Mandalore

[Terra]

The young assassin passed through the night, feeling the rain patter on her armour, its cold fingers seeping through her synthweave underarmour to cool her skin and make her shiver. Each drip of rain made its own tune as it caressed her beskar’gam, beating with the rhythm of the storm. The hands of the storm had erased the blood upon her skin before she had reclaimed her armour, taking with it her sins and cares. She had honoured the Great Shadow Father with the deaths of the Mandalorian squads, the dar’manda who dishonoured the true paths.

 

...Your skin is beautiful… Its taste exquisite…

 

A lump arose in Terra’s throat, and with it came a wave of frustration and confusion. She felt dirty, and unworthy. Her fingers clenched in their gloves, hands shaking, lusting for a throat to grab. Her stomach turned, acid rising in her throat, its sting rasping upon the cuts and the sores as it rose like a tide. She swallowed it back as an explosion of adrenaline coursed its fire through her veins. Her lithe muscles began to spasm as she walked and she leaned heavily on the edge of the woodline. Her voice came as a raspy whisper, her hands tearing at the ironbark

 

“Was I not enough for you?”

 

Blood surged in her mouth, and her fingers dug beneath the grooves of the woody bark and she tore a section from the enormous tree, exposing its white flesh. Terra ripped the buy’ce from her head, with its built in Force-Mask, and pressed her face against the phloem. The young assassin breathed in the spiced odour of evergreen sap, and let it settle as a cloud about her as her body trembled.

 

...In your erosion of innocence, my own delight…

 

The viscous resin began to coat her lips as she sunk her teeth deep into the flesh, desperation for control an overwhelming storm about her. It tasted of spices, and the nostalgia of childhood, a hand grasping at the nailed edges of an oaken box as it was lowered into the ground. Tears and terror. The words formed in her head as she dug into the wooden flesh

 

“I was your servant…”

 

A visage of crimson, came about her with strong arms. Caressing, lecherous hands stole across her flesh, leaving a trail of goosebumps and waves of nausea.

 

...You are my slave…

 

Terra shuddered and ripped herself from the embrace of the tree, wiping her face of its sweat and sap. She placed her ebony buy’ce back over her head, letting her long plait of blonde hair trail down her shoulder. She set off towards the rendezvous through the woodline, her head spinning

 

“I will set this world on fire for you…”

The phantoms in her mind laughed

 

...Fill the valleys with blood, and we will be in unity…

 

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

 

The young assassin passed through the sensor screen that lined the forest, a mixture of LFIs and FSTs set up with a sensor camouflage that transmitted to the auxiliary command, and was copied to her HUD. She could see small indications of where there had been weapons emplacements and barracks, but they were long gone now. It was five kilometers into deep forest, before she came to the ridgelined crest indicated to her in her briefing.

 

It was an ancient crater, made millennium ago by the falling of a iron and uranium composed meteorite. It had left a scar upon the forest half a mile (800 meters) in diameter. Its ancient ridge was marred from thousands of years of weatherpatterns, and the movement of glaciers. From the Kelita-side of the crater, the descent was a gradual gradient that didn’t strain her knees. The far sides of the crater were clifflines of granite, at their most highest on the opposite side sixty meters, that created a funnel from her entrance point. The crater was covered in weatherworn oak, that stretched into the middle, where nothing grew but a patch of gnarled groundcover.. The fifty meter patch of groundcover at the center of the forest was a medley of mineral sand, goethite aggregate, trinitite, and small boulders of limestone.

 

In the very center of this moonscape, sat the remaining children, tied to stakes of corroded rebar. About them was the painted design of a pentagram in blackened sand. The body of Vessa’Xa Cadera lay in a heap to the side, in a puddle of blood that was half washed away by the rain. Bits of her skull, hair, and brains lay about the sandy patch like the casteoff waste of a reckless glutton.

 

“About time you got here Blackwraith. Stay away from the kids, the lovers boobytrapped them with with LX-4’s and HX2s”

Harjav’s voice in her ear drew her eyes to the treeline, where the grizzled mercenary and several oddly-clothed cultists stood. According to her HUD, reports from the rest of her squad began to pop up across the map. Shen was to her far right, set back in the woodline with his heavy weaponry. The traps would be not proximity aware, but would be remotely triggered by the disguised detonators.

 

Even through the half meter of mineralsand where they were buried, the fout LX-4s, surrounding thr children, would be able to detonated by any of her squadmates with their HUD’s connected to the hardwired detonator that lay nestled in the treeline. Even the cultists would be unaware of their existence, her plans were hers alone. As for the HX2s, each child concealed their signatures with their bodies. Three sensor baffles were attached to the children’s stakes, which made sure any airship wouldn’t be able to find them, or their traps.

 

Terra nodded and slipped into the treeline, acknowledging her squadmates as they made their locations known. Aoarn and Bas’ar were on the leftmost ridgeline, hidden amongst the boulders. Arna and Longkra had their antimaterial rifle set up back from the ridgeline, with concealment being their greatest concern. The twins had nestled themselves in two sets of trees twenty meters from the edge of the cliff, where their overwatch would set up a shot between two boulders. It shrunk their firing zone to only the center patch with an added twenty meters to its diameter. Arna played spotter for her sister, armed with a spotting scope on her disruptor rifle. Their AI fed their thoughts into Terra’s helmet

 

“Once these aruetiise are done with their ritual, can we kill them?”

 

Terra smiled beneath her helmet, checking her ammunition for her slugthrowing rifle. Her voice carried a note of mirth

 

“We have no intentions for these cultists to summon some Sith demon, or kill us all. If they get uppity, slit their throats.”

 

The young assassin sent word to Hawke that their positions were set up, and to wire the funds agreed upon by Ab’ki to her account.

[saberforce]

Almost as soon as the word was given from Mellanie upon what they were to do, Caen turned and sat down along the edge of a wall and removed his buy'ce. Tros watched him for a moment and stared into his eyes. There was something very deep there that made his own heart flutter a bit. He wouldn't have a problem admitting what it was that he felt, minus for the fact that not everyone knew him. In fact, now outside of Caen, only Mand'alor could say that he knew Tros better, to which wasn't very well at all. This war had taken the last two vod who knew him, and turned one into a corpse and the other gained a very special riduurok with him. Perhaps Raeshe did exactly as she said she would at the beginning... Find me someone whom I could love. For a single moment, his eyes flashed some water as he thought upon her. Losing her hurt far worse then losing his actual tal'din. He felt grateful that his own buy'ce was still on and covering his face.

 

Tros turned away and watched the others have their own interaction, Mellanie sharing an embrace with another who suddenly caught up with them. Tros figured that the power grid was about to become a new target hot spot for the next battle. After a moment passed, he swung his blaster riffle over his shoulder and removed his buy'ce. It was a bit tight and would need to be adjusted, as Raeshe had a much smaller head then his. He placed it carefully under his arm and turned to smile at Caen, but found him standing facing him, nose to nose. It was then that Caen forced Tros to remove all pride and leaned in and kissed him. After what seemed like an hour to Tros, Caen finally pulled away, gave a big smile. Tros was also smiling by this point, and a little red int he face. After ten seconds went by, Caen spoke the only words that needed to be spoken between them.

 

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum"

 

 

 

riduurok - Love Bond

tal'din - Bloodline

ni kar'tayli gar darasuum - To hold in the heart forever

 

[Kalyani Wartide]

“Should have known you would have felt that…” Taking a steadying breath, Kalyani answered her sister, “I took some shrapnel to the back of my shoulder… but I’m alright. It’s nothing.” Then she studied Mel’s face, “Are you alright?”

 

During the sister’s conversation, Jaesko listened to them with a puzzled look on her face as if trying to make sense of their low spoken comments. There was something she was missing… something Araac knew... Kaly heard Araac as he cleared his throat and when the sisters both looked at him he told them that they had better tell his sister what was going on. “You know you can trust her, isn’t that right Jaes.” Jaesko automatically answered with, “Of course you can… what is it?” She was beginning to suspect that she knew… things she was only just making sense of since watching the Jetii.

 

The four of them moved further away from the others and stood close so that they wouldn’t be overheard by anyone else. Kaly and Mel shared another look before the elder sister turned to Jaesko, “We don’t let a lot of people know so I hope you’re not offended that we didn’t tell you before…” As Kalyani told her that they were sensitives, Jaesko had a look upon her face as if a lightbulb lit up above her head. “That’s why you went with Mirdala isn’t it and why you’ve got those additions to your armour.” She paused as if puzzled by something before asking in a hushed tone, “That’s how you pushed that grenade away without touching it isn’t it? How did you not get it far enough away before it went off?” Kaly ducked her head in embarrassment, “I did with the first one… this one… I thought I had better cover than what I did…” The look on Jaesko’s face asked the unspoken question, “First one?”

[Whispering Abyss]

((LEEEET'S DOOO THE TIIIIME WAAARP AGAAAAAIN))

 

The day wore on, and as the minutes ticked by, Hawke looked more and more pale. The Inquisitor made himself seen, but reserved his gloating to smug looks he ensured Hawke saw. If the goal was to unsettle the Sith commander, the Inquisitor was certainly succeeding.

 

No matter how many soldiers Hawke poured at the city, they held. For a moment, Hawke thought he could gain a foothold, but some large unidentified walker had strolled out of Keldabe and started laying waste to his forces, and it was all Hawke could do to route his own troops accordingly in order to prevent being pushed back.

 

But now...he needed to. For now, Keldabe could breathe. It was time for unconventional tactics, and the Sith had them in spades. Already the cultists had begun their chants as the sun was setting, the Dark Side stirring between the two ritual sites. It wasn't something Hawke could really feel except for a slight gnawing feeling of dread in his gut. But if he could feel it, then so could the Mandalorians...and they were the ones who really needed to worry.

 

Or so Hawke thought. If the ritual completed, all their lives would be forfeit, for the glory of the Sith. Something the Cultists had conveniently neglected to tell him...like he'd conveniently neglected to tell the mercenaries and pirates when he'd first sent them into battle.

 

Smoke popped all across the fields of battle, creating a smokescreen and sensor baffling particle field to cover the retreat of the soldiers. For while they might have pulled back, the battle wasn't over.

[Mellanie Devanus Vevut]

"I'll be okay," Mellanie replied to her sister's inquiry. She frowned, but let Kalyani's statement stand. Her sister could make her own decision about whether she was fit to fight; Mellanie wasn't their mother.

 

Kaly then pulled Jaesko off to the side and quietly explained about their Force-sensitivity. Jaesko took the news rather well, and Mel was quietly pleased.

 

Glancing around, she noticed the two Mandalorians she and Araac had fought alongside earlier sharing a special moment. She smiled to herself. War did seem to shed new light on the importance of those bonds between people. She turned her gaze to her own love. As if sensing it, he looked her way, then walked over to her. Taking her hand, he led her away from the main part of the group. "You doing okay, Mel'ika?"

 

She sighed. "I just...want this to be over," she replied honestly. "I'm sick and tired of all this death and destruction and pain and loss. It feels like we've been fighting for days. Maybe that's not very Mandalorian of me."

 

"Hey, it's okay cyar'ika." He embraced her. "I love you just the way you are. And no one likes war. We are warriors because we believe in defending what we care about."

 

She nodded, but remained silent.

 

A moment later, there was a cry from the camp. The two looked up, shared a glance, then hurried over. A group of Vevuts were huddled around the body of a man in blue armor. Mellanie's heart sank as she recognized Araac's aunt and uncle among the crowd. Araac grunted, as if the wind was knocked out of him. "Gheas..." he said.

 

Mellanie bit her lip. Araac's cousin.

 

There was no weeping. The Mandalorians were too practical for that. Even the dead man's mother appeared stoic, although it was impossible to tell if she was crying behind her helmet. Mellanie put an arm around Araac's waist as they joined the crowd of his family. They watched as Gheas' twin brother slowly removed Gheas' shin plates and replaced his own with them. Then the man's father, their clan leader, uttered a single phrase. "Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la."

 

There was a pause, and then the others all repeated the phrase. "Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la," Mellanie added her voice to the mix. Not gone, merely marching away. He's in the Manda now.

 

Slowly, the Mandalorians scattered. There had been much death, and there would be much still to come. For now, they would rest, and try not to think who would be next.

 

 

 

cyar'ika: sweetheart, darling

 

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

Sleep came fitfully to Mirdala as the image of the girl seemed to repeat her, Kandor, and Tresha’s names over and over, echoing through what dreams she was able to get.

 

You failed us, the child’s cadence suddenly changed. You brought her to our home and let us die

 

---

 

For the second time that evening, Mirdala woke with a start, only this time it was accompanied by a cold sweat and a churning of her stomach. A quick glance at the nearby cots reassured her that both TeVerd and Tresha were safely still in the first aid station, though the former was now awake and having a low conversation with Rhys that she couldn’t quite make out.

 

Then she felt it, again. The sense of foreboding on the horizon and the somewhat familiar pull of the Darkside at work. Rhys waved her over to join them.

 

“I can sense it too, Vod’ika,” Rhys signed. “I’ll round up the others. It’s time to go hunting.”

 

Mirdala nodded, then caught his arm as he turned to go. “Wait.” Her eyes closed as she reached out with the Force to get a better sense for what was going on. “I can’t get much,” she said after several moments, “but there’s at least one massive event to the north north east of here about 10 clicks out. The other,” she tilted her head as though listening for a distant sound,” might be near the crater, but I’m not sure if it’s just the natural deadness of that area or not. The one to the north is certainly building though. I can feel that one.”

 

“You might raise your Jetii friend and see if he’s got any more insight,” Vy’ika said as he suddenly appeared at her side. At the look Mirdala gave him he added, “Had you under watch after Buir died the first time, remember? You don’t think that meant we did at least track down some of your past associates?”

 

“Moot point now,” Mirdala pointed out with a roll of her eyes and a glance toward Kandor. “You wanted to know what we could do. Now’s your chance.“

[Moon Knight]

Having slept in half of his beskar'gam, ShadowFett quickly locked his magseals back on and slid his buy'ce over his head. He opened a channel to the command center and let his voice also come out of his helmet speaker so everyone was in the know. "Ops, this is Fett. The Seekers have alerted me to a dark side disturbance being generated from the forest at two sites. I've fought enough dar'jetiise to know this demands our attention. We'll have to make a push to their position. Start doing the logistics."

 

He muted that channel and spoke purely to those present, specifically Rhys and Vy'ika. "It will take a little bit of time to muster a push," he said. "Any intel we can get before then will help our odds. That might mean a few scout teams with a Seeker on them to sneak out there, pinpoint the disturbance, and feed any observations back to the main force."

 

There were of course some major challenges to pushing into the forest. They would be greatly decreasing the number of verde garrisoned in Keldabe. They would forfeit their home field advantage and have to face whatever traps and ambushes Ab'ki's army could set up. They would be fighting on someone else's terms, which never sat well with Fett. But if Ab'ki's people had the ability to do half the osik he'd seen in the past, which ranged from Force storms that could destroy capital ships in the Death Star battle to Faust nuking Kuat City from orbit, this was a threat that they couldn't ignore, and it far outweighed the danger that the artillery strike had posed. So they would push.

 

"Mand'alor," a comm came back from the command center. Fett knew the voice as that of Rav Buurenaar, the tactician he'd recruited from Shogun. She'd been a significant asset thus far. "Sending you a list of clans we think we can commit to the push. It will leave Keldabe a bit vulnerable, but we should be able to tie the enemy forces up out in the field. You'll also be able to use the juggernauts you'd already started to gather in response to the shelling."

 

"Jate," Fett answered. "Patch me through to the listed clans." It had been long enough since he had addressed everyone that he figured it was due, if only to let them know he was still alive.

 

Once the channel was open, he spoke again. "Vode this is Mand'alor. We have reports of a significant dark side event in the forest. If you're hearing this, regroup on the north side of the city. We're going to push into the enemy forces and shut down whatever is happening there. Let's get it done. Fett out."

 

((OOC Note -- all clans with a PC can be in the list unless you feel strongly otherwise.))

[Solus Nau'ur]

Two shots. Two kills. Smoke rising and a hazy horizon. Keldabe bruised but not broken, much like the whole of Manda’yaim. From the apex of the power grid, Solus had done his job as Sniper. And yet, a dark cloud still hovered over the system and gripped the heart of Solus Nau’ur. Battle was always dark, but Solus knew there was more at work here than merely tactical battle. Being a soldier--much like being a mercenary--meant doing what you have to do, but then there were those whose violence not only took lives but left scars upon a place for generations to come. There would be rebuilding and repair at some point, he believed, but only if Mandalorians could root out the deeper problem.

 

With the sun now dipping down below the horizon, Solus’ attention turned from his inner speculations to his commlink.

 

"Vode this is Mand'alor. We have reports of a significant dark side event in the forest. If you're hearing this, regroup on the north side of the city. We're going to push into the enemy forces and shut down whatever is happening there. Let's get it done. Fett out."

 

As the call came crackling through Solus’s comm, all his suspicions were confirmed. “This explains the werde I have been feeling,” he thought, unsure of whether or not he had voiced his realization. All he knew was the pivotal nature of this moment. It didn’t matter that Mandalore was more vulnerable than ever, and it didn’t matter that the companies who joined this raid were in for a potential tactical nightmare... There was a battle being fought on more than one plane.

 

“This is Solus Nau’ur. I’m in, bat ner ijaat!”

 

Perhaps only by following the smoke could we put out the fire.

 

 

 

werde - darkness

bat ner ijaat - on my honor

 

[Tresha Ad'Nort]

Foreboding struck before first light.

 

Tresha jolted awake from a nightmare she could not readily recall to the sound of Kandor's voice relaying instructions, immediately regretting the limited movement of her injured shoulder. The medical droid, spying her sudden alert, rolled beside her to administer a hypospray to the neck, which flooded her system with dull relief for a few passing moments before the throbbing of the shrapnel wound picked up once more.

 

Rolling out of bed, she grabbed the plates that she had asked to be returned to her bedside, sealing them onto her armor. The borrowed collar and shoulder plates, a dark navy color, were slightly larger than her own and appeared to have been salvaged from a man's kit, but it made little difference. The blackened edge of her breastplate was the only thing obviously indicating the presence of a wound.

 

A scoped rifle that had been similarly retrieved also rested by her bedside, which she slung across her back in the same fashion that she had become accustomed to with her now-defunct equipment. Similarly, she strapped on her grenade bandolier and her kale, making sure the daggers were accessible, before spying one additional item: across the room, where several of the bags had been stacked to be dealt with at a later date, Tresha spied a flechette rifle not unlike the one that had claimed the life of the girl from the childcare center. Once she had finished activating the mag-seals of her plates, she crossed the room silently to retrieve it, tucking it in the holster at her right thigh.

 

Slipping out into the night before her cousin could get wind of her departure, Tresha moved carefully through Keldabe's streets to the north side of the city. Blood would be shed: the demon's, or her own.

[Mellanie Devanus Vevut]

Once again, they were woken up in the middle of the night. This is starting to get kriffing annoying, was Mellanie's first coherent thought as she groggily sat up and pulled on her helmet. Grabbing the few pieces of her beskar'gam she had elected not to sleep in, she put them in place, then rose, ducking out of the tent.

 

Rolling her shoulders in an attempt to get the crick out of her neck, Mel holstered her twin pistols, sheathed her vibroblade, and grabbed a blaster rifle from the pile of weapons confiscated from the dead. She stuck several fresh power packs into the pouches on her belt, then hooked on three grenades: two thermal detonators and a stun grenade.

 

The clan was already on the move. The camp had been left as it was; if they won the battle, they could come pack it up later. For now, Mand'alor called, and the Vevuts would answer. Scanning the crowd, Mellanie caught sight of Jaesko's bright orange armor, and moved over to her. She found Kalyani, Araac, and Araac's parents already there, and she joined them quietly. Brae handed her a strip of dried meat, and she removed her helmet and munched it as they marched north.

 

As they drew near to where the other clans were gathered, a sinking feeling entered her gut. This felt like the final push. And...there was something not quite right going on here. Something like a bad smell coming from the north. She couldn't put her finger on it. Suddenly, she was glad she had already finished her breakfast. She traded glances with her sister. This had to be the "significant dark side event" Mand'alor had mentioned in his comm, and if even her fledgling senses could feel it, she was eager to put an end to it.

[saberforce]

Tros looked Caen in the eyes and was preparing his own response when suddenly his comlink through his buy'ce activated. "Vode this is Mand'alor. We have reports of a significant dark side event in the forest. If you're hearing this, regroup on the north side of the city. We're going to push into the enemy forces and shut down whatever is happening there. Let's get it done. Fett out." With a single eyebrow arched, he clicked in his own confirmation that he got the message from Fett.

 

"No time to play around now, we can talk about our riduurok after we finish this battle. Mand'alor picked up something on the north forest area outside the city. Keep your weapons loaded and ready, let's move!"

 

His voice was not quite, as Tros was just making sure everyone in the area knew that they were to be on the move towards the forest. As the he and Caen moved through the city to the north entrance, smoke could indeed be seen from afar in the forest. But it's not from fire...Curious. The thought of it being a smokescreen came to his own mind, but regardless of why it was on the battlefield, it needed to be conquered in order that they could win this war. As they approached the forest, Tros blasted into the air with his jetpack to get ahead of the rest of the Vode. As he did, he flew low enough to begin to use his flamethrower to see if the smoke was flammable, or if there was anyone hiding within the smoke... To his own surprise, Caen had followed him with very similar tactics.

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

The smokescreens covering the enemy retreat had dissipated by the time Rhys and another Seeker named Barca Krast (whose armor seemed to be more beskar than paint job) had finished checking their gear and preparing to head out with their respective scout teams to clear the way for the main force that would be coming in behind them.

 

For her part, Mirdala had fallen silent beside her husband as he mustered a good chunk of their forces in preparation for the push into the enemy-held territory just outside of Keldabe. As the flurry of activity continued around her from where she’d taken up perch on some stacked crates, Mirdala was far from inactive as she worked in tandem with Rhys and Krast to guide them along their way with what she was getting from the Force and lend her strength to their pack-hunt as they sought to provide the main force with as much intelligence as possible on what they might encounter in the woods.

 

Suddenly, she felt a strong pang of loss that seemed to steal her breath away. Vi’ika whined and scratched at the base of the crate in response, but stilled as Mirdala reached out through their shared bond to reassure the hound that she was fine. She’d only been ‘fine’ once she’d confirmed the presences of the other empaths within the flow of the Manda.

 

You’re on a battlefield and you’re Force-sensitive, she thought to herself, dismissing the surge in favor of focusing on what was needed in the here and now. You’re just sensing the loss of life around you and there’s likely to be a great deal more before the night is over.

 

Opening her eyes and checking the displays in her helmet, she scanned the massing crowd of Mandalorians as they once more armed up for war. Two pings told her that the two outsiders with the Vevuts were present from the chip she’d hidden in their false repulsor gauntlets.

 

With a sigh, she slid down from the crate and found her way to Kandor’s side where he was giving a brief overview of the general plan from what they knew and command’s recommendations to a group of clan heads, including Vevut.

 

Vevut has those two Force Users I told you about the other night, She intoned through their private channel. Do you trust Darkfire enough to babysit them? If they are on our side, having him as the known Jetii to cover any Force use on their part might be prudent so ranks don’t turn against them. The amount of tension is high and the feeling of unease the Darkside brings might bring some to rashness in the heat of battle. If they are on Ab’ki’s side and merely biding their time, then the Jetii would probably be just as effective in his contraption as using Krast’s team.

[Moon Knight]

"Darkfire doesn't have a spotless history when it comes to the dark side," ShadowFett transmitted back to Mirdala, thinking in particular of the pitched battle against Faust on Kuat Drive Yards, "but he's not working for Ab'ki. We can trust him to keep an eye on the new Vevuts."

 

He stepped over to the nearby crate where he had a beskar-clad case resting. On their way back to the front from the first aid center, they'd swung by the Oyu'baat to check in with the command center and he'd also grabbed the case from his room. Inside was one of the ysalamiri they'd retrieved on Myrkr during their last visit following their ordeal on Nubia and during their subsequent recovery time. "We'll all have to take precautions out there," he added.

 

There was always some trouble with carrying the ysalamir. He could carry it in one hand if he needed to, but that meant he couldn't carry his assault rifle. Instead, he had devised a system of electromagnets much like he used to mount his plates that allowed him to attach it to his repulsor pack. The extra twelve pounds of weight from the lizard together with the case were enough to affect his mobility. Still, he'd trained for a long time with it, and the protection it offered from the Force made it well worth the tradeoff when he knew he would be facing dark siders such as the cultists they were gunning for now.

 

In any case, the army was starting to come together and they soon had word from Ops that they were a go to begin their march. They had scraped together eleven juggernauts in all that would serve as their vanguard, at least until the forest got too thick for them to pass without having to burn a new path, which would take more time than they could afford. The armor would be accompanied by heavy infantry and some recon units that would be sweeping the path for traps and mines. The two Seeker-led teams that had gone before were keeping a very low profile and disarming or marking whatever traps they could find, but they wouldn't spot nearly all of them. Their primary purpose was to provide intel on the ritual sites themselves.

 

And so the enormous, decades-old juggernaut engines roared to life with no ceremony and began the drive north across no man's land and towards the enemy fortifications beyond. Fett and Mirdala would be near the front of the main body of troops numbering a few thousand strong. At first sign of enemy contact they would rush to the front, using the armor as cover, and engage. There weren't nearly enough juggernauts to cover the whole army, however, and until they were in the forest there was little to no natural cover, so heavy losses were projected if Abki's forces made a stand at the treeline. But the Mando'ade would push until they got through, knowing that if the ritual completed it could very well swing the whole battle decisively into the invaders' favor.

[Ary the Grey]

((Not sure who I'm supposed to be with right now, so...generic post!))

 

The rest of the day was more or less a blur for Aryian, as he was finally granted a reprieve from combat and finally able to focus in a meditative state on things that were lost to him. He had a ship. He had worked heavily with the Jedi in the past on not-so-publicly-known operations. Eventually, he'd left the order and founded a small organization that was meant to serve as an elite strike force...that was where he knew Fett's lady friend from, albeit briefly. Mirdala.

 

Lot of good that group did. Great plan, terrible execution. Story of his life.

 

And his son. How had he almost forgotten his own son? Oh yeah. He barely knew the kid, even when he and Armiena were still together. She was the one thing he'd never forgotten, painfully so. Maybe that was the key? His painful memories certainly were stronger...perhaps a side effect of Ar-Pharazon's vile manipulations that had him galavanting around as Ares. In any case, the more he remembered, the better his arm felt.

 

Eventually, a call to arms was put out, this was something Aryian had expected. The fight wasn't over. Soon, he found himself marching with the rest of the Mandalorians, the woodline looming ahead. It was almost too late when the Grey Master had a sudden feeling, yelling loudly for the Mandos with him to stop moving.

 

Slowly he moved forward, activating his lightsaber, and slashed out at seemingly nothing. A ghostly shimmer of fine lines slowly fell down from horizontal positioning to the forest floor, cleanly cutting branches and leaves from nearby plants as it fell.

 

"Monofilament wire. Send word to the other groups, the way ahead is booby trapped. No telling exactly what they left for us."

[Whispering Abyss]

Hawke watched the forward movement on his hospitable intently. In retreat, his troops had left several sensor pods, along with a myriad of booby traps to include landmines, tripwire mines, monofilament wire, and gravity plates with thermal detonators.

 

However, he knew it would only slow them. No matter, it would all serve his advantage in the end, giving him time to prepare and maneuver.

[saberforce]

Tros and Caen were using their jetpacks to move over the forest, which they were now receiving word through their HUD's that the way had booby traps all over. With their comms already linked, Tros let Caen know what he wanted for them to do. With a click acknowledgement on his display in his buy'ce, he powered his trusters hard to turn around and fly lower to the forest. As they did, both Vode used their flamethrowers to burn a path for the others to run through. Making sure that they stayed low enough to cause the ground to burn, but not too low that they might accidentally set traps off that could harm them as well. The two made it to the beginning stages of the others were they were mustering for the moment and had to shut off their jetpacks, as the fuel might be needed at a later point. Tros yelled as loud as he could, put also made sure to send it to everyone's HUD so that all knew the path was clear.

 

"Utrel'a, stay in the charred ground!"

 

Tros now turned and helped lead the way. He was also suddenly aware that the jetii was in the area with them, but decided that he couldn't afford to let his own personal feelings get in the way of the fight for Mandalore. They needed him.

 

 

utrel'a : All clear

 

[Mellanie Devanus Vevut]

Once they began the push, all thoughts of the outside galaxy receded. The Mandalorians' assault had not gone unnoticed, nor had it been unexpected. Mellanie stuck close to her clan, which was scattered around one of the juggernauts near the front. Their enemies had left a myriad of traps, designed to slow the Mando'ade down. Everyone was on high alert, their eyes constantly scanning the forest.

 

Suddenly, Mellanie spotted something. "Ke'mot!" she cried, gesturing with her blaster to the ground near one of Araac's cousin's feet. He slowly backed away, then Mellanie picked up a rock and chucked it at that spot. There was a massive explosion as the landmine blew. Dirt and bits of bracken rained down on everyone in the area. Mellanie grimaced. "Nothing like announcing to the enemy where we are," she muttered under her breath.

 

They pushed on, stopped to blow several other landmines. Two of her clan died when they triggered a thermal detonator, but for the most part, the Mandos were able to detect and avoid most of the booby traps, marking them for those who were behind them. But progress through the forest was slow, and Mellanie had a bad feeling in her bones that time was of the essence.

 

 

Ke'mot!: Halt!

 

[Kalyani Wartide]

The explanation went over better than expected which relieved Kaly significantly. She wouldn’t have to hide what she was from her new friend. When the cry came out from the Vevuts that Araac’s and Jaesko’s cousin had died all she could do was to offer condolences. With all the death she had seen since she’d been here, this hit a little too close to home since she had been welcomed into the Clan just as much as her sister had. It was with a heavy heart that she took to her bed that night.

 

It hardly seemed that she had closed her eyes when they were woken up and mobilized. It took a bit to get going, her injured shoulder felt stiff and sore, also throbbing where she had accidentally bumped it when she had put her armour back on. She took one of the painkillers the doc had given her though there was no time to change the dressings. That would have to be done when there was time. She looked up as Mel and Araac joined them, each having some of the travel rations for breakfast on the move. As they marched on, Kalyani mused over the message Mandalore had sent out, warning of a significant darkside event. When they reached the location where the other clans had gathered, she stood with Mel, Araac, Jaesko and the others, feeling shivers up and down her spine. For some reason Kaly felt as though there were tiny microbots sticking needles into her spine from neck to tailbone and back again, making her tense up and shiver. Something was not right and she couldn’t put a finger on it. It had a foul stench to it, her eyes meeting those of her sister as she realised it could have something to do with the darkside event, “I have a bad feeling about this…”

 

They moved out with the others, Kaly keeping within seeing distance from Mel as they went through the forest. Her danger sense seemed heightened, her eyes darting back and forth over the ground, at trees, everywhere she could think of but that feeling of spiders crawling up her spine wouldn’t leave her. When Mel called for them to halt, triggering a landmine from a safe distance, she knew her danger sense had been validated. Word also filtered down to them about the Monofilament wire and a mirade of other boobytraps they had to watch out for. She kept her eyes peeled for traps, instinct leading her to grab Jaesko with the Force and pull her backwards when she found the subtle signs of a tripwire mine. No one had seen her initial “grab” for Jaes, only seeing Kaly’s hand dragging her backwards out of the way and signalling to the others about the tripwire. They took cover and triggered it, making it safe for those following behind them.

[Tresha Ad'Nort]

Boots on the ground moved through the forest, systematically detecting and disabling traps as the skilled hunters they were. Some of them were trickier than others and had to be triggered rather than disabled, which resulted in a few minor injuries for several members of the combined clans, but nothing substantial. The sole representative of the Ad'Norts on Mandalore, since the rest of her family awaited whatever Ab'ki had in store for Concord Dawn, Tresha fell in line with the rest, the borrowed rifle feeling slightly alien in her hands.

 

It was like prey weaving through a net, and though Tresha trusted Kandor enough to charge into battle when he said it was necessary, she could not help but feel like they were being drawn into some kind of trap, and the snare was tightening.

 

Slicing through another gate of monofilament wire with the beskad that Ahzinger had made for her, it occurred to her that the entire combined force seemed to be pushing in one direction, a direction that the opposing forces had decided in advance, hence all the traps, but Kandor had mentioned two sites. She was about to activate her comm to page Verdeyuii when she spotted one of the vode up ahead with the Seeker emblem etched on his armor, walking at an angle to the paths the rest were taking, obviously set on a secondary objective. About two dozen adade trailed after him, and Tresha hurried to catch up, careful to bury the pain she felt in her shoulder such that it would remain empathically hidden.

 

"Ke'pare, vod!" she called. "Let me come with you."

 

He halted, buy'ce swiveling to face her. "Slanar norac. Stay with the rest. The other site may be a ruse."

 

"I am Hwulf Ad'Nort's daughter," she said firmly.

 

The Seeker's shoulders seemed to relax slightly at the drop of the veteran's name. He paused for an additional moment, but seemed to think that arguing with her would take more time than it was worth. For anyone who dealt with the women of her family, this seemed to be a fairly common realization. "All right, fall in line. But keep a wary eye."

 

 

beskad - curved saber of Mandalorian iron

ke'pare - wait (strong command)

vod/vode - brother/brothers or sister/sisters

adade - personnel

buy'ce - helmet

slanar norac - go back

 

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

((Aryian is going with the Vevuts.))

 

The sounds of death sounded in sporadic staccato in the Keldabe night as the troops pushed further into the woods, clearing what traps they could, and occasionally blundering unluckily into those they didn’t find in time.

 

Mirdala moved through the forest alongside her husband, opening herself up more to the Force’s guidance to do what she could to offset the fact she still had total hearing loss in her left ear, but had managed to wind up with muffled mutterings of the regular com pick up after the short periods she’d been able to spare some of her own healing energy on herself.

 

The Darkness was growing, she could feel it as well as the connection she held with Rhys, and the others both out in the field. She hoped they’d make it in time to prevent whatever Darkness was forming in the forests surrounding the city to rest before all was lost.

[Moon Knight]

The lack of resistance at the treeline surprised the Command Center and also limited the use of the juggernauts. The heavy armor still proceeded into the forest with the bulk of the Mando'ade that escorted them, often running over trees that they couldn't easily maneuver around, and their heavy treads harmlessly set off or destroyed many traps that might have caused a casualty had they been encountered by a foot soldier.

 

Even the combined efforts of the Seeker forward scout teams, the juggernauts, and the recon units sweeping for traps and ambushes weren't sufficient to catch all of them, however, and the casualty numbers started to tally up. ShadowFett's buy'ce was being fed numbers and information and reports at all times, but for the most part he was focused on his immediate surroundings to make sure he and Mirdala made it to the ritual site. They stayed a little shy of two meters apart at all times so that she could feel the Force and use it to monitor the rituals, but the Seeker teams were arriving and starting to feed back reports.

 

The north ritual site was large and there were troops gathered to protect it. At least a few hundred, but it was difficult to get a correct count with the forest. The north-east site was smaller and had proportional defenses. Both would need to be hit. Mand'alor corresponded with Ops and then sent out his orders for a portion of the army to break off for the secondary site. It would include the Vevuts, Ardells, and a few hundred other Mando'ade, along with Darkfire. The bulk of the army would hit the main site and the thickest resistance.

 

Shortly after those groups broke off the forest started to considerably bog down the juggernauts and they started to head back towards Keldabe, too bulky for this terrain and lacking the luxury of being able to follow one of the roads that led through the woods.

 

Fett checked his rifle. Surely the enemy commander had taken the juggernauts into account when placing the ritual sites and defending forces.

[saberforce]

Tros began to make a strong march towards the location he was given, when he had a sudden display on his HUD that came from Mand'alor. They were orders to split and head for the second site. Him, Caen, and the few remaining from Clan Ardell were to rush the site to the left on the north east side of Keldabe, along with Clan Vevuts and the jetii. With a click send back as his own acknowledgement, he lead the way for the rest to follow as he began to move very quickly, yet still very cautiously with all of the traps that could still be sprung on them on their way.

 

Using his own scanners and not trusting the reports of the Seekers that were coming in, Tros wanted to make sure that the group arrived with enough strength to put an end to whatever these aruetiise were doing. As they approached the outer perimeter of the secondary ritual site, Tros bent down and gave Caen a signal to setup a sniper shot at the more deadly enemies that would bring heavy blaster fire down upon the rest of the strike force. On his mark, he and Caen both made their shots, while sending notifications to the others and the jetii to make their charge...

[Ary the Grey]

Aryian stiffened suddenly mid-step. Something had happened...a death. A death of a friend.

 

Kirlocca.

 

Mandalore seemed to spin around him as he became incredibly sick to his stomach, leaning against a tree and throwing up. Unfortunately, wearing the helmet he'd been given wasn't exactly ideal for that action, and he ditched it as quickly as he could. Some of his unit were obviously passing around looks, wondering if it was even worth it to bring a Jedi out into this god forsaken nightmare. But one thing was for certain in the mind of the Grey Master: he couldn't stay. The Mandalorians would be fine, Aryian had seen it, and his destiny lied elsewhere.

 

Sending a short comm to Fett explaining his intentions via the implant he'd recently rediscovered, Aryian used the Force to hasten joining up with Saladin, immediately blasting off for the upper atmosphere. As he did so, he ensured telemetry of the forest was relayed to one of Fett's scouts, hopefully giving valuable intel on the threats ahead. Of course, what remaining orbital forces there were couldn't slow down the Wolf Spider, and in moments it had punched through the dwindling clouds of snubfighter ships, leaving the system behind as soon as it was clear of the gravity well.

[Whispering Abyss]

A stick snapping loudly under the feet of a novice Mandalorian combatant was seemingly all the warning they got. Almost as one, a battle cries sounded out in the forest, and from spots near the paths the Mandalorians had taken, shirtless crazed beings of every size and shape rose up, shirtless, mostly male, many covered in mud, all holding grenades of some type. Sensor netting covered in leaves had concealed the hiding spots of the brainwashed madmen, hiding between six and ten at a time in small trenches in the forest floor.

 

Targeting the juggernauts and clusters of troops, they charged, fueled by insanity and hatred.

 

Up ahead, closer to the ritual sites, more cultists concealed themselves in tree branches, and at the sites themselves a small group of death watch commandos awaited to guard the remaining cultists performing the ritual, as well as the most vital part...the sacrificial children.

 

One particular cultist near Mellanie held an ovoid device in one hand, metallic and smooth, but a grenade it was not, despite the cultist thinking otherwise. Tripping on a root, the cultist slung the device accidentally, hurtling it well out of the blast radius of the thermal detonator held in the other hand, letting it fly in a neat arc to tink against her armor. Why the gods favored people with such luck, or even the very meaning of the sequence of events was highly unknown, but it was an interesting enough device that seemed to almost say, "Hey. Pick me up. I'm important." In time, she would come to realize just what it was and what it was capable of, but in the heat of combat, there would be little time more than to just wonder for a brief moment before stuffing it into a pouch for later.

 

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

 

Meanwhile, blasts from the suicidal cultists had begun to creep closer to the command tent. Hawke was sweating bullets, knowing this was it. This was the master stroke that would work. Had to work. Ab'ki had foreseen this all, hadn't she? At least, that's what she said when sending him here...this was to be the victory that would bring the Mandalore system to its knees.

[Mellanie Devanus Vevut]

Once the Mandalorian army split up, things got quiet. Marching through the forest, Mellanie's senses were on alert for any movement that would reveal the enemy's location.

 

She didn't have to wait long. With a cacophony of loud cries, beings jumped out and rushed our lines. Instinct caused Mellanie to pull the trigger on her twin blaster pistols, and she had already brought down three of them before it fully registered that they weren't armored, or frankly even clothed. She blanched underneath her helmet. This wasn't war...it was practically slaughter. But the grenades the enemy were holding were real, and it kept her firing, using trees for cover, and ducking and spinning as the metallic spheres fell around her.

 

The wave of enemy grenadiers seemed endless, but the Mando'ade steadily pressed forward. There was a shout as someone's heat-sensors picked up more enemies up in the trees, and Mellanie redirected her aim, splitting her bolts between the threats from above and from the ground.

 

Suddenly, a grenade came flying right for her. There was no where to turn; she couldn't get out of the way fast enough. For a moment, all she could see was Araac's face flashing before her eyes...and then the grenade plinked harmlessly off her beskar'gam and fell innocently at her feet. She let out a breath, feeling shaky at the narrow shave. Why had the grenade malfunctioned? She took a moment to glance down at it, feeling almost a connection to the tech that should have taken her life. Her helmet's HUD scanned the device automatically, and a floating label appeared in her vision. Unknown tech. She frowned, a warning bell going off in her mind. This thing, whatever it was, might be important. After a moment's hesitation, she scooped it up and shoved it into her belt pouch. If she saw Mand'alor, she'd show it to him. For now, though, there was more fighting to be done, and she couldn't be distracted.

 

Jogging forward, she approached the ritual site. Seeing an opportunity, she motioned to Jaesko. There was an opening on the right flank; if several of them could maneuver over there, they might be able to bypass some of the outer defenses and get a shot at the cultists themselves. As her almost-sister-in-law came up beside her, she was joined by Kalyani, Araac, and several others. Quickly pointing out the flank, Mel took the lead, and they began creeping forward.

[Moon Knight]

Tension was high in the ranks after the smaller force split off for the secondary ritual site. ShadowFett and Mirdala remained with the larger force headed for the larger site. The traps had whittled down their numbers a bit, but the army was still a few thousand strong and largely unchecked. Meanwhile the location provided by the advanced Seeker team was drawing near, and a haze of smoke was drifting through the trees, further obscuring the stars and any conventional sense of navigation.

 

Just when Fett suspected they would reach the ritual site unchecked, perhaps only to find themselves too late to stop it, the forest floor seemed to open up and raving cultists charged into the ranks of beskar'gam-clad soldiers, often holding aloft grenades or melee weapons.

 

Snapping his rifle up to his shoulder, Fett immediately picked his nearest cluster of targets and opened fire. The bolts tore through their unarmored chests and superheated their blood to a mist, but in some cases that released deadman's switches or flung live ordinance into the ranks. Fett took off at a run tangential to what cultists he could see, stitching fire across any target that presented itself to him, even as the Mandalorian line broke as Mando'ade moved to avoid the explosive consequences of dropping their targets.

 

Improvising as another group of lunatics spotted him and charged, Mand'alor let go of his rifle which he had in a sling and quick-drew his sonic pistol. Firing several shots, he managed to catch a live grenade in the sonic rings, causing it to detonate prematurely and consume its wielder as well as his closest compatriots in a fiery conflagration. Fett advanced, firing a few more times, the sonic bolts more than capable of killing on high settings, if not as readily as blaster fire. As he did so, another suicide bomber emerged from a nearby hole on his right flank and sprinted towards him, shouting unintelligibly. Unable to bring weapons fire to bear against the new threat, Fett crouched, setting his repulsor pack on reverse so that it would push outwards with the force that normally served to propel him into the air. As the cultist neared, he fired it and watched through his HUD as the man was thrown into the tree canopy above, striking a branch and detonating.

 

Burning tree branches rained down and Fett moved again, Mirdala close by as they pushed ahead to the front of the Mandalorian force, engaging targets of opportunity as they navigated underbrush and rocky ground that made certain footing by no means a guarantee. As he shot down cultists, however, he couldn't help but wonder at their insanity. They were throwing their lives away, everything they had, just for the chance of killing Mandalorians or serving Ab'ki. They wore no armor and took no precautions, and had gone into this conflict with no intention of making it out. They were incredibly stupid and it made them incredibly dangerous for whatever brief moment of their choosing.

 

Fett advanced against them. If they wanted to die, he would oblige them. The ritual site was getting close.

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

It was utter chaos, even under the best of circumstances let alone unable to hear direction beyond what she could pick up from Kandor through her implant. With no choice but to use the Force to survive, Mirdala found herself grateful that Kandor had convinced her to pursue training. There was no doubt in her mind that it was what was keeping her alive as she fell in beside Kandor, covering his flank and watching his back as they met the enemy.

 

She had not been prepared for the suicidally blind fervor that these beings exhibited as they stood in defiance between the Mandalorian lines and their objective. She could feel Rhys and the others in their bond and her own Force senses becoming more attuned to the growing energies around them as she and Kandor fought their way through the enemy lines, her having abandoned her assault rifle in favor of her kukris as she ended the lives of those who’d been merely wounded, but were too stubborn to stay down.

 

Finally, their group was close enough to see the gathered hostages as the trees began to give way to a small clearing. The entire time the line had been moving, Mirdala had been taking the moments between killing the fanatics to try to pin down just what was happening in the Force, relaying what she was feeling to her team. She was careful not to fall too deeply into the darker energies around them, occasionally stepping back within the yasalamiri bubble to clear her head when she felt the pull getting stronger.

 

“The energies...it’s building around the children...almost like it’s draining them somehow,” she remarked, wholly unsure, but knowing in her gut it was true. “I don’t know enough to know what it is, but it can’t be good.”

 

She could feel Rhys and the other empaths in the area ramping up their own static to throw off the enemy Force Users as the army advanced, adding it's own brand of distraction to something that likely needed a fanatic's level of concentration to maintain to fruition. Stepping away from her husband just far enough to be able to hear the Force's call, she looked back at him before asking, "Have any of the other Moon Knight's seen anything like this?"

[Moon Knight]

ShadowFett frowned as he shot down another cultist. "Could still be a lot of things," he responded after a moment. Isolder had seen a lot and faced the dark side on many occasions. He himself had witnessed Force storms during the Death Star battle. His other predecessors had varied experiences which he could remember with differing levels of clarity, but some of them had definitely encountered rituals of this scale. The cults could be doing anything from reanimating the dead to controlling the wildlife to creating a thought bomb that would imprison the souls of every Mando'ad in Keldabe. While those results ranged from merely challenging to permanently devastating, he had to act for now as though it were the worst-case scenario.

 

"Can't take any chances," he said. "2277, take off and home towards my location. Fly low and quiet."

 

"Acknowledged, Master," the beskar'ad responded. Prior to the battle, Fett had positioned the Justice and a few other Tra'kad-class vessels outside the city under a secluded cliff, waiting for the opportune moment to unleash them on the invaders. This could be that occasion. He understood that there were hostages in the center of the ritual, so a bombing run was far from his favorite option. But realistically he had no guarantee that rescue was possible.

 

They would sure as haran give it a shot though. ShadowFett advanced again and the suicide cultists seemed to be thinning about a bit. They were however soon replaced by a greater threat. Emerging from behind the trees now were other armored foes, these clad in beskar. Fett had soundly beaten the Kyr'tsad leaders and evicted them from this world several months ago, but they could never be totally wiped out, and there was no doubt that some of them were itching for revenge. Such enemies would offer considerably more resistance than shirtless fanatics and would, unlike suicide bombers, be able to delay the excursion by putting up a prolonged battle due to their armor and other equipment.

 

Fett immediately headed for a copse of trees for cover and opened up again with his assault rifle into the Death Watch ranks. He scored a series of hits, but beskar could shrug off small weapons fire with ease. He directed as many bolts as he could towards unarmored portions -- arms, joints, thighs, and the waist-level gap between the bottom of the chest plates and the top of any leg armor -- but such shots were difficult to land and often nonfatal, leading to a situation where an enemy might drop and still pose a threat.

 

He did have some greater ordinance however. Having been stingy so far with grenades, he now let loose a thermal detonator on a group of enemy soldiers and traded his assault rifle for his compact disruptor carbine. A disruptor would penetrate even small amounts of beskar, and hits on flesh were guaranteed to be fatal, but he had limited ammunition and so would have to pick his shots carefully.

 

On either side of him Mando'ade came charging up, scattering fire upon the Death Watch ranks while searching for cover, but for the moment their momentum stalled as the gap between the two groups became awash with volleys of blaster fire that no man could hope to cross.

[Tresha Ad'Nort]

All at once, it all dissolved into chaos.

 

Traps gave way to bodies, screams and shouts, blood and entrails littering the path like so much flora, the emerald forests outside Keldabe painted crimson. The borrowed flechette rifle erupted indiscriminately into the horde of bodies that progressed towards Tresha and the other Mando'ade that were progressing to the second of the sites in question. Half-naked with crazed eyes, wave after wave of deranged cultists poured through the groves of trees. Shuddering raggedly as the rounds from her tightly-gripped weapon tore them asunder, the bodies fell as quickly as they progressed, their assault ineffective against their heavily armored and solemn adversaries.

 

Then the grenades started flying like a stream of confetti.

 

Insanity gripped the approaching horde to the extent that they did not distinguish friend from foe as they unleashed their attacks. From up on the slight bluff where Tresha found herself, she could see pock marks forming in the unsullied ground as explosion after explosion rent the ecosystem, a dozen flimsiplast foes falling in shreds and ribbons of flesh for every single Mando'ad debilitated by explosive ordnance.

 

She found herself almost irritated by the sheer waste of life: there was an objective, a goal on the other side of the sea of advancing bodies. The demagolka had done more than just murder ad'ike, she had kidnapped them, forced small children to swim the swift Kelita, and marched them into the forest. There was no ransom to be earned in such tasks, nothing to be gained tactically. The whole thing reeked of ill intent.

 

Cutting a wide swath around the advancing cultists, counting on the scores of her brethren filling in the ranks behind her, Tresha pressed on toward her goal.

[Whispering Abyss]

Steam rose from the forest floor and permeated both combat sites, a reddish sort of cloud, mostly what happens when blood is heated suddenly. The cultists were being slaughtered en masse, gladly giving their lives for a cause that didn't care about them. The waste was sickening, but what was truly sickening was grenade blasts atomizing or cooking large puddles of blood, leading to the sort of blood mist that would hang in the damp air and stain the armor of those walking through it. Some would fear it was a Sith trick, but the reality of the situation was far more simple and grim.

 

The Death Watch commandos fought hard, meeting their former kin with every bit of strength and tenacious blood lust the Mandalorians offered up in kind, but the fact of the matter was they were outnumbered. Mandalorians closed in on both sites, but still the children remained, and still the chanters recited their liturgies through the cacophanous howls of raging combat on their doorsteps. Their faith was pure. The Mandalorians would fall. They would scrabble like rats against the great walls of the Sith, but they would be swept away with the floodwaters of blood and bile that the Sith would run through the streets of their enemies. Where one plan failed, another would succeed; where one chanter fell, a fresh, smoking hole bored clean through his skull, his brother beside him clung fast to the ideals that in the end, the Mandalorians would fall. For so Ab'ki had proclaimed, and thus it would be, nevermind the incessant forward momentum of their adversary.

 

Meanwhile, Hawke had donned his own combat armor, joining the commando squads that were preparing to flank and insert. If this last gambit didn't work, all was lost. But only the Colonel knew that...others had suspected, but still held to the idea that his strategies would win the day. How naive and stupid they had all been. Hawke was beginning to see the truth in the thing through the multitudinous layers of falsehoods...they had all been played. This was a game, and he had played his part well. Feint, parry, attack, retreat, repeat. In the end, it only mattered that one won, and that one certainly wasn't him. But he wouldn't allow his blind misfortune to turn him from his duty...he was here, and he would make the best of it.

 

Transport engines fired, and the commandos were on the move.