Mandalore

[Moon Knight]

Kandor weathered the series of attacks but one of her kicks managed to land on his chest plate, the dry Keldabe soil clinging there in the shape of her boot print. He managed to keep his feet, however, and was quickly counterattacking, taking advantage of the significant edge in mass and reach he had over her. At the last moment he turned one of his attacks into a feint, then dropped back a step, resetting defensively so he could ponder what she had said.

 

He had definitely been less-than-forthcoming about her identity to those who had inquired, and they were both fairly private about the nature of their relationship. It had taken them weeks to even tell their aliit that they had gotten married. It was generally good operational security to not give away such details when they knew Mirdala had had a target painted on her back by Ab'ki. There was almost no way Viba had been the only one looking for her, not with the pains Ab'ki was clearly taking to set traps for Mirdala and murder anyone close to her.

 

Now that Mirdala had come out with it, though, Fett realized just how negligible the advantage of keeping the secret was compared to the cost of doing so. It was in his nature to put his emotions last and play a role, so to speak, if an advantage could be gained through it. It was why being marginalized and dismissed in the matriarchal society on Hapes hadn't bothered him a bit. But Mirdala didn't work that way and he'd seen it there.

 

"You know," he said to her as he backpedaled to help him ward off pair of kicks. "My biggest problem with CoreSec is that the rules always ended up getting in the way." Mirdala threw a punch and he weaved around it, then grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her bodily against his beskar'gam. Slipping his arms beneath hers, he bent down and stole a kiss.

 

Suddenly a round of cheers erupted from their spectators. Kandor, holding onto his wife with his right arm, raised his left hand and made a rude gesture behind her back toward the onlookers which generally told them to usen'ye. Still, when the kiss ended he grinned towards them before looking back at Mirdala. "Oops, I guess that's a loss for operational security," he told her, then dropped back into his defensive stance. Once again he extended a hand, inviting her to attack.

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

The sudden sound of his voice amidst their fighting caught her off-guard, almost as much as what followed. After the kiss, she stood there for a few moments not quite believing what had just happened. The expression on her face said it all, however, as her mouth curved into a smile and a slight redness graced her cheeks. Finally, she laughed and circled him again feeling much lighter than when she had earlier that morning.

 

"Alright, warm up's over then, cyar'ika," she nodded, the wry grin on her face never fading as she came in fast sweeping her leg low and twisting her back with a spin kick, knocking him off-balance and onto his back. She may have used just a touch of the Force, but not enough to cause suspicion. Being both a woman and being shorter gave her some overall advantages when it came to maintaining her own balance and she'd learned to use it well over the course of her life. What she lacked in reach and overall mass, she more than made up for in the speed and flurries that comprised her attacks.

 

To any onlookers, it was obvious that she was every bit Kandor's match when it came to close combat and they both very much enjoyed that fact.

 

TeVerd had taught her that one of the best ways to win against a stronger and larger opponent was to use her mind and overwhelm her opposition with multi-directional strikes. The noise of the crowd seemed to fade away and it was just her and Kandor each working the other through their paces.

 

It was about the second time that she'd managed to pin him that she activated their subvocal channel again and helped him to his feet, "You know...If you'd wanted to get your blood moving...I can think of a way that's a bit more fun than this and has much less of an audience."

[Tresha Ad'Nort]

It was, as her buir had promised, only about two days later that the Ad'Norts began to arrive in Keldabe. First, the contingent from Kandor's Chandrila safehouse: her brother Taen and his wife Reska, absent their younger twin daughters; Laesha, her buir; Vannae, her oldest sister, a skilled armorsmith; and Styl, her sister Tannae's husband, who for the first time since Jorad's birth was separated from his wife and child. Second in arriving was the slow trickle of beroyase that had hitherto been spread across systems pursuing disparate targets: Valyin, her youngest sister, possessed of impressive, nigh deadeye marksmanship; Aluir, her hot-headed brother; and last to appear in Keldabe was Trita, Taen and Reska's older daughter who was an adept hunter in her own right.

 

Over the course of the day, Tresha shuttled back and forth between the Oyu'baat and Keldabe proper, ferrying family members and orienting them to all that had occurred in the course of the time since she had arrived on Manda'yaim. There were not enough rooms in the ancient tapcaf for all the arriving Mando'ade, so only those who had taken quarter at the time of the clan leaders meeting still retained it. Most of the coalescing verde opted to remain on their respective ships.

 

By evening, they had all assembled in one of the restaurants in central Keldabe for ori'skraan. Though the motivating factor for such a gathering was somber, there was an air of excited misadventure present. It seemed to Tresha, as she kept her thoughts mostly private during the course of the skraan hour, that the entire family was gearing up for a reckoning. While on the surface their conversation might have seemed good-natured and typical for a Mandalorian family gathering, underneath there was a tremor of deadly ramikadyc.

 

Trita, who was seated next to her, was similarly quiet for the majority of the evening, and through her empathic senses Tresha could discern that the girl was also picking up on the fey mindset of the gathered aliit. When their skraan was all but finished and plates were beginning to disappear from atop the table, Tresha leaned toward her so as to keep her voice quiet and still be heard. "How are you?" she murmured, her face a mask of steady calm.

 

Trita glanced at her impassively. "Fine. I'm not afraid," she offered a little too quickly.

 

"I wouldn't dream of suggesting such a thing," Tresha replied. "You are mandokarla, fear does not come naturally to you."

 

Trita snorted, but a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "I just want the family to be safe again. I don't want buir looking over his shoulder anymore. I worry about Mirdala. I want everyone to be able to go home," she shrugged.

 

Playfully, Tresha wrapped an arm around her niece, squeezing and then promptly releasing her. "Haatyc or'arue jate'shya ori'sol aru'ike nuhaatyc. It's all finally coming to a head, and we'll deal with it like we always do. Kandor won't let anything happen to Mird'ika. After all this winds down, we'll be better off for it. Wait and see."

 

The hug was returned with startling vehemence, and as Tresha laid a hand on her niece's head, she was consumed with a sudden fire: they would hold their ground across the sector. They had too much to fight for to even think about losing.

[Moon Knight]

Kandor took her hand. "You know, I might just take you up on that, cyar'ika."

 

-------------------

 

The next two weeks were as difficult as advertised. Fett's command center became a small hub of activity with a proverbial revolving door as Mando'ade on his staff came and went. The team had filled out nicely and, after careful vetting by both conventional methods and Mirdala's senses, had been entrusted with much of the specific planning of the defense of the Sector. They'd been put to hard work as the clans continued to report in with numbers, and a plan started to come together quickly.

 

It quickly became clear that the Mandalorians would have the advantage in numbers. Over four million verde had answered the call of Mand'alor. This was not as great of an edge as it seemed, however, given that the exact plans for Ab'ki's invasion were unknown. Splitting the forces across worlds and behaving in a reactive fashion remained the best plan for the defenders, which meant that if Ab'ki focused her attack on a few locations, she would have the larger army and early advantage.

 

The invaders also had the advantage of preparation time. The Mando'ade knew how to rally quickly to become battle-ready, but no one had expected to need to be formed into a cohesive force on such short notice. Command structure had needed to be worked out in many instances and smaller clans organized together ad-hoc. Most clans had been assigned to defend their homeworlds, but in some cases they needed to be reallocated, which stripped away their home field advantage. ((OOC Note: As a part of this, all PCs are assigned to the defense of Keldabe so we can keep our fighting to one thread. Tros should return from Shogun.))

 

In any case, Ab'ki could not win a long-term ground war against them. Whatever her specific plans were, attrition did not figure into them. There was some concern that she could pull together a larger fleet and bombard targets from space, and so Fett's meetings with MandalMotors came into focus. The company was profit-driven, but they were Mandalorians and they answered the call of Mand'alor as such, something that was made easier by the fact that they were facing destruction as well if Ab'ki were allowed to succeed. The company did not at this point create capital ships, but they had numerous Tra'kad and Bes'uliik vessels ready to be deployed in addition to whatever combat-ready personal ships the Sector's population could scrape together.

 

Kandor did not spend all of his time planning and organizing. He and Mirdala undertook a new type of training together and tried to spend an hour a day on it in addition to Mirdala's continuing Seeker training -- he retrieved from the Justice one of the ysalamiri they'd recently harvested on Myrkr. The lizard, which Fett carried in a beskar-clad case which he could magnetize to his repulsor pack, would be a significant advantage against the Force-using elements in Ab'ki's army, but it suppressed Mirdala's own Force talents when they fought side-by-side. Therefore they devised a variety of tactics and verbal protocols that would let her weave in and out of the bubble, giving her the flexibility to quickly switch between taking advantage of the protection it offered and allowing full access to the Force.

 

After each day's work, Fett returned with his wife to his room, where his nights were filled with Moon Knight visions. Allis Hett dredged up new memories and prophecies every time he slept without fail, and he revisited battlefields from across a thousand generations. Most were marked by some kind of failure on the part of the Moon Knight that had been there or the side on which they had been fighting, but occasionally he was shown instead a victory earned through correct but unconventional decision making. There were a lot of ways to lose battles and even more to lose a war. Kandor bore the lessons of those defeats gladly with him into the next day's meetings.

 

Just when things were starting to come together and yet far too soon, 2277 woke Fett early on the 16th morning since the briefing with a report. "Master. Clan Sintral's sensor net is picking up a series of vessels entering the Sector. I believe this is Ab'ki's vanguard."

 

Fett glanced at Mirdala, who was already out of bed and pacing, and started putting on his beskar'gam. It seemed the time for talking about the invasion was over, and it was no longer theoretical. The threat to the Sector had materialized, and it was time to make their stand. He commed the command center to confirm that they had received the data, and it began being distributed to the command structure across the Sector and on down to every soldier from there. In a few hours, the fighting would be starting and everything would be on the line.

[Mellanie Devanus Vevut]

The next two weeks flew by. Mellanie continued to train with a vengeance, determined to improve herself and be able to stand her ground among her new clan. There was a drive to prove herself worthy, even though when she expressed that to Araac, he told her there was no need to feel that way.

 

She had started training in her beskar’gam immediately. She wanted to feel as comfortable in it as possible, and so had even started wearing it outside of training sessions. It truly was starting to feel like a second skin the longer she wore it, and she welcomed that sensation as both a sign that she’d be better protected in combat, and that she was becoming more Mandalorian.

 

The second day after it had been given to her, she had spent a day painting it and preparing the flak jacket and other accouchements. It took from dawn until dusk, but at the end of the day, everything was finished. Her jacket and pants were an olive green, and her plates were striped with green, a goldish tan, and a rusty red. She wrapped a tan cape over it all so that draped behind her back, and paired it with practical brown boots that had a mag-clamp feature. Not that she thought she’d need it dirt-side in Keldabe, but one never knew. She filled her belt pouches with a few practical items—a line of self-gripping rope, a few ration sticks, a multi-tool, and some spare blaster power packs. Her comlink was hardwired into her buy’ce and her heads-up display was programmed for holomessages as well as an audio link if she wished.

 

Her beskar’gam was still shiny and new, but she knew by the end of the battle it would have the same lived-in and battle-scarred #weathering that the rest of Clan Vevuts’ showed.

 

Seventeen days after she and Kalyani had arrived on Mandalore, the word came. Ab’ki’s forces had been detected entering Mandalorian space. They had hours at most left to prepare. Clan Vevut was assigned to defend the southwest sector of Keldabe along with two other clans, and within an hour, everyone had piled into speeders and transports and headed for the capital. Once they arrived, they joined the throngs of the other Mando’ade that had arrived to fighting. It was like being in a vast sea of armor, colors ranging the entire rainbow and beyond, everyone with their own style. Weapons of every type imaginable were visible, and Mellanie was sure that many more remained hidden.

 

The Vevuts made their way hodge-podge to their assigned section and set up camp. The sky had grown dark and heavy with rain clouds, casting deep shadows over the land. The light of a thousand campfires, built to cook some lunch and ward off the sudden chill, cast tall shadows on the rough fabric tents. At some camps, the mood was boisterous, as alcohol and pre-battle bravado reigned. But at Mellanie’s tent, all was quiet. She sat a little ways off from the rest of the group on a small knoll, hand in hand with Araac, her head on his chest as they quietly stared at the gathering storm togther. Mellanie had been successfully ignoring the reality of the danger they were about to face, but now on the proverbial eve of battle, she couldn’t shake the feeling that tomorrow’s fighting might come at a steep cost. People would die…and it might be people she cared about. Her breath caught in her throat for a moment, and she tightened her grip on Araac’s hand. “I don’t want to lose you,” she whispered.

 

“Hey, I’ve been in worse fights than this,” he replied. “Nothing comes to mind…but I’m sure I have.”

 

She smiled at his half-hearted joke. “Guess I’ll just have to watch your back out there, huh?”

 

His face turned serious. “You’re as ready as you can be. We all are. We will fight as a team, and if we fall, we fall defending that which means the most: our family and each other.” He tilted her chin up and kissed her. “We’ll get through this, Mel’ika. You won’t be rid of me so easily.”

 

They sat in silence for a while longer, until Araac stirred again. “Better try to get some sleep if you can. I’m sure that we won’t miss our enemies’ arrival.” They rose and headed back to her tent, but when they arrived, she didn’t let go of his hand.

 

“Stay with me?” she asked hesitantly. If there was a chance this was their last day in the galaxy, she wanted to spend every remaining minute she could by his side.

 

He paused. “Always.”

[Ary the Grey]

The two weeks Aryian had to prepare were rough on the old man. He trained in the sparring pits like he used to when he was younger, and while he still managed to withstand the punishment, it took a far larger toll on him. For the most part, he abstained from using the Force, and simply rolled with the tough Mandalorian fighters. They knew about him, and gave him no quarter. But despite it all, Aryian was happy for the first time in a long time. Battle loomed on the horizon, the glory and trials of war, and among the soldiers the grey master had found a calm that he hadn't enjoyed since he was much younger. It wasn't the Jedi way to enjoy battle, and he didn't, rather Aryian much enjoyed the chance to test himself and his skills, and a battle was the primary place to do it. Besides, a few less Sith in the galaxy was a good thing, right?

 

His armor fit well enough, though it was mismatched colors, several pieces borrowed from three people, his chestplate actually being a family heirloom from a smaller family in Keldabe. It wasn't completely comfortable, but Aryian had learned to work around it, though he still refused to wear the helmet. To push himself past the limiting movements and find his flow once more. He spoke little with anyone, but every day brought back memories, reminding him of how he used to fight alongside his friends. The memories were bittersweet, many of those friends having long passed, but he was still glad to have them, and so they warmed his soul.

 

Today, they had received word that the enemy was upon them. Aryian was a foot soldier, assigned to a small unit guarding the eastern walls where the river that bordered the city met the forest and branched away. The grey master held no rank, and was fine with it, though he could still feel the resentment of the others from having to abide him in their unit. He'd already been warned about not following orders, and using the Force, but Aryian paid the warnings little attention. He could hold his own. And now, rain ran down his face as he watched the forest. He didn't blink, he was focused on his task, hand gripping his blaster rifle loosely. The Force told him the enemy wasn't upon them quite yet, but they would be.

 

Very soon, they would be. Softly, the rain continued to fall. It was a good day to die.

[Whispering Abyss]

The mercenary's ship stank of dirty laundry and stale beer.

 

Colonel Marcus Hawke curled his nose as his eyes drifted away from his datapad towards what appeared to be a small pile of rotting food on the deckplate. He used to be in the Imperial Remnant, before the cult had tapped him for greatness. There, the deckplates would be near reflective, and the crew well-disciplined. At least these thugs were worth their wages, some of the meanest scoundrels the cult could afford. Hawke felt the ship shudder, and knew it had pulled out of hyperspace with the rest of the flotilla at the far edge of the Mandalore system. Picking up his pace, he made his way to the cockpit so he could brief the pilot. They were but a small splinter of Ab'ki's vast army, but this splinter was bound for the planet Mandalore itself, slotted to assault the city of Keldabe.

 

And Hawke had been chosen to plan and execute the assault. He was almost peerless in the Remnant when it came to ground tactics and war simulations, and he intended to let his talent shine so as to appease Ab'ki and the Dark powers. If anything, he would likely earn a promotion in the organization, an esteemed place among the favored court Ab'ki kept in close company. Then he would be able to taste power, true power...but first, Keldabe.

 

The town itself looked fairly defensible, resting on a granite hill with a large river bordering it on the west and south, and a thick forest to the north and northeast. There would be no burrowing under, it would take too long, but Darkness permitting a few bombing strikes might get through the Mandalorian anti-air defenses from above. But first, they would need a foot in the door, a beachhead to be able to reinforce themselves. That beachhead was the northern forest, dotted with just enough open fields to serve as makeshift landing areas while the Forest was thick enough to cover their advance until they were practically on top of the city. Artillery could also fire from the forest and move before return fire trajectories were calculated. It was a solid plan. Scouts on the surface had already combed the forest, identifying most if not all of the booby traps the Mandalorians had left for them. The Mandos were tough and well disciplined, but even the best army rarely goes back to check on traps. Hawke had a few other surprises waiting for them, but first, they needed to get to the surface.

 

Thankfully, the mercenary starfighter groups had done their job, drawing the majority of the attention of the space borne defenses away from the main insertion point, which the small contingent of ships now swarmed to. The Mandalorians had alerts all over their star system to attend to, and it would be difficult to keep track of which group of ships was doing what. Thankfully, when they began their approach, the cloud cover was thick, and it was night. Perfect cover. Disappearing into the clouds, the mercenary ships began offloading troops and machinery into the forest several kilometers away from the city, and the men got to work establishing temporary outposts with command centers and comms relays.

 

As Hawke finally stepped off his transport ship onto the moist soil of Mandalore, he smiled, inhaling deep the earthy smells with the fresh air. This would be a battle worthy of the history books.

[Dizzy]

Kalyani and Mellanie talked a little longer with their Mother and Aunt before Araac poked his head in to say hello as well. Before they signed off Kaly asked her Mother if she could have a set of armour sent out for both of them, normal armour being better than none though she’d have loved a set of Mandalorian armour with a jet pack attached. She hadn’t been sure about asking but knew that they would want them as safe as possible and It wouldn’t be difficult for Zara to get a hold of some for them.

 

After they finished on the comm. and left the Crazy Mynock they started their training. Mel and Araac went off together while Kaly started to spar with Jaesko. It was times like this that Kaly keenly missed her twin. She and Kane had wrestled and sparred many a time. Jaesko was teaching Kaly a particular move when a couple of the others approached. Dac, Brej and Hari Vevut watched them for a time before Dac stepped in, instructing her in an alternate move that would suit the young women better. “That’s better Kalyani. Alright, do it again and speed the movement up,” he stepped back and signaled for the two girls to do it again. He watched for a bit longer then took over from Jaesko, giving Kaly more of a challenge and also teaching her other moves. They used a variety of weapons ranging from vibroblades, daggers, blasters and rifles. They also practiced lobbing dummy grenades to make sure of accuracy.

 

Time seemed to speed up, a week going by. A large crate arrived via courier from the Link addressed to Kalyani and Mellanie from their mother. Upon opening they discovered the armour Zara had sent them. Since Mel had her Mandalorian armour, Kaly had the other set put into the hold of the Crazy Mynock She put hers on to get used to the feel of it, wondering if she’d ever be able to earn a set of Mandalorian armour too one day. I can but hope… She loved the thought of using a jet pack too. One day. The armour that Zara had sent her daughters was a standard set of khaki coloured armour. Kaly decided she’d break up the solid colour with a camouflage pattern, using brown and black. The more she wore the armour, the more she got used to moving in it.

 

Over the next week or so, Kaly trained hard along side her sister and the others. She spent a couple of hours a day at the firing range with Hari and Brej, making sure she could hit the targets with good groupings. She even had a go at firing a snipers rifle. By the time word came that Ab’ki’s forces had arrived she felt as ready as a green recruit could be. She set up her tent next to Jaesko’s figuring that her sister might want to have some alone time with Araac. She sat with Jaesko, Dac and the others around the campfire, hoping that they would all come through this alright.

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

As much as Kandor had been relying on her to help him continue to interface with the leadership and help organize the defensive forces, she'd counted on his calm and steady presence to help ground her own. As the days since the briefing had crept ever onward, the growing tension in the air, and echoing through her empathic and Force bonds did as well, which didn't lend itself to a good night's sleep. Especially when the Seekers-past had been as restless as Kandor's Moon Knight echoes.

 

It seemed that Tikkorel and the other long-dead Seekers had been just as fervent in their testing of Mirdala as TeVerd and the others had been in training her for what was to come. This night though would be different as the dreams came once again.

 

"Don't leave me," her voice, small and panicked, cried as her small hands clutched at the clothing of the woman in front of her. But she knew this woman would never answer, her life-force having been extinguished by the droid-like beings charging across the brown taiga at her and the other children with her.

 

One of the older boys, Sambir it looked like, tried to protect the smaller ones. But he was only armed with a training weapon and wasn't fast enough to incapacitate all the enemies. She screamed as one of them got behind him and swung the butt end of a rifle behind his shoulder blades, sending him sprawling with a wet crunch and a yell of mingled pain and surprise. The one who had struck him looked over his shoulder quickly and then turned back to Sambir, reversing the grip on his rifle. Before she could react, the enemy fired two ochre-colored bolts into Sambir's sprawled form.

 

Several of the other children began screaming, while she could only stare at her former babysitter's crumpled form as two pale streaks of smoke curling from his chest.

 

The enemy soldiers, she knew they were living beings now because she could feel them, trained weapons on the rest of the children, as the man who had shot Sambir and another near him turned back towards the trail the children had been fleeing down before they had become trapped. Striding towards them were beings clothed in black cowls, their every movement conveying menace and power. She shuddered as part of her reached out to them, almost tasting them. She was both sickened by the feeling of them and yet, some small part of her wanted to run to them and find shelter with them. She was far too young to understand what this meant.

 

The three black-cowled men reached them as one threw back his hood to reveal a lean face with almost platinum-pale skin, accentuated by an oily black goatee, with hair to match. As he swept his look across the herded children, she realized his eyes were mismatched, one being a clear pale amber, the other being a bright red orb obscured by a milky film.

 

"I am Sararoc, Lord of The Whispering Abyss. Obey us, and you might continue amongst the living. Continue running or," he nudged Sambir's form with a booted foot. "Fight us, and today will be the last day you taste breath." He looked around, a cruel smile spreading across his face at the sounds of fear and distress emanating from the children. She thought she could see a small tube opening and closing in each of his cheeks like panting mouths. She gasped, trying to pull back further into the group before he might notice her.

 

He and the other two beings laughed, cruel noises empty of any true humor or warmth.

 

------

 

"Who are you," the guttural voice spat.

 

"My name is Nar'a, and I want to go home," she sobbed, hunched over on hands and knees on the cold broken stone of the hall. The stones under her were damp with the result of her fear and distress, and she was having trouble catching her breath because of her sobbing and gasping. "Please! Why can't I go home?"

 

The man's booted foot connected with her small frame, applying just enough force to stun her and send her sprawling. It also ruined what breathing control she had managed to regain.

 

She looked up as the man in shiny gray armor reached down and grabbed the front of her tunics, pulling her almost upright. She barely sensed, through that small special place in her soul, the hand sailing through the air, but had no idea what to do with that sensation. The back of the gloved hand whipped across her cheek, leaving a deep red print and drawing a loud pained scream and a fresh welter of tears and sobbing from her.

 

"You are not Nar'a." He spat her name out as though it tasted foul in his mouth. "That little brat ceased to exist when you came into my Lord's domain. And you have no home because you deserve none! You are nothing, not even a slave. A slave has value, and you have yet to demonstrate any sort of value to us. Until we decide you do, you have no name, no title, nothing to claim as yours, and none to claim you." Another slap, a flat palm to her unhurt cheek. "You have no right to ask anything of me, you will merely do as you are told. If you do not, little girl, then I will beat you into a bloody red scrap!" Grunting, he flung her to the side, snorting in disgust at her tears and sobbing.

 

At that moment, part of her began to know Hate. She felt a strange heat boil up in her chest, and she wanted to see this man hurting. As the heat boiled inside her, she felt her eyes stinging from something besides tears, and her small hands clenched hard as she bared her teeth at her tormentor.

 

He stepped back a half step, as if someone had bumped into him, and looked at her with fresh interest. Then his look became even crueler. She saw two of his fingers make some motion and found herself being shoved into the wall, the breath being squeezed out of her lungs. She tried to cry out, but lacked any semblance of control over her own small body.

 

He advanced on her, teeth bared. "Pitiful, wasted. Your meager attempts to use the power would not be enough against even our lowest acolytes, let alone myself, a true soldier of The Dark. All your pathetic attempt to strike back has achieved is to ensure that you become the first lesson to your fellow brats!"

 

She was aware that some of the children were looking at them in horror. Some of them seemed to be as afraid of her now as they were of these evil men. She tried to struggle as his gloved hand locked around her throat, but she lacked the mass or the ability to resist as he dragged her down the hall.

 

"Assemble all the brats in the stone chamber," he grunted to other men as he passed them, hand locked firmly around her throat. He forced her to a stone arch set in the center of the room and bound her wrists and ankles to leather straps mounted to the floor and the arch.

 

"I hope that pathetic display was worth what it's going to cost you," she heard him growl as her clothing was ripped away. "The sentence," she heard him call out to the others now gathering in the room. "Is the one for a slave that defies a Master. Though this one hardly deserves even that recognition." She couldn't look around and risk facing any of her classmates, her small face flushed deep crimson red in humiliation and contorted in fear.

 

She screamed out as the thin wooden switch whipped across the backs of her thighs.

 

"The first of two hundred," the Dark Army soldier spat. “I expect you'll be bled out before we get to the last one."

 

He was nearly right.

 

-------

 

She kept her gaze firmly pointed at the floor, posture upright but without challenge.

 

In spite of the thick metal and leather cuffs binding her, she tried to keep her hands folded together in the proper manner for a loyal servant, the action further hampered by the stout bar that connected her cuffs to the plascrete floor of her tormentor's audience room.

 

"Should I tell you you've done well? Offer you praise? Unlock your cuffs and comfort your bruises and chafed wrists? Feed you a small tidbit like some prized raptor," The dark-haired man asked her, voice a sibilant hiss like steam escaping a samovar. He paced in front of the manacled girl

 

"Whatever My Lord desires," she answered resolutely, only a small quaver distorting her voice from the exertion of the testing she had just been put through.

 

"Whatever I desire? Careful, girl, how easily you make that offer," the man snapped. "I desire many things, and you're hardly, right now, of any station to grant me most of them properly."

 

Her lekku twitched slightly since she had no idea what the proper response to this was. She was unused to being in the presence of Lords and Ladies of this much Power or station and because of her reputation for trying to fight back when she was new to this domain, had not yet been called on to serve anyone.

 

"Who is Nar'a," her questioner asked suddenly, whirling to stare at her. She felt the man subtly probing her, part of her brain interpreting it as if he were testing the strength of her hands, but she knew that the reality was much more complex than that.

 

"She doesn't exist, My Lord," the young Twi'lek girl spat. "She was weak, untrained, unfit to serve a truer purpose. I took her place."

 

"And you are," the man prompted, a strange cruel smile on his face.

 

"Your loyal slave, My Lord. I wish only to serve you and crave that I am deemed fit to do so."

 

"Only a slave, are you? That's disappointing. And that's all you desire to be? A mere slave," He prompted.

 

Surprised by the man's tone, she was stung into answering honestly before thinking. "I don't want to be a slave. I don't want to be at the mercy of others. I want to be respected, or feared by those who don't deserve respect," she snarled, before getting control of herself. Her head reared back in horrified realization, unintentionally meeting the gaze of the steel-grey-eyed man.

 

But he merely smiled back at her. "Now you perhaps begin to offer me some chance of being able to help me gain what I truly desire. Have you been given a name, girl, or a rank?"

 

She shook her head slowly, dumb-founded by the way she was being treated now.

 

The man walked over to her, strong fingers resting against her lower jaw, the thumb levered firmly against her chin, turning her face to meet the his eyes.

 

"You are my servant now, and you will suffer nothing at the hands of the others. If there are tasks for you, I will give them to you. If you are capable of learning, I will teach you. If you disobey or fail, or it simply amuses me, I will wield the lash on you. From this moment until I alone decide otherwise, you will conduct yourself as my apprentice, and are bound to no other commands."

 

He stepped back and gestured, the cuffs around the girl’s wrists dropping to the floor. "Cover yourself, and then come with me," the man said, tossing a thin black cloak at her. She shook it out and hurriedly donned it, assuming the proper pose of one waiting to obey.

 

"From now on, you are to be called Ab'ki, and I will forge you into my true legacy," the Lord Ca, as he was known in the Mandalorian sector, hissed, gesturing with one hand as he left the audience chamber.

 

The girl mentally tasted the name, a thin grim smile of satisfaction twisting her face as she followed the Sith Lord through the door. "As you command, Master," she said, joy in her tone.

 

------

 

Mirdala fell through the door, not completely surprised to find herself surrounded by what she recognized as an artifice of the spirit realm known by her family as the Red Dreaming. This had to be another wonderful lesson brought on by the Seeker ghosts.

 

"Why do you always do this when I'm sleeping," she growled, irked and disgusted by what she had just been forced to live through. The realization that she had been wrapped into at least some part of the mental landscape of a hated foe had caused a cold, baleful fire to flare up in her soul. She could not fail to recognize Ab'ki, and that had filled in the rest of the blanks.

 

"Perhaps they realized that, like all small children, you're much more amenable to being taught difficult life lessons after you've been put down for a nap," a mocking voice answered her. It was not a voice she recognized from those that had played teacher or counselor to her over these last few weeks, nor any of those she knew as clan or friend, and there was something about the voice that had caused a chill to run down her spine.

 

Slowly she turned to study the other being, surprised to see an orange-skinned Togruta lounging on a high-backed, ornate chair, one leg resting languidly over one arm of the chair while the other booted foot barely rested on the floor. The woman's face and brain-tails were tattooed and decorated with a complicated pattern of blue and black swirls, giving her a sort of stern and forbidding beauty.

 

She was dressed in black leather pants and boots, surmounted by a kama and breechcloth ornately done in white and black symbols and whorls. Her torso was encased in black tunics with leather tabards done in the same style as the kama and breechcloth. As Mirdala examined her, the Togruta smiled back at her, mockingly.

 

Mirdala had never laid eyes on her, but she knew what she was.

 

"Kriffing hells-spawned Sith," she snarled, instinctively reaching for her kukris, but finding them missing.

 

What the haran is a Sith doing in the Red Dreams? Her thoughts were frantic. Is this even really the Red Dreams or some other kind of attack, some construct by Ab’ki?

 

She cold feel the Force calling to her as the energy seemed to swirl around her and build in response to her visceral reaction to the Sith’s appearance. In absence of being able to close her hands over the familiar handles of her kukris, she clenched them. As her quick mind worked through the hell she’d just been forced to experience, Mirdala refused to allow herself to wander down the path of what could have been if TeVerd hadn’t agreed to help give her a chance at her own life. Force Cultists had tracked her down at least once that she could remember, and what she’d just witnessed could have easily been her life’s road.

 

Gratitude for what TeVerd had given her helped keep her impulse to shove this Sith intrusion from her mind. “You’re here for a reason. What is it?”

 

"My my, they were wrong, you haven't learned much patience at all," the Togruta smirked.

 

"I've learned patience with a Sith can be deadly. Other than your enjoyment of making me go through that, what was your point?"

 

"My point, Child, was to deliver a lesson, and, if you're as clever as your name would imply, a warning about the mindset you might be taking into a war zone with you," The Sith woman said, rising to her feet with deadly Sand Panther grace. Mirdala realized how tall and lean the other woman was, noting it mentally as a build that lent itself to warlike service. "I don't want you to destroy yourself, or your comrades, for having the wrong frame of reference."

 

She paused, looking down at the young Mando. "And you're wondering if I'm lying? And if I'm telling the truth, you wonder why?"

 

"If you're truly being honest," Mirdala shot back,"you'll also understand why I might find it hard to believe you. Everything I've been taught or experienced tells me that Sith revel in being duplicitous. They enjoy letting an enemy destroy their own cause, all while thinking they're doing what's best."

 

"If I was planning to lie to you, I could have always chosen not to reveal myself, little girl," the Sith sneered. "Or hidden as one of the dozens you'd trust more readily." She narrowed her eyes. "Such as your dear precious blue haired mommy."

 

The growl escaped from her throat before she could suppress it. The Sith made a certain point. “What is it you stand to gain by granting me this little insight? What interest could you possibly have in my continued survival?"

 

"Well, you're correct about that," The sith said, tossing her head haughtily. "You're worth nothing to me personally." She smirked. "But I do happen to have known some who do seem to place some sort of value on you."

 

Mirdala paused at that, wondering who she could have possibly known to have enough sway over a Sith to disrupt their eternal rest long enough to deal with her. “You owed one of the Seekers? One who didn’t feel I’d take this lesson to heart as seriously if it had come from them directly?” Her curiosity was getting the better of her, though she still remained cautious.

 

"You were allowed to get as far as you have gone because 'all beings deserve a chance to define their own existence'," The Sith said, obviously quoting someone. She hesitated, and then went on softly. "And some even deserve another chance to redefine things."

 

-------

 

The dream had left Mirdala unsettled enough to slip from the bed and pace silently back and forth as Kandor slept. Was this somehow a sign that the time was right to work toward figuring out the when and where of bringing down Ab'ki?

 

The call of his comm and the subsequent message from 2277 filled in the blanks well enough as she immediately changed into a fresh kute and began handing Kandor pieces of his armor. She hesitated at the last piece - his chest plate - brushing her fingers over the four-inch scar that her beskar-blade had left when she'd attacked him on Tatooine while escaping the slavers that had held, drugged, and assaulted her. "You're sure you don't want me to repair this for you? It wouldn't take long..."

[saberforce]

((This post includes arrival before Ab'k's armies and current time line.))

 

Tros and the majority of the clans on Shogun had arrived within six hours after getting the call to rely back at Keldabe. They came in a total of eight very old Teroch-type gunships, but were still very much effective and deadly for their intended purpose. They were a small number, but then again, Shogun and always been small in numbers compared to the other worlds. They had landed and were all quick to report in. The verda from Shogun were ready to fight and prove their strength.

 

** Current Time **

 

Tros sat onto a building within Keldabe cleaning his weapons. It was raining and seemed dark within the sky. The beroya was doing everything possible to not think about what these aruetiise would look like or how they would fare in battle against Mando'ade. It just wasn't something he found helpful to him. He glanced up and for a very short second, locked eyes with Raeshe, as both did not have their buy'ce on. Her eyes were intense, sold blue upon her caramel skin. He found himself wondering why she was so insistent on following him up here, as he usually liked to be alone to collect his thoughts before any form of battles. She knew this about him. In fact, she was the only one whom Tros could considered a friend after all of his years on Concord Dawn. He turned his eyes away from er and back to his weapon. That's when she spoke.

 

"Tro'solus Ardell, I'm going to find every bit of down time to study you to find you a riduur."

 

"Is that why you followed me up here?"

 

Tros was very short with her. Raeshe knew that he hated using his full name, and that he didn't even like it being mentioned out loud. If he had his way, no one would call him anything other then Tros. Part of it was due to the very nature of the name was given by his dar'buir. He looked at her again, but continued to clean his weapon.

 

"What about Caen Fullur? He and you always seem to get along?"

 

Tros only shook his head and put his eyes back down on his weapon. He didn't think now was really the best time for Raeshe to play matchmaker. The rain coming down seemed warm all of a sudden. It made Tros put away his weapon and stand up, but he put on his buy'ce as he did. He was now looking out towards the West. He tried to see if he could pick up anything on his own scanners, but couldn't. But something was clear, the air had changed. It felt like a battle was upon them. He looked at Raeshe.

 

"I guess if he can survive this coming battle, maybe I'll let you set something up for us."

[Moon Knight]

Running his thumb over the scar as he took the plate from his wife, Fett shook his head. "Scars keep us from forgetting and I'll bear them gladly," he answered. "The integrity of the plate hasn't been compromised, so I'd just as soon keep it. It's a testament to something we have overcome." To him, it didn't matter that Mirdala was the one that had put the mark there with the beskad'ika she still carried, as if it somehow reflected poorly on her. Instead it was a memory of the time when it had happened, the great evil that Mirdala had been subjected to and subsequently defeated. A memento of his own relentless search to find her even before they had been more than just hunt partners, and a reminder that she had gotten loose from the slavers on her own even as he'd been arriving.

 

As he finished armoring he put on his buy'ce and reports started to stream in. Estimates as to the size of Ab'ki's fleet complement, status checks for Keldabe's defenses, MandalMotors and others scrambling fighters to see if they could slow down the vanguard's advance through the Sector.

 

Fett mentally reviewed Keldabe's assets and tactical situation for the thousandth time in the last two weeks. They'd stationed about 40,000 combat-ready Mando'ade in the small city in addition to its complement of non-military residents and those who would be maintaining the infrastructure. The city itself was situated atop a flat granite hill, surrounded on three sides by the winding Kelita river and on the north side by forest. The city was practically a fort -- although some of the buildings were of simple construction of wood and stone, others were durasteel and some were reinforced by beskar. The distinctive MandalMotors tower dominated the skyline, standing 100 meters tall and adorned with the distinctive mythosaur kyr'bes that the Mando'ade associated with their culture. Along the outskirts of the city, along with whatever barricades and trenches had been constructed in the last few weeks, there was a scattering of armored vehicles, crewed juggernauts that would bring some extra firepower to the battle.

 

Situated throughout the city were a wide array of anti-air turrets that would make air dominance over Keldabe impossible for Ab'ki unless they somehow were sabotaged. The cannons were old but reliable using technologies that the Mandalorians had been refining for millennia. To assist in air defense and provide support to the troops, MandalMotors was retaining a few squadrons of starfighters and bombers. Fett had asked 2277 to move the Justice out of the city, along with a few other Tra'kad-class assault vessels, where they had found a protective mountainside where they could lay low until called upon. The beskar'ad would of course maintain constant connection to Fett's buy'ce to provide tactical insight and coordinate with the command center.

 

Kandor was not a strategic genius when it came to troop movements. He could do anything that he put his mind to fairly well, but in this case he had a full team of the best minds in the Sector holed up in the Oyu'baat command center. They would handle most of the strategy and leave him to make judgment calls when necessary. Meanwhile, he would be on the front line with his people, leading in the way that he always had.

 

Because of the river, the attack was almost certainly coming from the forest to the north, and so much of the defense was placed there. Some had been posted to other parts of the city, but Fett anticipated relocating most of them to where the fighting was thicker if Ab'ki's commanders didn't have an aquatic deployment up their sleeves. Fett, too, would be on the north side, with Mirdala, TeVerd, Tresha, Vy'ika, Rahg, and Rhys. Of the Ad'Norts, only Tresha had stayed, wishing to stay close to help support Mirdala instead of returning to Concord Dawn with Taen and the others.

 

All said, they were as ready as they were going to get. Armored up, Mand'alor began to head out into the city with his riduur. If Ab'ki's people were smart, they would land overnight and march in the morning, so they still had a little bit of time left before the blasterfire started. "Seeker ghosts this morning, or something else?" he asked Mirdala. "Can you feel Ab'ki getting close?"

 

((Battle itself will start in a post or two. Hang tight.))

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

She didn't immediately answer him as they rode the lift to the command center to check in with the rest of the command staff, having shut her eyes to push back memories that a part of her did wish she could forget. Something about the dream had brought a multitude of them from across her life bubbling unexpectedly to the surface all at once in the time it had taken her to get armored and accompany Kandor to the lift.

 

In that moment she envied Kandor's natural ability to distance himself from things in order to move on. Nothing ever really seemed to phase him for long, or at least that he let show.

 

The concerned weight of his hand on her shoulder and the gentle raising of her chin brought her back to the present moment and she opened her eyes to meet his golden brown as they seemed to be silently searching for some clue as to what was rushing through her mind. Recompartmentalizing the various memories suddenly got much easier as she reminded herself what all of this was for.

 

It was for him, for more time with him. It was for their family, both just the two of them and their now-shared extended. Everyone else out there was fighting for as much if not more, even likely a few that had simply been swept up in the middle of things and had the strength of conscience, stubborn will, or sheer stupidity to ride things out alongside the Mandalorian people. War would soon blossom like deadly flowers all over the sector to take root for Manda knew how long.

 

It chilled her to realize that, like her, Ab'ki had been dealt her own share of bad hands, but their choices of how to handle those hands couldn't have been more different. Mirdala couldn't help but wonder if she could have been the one that the sector was preparing to mount a defense against if one or two things had gone differently at key moments in her quarter-century of life. For a moment it seemed as though everything stood still for an instant as this revelation hit her.

 

Then she realized that Kandor had halted the lift and was remaining motionless as though any movement might spook her.

 

"All of the above...and then some..." she finally managed around the lessening tightness in her chest. She hadn't even realized that she'd been holding her breath. Leaning against the side of the lift, she braced herself then slid the rest of the way down to the floor, dipping her head to off-set the dizziness that had briefly set in. "Guess I went pretty deep there for a moment," she took another deep breath but was quick to add, "Nothing through the Force. In my own head. Ori'haat. Introspection with a vengeance. Who knew it could have such sharp teeth." A small smile crossed her face as she attempted to reassure her husband.

 

She wet her lips and swallowed before looking back up at him. After a moment's hesitation to gather her thoughts, she started again, grateful for his patience and not making her feel rushed, despite the urgency of matters at hand. Better to get things clear now, than before the fighting started. When she finally spoke, the color that had faded from her cheeks from before was returning.

 

"You and I hold very...different memories from that time. To me," she paused, deliberately choosing her words instead of allowing them to rush from her like they normally did,"I had to lose myself in more ways than one to bleed for what level of freedom I'd achieved when I put that scar there. It was two years ago...and yet...at times it's just like it was yesterday. You go so long without thinking of it, but it's like it's always there ready to pounce or breakthrough whatever box you've done your best to keep it locked tight." Bowing her head she took another deep breath as she drew her right knee up and rested her arm on it.

 

"It does get a bit easier to push them back, especially when you're here to remind me I've come out the other side," She offered him a small smile before pushing herself back to her feet. "I'll get with Buir and help get them locked back down before things heat up. I've been meaning to talk to him about some Seeker-related things anyway."

[Moon Knight]

Kandor helped her to her feet. "You made it through that, and we'll make it through this," he assured her. "Ab'ki picked a fight with the wrong people -- everything you've been through has seen to that." Of course, the battlefield was an unpredictable place, and ones of this size he tended to avoid. In close quarters urban warfare, sweeping a building or attacking an outpost, there was a huge advantage to be gained through information as every target could be pinpointed. On an open battlefield there was a lot more chance and situations that could not be avoided, and Kandor knew there was no guarantee they would both live. Nonetheless he believed in their ability to beat any obstacle through training, preparation, adaptability and intelligence. He felt like they had done everything they could to prepare and so it would be enough. He'd been through bigger fights at the end of the war.

 

He draped his arm atop her shoulders and hit the lift control that resumed its movement. "I have to believe that whatever the Seeker ghosts are showing you, it's to build you up. I hope TeVerd can help you so that when we get out there, we can keep our eyes focused on watching each other's backs and winning this war."

 

The lift doors slid open. They checked in at the command center, but from here on most of that would be done over comms. Right now Mand'alor needed to be out among the troops that were making their final preparations for an invasion that would likely stage overnight and begin in the morning. Though he had no taste for it, he needed to be seen, and the Mando'ade could take from his presence whatever they needed. If anything, he could remind them that he was here, that there was a plan, and that they were prepared.

 

The last time he had come, he had reduced the organized Kyr'tsad presence to shambles. He was dedicated to seeing a similar level of success come out of this time.

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

Her own arm encircled his waist as she rested her head against his chest plate, continuing to re-center herself and allow some of Kandor's confidence to permeate her own uncertainty as the two of them completed their ride to the command center.

 

Rhys greeted them as they stepped off, casting a glance Mirdala's direction and lent her some of his own battle calm through their shared empathic bond as he handed Kandor a manifest of a shipment that had been received from Vihk. "I'm glad you let us know to expect this shipment, otherwise it likely would have remained in quarantine. Everything's been vetted. Rather nice present if you ask me."

 

"Rhys have you seen -," Mirdala began.

 

"Buir's in the briefing room on the first level as you leave. He figured you'd want a word," Rhys finished, already knowing what she was going to ask.

 

Mirdala gave a wry snort before returning to the lift she'd just taken. "Of course he knows. I'll meet you down there in a bit, cyar'ika," she promised, leaving Kandor to get his check-ins with the rest of the assembled command staff and get initial readiness reports.

 

Rhys watched her go, then turned to his brother-in-law and asked in a low voice. "She doing okay? She seems a bit more rattled this morning than simple battle anticipation."

 

-----

 

The briefing room door was already open when she arrived and her Force-sense alerted her to the projectile being thrown at her head just in time for her to deftly catch the ration bar TeVerd tossed her way. "I imagine you have a lot of questions for me this morning, but you at least need to get some skraan in you first. You had a long night and it's about to be an even longer day."

 

Mirdala set her helmet down across from him and took the corresponding spot on the bench as Vi'ika trotted over to hit the door activation switch with a swipe of her paw. "Ah, so that's where you'd gotten to this morning," she chided, giving the hound a scratch behind the ears before the massive hound came to rest at her feet.

 

From across the table, TeVerd watched her intently with his dark violet eyes, appraising and evaluating her mental and emotional states and readiness for the upcoming battle. Mirdala found it hard not to fidget under the scrutiny but managed to meet his gaze evenly. "You feel over-clocked, don't you? And you're not sure what's been causing it."

 

She nodded. "That and can Ab'ki tap into the Red Dreams? I had an odder than usual visit from a twisted Togruta last night and -"

 

"You want to know if it was an attempt to subjugate you again," he finished the thought for her before rising and releasing a few of the "screamers" into the room to prevent outside eavesdropping. Instead of resuming his previous seat, he sat next to Mirdala on the bench with his back to the table. Again Mirdala nodded as she finished the ration bar and tucked the wrapper into one of her pouches.

 

"We'll start with the first topic - the overclocking. Tell me, do you think it's affecting the others?"

 

Mirdala considered for a moment before shaking her head. "I seem to be the only one. Even Tresha seems fine, just the expected level of concern about the rest of her family on Dawn."

 

"And why do you think it's just you? What makes Tresha, Rhys, and the others so different?"

 

She considered for a moment "Force-sensitivity?"

 

He shook his head. "Not quite, in this case at least. This will be your first battle with any concentration of other empaths worth speaking of. Granted, many of these are weaker empaths, but together they create a larger static that we all draw from as protection and cover. It's why my father sent Vy'ika and the others to shield you when I nearly died. The Omicrons grew up around each other and the constant noise and even Tresha did as well, considering how large the Ad'Nort clan is. You didn't, so you're not used to it."

 

"I had you," she was quick to point out.

 

"Still not the same. If it had been, you wouldn't be feeling like you do now. As for the Togruta...There may be some degree of connection between what we can do and the Force. Enough that if a Ghost was so inclined it could be possible to cross between. What do you think the lesson was?"

 

"The series of unfortunate events that lead to Ab'ki becoming herself. It kind of made me remember my nightmares as a kid, the ones that were actually real that you went to go chase. What my fate could have been had you decided to walk out of my father's shop twenty-three years ago. A few different choices and missed meetings and it could just as easily have been me that the sector is preparing to defend against today."

 

"I think you just found your own answer, Dika. The choices we make. Ab'ki didn't have to take the path she did and neither did you. Yet here we are." He rose and continued, "I've never told you how you should feel about things and I'm not going to start now. You do need to be prepared, however, to have painful things brought up and leveraged against you, just as much as the good. War follows no rules, and personal grudges less so."

 

"'One person's overreaction is another's nesscessary response'?" She quoted back to him.

 

Tey laughed and ruffled her hair as he scooped up the screamers and activated the door. "Exactly. Do what you need to to ground, but do it quickly. You've got a lot of good people around you and a fierce group of fighters that are defending their home. Keep to your duty and you'll do fine."

 

'You're okay.' That's what I have to keep reminding myself. I'm not alone in this burden. I may be the one she wants, but she has to get to me first, Mirdala thought to herself for a moment before putting her buy'ce - her war face - on. Time to bury the past in the past where it belongs and fight for my future.

[Moon Knight]

"She's very close to this," Fett told Rhys. "But she'll get through it, like she always does."

 

He headed the rest of the way to the command center and spent some time there making sure everything was ready, but it wasn't meant to last long. Soon he headed out into the city to spend some time among the troops. Most of them had abandoned the center of town and moved to their assigned posts, setting up tents and campfires as necessary so that they could remain there until the fighting began. So he went out and moved among them, for the most part answering tactical questions and providing information he was receiving from the command center. Exuding his calm presence even in the face of what was to come.

 

The Augury had given him a taste of large scale conflict. Shipyards, the Imperial Spire, a Super Star Destroyer, and the Death Star were among his battlegrounds. He thought carefully about them. Sometimes he had had a squad, sometimes Kirlocca, and still others he had fought alone. This time he had more going for him than ever before -- an aliit and indeed an army standing ready. His aura of confidence was genuine.

 

---------------------------------

 

The day passed slowly, and over night Ab'ki's forces were deployed to the north of the city and began staging there. They were harassed on and off by Mandalorian air support, but the real battle was going to be on the ground, and the Mando'ade had the biggest advantage there, defending Keldabe from their defensive fortifications.

 

Kandor headed back into the command center, again with Mirdala, to get the last updates before heading to the battle line. Estimates were coming in. Fifty thousand or more aruetiise were projected to be marching on them. A larger force, but a beatable one, Fett thought. He hadn't gotten where he was by underestimating his opponent, however. Ab'ki's people either had a few tricks up their sleeves, or their army wasn't meant to be able to conquer the city. He would stay informed on the events of the rest of the Sector. Already several other worlds and cities were reporting enemy forces amassing outside of them. This conflict would be everywhere.

[Tresha Ad'Nort]

It was without visible emotion that Tresha had seen her returning family members disappear back through Mandalore's atmosphere. The farewells were sincere, but brief: claps on the shoulder plates, the clink of buy'cese touching, hands raised in farewell. The Ad'Norts were fighters, mandokarla through and through. To any bystanders or onlookers, it would seem almost as blasé as departing a restaurant following skraan, a hearty "see you tomorrow" kind of goodbye.

 

To Tresha's empathic senses, the solemn and determined goodbyes belied the roiling anxiety beneath.

 

Even now, as she checked and double-checked her full weapons complement, secured and re-secured the plates of her beskar'gam, she could feel the spike of heightened awareness from her family on Concord Dawn as she prepared for the impending assault. Ab'ki's vanguard had been announced.

 

At the command center, she moved through the assembled ade, keeping an eye out for Kandor or Mirdala.

 

"Ad'Nort!" The name stopped her in her tracks and she turned on her heel. An unfamiliar man approached her, an ornate sheath clutched in his hand. "This just arrived with a shipment from Nar Shaddaa. Has your name on it."

 

She frowned slightly. "I didn't order--"

 

He pushed it into her hands and turned without hesitation, leaving her staring after him, her confusion outweighing her anxiety and even irritation at the man's curt manner. But as she glanced down at the blade she held in her hands, it all evaporated into a fey astonishment that bordered on giddiness. She pulled the beskad slowly out of its sheath, marveling at the magnificent weight of its bronzed pommel. The blade was longer than a standard beskad would be, closer to 50 centimeters, befitting her long and graceful limbs. The notch in the center of the blade near the cross-guard was slender and arrow-shaped, the curve of the steel adorned with pomrra vines and so sharp she managed to work the first layer of skin off of her thumb as she traced the vines in earnest appreciation.

 

Ahzinger had certainly found a favorable way to "add his sword" to the fight in the sector. I'll have to send him a thank-you after this is all over, she smirked to herself as she buckled the beskad around her waist.

 

Spotting Kandor's unmistakable beskar'gam, she approached him, coming to stand beside him as she observed the clans assigned to the defense of Keldabe beginning to assemble on the streets outside the Oyu'baat. Some were training scopes on the sky, some fiddling with weapons, but all of them were clearly waiting for something. Though, Tresha sensed innately, they did not seem to know what they were waiting for.

 

With a sudden inspiration, she turned toward Kandor. The anxiety that had been bubbling beneath the surface of her family had to be present in the gathered troops. While each of them would fight to the death to defend their homes and their culture, such individual mindsets did not an army make. If they were to truly stand together against the threat that Ab'ki and her lackeys presented, they would need a rallying point--a leader who inspired them to come together. Even had Mirdala not brought Kandor officially into her family, Tresha would have easily considered him a kindred spirit. But there were those who had expressed their doubts about his capacity as Mand'alor and his dedication to the title and the people it commanded. Though most had been silenced by his assertive and competent actions, she knew instinctively what was required.

 

"Kandor," she said, pulling off her buy'ce and tucking it under her arm, "they need you. Not just Mand'alor, more than a title, they need to see your fire and strength. They need an al'verde. Speak to them," she nudged.

[Moon Knight]

Kandor greeted Tresha with a nod as she approached. He was not a speech-giving man, and so he almost dismissed her suggestion outright. He needed to be out on the battlefield. Ab'ki's forces were going to start emerging from the forest within the hour. And yet... he knew that she was right. However he had treated the title of Mand'alor, as the leader of this army he was responsible for addressing them and rallying them. If anything he could say would inspire them even a little bit to do what needed to be done to repel these invaders, he needed to say it. Finally he nodded at her. "You're right," he said. He looked between her and Mirdala. "I'll do it from among them, though, not from here."

 

"Before you go, Mand'alor," someone said, approaching from across the command center. "It seems that Ahzinger left something for you as well. And it's shabla impressive."

 

Curious, Fett approached what at first had looked like an oversized box that had contained the other items Vihk had sent from Nar Shaddaa. However, at his presence it activated, seeming to come to life as it began to rearrange its many panels. Within a few seconds, it revealed itself to be a beskar'ad in the shape of a Mando'ad, complete with integrated blue-and-silver beskar'gam. The war droid was plated in Mandalorian Iron and had weapons emplacements built into its limbs, including what appeared to be an array of wrist rockets and heavy cannons. "I am MAD-01," it reported in Mando'a in a masculine voice. "How may I serve you, Mand'alor?"

 

Kandor surveyed the droid. "Come and fight," he said, heading down the stairs and out into Keldabe. "We will discuss your capabilities later." The beskar'ad followed silently.

 

A few minutes later, he was in the camp, and the verde around him parted to clear his path to the fortifications. Some seemed to straighten at his approach or acknowledge him with nods and salutes. When he arrived at the outer fortifications, he turned back to face the vast array of Mando'ade, holed up and waiting for victory or death. He could feel every eye on him, and he accessed the comm channel that had been set up for him to transmit into every buy'ce in the army. He paused for a long moment. Across the field and into the treeline, silhouettes were starting to appear. The army was practically upon them, the fighting only seconds away. Mirdala stood beside him, and the rest of the aliit was close by.

 

Finally he spoke. "Mando'ade, my vode an. In ancient days our kind were conquerors, taking to the stars to fight and destroy the aruetiise for glory and honor. Though we put aside our thirst for conquest long ago in the name of clan and brother, we carry still the lessons of our triumphs and defeats. On this day an army has come to our homes, to threaten our aliite, thinking themselves better able to do that which is coded into our blood and our tradition.

 

"Let us show them how mistaken they are. Today, let us make them remember what we remember and bring the might of the millennia to bear upon them. Let us show them just how costly this mistake can be!"

 

The long range cannons thumped as the juggernauts let loose a volley toward the treeline. A great shout rose among the assembled:

 

"Oya!"

[Mellanie Devanus Vevut]

"OYA!" Mel shouted with the others. The night had passed slowly, interrupted by a few tense moments of landing craft and troop transports passing overhead, along with a few false alarms just when she was about to fall asleep. She knew that was sound strategy on Ab'ki's part; tired soldiers would make mistakes, and letting the Mandalorians stew in anticipation would wear on already raw nerves. But eventually, the time came, and Mand'alore's face had appeared on her HUD. His speech was short and to the point, but nevertheless inspiring.

 

They were ready.

 

During the night, it appeared that the Sith's forces were grouping mostly in the northern forest. It made sense given the topography of the city, but it was a little disappointing to the Vevuts, since they were about as far from the front line as possible right now. But someone had to guard the rear, and Mel wouldn't put it past a Sith to try to attack on multiple fronts, cliffs notwithstanding. And, she reflected, Mand'alore might call for backup in the north.

 

It turned out to be a good thing the Vevuts were there. A call came over their tactical channel--several landing craft had just settled on the near side of the river at the base of the escarpment. Mel hurried over and took her place in a long line of her clanmates. Sniper rifles were passed out to any who didn't have them, and as one, the Vevuts began to rain fire down on the enemies below.

 

Shooting fish in a barrel was the old Corellian saying, and it was true here. Mel's second shot took down an enemy soldier. As she continued to shoot, they continued to fall. She felt...oddly distant from it all. It wasn't like she was actually killing people...she might as well have been shooting targets in a practice range. The sensation was vaguely disturbing, but she didn't have time to think about it. Despite the covering fire, a decent number of the invaders had reached the bottom of the cliff and were currently ascending with ascension cables. A few of the better snipers adjusted their aim to the cables themselves, sending the soldiers plummeting to their deaths as the cables were severed, but many more were cresting the edge. And Clan Vevut was there to meet them. "For Mandalore!" went the cry, and full battle was joined.

[Ary the Grey]

"Oya!"

 

"Oy. Yeah."

 

Aryian's voice was, of course, drowned out by the barrage of gunfire at the figures in the treeline, figures that slowly began to take form as they rushed the city. Briefly, he made eye contact with his commanding officer, before raising his rifle and firing at the oncoming soldiers. They were barely within maximum range, but they began falling, one by one. It was hard to tell, but Aryian mowed down his fair share, usually with a head shot, the Force guiding his hand. Merciful, quick deaths. Whoever these poor fools were, they had little idea of the Hell they were about to be sent into, real, bloody warfare, as this tactic was an idiot's tactic. Whatever this was, it wasn't going to be a deciding point in the battle. Just another bloodbath.

 

The Grey Master ducked left a second before a blaster bolt whizzed by where his chest had been, and he fired back, catching the marksman cleanly between the eyes. Something was coming, though, he could feel it. Maybe he should have worn a helmet after all.

[Whispering Abyss]

Night turned to morning, and the Mandalorians had not advanced out of their city. They were smarter than Hawke had initially gave them credit for, as he'd already identified several areas to set up ambushes for an advancing army and would easily be able to trounce them even on their home planet. But, that was not the case. They had fortified in the city, and as such the situation more or less demanded a siege. Well...a kind of siege, anyways. The situation in the planet's orbit was an interesting one.

 

Mercenary starfighters had superiority one moment, and the Mandalorians rallied and drove them back again and again. Hawke marveled at their tenacity and staying power, bravely rejoining the fight again and again when they were horrifically outnumbered. The day was spent with starfighters and escape pods raining down from the heavens, usually resulting in an explosion, near or far. As nightfall approached, it became dark enough to look up and see laser cannons fire flash back and forth between the far off specks, along with the occasional large flash of a concussion missile or the like. Had it not been hundreds losing their lives, it would have been beautiful.

 

Hawke found himself quietly contemplating the tactical map of the area, trying to decide the best method of initial contact based on the terrain.

 

"Heresy grows from idleness, Colonel."

 

The edges of Hawke's mouth turned ever so slightly downward as the familiar snakelike voice all but sent a chill down his spine. He spoke up, his eyes never leaving the map.

 

"Heresy is not found in victory, Inquisitor, and victory needs no explanation."

 

Inquisitor Shaadthorn, Third Priest of the Cult of the Whispering Abyss walked around to the other side of the table, stopping when he was opposite Hawke. "Yes, my dear Colonel, but you have yet to claim victory...and defeat allows for no explanation. May I remind you we are on the Lady Ab'ki's schedule? Your delay borders on questioning the Dark one's will."

 

Hawke looked up, expression unchanged, but rage beginning to build in the back of his mind. "I assure you, Inquisitor, that I am innocent of that accusation. Mobilization orders are just about to be sent out now. In fact..." That was it...unwittingly, Shaadthorn had given Hawke the perfect opening gambit. Reveal your opponent by sacrificing as little as possible. "...In fact, a large contingent of the mercenaries will be the first into battle. We need not risk our battle-hardened soldiers against the Mandalorians without first knowing what they are up against. The Death's Gate will be their first test. They will be escorted by a pair of our acolytes, so as to better ensure their survivability and to more accurately asses our enemy."

 

Shaadthorn snorted at the perceived impudence, but the Colonel's strategy was airtight. There was nothing to be done. He turned to leave, pausing at the door. "Just remember...there is no such thing as innocence, only degrees of guilt."

 

The words stung Hawke, but he still couldn't help but smile. Anything to disarm the old weasel was worth its weight in gold. Promptly, he began sending out communications, readying the army.

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

As quietly as they could, the mercenary hordes advanced through the woods, slowly taking positions along the treeline, waiting for the order to advance. That order, however, wasn't needed, as many large artillery guns began to bombard their location and all Hell broke loose. Raggedly, the mercenaries charged, shooting at who they could, attempting to dodge from what they couldn't. None of them knew this was likely a suicide mission, they had been led to believe the defending forces were much weaker. But they would be shot if they retreated, and shot if they advanced.

 

The battleground began to soak with blood.

 

And through it all, a group advanced, unphased by the heavy fire and explosions ringing all around them, and they would bring death with them.

[Nonpareils]

Frik advanced slowly, his shield taking the brunt of any blaster fire aimed at the Death's Gate. Behind the group leered the two Pau'ans, every now and then raising their hand to reach out with some kind of Sith wizardry and deflect a missile aimed at them. Every now and then Bob would tap him on the shoulder, and Frik would wait, watching the Nautolan ready himself, then quickly dropped the shield and bringing it back up, Bob firing in the split second the shield was down, usually taking a Mandalorian out of the fight with every round. Mandalorian Iron was tough, but even the strong armor wasn't immune to the right armor piercing rounds. And even if Bob somehow missed a killshot, the fragments of the core were still laced with a nerve toxin that would slowly render them unable to control their muscles and was eventually fatal over a number of hours.

 

"Move left, Frik. There's an opening we can take advantage of."

 

Jirai's cold voice cut through the cacophony of the battlefield as if there could have been no fighting at all. Frik nodded to the captain, the heavily armored Togorian slowly moving forward and to the left, still offering cover to the six others trailing behind him. A warning klaxon sounded on his shield emitter as the fire intensified, and the Togorian readied a power cell, and checked to see if his companions were ready for the hot swap. They were, and in a smooth motion Frik ejected the spent cell, dropping the shield, and jammed another one in as two of Nollo's grenades shot out, as well as a hail of covering fire from Captain Jirai and Bob. He shouted as the shield began to power up, and the two stopped just as the bubble popped up around them again. Again they advanced.

 

Taking cover behind a natural ditch near the city's perimeter, the group fanned out before charging an emplacement, Frik raining fury down with his gatling blaster while Nollo peppered the area with explosions. What few blaster shots were returned were easily deflected by Ghren and Fuld's crimson blades. Kred unsheathed his blades, a sinister grin on his elongated face as he prepared to slice and dice at the weak points in their enemies' Armor. In moments, they were upon the Mandalorians.

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

((Post Music))

 

The rain had started to fall not long after the enemy lines began advancing through the shadows of the dense forest underbrush toward Kandor and Mirdala's position. Her hand found his, giving it a brief squeeze, sending a silent affirmation that she was with him and at his side once more as they faced a greater enemy.

 

As various pockets of defenders along the line made contact, the lines began to fill with chatter and chaos of the chorus of battle even as the dust of Keldabe worked itself into mud and muck.

 

Mirdala stood utterly motionless; her head cocked to one side as though she were listening for something as reached out as she felt her brothers and father do the same, their presences in the Force becoming as elusive as mercury. Vy'ika, Rhys, and Rahg were operating further down the line from where Mirdala, Kandor, TeVerd, and Tresha were positioned. Each squad poised at the ready, waiting for the Darksiders to show themselves. It would be their duty to engage and take them out of commission as soon as possible once they reared their ugly heads.

 

A trio of explosions to the east of their position caused the shielding around one of the perimeter defense cannons to shimmer in the storm-clouded late-afternoon darkness. Without a second thought, Mirdala slung her sonic rifle she'd grabbed from the Justice's arsenal during her and Kandor's weeks of prepping for this very battle and headed toward the source of the heavier sounds of battle instinctively knowing the others were with her.

 

As the squad of mercenaries charged toward their position continued their onslaught, Mirdala and the others joined the fight alongside the rest of the Mando'ade defenders. The crimson blades of the duo of Force-wielders, low-level though they appeared, was more than enough to catch the attention of Mirdala and her family as they arrived in time to set about beating back this group of interlopers.

 

Mirdala was sure she could hear the slight hissing and see the steam from the rain falling against the blood-glow blades as the pair of identically uniformed paused as Mirdala and TeVerd ramped up the disruptive empathic static that would grossly affect the duo's ability to maintain their concentration levels. Now that they both had a line-of-sight on their targets, the two Seekers were able to bring their disruptive efforts to a laser focus, each choosing their target between the pair. Through it all, Mirdala and TeVerd were careful to keep close to Kandor and the ysalamiri bubble's protection.

 

Quick to take advantage of their hesitation, Mirdala selected the proper species setting on the sonic weapon and fired a volley of sonic bolts in their direction, aiming for fast and clean deaths for the two of them. She had full faith in the rest of her team to back her up.

[Moon Knight]

ShadowFett felt his riduur squeeze his hand as the blaster volleys began flying, but he was hyper focused on the battle as information poured through the displays in his buy'ce and he analyzed his own course of action to find where he could get involved and make the biggest difference. So far, the tactical situation hadn't developed dramatically, and with reports that there were some minor attacks along the river and the bridges, there was not sufficient reason to reallocate troops at this time.

 

It seemed that among Ab'ki's forces lurked a few aruetiise that posed a significant threat even to the more experienced verde in the defending army. One such group was advancing up the right side of the battlefield, protected by a portable deflector shield and two jetii'kad-wielding dark siders. When ShadowFett saw the destruction they were doling out, they had his attention.

 

His first thought was to see if that personal shield could take a volley from the juggernauts, but the squad was already getting too close to the Mandalorian lines to bring one of the vehicles around, so he grabbed his ysalamir, checked his assault rifle and advanced on their location with Mirdala, TeVerd, and Tresha. These ver'verde seemed to know what they were doing, but they had never encountered opponents like they were about to.

 

Already having reached the outer fortifications, the group of invaders had appropriated them for cover of their own. Fett approached at a combat crouch, peppering their position with quick bursts fire from his assault rifle to keep them honest. He switched on the penetrating radar setting on his visor, which painted wireframes of objects and individuals that were otherwise obscured by walls and terrain. This effectively allowed him to keep track of each member of the enemy squad and keep them pinned down even as they moved about in the ditch and barricade they'd adopted.

 

TeVerd and Mirdala were keeping close to take advantage of the ysalamir bubble, but it made them vulnerable to a well-placed grenade. Soon Fett heard the thump of a grenade launcher, but in a practiced motion, he spun around, crouched, and triggered his repulsor pack with a voice command. Normally used to push him off the ground and give him aerial mobility, this time the repulsor field met the grenade on its way in and sent it arcing up into the sky.

 

Completing his spin, his boots pushing into the soaked Keldabe soil, ShadowFett dashed forward, moving left around the barricade while TeVerd went right. The two experienced Mando'ade popped around the cover and caught one of the mercs in a crossfire. Even as the others began to draw a bead on him, Fett triggered his flamethrower, sweeping ignited fuel across them. Some of them had the armor and the cover to avoid or survive the attack, but when combined with Mirdala's sonic attack and Seeker disruption, at least one of the Force wielders went down.

 

Fett turned his assault rifle on the Togorian that seemed to be leading the squad. The tall alien opened fire first, and Mand'alor had to jump back behind cover, but then the grenade he had deflected with his repulsor pack came plummeting down into the ditch. Just before it detonated, the mercs scattered, their Force users unable to defend them telekinetically. Smoke and dirt filled the air, but Fett identified the targets that survived and resumed fire with his assault rifle.

[Dizzy]

Kalyani had listened to Mand’alore through the tactical channel on her headpiece and called out ‘Oya’ along with everyone else. When the word finally came for the Vevut’s to go into action, Kalyani took her place along with them. She glanced across at her sister, Araac and Jaesko then readied her sniper rifle and as the enemy came into view she took aim and fired. Her first shot hit her target square. She followed up with two more shots in rapid succession as she’d been told that they would have to hit their targets a number of times to drop them. Just how many shots would depend on the strength of the enemies armour. As her target fell she took a new one, keeping her head down, her body behind the protective barrier. She was feeling strangely detached from it all. As soon as one fell she went onto the next, just like she had done in the simulators.

 

As the enemy kept coming and closed the gap she changed from the sniper rifle to her blaster rifle though managed to keep it on a sling around her shoulders so if she had to change weapons quickly she’d still have access if she needed it. As they kept coming Dac ordered them to ready their blades. Those in more strategic positions were starting to use mortors and grenades. The shout went out and they all echoed it… “For Mandalore!”

[Terra]

...the flesh of the girl disintegrated beneath our bullet, and her viscera was scattered like confetti around the birthday party. If we remember right, the bullet passed into her younger brother, a lad of two, taking his head off at the shoulders. We assessed it as a good kill.”

The twins nodded in unison as their AI finished the tale of their time assisting the great Sith Master Sheog during one of his many bouts of killing after the Corellian affair. Shen’s cackling laughter greeted the end of the story as he chimed in, his voice whistling through the smile that showed his loss of teeth.

 

“Ssounded lek you ssot him goood!”

 

Terra interrupted the old man’s congratulations before it could turn into yet another story of how his drinking had destroyed his family

 

“Exiting hyperspace over Manda’yaim. Might be a bumpy ride... Helmets on.”

 

With a crackling withdraw to realspace from the curtain of swirling light, the unmarked assault shuttle dropped into the gravity well of the planet Mandalore and into a swarm of defensive fighters. A dozen warning lights ignited on the control panel beneath the young assassin’s fingertips, and the coppery taste in her mouth turned sour with adrenaline.

 

“Well Kriff…”

 

She angled the ship for the planetary surface, triggering the engines to full sublight power. The shuttlecraft whined for a second, before it began to churn and weave under the guidance from her control yoke. Harjav peaked his helmeted head into the cockpit, observing the turmoil of fighters she was weaving through.

 

“I’ll prep us for an airdrop… Jetpacks are fueled, launch doors ready.”

 

Terra laughed for a moment as the viewscreen turned a deep orange from the atmospheric entry. A lancing bolt of green fire sped past them, turning the viewscreen temporarily black with blast shielding.

 

“We’ll get to Keldabe at least…”

 

A homing beacon lit up on the coordination channel from Ab’ki, implying the location of a drop point. It would put them in the greenwood forest at the border of Keldabe, beside the bending of the river. A large blast indicating a loss of shielding rang through the hull, sending reverberations through the seat. Terra stood slowly, activating a full burn on the afterburners, aiming towards the city that was growing swiftly in the viewscreen. The AI from the twins chirped up inside her helmet, it’s voice melodramatically stern.

 

“Time to fly. Let there be blood on our wings. “

 

Terra set in the trajectory, before stepping out into the launch bay where she could see the tail end of Shen’s cloak as he lept into the rushing Manda’yaim wind. The young assassin entered a code into her armlocked datapad, shutting off all electronics to the ship and making it blind to sensor sweeps. With one stride she lept into the wind, a grin on her tattooed face beneath her jet-black helmet.

 

The shuttle passed away from her like a rocket, pursued by two aircraft, aiming towards Keldabe like she was. Beneath her, the treeline blossomed from a thick carpet of green, into the jutting crags of granite, interspersed with individual trees of verdant hardwoods. She watched as the shuttle pinwheeled into the city of Keldabe, straight down the promenade of the Chortav Meshurkaane

 

“At least it’ll kill some civilians… Perhaps spark a fire in the old district…”

 

Terra checked her own trajectory, angling herself toward the raging battle below, taking towards the Northwest, away from the bits of blazing crimson that marked to her as Force users. Her UI blinked a green signal as her jetpack ignited, highlighting her like a falling angel. The ysalamiri in its nutrient cage, where it took the place of her missile, churned a gentle and soothing rhythm in her ear.

 

As the ground rose to meet her, dotted with the corpses of the fallen, Terra fell like a wraith a few meters before the firefighting line of mercenaries and Protectors. Her boots found purchase on the soft soil as she landed on one knee, drawing up her slugthrowing rifle, where the UI in her helmet traced a targeting reticle in blazing orange on her field of view. The grip was studded in her palm, and the trigger pull was short, a blast of three slugs shattering the visor of a Mandalorian Protector that jumped from the barricades to take down the unusual foe.

 

Following her lead, the mercenary line charged forward, hails of blasterfire exchanging from the lines. Within her helmet, Terra could hear status updates from her squad who had landed within the safety of the trees. The twins confirmed Sith activity three kilometers to her east, with heavy resistance from the mandalorians in the sector, who were actively slaughtering the Togorians that were making up their center.

 

With another three round burst, Terra dropped another Protector screaming onto the unyielding granite. She paused for a moment, reaching down to strip the helmet from the shrieking girl as the line surged past her. The girl was young, no more than seventeen years of age, and the rounds had shredded her left lung where they had passed between the armor plating. The young assassin held back her arm, holding the girl's helmet in her grip, before bringing it smashing down into the girl’s jawline. The girl lost half her teeth with the first blow, the rest with the second, and her life with the third.

 

A chirping confirmation signaled an affirmative command from her squad, who now had a visual on her. Terra tossed the bloody helmet like a grenade over the short wall that separated the mercenaries from the Mandalorian lines. A yell for cover followed her gift, and then an angry cry of desperation

 

“Ad'ika!”

 

A Protector in the same blue and green armor as her victim leapt towards her, scattering the wind with blasterfire and curses. Two more mandalorians followed him in his rush towards her, all of the same house. Terra sidestepped, flattening herself against the granite as the shots passed by her, singing the air with the stench of ozone. The sounds of their pounding footsteps drew her back around the granite outcropping, where another pull of her trigger dropped the third Protector lifeless into the dirt. She let out a laugh, stepping backwards as the first of the three swung at her with a vibrosword.

 

“Pity she had to die… Your little baby, lifeless in the dirt… A feast for the maggots and the necrophiliacs…”

 

She put the second Protector into the ground with another pull of her trigger, before letting the gun hang from its strapping as the man continued his charge

 

“Now your sons lie dead as well. Who will carry your name once I’ve skinned you?”

 

An anguished cry of rage was her answer, echoing across the lines. From the barricades a few T-shaped visors turned to watch the battle of the Blackwraith and a grief-stricken father. Terra avoided his blows easily, her Echani grace helping her to outmaneuver the man with ease. With a flick of her wrist she brought her garrote about his neck and leaped backwards, using the momentum of his lunge to bring him to the ground, tucking herself into a tumble. She ended on the back of the man, drawing the garrot tight beneath his helmet. His cries turned to bubbling gasps as the wire rent flesh, severing his windpipe.

 

“I suppose your clan dies with you…”

 

Terra’s laughter ran through the battlefield, along the lines of mercenaries and Protectors alike, gravelly and evil to its very core. Once again she was hidden amongst the shattered granite and the bodies of the dead, and the battle raged on.

[Moon Knight]

The grid of anti-air turrets that had been maintaining the integrity of Mandalorian airspace over Keldabe quickly blasted apart the shuttle that was plummeting towards the city. A moment after the threat was neutralized, they resumed their search pattern. If they were any less efficient, the shape of this battle would change dramatically as Keldabe would become subject to bombing runs, and the Mandalorians were eager to keep the fighting on the ground as much as possible, where through strength of arms and defensive fortifications they could win a battle of attrition.

[Tresha Ad'Nort]

Tresha's HUD was lit up like a Life Day party with the heat signatures of the approaching insurgents. The aruetiise had advanced on the outer perimeter of the city, but sporadic bursts of blasterfire or explosions peppered each army from both sides. With a glance at the distinctive forms of Mirdala, Kandor, and TeVerd, Tresha ran in the direction of one of the structures nearest the perimeter. Darting through the hollow doorways and halls and up the stairway, she made her way to the flat roof, pulling her sniper from where it was slung across her back and tucked it against the blue dash on the cheek of her buyce. The scope interfaced seamlessly with her HUD, and the small window in her line of sight interrupted her wide view of the perimeter as she zeroed in on some of the approaching mercenaries.

 

Steady hands were unperturbed by the noise and chaos of combat as Tresha's sniper rounds dropped her opponents when they dared show themselves from behind their cover. Inhale, exhale, trigger. Crumple of limbs, spurt of fluid. Inhale, exhale, trigger. Patient, silent, she systematically scanned the perimeter. A grenade detonated behind enemy lines, and the ensuing scurry gave her a few more easy shots before the enemy noticed her.

 

Ducking down behind her cover just in time to miss a flechette round that ripped through the stone and plaster at the top of the wall, Tresha stowed the sniper across her back and rolled away, flipping over the side of the wall on the far side of the perimeter. Hooking her belt cable onto the top as she went, she dropped neatly three stories to the ground and ran behind the line of her allies to the next building. This time there was a ladder on the street side that she wasted no time in ascending.

 

The second rooftop was even more defensible than the first, and slinging the sniper around into her arms once more, Tresha settled into the corner of the roof, keeping an eye on Mirdala's movements and prioritizing her targets based on who was gunning for her vod'ika.

[Nonpareils]

It was the Acolytes that felt the approach first, both developing jarring headaches that interfered with their concentration. However, they weren't unfamiliar to combat, and when the first rounds of sonic shots went off they dove behind cover, lucky to have done so. Like this, they were unable to even focus on deflecting blaster bolts, and it was more out of instinct. Clearly, something was affecting them, but neither Ghren or Fuld knew what it could be. Fire swept down into their trench then, burning Ghren badly and scorching Fuld's leg.

 

Frik took the opening to open fire on the offending Mando in the darkened armor, lighting up his position and barely missing him as he dove down, but Jirai clenched his shoulder soon after, and Frik knew what she bid him to do. The Pirate captain had seen the ricochet, noting the distinct lack of an explosion from one of Nollo's shots, and had been paying more attention trying to track its trajectory than laying down suppressing fire. Frik activated his shield at the last second, the blast shielded from the main crew, but tore towards Ghren and Fuld with a wave of shrapnel that outright killed the former and mortally wounded the latter.

 

Gritting her teeth, Jirai began suppressing fire on the Mandalorian positions with her carbine along with Bob and his blaster pistols, taking careful aim for the Mandalorian with the dark armor. He was the dangerous one, and if they could take him out or remove him from the equation, they were a lot likelier to survive the night. With the two Sith acolytes now unable to assist them, they were at a severe disadvantage. Nollo fired another grenade round, aiming this time for the cover the closer Mandalorian had chosen, hoping to destroy it and him in the blast. Meanwhile, Frik had changed out his spent energy cells, and was beginning to wind up his gatling blaster arm.

 

The crew spread out, Kred taking to the shadows and flanking far to the side, fast and nimble, a nearby prefab emplacement wall soon cutting off line of sight between him and the Mandalorians. It was time they pressed up. Bob stayed back, hoping to catch a target with a poisoned round, while most of the others pushed towards the attackers. At the last second, Kred pounced at the shorter red-armored Mandalorian, vibroblades swinging wildly but expertly aimed at the niches in her armor, his twisting melee attack intending to continue on to her nearby companion ((TeVerd)) if she was unable to halt his progress. In any case, a cryo grenade was left at her feet as the whirling Dug stood as the main distraction, its red light flashing softly but faster and faster...

[Whispering Abyss]

((Versus Kaylani))

 

The mercenaries came, like an ocean they flowed from the forest, but as they neared the city their numbers had been shredded down significantly. Those who were sufficiently armed to suppress the Mandalorians, did, using heavy blaster rifles or disruptor rifles or even slugthrowers to push them back behind cover so the mercenaries could advance. Even so, mortar rounds quickly began to shred pockets of the advancing mercs, and they couldn't even return sufficient fire until they were within grenade launcher range. Very quickly, the line of attack became messy with blaster fire and explosions, bodies of both Mandalorians and many more mercenaries falling to the dirt with each passing moment.

 

Drell was armed with a holdout blaster, his rifle ammunition spent long ago. The young man was barely twenty, and had signed on to the mercenary unit for action and adventure, but never imagined he'd be here, now. Somehow, he'd made it to the Mandalorian line, the rest of his team either shot or fragged behind him, their blood now watering the soil. Somehow, he'd gotten lucky. Still, he knew he would likely be shot if he turned back, as his commander had been killed and there was no way he could explain wanting to retreat. Taking a deep breath, he rose from his cover, and ran forwards, holdout blaster drawn. Somehow, he'd managed to flank and sneak up on one of the Mandalorians along the perimeter ((Kaylani)), and he hesitated. It was different shooting at them from far away. But up close and personal, this was a person. Another living, breathing being.

 

"S-stop! Hands up!"

 

A heavy blaster bolt then caught Drell in his neck, knocking him sideways off his feet and killing him instantly, his body merely a lifeless corpse by the time it hit the ground. Drell's luck had run out.

 

War was hell.

 

More mercenaries rushed their position, some armed with blasters, some with vibroblade weapons, some with both. A concussion grenade was thrown, and landed near the Mandalorian emplacement.

 

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((Versus Tresha))

 

Flint spat as he stared through his scope across the field, concealed neatly in a medium-sized bush. The idiots ran forward, he did not. They would die, he would not, of that he was confident. Of course, he would get his kills and collect his bounty. Methodically, he picked his targets one by one, all of them distracted by the rushing onslaught of mercs, none of them picking out the green lancing shots that arced from the woodline to catch their comrades in the chest or head. The high powered sniping blaster's bolts mingled in with the rest of the fire headed at them, and it was hard to really pick it out unless they were looking for it. And they usually didn't have a second chance to look for it. That changed, however, when Flint spotted a Mando on a rooftop, drawing a bead on her as she set up her own position. An enemy sniper. How fitting.

 

As Flint pulled the trigger, a small creature running through the underbrush behind him startled Flint a bit, causing his shot to not be quite true, rather impacting the edge of the roof where the Mandalorian had set up. Cursing under his breath, Flint kept aiming, waiting for an opening.

 

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"Report, Captain."

 

Hawke's voice was calm, reassuring. Captain Lear didn't share that level of calm being so close to the front lines for the first time, and his voice barely trembled over the explosions and blaster fire audible in the distance. The encrypted holocomm display flickered as a boom was heard near the command camp, though it was likely just another starfighter shot down from the battle continuously raging overhead.

 

"Initial telemetry is clean, sir, we managed to track the salvos of several of their emplaced guns, to include many of their AA batteries. It seems the Mandos are far better equipped here than initial intelligence seemed to suggest, which lines up with your suspicions."

 

Colonel Hawke smiled. This was good news. Soon, the Mandalorians would be nigh defenseless against his assault, and would be vulnerable to defeat well before any of their major reinforcements were expected to arrive.

 

"Very good, Captain. Return to the FOB. Your next task will be to help High Priest Vennec assemble a number of ritual sites. He wishes to perform a forbidden sacrament that will hopefully gather the darkness enough to bring them to their knees, or so he tells me."

 

"Yes sir. Thank you, sir. Lear out."

 

The holocomm display fizzled out. Hawke didn't know exactly what Vennec was trying to do, but at the least it would provide a much needed morale boost to the men. A message also came in notifying him that asset Blackwraith had joined the battle. Hopefully she would realize quickly that this initial skirmish was a mostly fruitless endeavor, though if not Hawke wouldn't lose sleep. Though she technically ranked as his equal, she was already a part of Ab'ki's inner circle, whereas he was not, and he wouldn't mind her death as it would likely mean an opening he could possibly slip into. Still, he sent out a request for her to be told to retreat to the FOB.

 

Tomorrow was to be a busy day, and everything was moving according to plan.

[Ary the Grey]

((Directed towards Terra))

 

In the cacophany of battle, Aryian barely noticed when most of his small unit was wiped out. Laughter refocused his attention, though, causing him to retreat from his forward position and fall back to the walled emplacement he was supposed to be guarding. Instead, he was greeted by the littered bodies of the Mandalorians he was supposed to be serving with. His stomach sank at the sight, reminding him of all those he'd failed to protect before. He sighed, raising his blaster rifle to his right side and firing twice, catching two charging mercenaries in their chests, leaving smoking holes where flesh and lung should have been. He didn't care about head shots anymore...he was irritated.

 

Aryian dropped the rifle, unclipped his lightsabers from his sides, and ignited the twin silver lightsabers. Softly, the rain began to hiss and steam off the blades. He walked over to the mercenaries, deflecting a wild shot from the more alive one before severing his blaster in two. A quick deathblow through each of their foreheads sent them to eternal sleep. Looking up, he called out to the hidden attacker.

 

"I know you're still here...I can feel you. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way...the choice is yours."