," ShadowFett said to Mandalore. "You are bound to him by contract or your word, are you not? You will prove wrong my acceptance of you as a Mandalorian if you turn your guns on him now. But you will refute my acceptance just as much if you attack me. I am confident that I can handle either situation if I must, but I know that you have more honor than that. "You may feel humiliated by my words, Mandalorian, but understand that I hold you in the highest respect as one that has held on to his morals and heritage despite the corrupt influence of the galaxy. It takes more than a man to do that. It takes a Mandalorian. "I ask you now to heed my words as the words of an equal, one who bested you in fair combat this once, whether I could repeat the feat or not. Your use of technology is not unsimilar to my own, but you must remember that your skill is the only important thing. Invulnerability is worthless if you rely on it. You must armor yourself with boldness and skill. If those are not enough to save your life, then you lose to a superior opponent, and your death brings you the glory that you and I both seek," he continued, his voice even and emotionless. "Stand firm in the Codex laid down by Jaster Mereel. Together, you and I can show the galaxy what a Mandalorian is. But when I say 'together', I do not enlist your aid. If it is up to me, we will never cross paths again. I am enslaved to vengeance I swore on a day not long ago--you will honor me and stay out of it. "If you still wish to question me concerning the Black Sun, remain here until the Black Sun withers. If I die, I will not be able to help you, but know that I will die with glory. If I prevail, I will prevail with honor, and help you I will," ShadowFett finished. His throat was a little sore--he wasn't used to talking that much--but he had said what was in need of saying.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?"

"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?"

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.

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.

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....

ShadowFett nodded and left, boarding the Night of Vengeance moments later. "Twenty-two," he said, "we're going after Ronin Wartide. We've got to arrange a meeting between him and the Empire to clear up my suspicions about his vendette against President Devanus." The droid set to work immediately, warming up the system and entering a computer query about the last time Wartide had been seen. Unfortunately, the pirate did a good job of staying hidden--the last report had come from the Golden Link Casino, and Fett was sure that he wasn't there at the moment. Well, let's just take a good guess. Where would I be if I had a vendette against the head of the Rebel Alliance? the bounty hunter thought. Making a decision, Fett lifted off the ground and blasted through the atmosphere at high acceleration. Soon, black space approached and Fett entered hyperspace.

"If you're suggesting that I go after Wartide, then I accept it as my second job for the Empire," ShadowFett answered. "You can keep the credits a little longer--I'm not currently in need of them." He waited a little longer, making sure that there wasn't anything else the Moffs wanted to tell him.

Impressive, ShadowFett thought. Neither conventional, infra-red, nor even ultra-violent visual plates worked in a room such as this. They had effectively kept even someone such as him from discovering their identities. But they said that they were Moffs... from what Fett knew about the Moff system, it was still in effect, each Moff being the head of several sectors, ranked above a regional governor that held direct control over a single system through force. It was an effective system, but one ruled too much by heirarchy for Fett's tastes. One was constantly hearing about a new rank some emperor made up to give his officers something to strive for. Grand Moffs were one such rank, as were the thirteen Grand Admiral ranks given out, the last surviving of which had been the Chiss Grand Admiral Thrawn. Of course, Fett wasn't here to analyze the Empire's ruling system--he was here to report his findings. "I would very much prefer that I speak face-to-face with the ones I report to," he said through his helmet, "but I will respect your right to remain anonymous. "During my stay at the Golden Link Casino, I spoke directly with Zara Nargal, the apparent head of the organization along with Kat Nargal, though the latter wasn't present. She was largely suspicious and uncooperative with my claims that I am no longer the man that she put a bounty on, but she did reveal a few important facts. "First, she revealed that the release of the scandal was against the best interests of the Link Organization. They know that the Empire and the Black Sun are their enemies and the last thing they would want is for the Alliance to turn against them as well," Fett explained. "Naturally, I began to suspect the involvement of a third party or perhaps even a personal vendette against President Devanus himself. "I paid a significant amount of credits to receive a holorecording as I left that showed the same doctored image that appeared on the holonet as well as curious accounts of the arrival of the President on the station and him engaging in emotionally awkward relations with Zara Nargal," the experienced bounty hunter continued. "The last bit of recording reconfirmed the pirate Ronin Wartide's relations with Zara--I believe she recently bore his child or children. "From this information as well as the physical similarities between the girl in the holorecording and Zara Nargal herself, I have reason to believe that she was the one who President Devanus was seen with in the recording and it was Ronin Wartide that has a vendette against him for it, though this is primarily speculatory," he finished. His throat was sore--he wasn't used to having to say so much at once. "I believe you find this information sufficient?"

Vice Admiral...not bad, ShadowFett thought. It wasn't the Admiral himself, but it appeared that he was unavailable. Fett followed the coordinates in, his scanners telling him that he was being scanned multiple times. They would, of course, find many illegal devices and modifications if they knew how to look, but not only was that difficult, but a bounty hunter such as Fett could be expected to have such modifications. The Mandalorian locked into the approach vector and followed it down through Carida's atmosphere. The world had always been Imperial, at least for as long as Fett could remember. During the Galactic Civil War, its primary use had been for the training of stormtroopers. Carida's gravity was half again as much Coruscant's, providing ideal conditions for the strengthening of recruits. Someday ShadowFett hoped to fight on this world to experience the gravity in full effect--simply walking around would provide a poor taste of it. Soon the Night of Vengeance landed on Carida outside an Imperial military structure and the experienced bounty hunter departed from its boarding ramp. He was fully armed and armored again, much more comfortable than he had been in the Golden Link Casino, where he was forced to disarm. Of course, he had made it a point at the time that he was never truly unarmed.... There were Imperials waiting for him. He approached them but did not speak.

OOC: Legal double-post. IC: The Night of Vengeance emerged from hyperspace over the Imperial world of Carida. ShadowFett, its Mandalorian pilot, opened a comm channel to the capital world. "Greetings," he said. "I have returned from the Link Casino with information. I'm afraid that most of it is speculation, but the Link made sure I knew I wasn't welcome to stay any longer. I would like to relay this information to an Imperial officer in person, as high in rank as possible. This information must reach the Admiral's ears as soon as possible." Fett waited for a reply.

They're quite the dishonorable ones, aren't they? ShadowFett thought with scorn. He had boarded the Casino out of an act of good faith and now they were trying to extract credits from him. It was deceitful and corrupt, the same traits that Fett had destroyed the Black Sun's base on Dubrillion before. He could do the same here, he knew, though with much more difficulty. But it was not within his best interests to attempt to fight his way out of this situation. He would much rather be hunted than pay the price on his head, but it didn't look like they were even going to be honorable enough to get to that stage of the game. He couldn't try anything now, but the time would come. "I'll pay the price as you wish, out of an act of good faith," ShadowFett said to the one that had been left to collect and give him the data disk. "Let Zara Nargal know that it will not remain a secret that she is no more than a petty theif. I am no one to make empty threats, so know this: the Link's days are numbered." He had millions of credits to his name due to many bounty hunting jobs, some far less difficult than others but all of equal worth. The capture of Reagan McGregor, obtaining a DNA sample from Forn Dodanna, and planting a holonet statement in favor of the Empire's claims following the fall of the Black Sun Citadel were the greatest of these. The sum was ultimately unimportant, but the terms were ridiculous. "I'll take my data and leave, then," the Mandalorian said, receiving the disk and returning to his ship. He boarded and played the disk immediately. He wasn't truly surprised to find that the holorecording was still doctored and didn't reveal the identity of the girl. The other footage was far more interesting, hinting at Zara having multiple...relationships, one with Devanus as well as Ronin. Of course, it wasn't proof, but Fett now had reason to suspect that it was Ronin Wartide that had a vendette against president Devanus. It was very possible. At any rate, Fett decided he would report what he knew to the Empire. Checking his ship for tracking devices, the Mandalorian made for deep space. Soon he pulled back the hyperspace levers and disappeared into the alternate dimension behind the wrinkled fabric of space-time that enabled faster-than-light travel.

ShadowFett narrowed his eyes when Zara made an excuse to leave. She was avoiding answering his question. "I don't believe, Zara Nargal, that you answered my question," he said, putting emphasis on her name, then continuing with a touch of sarcasm, "I understand that you must be busy, but I would like to know if you deny authorizing the publication of that holonet transmission." She wasn't going to walk away from this one that easily. It was all too conveniant that this excuse came up when it did. Of course, if she further refused to answer, he would have a legitimate reason to assume that she, if fact, did not authorize the transmission. Either way, he would have his answer, and his answer would be all that he needed to leave with. Assuming that someone else had placed the tapes on the holonet, there was a distinct flaw in the whole scandal. Whether it was true or false, it was done due to a personal vendette against Devanus. It wasn't everything that Fett wanted to come away with, but it was certainly a good starting point. There would be a few other beings he would need to have a word with...or he could simply work on a different angle....

ShadowFett's curiosity was piqued when Zara didn't answer his conclusion-drawing questions about the scandal. He would make sure he got an answer before he left, but play along with the conversational focus she had suggested. He would talk about the Empire if he needed to, but there was something in the back of his mind he didn't like about it. The truth was, she was trying to start controlling the conversation and the information that was being passed. So far he had told the truth and, in return, gotten a little from her, but now she was trying to manipulate him and his honesty into giving something away--she must have suspected all along that he was working for the Empire. But without reason to believe it as truth, she had no reason to deny the aid that he offered. "To tell the truth I've never spoken with him directly," the Mandalorian answered. "I've seen the results of his actions and heard him speak through diplomats, but no more beyond that. I know he's no emperor and doesn't use the Force like Cineon Yahn or Havoc did. But I haven't the slightest idea about what he believes. It appears that he's just standing in until an emperor can resume keeping things the way they've always been."

"No," ShadowFett said. "The Empire does not have control of the Black Sun Armada. There was an attempted take-over, but I foiled that as my first act against the Black Sun. My scanner profiles show that they were in orbit over Dubrillion when I struck the base. "While you may have reason to believe that the Empire isn't fond of your organization, I think the Black Sun will be temporarily distracted for the time being. Whether you knew this or not, they have a military truce with the Rebel Alliance. Unless Piccolo is foolish, he will see that this scandal gives him some cover to work under without the Alliance looking over their shoulder," Fett reasoned. Another thing Zara had said slightly puzzled Fett, though he was as hard to read as ever. She didn't want the scandal to be released, which meant that it wasn't really the Link that was pushing against the Alliance at all. She had further reinforced that with her next words, though she could be lying to get the his true purpose for being here out of him. Even more interesting was that she wanted to protect the person in the holovid. Obviously that had been the point of the doctoring done in the holonet presentation of the security tapes, but if it wasn't really the Link that had put the tapes out on the holonet, then what interest would it be of whoever did put it out to protect the girl's identity? But at the moment Fett couldn't be sure of who had placed the security vids for the public to see. The transmission had the origin of the Casino for sure, but if Zara hadn't authorized it, then who could still put it out there? There were too many unknowns at the moment. Without the Link's cooperation, the Mandalorian couldn't find these answers easily. So he would have to go about it the hard way. "You, then, deny that you authorized the publication of these holovids?" he confirmed. "If so, do you have any clue of who placed these under public eyes against the best wishes of the Link?" This sounded like a personal vendette against President Devanus, but Fett knew of no one that would have reason to have one, lest it be the Empire or Fett himself, though it simply wasn't in his character to attack him from behind cover like that. Besides, fighting someone because your commanding officer told you to doesn't mean that you should hold a personal grudge against him. That, too, was against Fett's character.