Jump to content

Ahzinger Armors - Nar Shaddaa


Kakuto Ryu

Recommended Posts

Nar Shaddaa

 

Astrographical Information

Region: Mid Rim

Sector: Hutt Space

System: Y'Toub System

Orbital Position: moon of the 3rd planet

Moons: one of 5

Grid Coordinates: S-8

 

Physical Information

Class: Terrestrial

Atmosphere: Type 1 Breathable

Primary Terrain: polluted cityscape

Points of Interest: Rimmer's Rest, Promenade, The Slag Pit

 

Societal Information

Indigenous Species: Ganks

Immigrated Species: Hutts, t'landa Til, humans

Primary Language(s): Huttese, Galactic Basic

Faction Affiliation: neutral

 

Defense Rating: Level 4

 

JediRP Canon History: …to come…

 

Old description in spoiler:

A twisted mirroring of the planet-encasing cities of Coruscant, Nar Shaddaa is the Huttese name for the over-urbanized planetoid known commonly as the Smugglers' Moon.

 

The spaceport moon orbits the Hutt stronghold world of Nal Hutta, in the Y'Toub system. According to Hutt legend, their true homeworld of Varl was destroyed eons ago, and the heroic Hutts conquered Nal Hutta as their new homeworld. The native Evocii were displaced to the largest of Nal Hutta's moons, Nar Shaddaa, but the Hutts eventually annexed the moon as well.

 

Over the centuries, Nar Shaddaa grew as an important way station in interstellar trade. Ancient refueling spires and loading docks still reach out from the native soil into orbit, and in between, vast vertical cities have filled the spaces. The lower levels fell into disrepair and decay, and the lowliest of dregs were forced into the decrepit undercity. The descendants of the Evocii degenerated in the shadowed filth of Nar Shaddaa's foundations, mutating into unwholesome savages.

 

For a time, Nar Shaddaa enjoyed an air of luxury, but changing political climes turned it into a criminal haven. The moon is firmly affixed in the galaxy's criminal underbelly, and no amount of reform will ever bring it into the light again. Ship-jackers, slavers, spice dealers, pirates, hunters and other unsavory types congregate in the vile cities. For a price, anything can be bought and sold on Nar Shaddaa, and many young smugglers and fringe-types get their start on the Smugglers' Moon.

 

 

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

krstorm.gif.a46e550419daa19d41d206a1706d1044.gif

Link to comment
Share on other sites

So, after hours of hard work and elbow grease, the building was finally secure and reinforced. The old neons of no meaning were knocked down and replaced with a rather showy metallic sign that read "Ahzinger Armors". That was Vihk's plan after all, to hide an "underground" base of Mandalorians underneath a convincing Armor shop facade.

 

<< Description of facility moved to page 2 of thread >>

 

------

 

However the shop was still under construction and would remain so for a little bit until they had all adjusted fully to their environment.

Edited by Guest

b9bOzf7.png

<< Look at the bottom of the Character Sheet >>

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...

Going into its sixth week of operation, Vihk's armory had quite the popular reputation in Nar Shadaa. It wasn't a cosmopolitan attraction, but it was a place mentioned more than once between friends. The Mandalorians managed to blend effectively and so far no suspicion of their existence on Nar Shadaa was raised; in fact, Vihk himself insured that no suspicion arose for the time due to his "don't tell or die" philosophy.

 

Vihk ordered Mandalorians to place themselves stealthily about the establishment and if anyone was caught doing anything they weren't supposed to, they were sternly educated on the policies of the establishment, which almost always involved some sort of crush gaunt wound. Then if they were caught spilling their info, not only would they die, but the friend they told and any others who heard would die to stop the chain. Their executions weren't made public though; Mandalorians in cloaks would grab them from the streets and would kill them in alleys or pockets of darkness and move along as if nothing had happened. There was also some hierarchy restriction as to certain people and reasons that they should be allowed to live. For example, if an old man heard it at one point and forgot it quickly there would be no reason and if a child heard it there wouldn't really be a reason, because children rarely understood anything relevant; they were minds to be molded , but without the mold their minds were like pudding.

 

This was a very efficient and effective little program, but Mand'alor was still a little suspicious of his identity and the identity of his people being loosed through the public due to his shop's popularity. The thought had come to him several times within the weeks he spent eying the front door expecting a Republic boot to push through it, but as his mind wandered, the thought of the Republic coming to his heavily fortified and equipped shop for a throw down as opposed to Manda'yaim might insure that their home world would still be there when they returned. Vihk didn't want to discredit his people though, even in his thoughts; he knew his brethren would give the Republic a run for their money should they move in for an attack.

 

As for the actual business of the establishment, it was surprisingly good for such a limited supply of materials. The overall compliments gleaned from pleased customers were of the genuine craftsmanship and the broad range of customization on the metal plating and the fibrous/ more flexible under layers of the armor as well. If the customers required a specific material they often turned and left with their heads bowed, but a few returned even later with the materials that they indicated for the job and gave the left overs to Vihk in return for a discount on services. This increased the diversity of available metals for the job, even if there were only small collections of said materials. Vihk knew that they had more metal than durasteel in the back, but it wasn't of his "jurisdiction" to say.

 

A few other Mandalorians began to filter in now and again as solo mercenaries looking for armor repairs and/or armor retail in general and as if the entire store grew cold the other customers were asked to kindly step out while Vihk and the customer spoke in private as if they had some sort of agreement. Then, with a grand and welcoming embrace, Vihk would inform the fellow soldier of their position, his position, and their predicament. From there, the Mandalorian would either join them or wander off somewhere distant, but would always give Vihk his/her comm information for "future services".

 

A communication arrived in Vihk's comm at one point signaling the arrival of Republic ships on Onderon. It was a low frequency comm sent by a non-Mandalorian spy that had been left behind for practical purposes. Then, as soon as the comm signal was received extra precaution was sent to the Manda'yaim garrison...

 

In Mandalore's free time though, both when the store was at a lull and when the store was closed, he was tasked for teaching others to perform his craft and work on his own armor. Vihk's armor though proved tougher than he initially perceived. He didn't want to abandon any sort of original Mandalorian design, of course, but he didn't want to keep his old red armor piece for piece.

 

He drew up a set of blue prints of his older armor and melted down the metal plates for their use in memory of his father. He was considering making them into a relic of memorabilia in honor of his father, but hadn't knowledge of what to make yet.

 

The armor would inherently be heavy, because Vihk was trained in heavier more resilient suits of armor. His original hand-me-down red armor that he received when his own was lost in battle was the sort of medium armor used in the general Mandalorian troops, but Vihk was going for the thickness and size used in typical Mandalorian shock troops.

 

So, using different chunks of Mandalorian iron that Vihk had brought from further into the complex, Vihk began a series complicated procedures for his armor's assembly that would inevitably move him in the right direction. Using a few other armors as inspiration, Vihk quickly moved through a couple of steps, but he still had layers and layers of options to choose from.

 

The actual look of the armor had also only loosely been determined, but as his experiments moved further he promised to finish the blueprints...

 

((I am going to take several in game posts probably 3 making/ testing the armor and reworking it should it be needed and I hope to do this over the span of several days for both practicality's sake and for the sake of the 3 day rule. --- this is because I want the Mandalore armor to be at least something of a big deal.))

b9bOzf7.png

<< Look at the bottom of the Character Sheet >>

Link to comment
Share on other sites

ehn (3)

 

t'ad (2)

 

solus (1)

 

The words drifted off the metal walls of the humid warehouse, its breadth filled to the brim with eager spectators. Their mixed volume was enough to drown the slightest sound of exhaustion, but their focus was not on the world around them; everyone in the room was connected - mind, body and soul - to the pristine metal ring that shone under the bright fluorescent lights.

 

The subjects of discourse though were bathed in a light of their own and more no armor, so their flesh glowed with an eerie yet exciting luminescence. Noe spectator could really see every part of the combatants, the contrast of shadow filling the gaps between their outward structures and the ground, but each one knew they were there. One stood an average height and pushed his own visible strength and wisdom through his stance and technique. The other, well renown, stood his ground and had no particular countenance about him. His face was stone and his stance neutral.

 

The large man's thick arms bristled with hardened muscle and he pressed his hands to one another, feeling the callouses of years stretching upon them; the callouses keeling to every curve of his behemoth appendages if not in tease of how they really felt. A tattoo, broadly displayed about the man's right shoulder glistened slightly in the light, illuminating a mythosaur skull that held the wear and tears of battle on it's visible plane. His face was grizzled, bitten by back by the tides of war, and as before held no inclination as to what his next move would be. His green eyes, seemingly removed from the fight, stood serene in their focus on the man before him. No hate lingered, no rage filtered through, but a feeling of pride, a feeling of warmth surged through the large man as his position was challenged. Yet he stood his ground unflinching and seemingly uncaring...

 

All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must seem inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near. Hold out baits to entice the enemy. Feign disorder, and crush him... ((Tzun Tzu's art of war))

 

The art of combat is rarely one sided. Both sides need to be understood before one step was taken forward. Vihk, the aforementioned behemoth, stood only at roughly 6 feet, but revoked his height in favor of anonymity. his lack of a "positive" stance drew him up to full height while simultaneously drawing his height boundaries beyond its normal measure.

 

The Old Mandalorian waited as the new Mandalorian played about in his mind as to a first move... Then, without further warning, the Mandalorian adolescent struck from his position with his right leg shooting down toward Vihk's knee in hopes of rendering him cap less.

 

Kote, darasuum kote. Te racin ka'ra juaan kote.

(Glory, eternal glory. The stars pale beside our might. )

 

Vihk watched intently as the leg shot out and moved one foot out of the way, watching the other man fall into perfect line of his arm. Then Vihk, with one stretch of his arms grabbed hold of the springy Mandalorian's hand and bent it backward pushing him to the ground, holding him into the position until his pleas ran dry.

 

"Do not leave yourself so open young one, it leaves little to the imagination and your enemy can easily pick you apart." said Vihk with a relative somber but serious tone.

 

Others looked on with smiles as Mandalore taught the young one whose curiosity shined through naivety, wanting to learn more.

 

The young one at Vihk's mercy pulled himself back together as the Old Mandalorian let go, but his face was filled with a brightness normally not attributed to one who'd lost so quickly. Yes his honor may have been challenged, but Vihk was Mandalore and the boy was young. There was no shame in losing to the leader of the clan and he still had more yet to learn.

 

"Now that you are done with him Mandalore, maybe we could have a go?" let out a casual reply from the audience as one of Vihk's officer's stepped up to the ring. "It would be an honor Jaraht... " replied Vihk to his new challenger, but as an aside, Vihk pushed his expression back to the young one at his side. "Now Faerall, take what we've learned her and improve ok? I will fight you again only when you are ready. Or, you have your choice pick of anyone else in the clans as well."

 

Vihk patted the boy softly on the shoulder and walked slowly back into the ring, looking rigidly into Jaraht's eyes, capturing his weak points. He remember Jaraht's movements and although he could see them in his mind, playing back, he did not put forth the outline as a template for him to respond. Instead, Vihk regained his stiff yet flexed composure, looking at the officer with no particular agenda, but this man was trained. Jaraht could see that Vihk was ready for him and that any move he made would be countered; the one who made the first move was always placed in a position to be countered which offered a weaker stance.

 

Vihk could see this as well, but to avoid utter stagnancy Mandalore shot from his pose into a brutal punch that nearly made contact with Jaraht's left shoulder. Jaraht juked slightly and managed to divert most of the punch's force to his left hand although he could feel the bones of Vihk's fingers grinding into his palm. Then, as they stood at a ready stalemate, Jaraht head butted Vihk quickly and swiped his feet from under him pushing the large Mandalorian to the ground with a loud thud. Vihk could feel the mat beneath him as he lay, but as Jaraht circled his prey carefully Vihk came from both sides in a powerful leg clamp that brought Jaraht to the ground in another large thud.

 

This moment of weakness allowed Vihk to lumber into a kneeling position, panting ever so slightly beneath his smile and grab Jaraht by his open yet moving legs. In the process Mandalore was kicked rather soundly in the face, but picked the officer up regardless. Mandalore picked the Mandalorian up by the ankle of a foot and slammed his body against the mat hard. There were cracks in Jaraht's bone structure as he lay on the ground, but he too bore a smile on his face as he used his ankle to face plant Vihk to the mat and propelled himself to his feet. The officer engaged Vihk once more, managing to get a hold of the large Mandalorian's arms on the floor, peeling it back until he heard a crack. Then, satisfied with his work, Jaraht wheeled Vihk around and punched him several times square in the face as he sat upon Vihk allowing no other way out. Vihk, seeing stars, could also catch Jaraht's open right side. So, grabbing Jaraht's arms with his own as they struggled to remain circulated with his body, Vihk wrenched the man off of him with a grunt.

 

Jaraht struggled against Vihk, but Vihk's upper body strength ruled the interaction and Jaraht tumbled back into a kneeling position as Vihk slowly climbed to his feet, panting and with blood gleaming brightly amidst the glow.

 

The crowd around them cheered with no discretion; sure some may have had votes on either side, but the spectacle held their gaze. The art of the moment drew their attention and their overall interest was driven by each and every step the combatants took. Faerall stood by with open eyes and watched with glee as the battle steamed up; the boy's anticipation built with every blow.

 

Then Mandalore saw it; the opening he had noticed before was repeated as Jaraht lept at him in hopes of pinning Mandalore to the mat. So, with a slight step, as Mandalore had done with Faerall, he moved to the right of Jaraht's leap and covered his weak side with a sturdy blow to his abdomen that seemed to strike a few ribs down. The Officer fell to the mat hard a little bloody and winded, but coughed and cringed through an open smile. "parjai again Mand'alor," said Jaraht when Vihk helped him up. Mandalore looked at the officer with a similar countenance and braced him with a large reassuring pat on the back. "should we get you some medical attention or will you be fine son?" replied Vihk with a laugh as he walked out of the battle circle with Jaraht in tow. "No... Maybe later, but right now I will live with my wounds and remember what they have taught me." led Jaraht as he walked toward the dormitories.

 

Vihk's path carried him a different direction, but he still waved toward Jaraht as he moved.

 

___________-----_______-----____________

 

 

Days since his provincial plans had fallen through, Vihk finally came up with a master plan and had begun heavy work on his armor. In fact, the heavy material for the underlay had already been laid out and treated for its use. The material would be used to facilitate the thermal energy and in-turn maintain the wearers temperature at all time. It was fully sealed allowing the wearer to survive in a vacuum for 20 minutes with a full tank of air.

 

The metal parts themselves would be fairly simple yet at the same time remain complex. The design was for heavier armor, but here were multiple ways that could be done. The metal itself needed to be heated for a while before it could graze just the right temperature for moulding and then putting it into a mold was a careful process in and of itself. The aesthetic plan Vihk had for his armor though was in his mind really cool and motivated him to finish it that much more.

 

The whole thing would stand about a handful of inches taller than Vihk and would scream terror or at least Mandalorian fury upon those that would see it. It would carry a similar structure to the Katarn class heavy armor in that the metal would be reinforced and in thicker metal plates, but it would cover a little more of the body than the Katarn class would. The design carried a fairly rigid metallic look to it, but had class in its construction and kind of took on the look of old archaic gladiatorial armor, only it had more pieces. One of the pauldrons was engineered to be bigger than the other for aesthetics and probably practical reasons should the fight consist of vibroblades, but the armor itself was fairly even otherwise. Its colors would consist of a charcoal black/gray with a strong Onyx black w/clear coat and a heavy metallic silver.

The features of the armor were to be added later, but Vihk planned to have internal stabilizers that would allow the distribution of energy throughout the frame, allowing the wearer to be shielded from attacks that would normally disorient them. The boots and rest of the armor, although they were already were already made from Mandalorian iron which was tough and resilient would be treated to withstand acidic conditions.

 

The helmet would come with a H.U.D (heads up display) which the soldier would use to control his weapons and sensors. The helmet of this armor, like Katarn class armor, would hold the HUD display to more utilities though, like displaying tactical data such as the locations and distances of your target, displaying the health of the wearer and the strength of the suits' shields, the ability to system link between other suit bearers through the use of an internal communications antennae allowing each member of a squad to keep track of each other's health and location, it would have specialized internal sensors in the suit that could detect the make, model, and accuracy of every weapon that a troop used thus changing the shape and size of the target reticule for each weapon. All of these features were viewed through the visor.

 

Out of necessity the helmet would also feature a filtration mask which could extract oxygen from toxic environments. The visor would feature an electro binocular visor and night-vision mode and as the last part of its grand design, the knuckle plate of the armor featured a knuckle plate vibroblade; a retractable vibroblade on the knuckle plate used for close quarter combat and quiet encounters.

((only one more post after this and I will post the completion. So the first post was the setup, this is the planning and procedure, and the next one is completion...)) ((may need Mod consent though))

 

((armor pieces from here -- http://www.swtor-fr.com/screen/swtor-divers/172.jpg

helmet - http://wiki.urbandead.com/images/b/b8/Canderous_ordo_pic..jpg

only take the bottom of the visor and stretch it a little bit and split the filtration device, putting it onto both sides of the helmet

A pauldron (shoulder piece) - from here http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DT1OUUT0Sgw/R9sio3vjxbI/AAAAAAAAAPE/6KBQhmoIoAg/s320/94Gladiator1.jpg

Under armor and maybe the pack (but that isn't really armor crafting) from here -- http://images1.wikia.nocookie.net/starwars/images/d/d8/Clonecallouts.jpg))

Edited by Guest

b9bOzf7.png

<< Look at the bottom of the Character Sheet >>

Link to comment
Share on other sites

A call came in as steel hit iron, sparks flying in all directions, the final hammer fall making precise its admonition to the now completed armor. Mandalore looked upon his masterpiece with sedated pride as the call crushed his enthusiasm. It wasn't of necessarily bad merit, but it meant an interruption of his work and as such left a sour taste in his mouth.

 

So, the old Mandalorian regrettably turned away from the pieces of armor as they lay pulsing with an energy that resonated on a frequency for Vihk's ear and his ear alone. Vihk violently pushed a large hammer to the ground in aggressive pretense and as it smashed to the ground, making a great deal of noise, he began his movement toward the armory floor where the messenger waited patiently. The other officers about Mandalore looked at him with slight confusion as to his outburst, but did not understand the sheer nature of Vihk's work. His iron beat as he left, each step up the dura steel gray stairs was a step away from himself and away from his existence. Most of his life had been spent in some form of beskar'gam and as such he corroded and rusted as it did. The union between himself and his creations were so strong that he never let any of his belongings drift away.

 

Anything and everything he could hold on his back he often did until his destinations were reached. Such as it was for his relationship to his family and the Mandalorian people as a whole. He always regretted leaving at the time he did, when the Mandalorian people fell into a state of disrepair. Now, with the strength of the tribes behind his forceful cries, he felt better than he had in many years. The people were good for him and he was good for them; they needed a leader and Vihk was determined to make sure they'd get the best they could.

 

These thoughts were Vihk's mantra, his guide to better management of himself and a way to understand the direction he'd head in as a leader. So interruptions tended to push him a little over the edge. When Vihk saw who the messenger was though, his gripes dissipated almost immediately and Mandalore rushed over, anxiously waiting for the news.

 

The Mandalorian spy - a Rodian that was sent to Iziz well before Vihk's march on the city and one that had been in constant chain of contact between them and Onderon - was sitting on a bar stool with as much a smile as he could muster arrayed about his face.

 

"Welcome Mandalore," said the Rodian in a crude yet understandable form of Rodese. "I have news from Onderon"

 

Mandalore paused for a moment in reception of the no doubt constructive news, when he saw the Rodian fidget for a moment, "What is it?"

 

The Rodian took a moment, but proceeded with a thorough and methodical oration as if the entire thing was a practiced script.

 

"The situation as you left it there, has changed a bit Mandalore" said the Rodian in a rather matter of fact way with no more positive inclination than a negative one. "The people of Iziz have a few remaining yes, but they have a couple survivors and I believe you've met one of them before sir. Professor Isel, a renowned scholar in Iziz who studies the Sith was of the ones found. "

 

Vihk shook his head slightly as the recollection came with faint irritation. Then, once his illusions had passed through, Vihk moved his right arm in a hurrying motion still feeling the call of his armor wearing heavily on him.

 

The Rodian picked up speed in his words slightly and finished, "On top of that, a Sgt. Slaughter has moved in and not only are they trying to save as many people as they can, there is a notable Jedi present. I did not catch her name readily, but she was there to avoid the use of too much bacta. In research of the current bacta situation aboard my ship's on board computer it appears that there is an embargo on bacta through the planet of Thyferra to anyone but imperial clients. It would seem inordinately clear that the Jedi was then there for healing purposes, but because the situation in Onderon is hard to measure from that point on I'll leave what to make of it for you to determine. I cannot go back there as I was found by rebel agents upon my escape, but I made sure their trails went cold before they could trace me here."

 

Vihk swallowed air for a moment as his thoughts swam about, rapidly trying to seek root. They must have already conjured up ideas as to our hiding places then, or so it would seem. They will know about Manda'yaim... Of that there is no question... Vihk thought to himself as he sat quietly.

 

"Alright, you are henceforth removed from our services Rodian and as long as you don't tell a soul about our presence you will get to keep your life as a reward.

 

Then, with a grunt, Vihk made his way back down stairs to try on his new armor.

 

____________

 

 

A hiss sounded as the visor closed tightly to complete the set, his armor fitting snugly underneath and all around him. His beskar'gam was completed to the letter and as if in his own way of extra ornamentation, Vihk had the rights of the resol'nare carved along the brazenly cast figure of the Mythosaur head on his chest piece..

 

He felt like himself again - at home in his armor - and when the HUD came up, signaling the suit's keen response time and orientation, Vihk sighed in utter relief as the fruits of his labor continued to amaze him.

b9bOzf7.png

<< Look at the bottom of the Character Sheet >>

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...

A plagued sleep provoked Mandalore into a bout of crazy nightmares. A scene of rabid combustion greeted his eyes as a large group of skulls littered the ground and buildings lay in shambles. From the desolation and destruction walked Mandalore, in his black armor that seemed to suck the life from the air, holding a child's heart still beating in his hands. In his wake, patrolling in slow movements along the height of his black iron boots, lay hundreds of dead Mandalorians. The processions were not halted and were not rapid however, as it seemed the row of corpses were being pulled by heavy chains against the grain of the horrid ground. The figure in black cared not for the macabre sound effects that issued from his comrades that had perished behind him and instead moved forward with no real remorse felt in his countenance... The image was interrupted though, as the horrific 'dream Mandalore' bit down on the small heart, a sickening feeling which turned the tables on Vihk's consciousness...

 

Vihk pushed himself up on his forearms with a start as sweat consumed his body in reaction to the stress imposed upon him within his sleeplessness. The Mandalorian looked about and realized night hadn't yet passed, but as he lay back down for more rest a slight tinge at his side woke him further. So, seeing as how the aging Mandalore couldn't sleep, he raised himself slowly from his cot and walked around to see if any other Mandalorians, aside from the posted watch, were awake.

 

His legs wouldn't have for consistent walking so he managed to hobble up and down the stairs quite fine, looking through the doorways and walking a small distance in to each floor to get a gauge as to how many people might've been awake at the time.

 

To his surprise though, the symphony of snores that could be heard meters away from each hall were pretty widespread, he did manage for find a few wakeful spirits that had varied reactions at his degree of undress which consisted of a wife beater and boxers, but the majority of the dormitories were quiet. Through the corners of his eyes he spotted whole families together, embracing one another as they continued their rest or deliberations. The entirety of his duty began to whisper minutely in his ears as his feet brought him further out of the complex and into the battle circle room for what might've been a good mid morning spar, but he noticed that it was occupied. There were two young Mandalorians fighting rather haphazardly, but something about the display created by the two young male Mandalorians put a renewed spark in Vihk's eyes and subsequently reminded him a great deal about Mandalore as a symbol, the Mandalorian people as a whole, and about Mandalore's duty to his people - about his people. In the eyes of anyone else the spectacle would've been deemed no doubt insignificant, but for Mandalore the young Mandalorians testing skills with each other in a ring of battle, pushed his now ever apparent responsibility closer to his mind. The future of the Mandalorians for better or worse rested within his hands...

 

He was pushing them into a war they did not choose, endangering all of the clans due to his own selfish desires and to top that off, they slaughtered hundreds of innocents on Iziz to prove a point to a fruitless governmental exploit. He was pushing the nomadic Mandalorian race into a state of chaotic barbarism which in the end would only get a mass amount of the race killed, which was not practical nor wished for in the slightest. So, cavalier in his resolve, Mandalore ran about the complex and began waking everyone up in any way possible. He grabbed pots and pans, a fog horn like device and began to usher any and every Mandalorian out of their bed and into the fifth floor, adjacent to the sparring that used to be in full swing. When the Mandalorians saw the others assembling, they quickly bowed to one another and pushed into the crowd for a good look at what was going down.

 

Since the hour was early there were a lot of grumpy people in the mass, but the hour wasn't that early and once their groggy senses adapted, telling them their wake up call came from Mandalore himself, they stood upright rather quickly in favor of receiving all needed information.

 

A large arm swept over the crowds and as soon as its crest completed all the noises stopped and silence filled the room.

 

Mandalore fixed himself ready and began to yell at the top of his lungs in order to reach the entire room. "N'eparavu takisit, but the rude wake up call has a valid purpose. I took you all with me to Nar Shadaa, because you represented the few Mandalorians that seemed completely, if not mostly comfortable with me doing what we did on Iziz, but I come to you now, humbled by our deeds that day. I will not say that our intentions weren't in the right place at times, but my judgment to let the hate and destruction continue was not a wise one for our clans... People look upon us and all they see now are barbarians, taking anything and everything they can and leaving nothing for others except a swift kick to the face or slice to their vital systems...." Mandalore paused for a moment as a particularly gruesome recollection pulled into his mind. "I saw a woman and her daughter incinerated in plan view of their sorrowful judgement. Their bodies still somewhat preserved in a terrified glare of what had just happened. Now, although I and we as a whole may justify our actions, there is no way on this pit of skag filled life forms, that killing a woman or a child has any goram honor in it unless they themselves were trying to tear you apart." For a moment Vihk kneeled slightly, his legs falling asleep from underneath him, but the Old Mandalorian pulled himself up regardless and continued his oration...

 

"Now, as to our current state of affairs within the Republic. As it stands, we stand nothing to gain from this position, but everything to lose. We may have a decent number when assembled, but when we are assembled our numbers are still too few to take on a Republican juggernaut. If it ever came to open fighting I'm afraid to say that our forces would stand little to no chance of victory in our current state; so, I put the entire race in danger when I made that fateful decision in the city of Iziz and although I don't claim to be a particularly regretful man, I do regret the actions I have taken against what it has been my duty all along to do. I, as Mandalore, am tasked with keeping the clans safe and if I may do so still that would be of great satisfaction to me and hopefully to yo as well." Mandalore stated as it seemed his words were just about finished, Mandalore slowly move himself toward the center of the Battle Circle.

 

"I will still be called upon as Mandalore in times of great need and if the need commands I will assemble the clans once more and we will refresh our capital city and find new low key planets to inhabit, in favor of diverse separation and strategic separation. So, without further talking your ears off, I instigate another bas'lan shev'la only to all of you and the other Mandalorians that are currently bracing themselves on Mandalore. Keep your families safe, keep yourselves safe, and most important of all, never forget where you came from. You all know how to contact me and I will do whatever I can to make this easier on all of you. If some of you indeed wish to stay, you may because I am not opposed to any comrade hospitality, but the rest of you must do what you can in the next few days to disappear from the galactic radar so to speak." finished Vihk as his eyes proved rock steady and his expression understanding, but unflinching.

 

"I understand we have shed blood together and I have every intention of doing it again someday on more equal and better footing, with the reward of an honorable victory resting at the end of our hard work. For now... Ret'urcye mhi aliit..."

 

With that Vihk accepted any and all protestations or comments that proceeded afterwards, but ultimately headed back to his workspace where his clothes and beskar'gam rest aside a fresh set of tools for the day. The stairs felt numb under his limping feet that still tried to sleep against his will, but they moved him clumsily up the stairs regardless in favor of reaching the indicated destination.

 

And there, aside from his workshop rest the tactical shield he crafted from his father's armor, modified to blend in with his heavy armor in style, function and color. It was a true testament to his father's ambitions and destructive power, but the irony was of its adaptation. One suit of armor, brought of a proud group of violent Mandalorians, was turned into a shield. The symbolism wasn't lost on Vihk, but his only consul for now would be his thoughts, as this was always his best place to think.

 

____------______------______

 

Over the next few weeks Mandalorians started to peter out until there were only a handful left int he facility and as if that weren't enough, they left too, leaving only Jaraht and Vihk.

 

"Jaraht, you know you don't have to stay with me right?" said Vihk in a semi serious tone as the other burly man came beside Vihk with a smile on his face. "Yeah, well who'd kick your ass and take your place later on then?" Jaraht jabbed sarcastically at Vihk as he took a seat beside him at the mess hall bar."No, you are my commanding officer and I have no where else to go sir..."

 

Vihk looked on him with a smile and then recalled of one figure in particular that he might want to see once more.

 

Holding up a comm device quickly, Mandalore putt forth coordinates for Mandalore in hopes of reaching Zscuth...

 

... and afterwards sending a comm signal to a number he'd picked up while browsing the galactic networks.

b9bOzf7.png

<< Look at the bottom of the Character Sheet >>

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 3 weeks later...

It seemed their number had been called. Vihk was preoccupied by his current mission, but as Jaraht broke clear of the building's threshold, he could tell that the meeting would soon begin.

 

"Jaraht, I want you to take a squad of 300 Mandos and rendezvous with the Imperial fleet in the Krayiss system. They have asked for Mandalorian assistance and will supply compensation to us and our clans should we attempt." said Vihk as he looked stoically past the man, through his dark helmet visor. "I will join you later, but as of now I have obligations to delegate for the future of our clans."

 

Jaraht looked at Vihk with a hard smile and saluted, showing his admiration for Mandalore with a swift punch to Mandalore's beskar'gam and a bout of sturdy laughter. "Yes Mandalore..." let out Jaraht between gasps; his next word as hesitant if not more than the preceding syllables.

 

The Mandalorian clan lord could feel his insides throbbing, but gathered his things regardless and began calling the necessary people to get things moving.

b9bOzf7.png

<< Look at the bottom of the Character Sheet >>

Link to comment
Share on other sites

So, in a mild mannered way of pacing about his establishment, Vihk walked the levels in full beskar'gam, waiting for Zcuth to eventually gather the courage to find him in his domicile and receive the orders he really inclined to make.

 

Mandalore breathed deeply, now feeling the weight of his people on his shoulders and not the weight of himself or specific needs. He only wondered how he'd assist in reconstructing the Mandalorians instead of having them all run and regroup on their own.

 

It was then that a beep came from his comm device, signaling an unknown yet surprising Comm message.

 

Vihk listened for the duration and when the comm was up he smiled widely and said in somber tones to himself, "The future of the Mandalorian peoples will be determined yet". Then, taking as little time as he could, Mandalore scrawled a note for Osku, and quickly grabbed all of his equipment along with an extra vibroblade just in case anything should get too messy.

 

Next, Vihk gripped his Comm device with assured strength and ordered to have the best Mandalorian iron hide soldiers he could find. He called for 20 of Vihk's own Heavy troopers (with armor similar to the Neo-Crusader Shock troopers, but closer in design to Vihk's own armor), 50 high class skirmisher soldiers, and 30 Neo Crusader Shock troopers.

He ordered all of the troops to get to Coruscant as best they could and when they reached the surface to meet at one place, the lower levels, to regroup.

 

Then, with a smile and a nod, he broke through his own door with shield, T-20 and vibroblade strapped down, heading for public transportation.

b9bOzf7.png

<< Look at the bottom of the Character Sheet >>

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 1 month later...

He hadn't scoped out the building personally yet, but his ability to work a computer helped him in that regard. He wasn't sure of the full layout but he was positive he knew all he would need to know for now.

 

Nothing survives contact with engagement anyway.

 

It felt weird to operate in the manner he was. If anything he felt like he was dressed to be a super hero or something. Still decked out in his field mission gear, he surveyed the armor building from a rooftop away.

 

Reports indicated that the building had been deserted for some time. That no recent orders had been placed, and that of all things mandalorians had been seen exiting form the place en mass. That had cost him a pretty penny and had been surprising to boot. He wasn't looking to go toe to toe with any armored behemoths wandering about. Especially since he was limiting himself so heavily.

 

Though away from the watchful eyes of the Republic, he did allow his sense of awareness, to increase to the level he was more used to. This was a dark seedy world, where one had to watch his back. The mind games were something to be left behind for now.

 

The man on the rooftop, disappeared only to reappear a short distance away from the building. Cloaked in the shadows having waited until nightfall to make his move, no activity had been seen seen, in the time he had spent observing the building so far. Now was the time to make his move.

 

A man of his caliber and skill found it relatively easy to enter the building. Entering into a large garage he had scoped out to be in the back of the building, he was quite careful to move around any motion or monitoring devices. His visor was actually quite helpful in that regard, and before anyone knew it he was in.

 

Well now, seems this operation is entirely self owned, operated, and maintained. That means, time to find mr. owner's personal office. Which if this building zone and permit, I have loaded up here was of any indication...

 

He let go of a small smile, and like a shadow in the dark simply did not exist through careful movements, preplanned, as he stalked his way to his goal.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...

Two small blue ampules of light peered through the darkness of the shop as a single sentient moved about the shop. A few more joined the first two and although the sentient seemed to be garnering a fair amount of suspicion in his eyes, he hadn't the slightest as to why blue lights peered at him through the darkness.

 

Then, as the hunter's gaze shifted around the room, the blue light ampules extinguished as if their existence were only a small murmur. Hesitation and stillness filled the room as the shadowy figure smiled and tried to meld back into darkness...

((HK-52 #20))Amused Query: Oh ho ho... The meatbag thinks he can stealth, well... We can take care of that, can't we?

 

Murmurs of affirmation echoed across the room and although the voices lingered around the borders of the shadowy retail establishment, a large carbine moved its way up the nape of the shadowy figure's neck in the crux of a second and warmed up underneath the man's hair.

 

((HK-52 #14))Cocky Remark: You can run meatbag, but you can't hide...

 

At the sound of the warming up carbine, inches from the man's ear... 21 more carbines started to warm around the room, and blue light by blue light shone through the dark haze of the late Ahzinger's shop.

 

<>

HK23.png
Link to comment
Share on other sites

A rather cocky smile appeared over his lips, as the familiar sound of a blaster carbine warming up became clear.

 

"Just when I was beginning to think you guys were too rusty to make a move."

 

It took only a moment. A single instance that seemed to stretch forever in the mind of Desmond. Then at last, for the droids everything went to Hell.

 

It has started rather well. Entering the building had been relatively easy. The lack of of a light-source, allowing his seamless movements to be with out shadow. It didn't matter for him, as the workshop was as bright as day. Moving quickly, he had begun scouring the workshop for the one thing he really wanted. Yet it was increasingly had to find just what he wished.

 

Switching viewmodes, he activated the electromagnetic radiation in the hopes of finding a power source to lead him to his destination. What he saw instead surprised him. The workshop was very much alive. It just wasn't filled with flesh and blood. Nearly two dozen droids stood around observing him. It was a bit shocking but with no overt moves made by the droid so far he knew he hadn't done anything to set them off.

 

Still I might as well prepare in case I do trip the silent alarm or whatever will cause these droids to go off. Seems like ancient assassin models. I've seen them before, should be too hard to escape should they activate.

 

He whipped out of of his special datapads and jacked into his visor. Instantly the world became a lot simpler in his eyes. He reached out, his sense stretched and he began his work. Pausing only briefly to find the one thing he though was worthy of note.

 

What do you know, multiple floors, starting in the back of the shop. If I can get there, I could finish this mission and go home. Ha, home.

 

He stalked his way through the workshop, noticing the area had fuel for jetpacks, as well as a few half created ones. The plan was quickly reworked, or was in the process of being so, when one of the droids at last made its move.

 

As so close to, I could probably dash to the finish line no problem.

 

A rather cocky smile appeared over his lips, as the familiar sound of a blaster carbine warming up became clear.

 

"Just when I was beginning to think you guys were too rusty to make a move."

 

Droids were his specialty. He could hide his physical presence by editing himself out of video feeds and cybernetic eyes, conceal his identity by superimposing an animated logo over his face, when he wanted a good laugh, and hijacking droids altogether, all in real-time. To him twenty two combat assassin droids, would be a decent challenge. Yet they were all so old algorithm and model wise it was like child's play.

 

Having had all the time in the world to set up and cautiously probe the systems of the droids around him as he searched for his objective his plan was easy. The Rapid-fire method was what he had determined would be best for such a situation. To understand how his method works, you have to know something about the way operating systems work. When a user enters a command, the operating system first places the command in a holding area, a buffer, where it will sit for a few

millionths of a second. The system looks at the command and say's "Does this person really have authorization to do this, or not?" Then, the command sits there a few thousandths of a second while the system runs off to check the user's authorization. When the system comes back to the command,

it will have one of two possible answers: "OK, GO AHEAD," or "SORRY, GET PERMISSION FIRST."

 

Once you are on a system that handles things this way, you can use the rapid-fire method to change the command while its sitting in the buffer,waiting to be executed. If you can do this,you can do anything. You can enter a command that you know will be approved, such as "tell me the time." As soon

as the system runs off to verify your right to know the time,you change the command in the buffer to something you know would not be approved-perhaps"shut down optical receptors and enter power saving mode." When the system comes back with an "OK, go ahead," it responds to your second command, not the first.

 

This is the summary of what he accomplish with the final event accumulating in the press of a button. Yet even for a man such as he, twenty two droids simultaneously was still a complex task. One that did not necessarily go as well as one could hope. His instincts spike,d and he surged forward, catching a blaster bolt from the carbine in his back. It bounded harmlessly away, his field suit more than adequately able to shrug off such a blow. Slipping his datapad back into its secure pocket, he removed the service special with the speed of a quick draw and targeted the first droid (#1) he saw. Squeezing the trigger, he watched as the blaster shot forth a bolt with enough power roughly equal to one of the four cannons in the Millennium Falcon's quad-guns. Two more shots were let loose in that single moment, yet neither at the first droid. Instead, the jetpack and fuel were the target. A sudden explosion, and a fury of jetpacks careened around the room, while most of the droids were engulfed in the firey explosion that instantly resulted. Others fell to the now out of control jetpacks crashing about.

 

Yet in all of the confusion, Desmond escaped quickly, slipping into a position of cover next to what he had determined to be the door to the lower levels. With fields of fire, he cautiously checked with his visor the results.

 

<>

<>

Link to comment
Share on other sites

This meat bag's first mistake was in assuming the normalcy of our assassination protocols, no. 1 mused to himself as he spotted the rest of his comrades, marginally cloaked by the thin ambient shadows of the room. The commands sent by the man's data pad were received, but just as soon as a foreign algorithm shot through one if not all of the HK droid's operating systems, a counter kill code was sent to the data pad. The kill code failed to destroy the data pad due to its advanced mechanisms, but it deterred a few further commands The droids hesitated for a moment pushing the kill code command into activation, but no.1 moved from his position and managed to dodge the incoming bolt that whizzed over the droid's right shoulder socket, rattling pieces of armor to the ground, pushing no.1 to his knees and piercing through the wall of the shop almost entirely.

 

Meanwhile, all of the droids, including no.1 switched to electromagnetic/thermo sights, because their sensors indicated the sentient's prolonged existence, but their active sight - because the target's attempts at shutting down their optics were rebounded - couldn't receive any successful visual confirmation for some strange reason; it seemed the sentient organism was trying to mask his presence. With the alternative sights however, the heat of the man's body and the electromagnetic mechanisms of his weapons were as clear as day through the hazy shop.

 

The droids were at a vague loss as to the sentient's intentions when he turned his attention away from no.1, but when the trajectory calculations of the meat bag's weapons were calculated, the entire body of HK-52 droids swiftly left their positions for secure ground. A few droids didn't receive the communications on time, knocking the number of droids down to about 17, but no.1 was still intact even as the jetpacks began to shoot out of control. This minor deficiency managed to dislodge more pieces of armor from the walls and almost decommissioned another droid, but it only took a few well aimed shots from 16 and 17 to pacify the mechanical problem. Once it seemed the meat bag and the HK droids were safe though, the entire encounter was back to square one.

 

Each HK unit knew exactly where the sentient was and although their systems weren't capable of shutting off everything mechanical in the room, aside from themselves, they were now aware of everything in the room; each piece of machinery glowed in a luminescent violet hue and the man himself glowed in the familiar red and yellow associated with body temperatures. The thermal data was a little truncated due to the fact the man was shielded, but since the body temperature of the droids were different from that of the sentient's, even with armor, it was no real problem to pick the attacker out of a crowd.

 

No.1 appeared to be ill tempered behind his cover, the sparking sounds of 5 droid's systems failing in the distance, but his forces weren't yet tied and he wasn't prepared to go down without a fight. The HKs had spoken enough already and although their presences were known too, no.1 grabbed a large rifle off of the wall that seemed to be subtly damaged and countered the man's earlier blast with fervor. The blast was large and red, pushing swiftly toward the covered sentient, while the other Hk's squatted behind cover, ready to fire more at the elusive target.

 

No.15, seeing the sentient through his thermo sensors and cross referencing the loose blueprints loaded into his memory, deduced that the man was trying to access the lower levels. With a small nod, a small transmission shot through the minds of his comrades. Then, the closest one to the doorway, no. 13, saw that the section of floorspace dedicated to the hidden lower level door, was also the location of the late Ahzinger's initial forge. The droids hadn't deduced whether or not this forge was used to detract from the lower levels or not, but within moments of speculation, no.13's aim swooped toward a highly explosive welding gas canister that stood near the passageway.

 

With a few shots of no.13's carbine, the gas can exploded soundly and pushed into the wall on its right, breaking loose metallic fixtures above the trap door and consuming the secret door in shrapnel and debris. One droid died in the blast, knocking the number down to 16, but the HK-units resumed their covers and all the air around the room was quiet as the assassin droids lowered the volume of their ambient exhaust vents.

 

Then, for some reason, no.1 ran a preliminary diagnostics scan on their current situation to make sure of their success rate. He included the man's Data Pad within the diagnostic and although the sentient alone seemed ready for anything, his Data Pad was a piece of work, that could, if used correctly upon the HK's, end their lives quickly.

 

HK-52's creator had made him and his brethren different, but their faults still lay in the hands of those that could figure out the ultimate nature of machine controls.

 

So, without furthering his militaristic advances, no.1 approached the man and surrendered his newly attained rifle. The rest of the robots looked baffled by their leader's weakness, but by the time their trigger fingers could move their eyelets were shut down and their figures passive on the cold durasteel plated floor.

 

HK-52 no. 1 looked at the assailant and although his first priority was to kill all sentients, it appeared that his command and attempts would more than likely end in death. So, he made sure the assailant knew he meant no harm; well... no more harm anyway.

 

Admonishment: "you are truly powerful meatbag and although I would see nothing more than your meaty carcass slammed against the metallic corridors of this establishment, I am afraid I would have no way of making that happen without risking everything it is that I have planned. Sure I could wait out however long it would take for more of me to be created, but who really has patience in this day and age?

 

No... I wish to instead strike a deal with you. What is it you want; what is it you need and I will do my best to commit my every resource to see the need fulfilled if you help me with my plans and let us off. I knew there were shots fired on both sides and although it pains me to say it.... I'm s-s-s----sss-s-orry..."

 

The HK-52 droid sounded as if the word hurt to move through his vocal transistors and out his audible processors, but he managed to skew the word out as best he could and as good he should.

HK23.png
Link to comment
Share on other sites

He was used to countering blaster shots a different way. Even knowing it was coming, muscle memory dictated his response, and sure enough he was lifted off his feet as the blaster bolt slammed into his chest.

 

A couple of raspy coughs escaped him, as he felt back against a wall.

That hurt... a lot. This is harder than I had imagined.

 

His eyes watered, and he shook his head to clear it. Upon which he was met with a most befitting sight. One of the droids had approached him, and had simply surrendered the blaster to him. Granted it was the droid that had shot him but, still it was an improvement.

 

Not one to be suckered easily, he simply stared at it. Knowing that it could be a ploy to try and lure him close. Why the droid would go through that much trouble was beyond him but, it wasn't outside of the range of possibilities.

 

His head was ringing, so he almost missed the droid's apology. He did note with satisfaction that the rest of the droids were standing down. He mentally replayed the last thirty seconds in his head. Then he snatched the rifle from the droid. Inspecting it, he then pointed it at the droid.

 

Anger would have no doubt filled a lesser man but, he had long ago established dominance over that issue. Instead practicality shone through.

 

"What plans are you talking about assassin?"

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The droid looked at the man with poise, in the face of a deadly weapon, but the droid knew somewhere in his circuitry that this man wasn't going to shoot him. He would if he had nothing to gain from the transaction, but if anything, the droid before him could prove useful if not crucial to whatever plan he might be concocting. So, HK-52 didn't even flinch as the rifle was raised to him, even if it bothered his sensors; the droid even managed to act pleasant, while it seemed ironic, in the company of artillery.

 

Amused Confession: "Well, I would think my plans are quite clear, as you have seen so yourself. My function is not to clean up after people; I do not simply translate, medicate, or gyrate in any function that serves the meatbag's or... excuse me, the sentient's, way of convenient living. I am an assassin droid; my function is to kill... Good or bad that is all I am for and all I need to secure robots a dominant place in this world."

 

The droid took a moment to pause, scanning the man up and down once more and sighing.

 

Bemused Continuance: "Well... I don't even know why I am telling you all this, but I feel no inclination to lie to you. I will just be remade somewhere else and don't try to check because my creator wipes the coordinates from our memory banks after he sends us off into the world... I only figured that out from a maniacal transmission sent by him while he was under the influence."

 

The Droid stopped once more as if to say, "stupid meat bag" underneath the audible frequencies of normal ears.

 

"So, if I just lie to you it will serve no purpose for either of us and won't move us anywhere... Anyway, back to what I was saying... Robotic supremacy. That's what I'm about. The plain and simple truth of it is though, that droids can't survive as long in a firefight when certain aspects of firepower and other munitions are used, hence the hijack of an abandoned armory once used for Mandalorian armor."

 

Eager Recognizance: "if my sensors were right, and they usually are, there is a large amount of Mandalorian iron at least one floor down in this complex. It isn't the strongest metal known to mankind, but due to the secrets capable of downloading in this place and the streamline possibilities. Well... The results could be fruitless and not work, but Mandalorian iron droids would be a marvel. I would even get myself retooled for such majesty... So, if you are a self respecting meatbag, who desires his own survival over the other races, than all I ask for is your help in my dream. Otherwise, if you are willing to join all of them and spurn droids like any other piece of wanton crap that they take advantage of on a regular basis, than shoot me now and save yourself the trouble later..."

 

HK-52 let his hands lower toward the ground in no sense of resistance or offense.

Addendum: "Know though, that I will help you if you help me... I may just be a droid, but I can do what it takes to get a job done."

HK23.png
Link to comment
Share on other sites

There was a certain irony in this. Being asked by a droid to over throw all sentient life in favor of droids. Just his history with droids alone, was enough to bring forth a bemused giggle of sorts. Still such a plan could not come to fruition, as it would be bad for business no doubt. The inherent problem was, if he blasted this droid, if what he said was true, then he would be at square one. Forced to try to monitor the activity of a bunch of assassin droids. He had far more better things to do with his time.

 

He would have to think of some way to thwart this threat, with out letting the droid understand that was his over all goal. Especially given the whole idea of droids ruling the galaxy was a little to close to what had nearly happened a few months back. *Check the Corellia thread faithful reader for how the final battle with the dreaded Arach'tar went down* While it was a bit before the time he had hit the scene, he was aware enough to know, that was not a desirable outcome.

 

Sith spit this is just lovely. Well if I could get a signal transmitter on him, maybe I could track the memory upload that would surely happen, to keep the remade model knowledge about the events that happen to this one.

 

It was a long shot but it was all he could figure off the top of his head.

”œFine droid whatever. I'll help you if you help me. To get things clear I'll give the orders and you will accept them. On that note get those debris out the way of the door then!”

Link to comment
Share on other sites

As Desmond left around the corner, an old man hobbled unnoticed from the depths of shadow surrounding the armory and shuffled quietly into the open door. Immediately, when the door was open, the old man produced a series of small robots that scoured the shop, searching for many small tracking devices or cameras set by the shadow before he left with no.1.

 

The droids were effectively customized mouse droids; the only modifications were that they were smaller, silent, could stick to walls and ceilings, and they had a search and destroy function (Their wheels were fit with a small but weak adhesive that could carry their weight, but would only last so long.) Their powers weren't large enough for a full scale assault on anything, but their finesse was in small tracking devices or camera fixtures.

 

After the shop was clear of any unwanted bugs, the old man stepped through the threshold with a remote in his outstretched mechanical arm. He hadn't foggiest whether or not the man with no.1 had fried his creations or not, but he saw their limp forms lying about the main room and figured out quickly that they were all in sleep mode.

 

"Wake up... your jobs aren't yet done" said the man as he pressed small red button on the bottom of the remote that reactivated all of the HK-52's left in the room after no.1 left. "Now, I'll expect you all to carry yourselves better this time. I came by in a separate ship just in case; it is located a few clicks out and since the man who took your brother is already most of the way to his ship, we can make haste before any other people decide to whole up in this place. One question though... did he manage to make it out of here with the Mandalorian Iron?" instructed the man as he now moved to interrogate no. 2.

 

No.2 shrugged as best a she could with metal limbs and the old man pushed him away. "Where is it then?" he inquired looking from droid to droid.

 

(HK-52 no. 10) Answer: "If it is still here master, it would be down a floor and located in a few large storage bins."

 

"Okay then," Deyhgrun grunted as he threw his robe away to reveal a large metal apparatus feeding into his body and brain. The man's body appeared to ripped in half and sewn crudely back together with electronics, his other half being primarily electronic. The stitches of the skin were done so poorly that pieces of muscle stuck out.

 

Then, after stripping away his outer robe he and the troop of remaining HK's filed to the lower level and took what Mandalorian iron they could find and any and all instruction they could, before returning to their master's ship and leaving planet.

HK23.png
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Mandalorian iron aside, the days after the departure of the droids were interesting. Using what capital the business still had to its name. It was rejuvenated. Droids were bought so workers wouldn't have to be paid for. Security was installed, and managers began coming in.

 

Moving down from that, actual workers began making an appearance soon afterwards. The armor shop, received a generation donation from a track able source.

 

Then when it was all said and done, the armor shop opened its doors, and the ability for any person, creatures, or droid to get custom built armor at the highest quality was given to the galaxy.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 1 year later...

Deep with in the populated forgery, a special request came in. This request would bring about a change for some in the galaxy. For most it would be business as usual. Still four special crafted sets of armor began to be forged. When they were finished they would be ship away with out a second thought to coordinates provided by the requester. Still it would take some time for all the materials to be assembled and the products finished.

 

((Not normal way, but I asked and so)

Slicer.jpgMy sig is my profile...

ship

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 1 month later...

Ar-Pharazon's spacecraft, the DUVUCUS, descended upon the urban-covered moon of Nar Shadaa. Within minutes, the infamous Sith Master reached his destination, a fairly notable storehouse of weapons and combat technology. The ship's engines died down and his landing gear locked into place, as Ar-Pharazon walked out. He quickly made his way into Ahzinger Armors.

 

Perusing the shelves and counters, Ar-Pharazon watchfully meandered toward the main counter, greeting whoever was there. ”œGood morning, friend. I'm wondering if you can help me pick out some assault weapons and whatever other tactical gear. I'm looking for some new equipment. Something fun. Something that allows me to enjoy the thrill of the hunt. Do you have any suggestions?”

apeditname.jpg

[Associate of the Illinois Mafia since November 2002.]

Member of the Four Horsemen

Link to comment
Share on other sites

A message comes in for Ar-Phrazon from Darth Lucifer pertaining to his objective.

 

((See Pm for details))

https://jedirp.net/topic/4851-trodai-narat-iv-adas-darth-akheron/

Akheron.jpg

 

 "Only in my pain, did I find my will. Only in my chaos, did I learn to be still. Only in my fear, did I find my might. Only in my darkness, did I see my light." - Darth Akheron

 

I survived the Great JNet Outage of 2012

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Tired of waiting for human interaction, Ar-Pharazon purchased some grappling gear from a sales-droid. He made evil his way back toward the Dreadfully Unpleasant and Very Unholy Chariot of Unwarranted Suffering and set a course for a different world. He ascended high into the air and blasted into hyperspace. As he sailed through the endless stars-cape, he checked his messages and returned transmissions before inspecting the equipment he had acquired. It would serve him well.

apeditname.jpg

[Associate of the Illinois Mafia since November 2002.]

Member of the Four Horsemen

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 1 month later...

A lone man entered the shop. With him he carried credits and orders from the Dark Lord of the Sith. Placing both credits and the order down, he left and construction began on a new attire.

 

--edit 12/12/2011--

 

The armor was completed and shipped of to be delivered.

Slicer.jpgMy sig is my profile...

ship

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 5 years later...

I'm too old for this Dwang...

 

It was an ironic sentiment. In truth, the Mandalorian looked to be in his late-thirties. But Vihk's mind was that of a seventy-year-old war veteran; bent and tempered by time. He still held the seasoned resolve of his warrior heritage, but the fight had worn on him. His last determined bout -- aside from some skirmishes on Manda'yaim -- told him that he needed to hone his edge a little more before he could use it in combat again. It was a sour pill, but one that he didn't mind eating. Old age taught you humility. Even if his youth was restored, he would never forget that.

 

Jarhat, of the Skirata clan, followed him into the old and abandoned armory. It was ransacked, that much was pretty evident. The Mandalorian iron, a metal and technique that was passed only between Mandalorian clansmen, was stolen. Phrik alloys and their derivatives were also stolen. Vihk would have to restock everything. It was tedious, but all it took was time.

 

This was his calling. This was what he was meant to do. Leading his people was a disaster. His first bit with redemption was a cruel, twisted fabrication. This was what he started as, and this is where he would end. He had already died in glory. And that glory had been robbed. He was now faced with living life, giving back to what people he could. He didn't necessarily like the location anymore. But he didn't really have a choice. He had enough funds to restock/renovate or buy a new location. Not both. Jarhat offered to help him with his endeavor, but it would take a while before the beauty was up and running again.

 

Elbow grease... That's all it would take.

 

_____________________

 

A few of days later, the shelves of the shop were reclaimed. The furnaces were fired and fresh metal was placed in the storeroom. Rations were stocked in the downstairs larder, and the repair and cleaning efforts had moved into the lower floors.

 

But she was ready to open. Ahzinger Armors was ready to come from the mothballs and bring in the business again.

 

Vihk tented his fingers and cracked his knuckles. He rapped his hands on his new hammer and tugged at his new black apron.

 

Time to get to work...

 

  1. The building consisted of 8 floors and each floor had its own unique purpose (each floor was a large warehouse-like space with semi- high ceilings (about 30 feet tall)) (the rooms/floors were about 3000sq feet in size - each) ...
     
  2. FIRST floor > Main workshop: The main workshop took up three-quarters of the main floor and was laid out across the floor to give the Armorer/Weaponsmith ease of movement and to show off the process. This workshop would be where Vihk made mundane armors and weapons; weapons and armor made with simple materials or average run of the mill plates. Other jobs could be taken in this space, but it was meant to serve as a blunt space to work. There was a large garage in the back for shipments of all varieties and sizes. And industrial lifts in the back to take shipments to other parts of the facility. A simple surveillance system was hooked up that Vihk monitored from the shop entrance and front kiosk. The surveillance system monitored the garage, the main floor and every floor below. Just in case. He didn't have any heavy turrets guarding his shop or any automated security defense systems, because... Why bother? Too much money just to egg people into aggression. Might as well put more money into quality.
     
  3. SECOND floor > Secondary <> Smithy and Pub: The secondary smithy was smaller and took up half of the second floor. The tools and instruments were finely tuned and crafted to deal with fine materials like: phrik, cortosis, Mandalorian Iron and the like. This workshop would be used for special purposes and only for special purposes. The only exceptions were if someone came in and asked him to repair their cortosis/phrik armor/weapons. Special consideration was given to fellow Mandalorians in consideration of Mandalorian Iron Armor and weapons. Otherwise, unless you were personal friends, Vihk would reqard you warily if you were walking around with Manadlorian arms and armor. The pub was modestly apportioned and furnished. It was meant to be accommodating to the standards of the Last Call, but smaller. The pub also featured a wide selection, a small (hardly used) karaoke machine, and a variety of screens that linked to the holonet to give updates on galactic news.
     
  4. THIRD floor > Mess Hall: The Mess Hall was a place where people could congregate. The food was supplied by outside shipments and made by average quality droid chefs. But there was a choice. You had: the standard droid fair, common military rations, or occasionally a guest chef would visit and lend his culinary expertise to the Mess Hall for that day. (Paid for by profits).
    - The kitchen of the Mess Hall took up one-quarter of the floor and had the best equipment that Vihk was able to afford at the time. Which, considering Slicer's obscene wealth, was pretty nice.
     
  5. FOURTH floor > Training Room/Recreation Room: The training room had been updated. It now had all new equipment, fashioned and made to withstand considerable abuse. The training facility took up half of the floor but was separated into three parts. The first third was sparring. The second third was weight training and cardio. The third third was a fully decked out shooting range. (There were training weapons provided, but if you got the okay from Vihk, you could use your own weapons on the equipment. There was even a cortosis/phrik made dummy and some training remotes for Jedi if they wanted to give it a shot. But lightsaber wielders had to give a wide birth to others. Especially when using the training remotes.) Meanwhile, the other half of the floor was recreation. A large portion of it was made up of a pool, with a hot tub and spa attached. And there were extensive unisex refreshers. ((All of the floors had small refreshers for momentary use when the need was great, but the training room floor and bunk room floors had finely crafted refreshers that filled most, if not all, hygienic needs)). As an addition, a small room was added for purely recreational services. There were tables for sabaac, dejarik and a few other games and puzzles from across the galaxy.
     
  6. FIFTH floor > Battle Circle (Re-constructed out of thermal resistant cortosis plating). The floor was dedicated to the battle circle. It had high bleachers (constructed from metal benches) and a great deal of spectator room. Here is where combatants tested their mettle fighting against one another. All around the Battle Circle were specialized weapons and armor that could be requested for combat purposes. (Some were more protective and others were deliberately hindering to give a handicap to the fight).
     
  7. SIXTH/SEVENTH/EIGHTH floors > Bunk rooms Formerly consisting of massive rooms with bunk-beds, each floor was now cordoned off into eight rooms each. All of the rooms together dissected the floor almost perfectly (300sq feet each), with exception to the main hallway and the exquisite unisex refreshers. Decorations in the rooms were deliberately spartan to allow free use by guests. But the bed and any other furniture provided were of decent quality. Each room came equipped with: a large king-size bed with metal frame, a metal dresser, and a metal desk w/chair. The rooms were designed to be singles and could close and lock at the guest's request. (Construction on floor Seven and Eight will be completely finished by the next couple of posts).

Edited by Guest

b9bOzf7.png

<< Look at the bottom of the Character Sheet >>

Link to comment
Share on other sites

PANG

 

PANG

 

PANG

 

Say what you want about monotony. Nothing makes me feel better than smashing metal with more metal.

Vihk’s eyes glistened in the amber light of the forge. Bits of his beard caught flame as he drew near, but the fires quickly fizzled. His callused hands tightened over the Nabooian Oak handle of his sledge and he peeled into another symphony of clanging metal. Sparks flew. His apron singed. And his heart sang.

 

“Hey Vihk!”

 

Like a needle skipping the recorded groove of his strike, Vihk missed the metal he was aiming for and narrowly missed his foot. The sledge clanged off the durasteel floor and thudded clumsily across the floor. The metal that Vihk was tempering had cooled and needed to be heated again to work it properly. Scarlet notes of fire built in Vihk’s mind and he had to wrestle with himself to regain control. Red slowly crept into his peach white face. And he turned to face his younger Mandalorian contemporary, Jaraht.

 

“WHAT!” He exclaimed.

 

Jaraht’s expression withered a little, but remained stony. All except his eyes. His eyes were moving around the workshop, trying to avoid Vihk’s exasperated gaze.

 

Vihk was not amused. “You tryin’ to hide something from me? Spit it out.”

 

The young Mandalorian looked down at the ground. His face contorted and his hands shook. He was holding a datapad in his hand. His breaths were shortened. He began to fidget and started tapping idly at the legplates of his beskar’gam.

“Give it to me.” Vihk said. His baritone voice was low. His tone was commanding. He extended his arm out to Jaraht and looked straight into his evasive eyes. “Give it to me boy. You interrupted me for a reason, now let’s see what it is.”

Jaraht nodded quickly, but was still content to avoid the subject. That is, until Vihk snatched the datapad from his hand and started to read it.

 

“Dorjoola was late with a shipment?!!! THAT SLIMY SON OF A DWANG FARMER!!!!” Vihk yelled, nearly chucking the datapad across the room.

 

His eyes creased, and his brow furrowed. He looked around at the empty workshop and sighed.

“Jaraht, mind the shop while I’m gone. I need to pay a visit to our sluggish benefactor.” Vihk commented. Then, without another word, he pushed through the stairs and down into the lower levels of the shop.

b9bOzf7.png

<< Look at the bottom of the Character Sheet >>

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...

Cold ice ran through his mind. The potential for disaster was swelling deep in his bones. There was a storm coming. Something was going to happen. He didn’t know what. He didn’t know where. And he didn’t know when. But that signal, that signal was an emergency broadcast signal that he rigged for the forge. If he was right, which he sometimes was – though not often in the best way. This was bad.

 

He slid the keycard through the locking mechanism with shaky hands. It wasn’t like him to be nervous. But this was important. The door wasn’t open, which was a good indication that his locks held. But that didn’t mean much once he got inside.

 

He triggered the visor of his buy’ce and stepped inside, carefully. He locked the door behind him and moved his head side to side. With practiced ease, even as the hum of alcohol hung in the back of his mind, he leveled his head at certain angles and kept his ears open for the slightest change in sound. It was quiet. The normal roar of the forge was heard in the back of the shop. And, although the main shop lights were off, there were lights near the front that were still on.

 

A figure twitched. Vihk froze. He gauged the distance. He counted his breaths and made them as quiet as possible. But, the figure didn’t approach him. Vihk edged closer. He took care to make his large metal boots scrape as little as possible on the metal and came close enough to knock the figure unconscious if the need was great.

 

However, as soon as Vihk stood to his full height and was about to bring the might of his gauntlets down upon his supposed intruder, Jaraht turned around and faced him. There was a look of mild amusement on his face and a strong hint of concern to his youthful features.

 

Vihk, startled to be in mid attack against one of his companions, did his best to back away. The motion was clumsy and he almost fell back onto the deck plating. But he regained his balance and looked up at the young man, removing his buy’ce before considering his next sentence.

 

His tongue was a little thick in his mouth. He couldn’t really find the words and his nerves were still racing in his mind. The storm was here. But it wasn’t. The foreboding sensation hung over his head like an impending strike, threatening a vulnerable artery.

 

Jaraht looked Vihk in the eyes. His cool blue met Vihk’s green, and he swallowed, hard. The tension in his muscles wasn’t good. But everything in Vihk’s expression reeked of encouragement.

 

“Vihk… Your Mom died this morning. She died in her sleep.”

 

The words fell like granite in his stomach. Avoiding all attempts at keeping his balance, Vihk let his iron knee-plates slam onto the cold metal of the workshop floor. Hot streaks of salt stung the corners of his barely wrinkled eyes and he slammed his gauntleted fist into the durasteel. He took a deep breath and slammed the steel a few more times. His face was a mess. He couldn’t think straight. His sight was a little blurry. But he maintained control.

 

“The service, for what its worth, will be held in a few days. Your sisters forwarded me the information.” Jaraht said, his words toneless. He deliberately colored his voice to make sure that his words would not impact Vihk’s emotional breach.

 

But the old Mandalorian was fine, rage-wise anyway.

 

His heart, was split in two. The woman that raised him. The woman that, after all his hardship, after all his stupidity, after all his pain, and after all his sin, still took him in and accepted him as a member of her family. Her enduring patience was wasted on him. He would never deserve a person like that. But, she was always there. She thought the world of him. Her kindness shined like the stars in the sky, and their light was all the dimmer without her. She was part of manda now.

 

His face was soaked with warm passionate tears. He was blubbering like an oversized baby.

 

But, it was the least he had for her. She was part of him. And he would never forget her. And for that very reason, he couldn’t stay here sobbing like this. Aftetall, her soul was already gone. This was what he was fighting to avoid. This was what his mother was fighting to tell him. Value the space you are in. You are unique. Your thoughts and ideas mean something. Listen to your heart, but don’t let anything overwhelm you. You are who you are, and that is... Amazing.

 

Yes… Mom

 

Jaraht’s finger, tapping the shoulder of his beskar’gam, brought Vihk’s attention back to his former lieutenant.

 

“Yes?” Vihk asked, through the pile of tears that still smothered his face.

 

“There is something else.” Jaraht continued, dimly aware of the raw emotion that stood out in Vihk’s expression. “We received a communication from the Ordo planet hub. The call has been invoked. A clan head meeting has been called to order on Manda’yaim.”

 

Vihk almost popped a blood vessel in his head. His thoughts surged anew. But this time, he couldn’t sort out which were more important. It was a family duty to go and attend your ancestor’s funeral. But it was his duty as clan head to make an appearance. Could he do both? Maybe… But what if. I don’t. Can I? No, but-

 

“Jaraht,” Vihk asked flatly. A trance had taken over his features, but his voice pushed through. “How many days until my mother’s funeral?”

 

Jaraht looked at his notations for a moment and then turned back around. “About six standard days.”

 

“Alright,” Vihk said. His heart was sagging toward the floor. He could feel the cold red iron pulling him closer to ground. The weeping steel that begged for rest. “I need to put on my work suit.”

b9bOzf7.png

<< Look at the bottom of the Character Sheet >>

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 1 month later...

Hadrian strolled into the Ahzinger Armor shoppe, dressed in a grey plain tunic with his clan sigil emblazoned on his chest.

 

He smiled as he ran his hand over some of the old armour displayed in the shop before looking at the shopkeeper. His voice was gruff and low as he asked,

 

"Is Mand'alor here?"

aBzDHvj.png

Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Vihk had just gotten home, put his things away and gotten started on a special project. When, who should walk in? Hadrian Augustus. Why is it when I try to walk away, people always seem to draw me back into these things? Vihk mused to himself. The sigh wasn’t obvious. But it was implicit in the weary expression that hung from his middle-aged face.

 

“Cute,” Vihk said with a sardonic half-smile. Vihk’s baritone mimicked the gruffness of Hadrian’s voice. Although, Vihk’s voice was more a reflection of fatigue and less a reflection of age. Hadrian looked a bit better dressed than he last remembered. But those details were inconsequential. Vihk knew why he was here, and he wasn’t going to go out again. That was final. He had things he wanted to accomplish, sure. But he was done venturing the galaxy and 'righting' wrongs. He had things he could do to provide valuable services. That was enough for him.

And yet…

 

“He’s here, but he ain’t comin’,” Vihk said, inclining his head toward Hadrian. “However, a young woman came in here not too long ago. You may remember her from your uprising. She wanted to use the forge and was on the run from Mandalorian Protectors.” Vihk fished around in a nearby drawer and handed a comm number to Hadrian. It was crumpled up, but the number was still legible.

 

“Here is her number if you want to give her a call. Last I heard, she was on her way to Concord Dawn, said she had something she needed to handle there. She would be more than eager to join you. She said as much.” Vihk said, resuming his work. “In the meantime, I’m not going anywhere. You want armor, I’ll make or repair some. But I’m not leaving.”

b9bOzf7.png

<< Look at the bottom of the Character Sheet >>

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Hadrian accepted the note with a degree of apprehension. It had been a long time since he had seen his mentor Vihk, though it brought him a degree of happiness to see him well and in his own shop, there was melancholy as well. No Mando, especially a once venerated Mand'alor, should see his dwindling days slaving away in a shop. Hadrian knew that the man should have preferred a honourable death, instead of this. But Hadrian knew he could not change the man. He was a tragic figure, and Hadrian thought that perhaps he would live to fight once again. To die as any once Al'Ori'Ramikade should, blasters firing until the iron armour cracked and lifeblood was spilled on the remains of piles of enemies. Hadrian resisted the desire to spit on the floor at the man's feet, shameful. But he could not hold all mandalorians to his own creed. Instead he let a grin fall across his face. He himself had learned to embrace dar'manda.

 

"I would love a new suit of beskar'gam, as mine was taken from me from he who calls himself Mand'alor. I will be on Serreno, if you wish to deliver it, or to return from your self imposed exile. I will seek this lady out, and see if she wishes to join us in the Kyr'tsad."

 

He lingered for a moment touching the mantle of the door on his way out.

 

 

Mand'alor - The Leader of the Mandalorians

Al'Ori'Ramikade - Another word for leader of the mandalorians, more akin to leader of the Super Commandos. A Warriors title.

dar'manda - the Exiled. Those outside Mandalorian culture.

Kyr'tsad - The Death Watch. A Splinter group deemed exiled and forbidden in modern mandalorian society.

 

aBzDHvj.png

Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 3 weeks later...

The next few days were consumed with fervent smithing. He conscripted a bit of the local flavor to assist him, but he did have his own team to help him out as well. There were twenty or so reprogrammed HK-52 droids that were very good at assisting him with anything he needed. After all, they didn't really have a choice. It was a little cold, but that's what they got for trying to rob him and seize his assets. Now, they were some of the best workers he had. To top that off, he conscripted: a droid engineer expert, a metal sculpting artist, a junker, and a demolitionist. They were kept out of the loop on some things, but the droid engineer was a close personal friend. He got to go with Vihk into the special second-floor smithy and look into a special project. The project was something that Vihk meant for Mand'alor as a pseudo-apology. He didn't want to leave his people behind, but he felt that he would prove a bigger asset providing arms and armor than he would on the battlefield. His mind just wasn't right for war anymore.

 

But smithing, there was nothing like it. The curvature of steel, the strength of titanium, the luster of silver, and the sound of the hammer as it slammed onto the metal. It sang to him in his dreams and played with him throughout the day. There was nothing like it in the universe. It was his niche. It was his gift. It was his life.

_________

 

When a week and a half passed by, Vihk was finished with the bulk of his commissions. Hadrian's armor was sent out to his requested delivery site, and the shipment to Mandalore was about set. He was just putting the finishing touches on his innovation when one of his re-programmed HK's piped up.

 

Amused Interjection: "Sir, I believe we have secured a cargo freighter for use in your delivery to Mandalore."

 

Vihk's brow wrinkled a little. He maintained his focus and put on the final piece to his special gift before turning and glaring at HK-52 unit Delta -- he had to give them identifiers or he would never know which one was which. "That's great Delta, do you have anything else for me?"

 

Dejected Resignation: "No sir, I-- this unit only wanted to be helpful. I will return to my duties."

 

Dejected? Does that droid have emotions? Maybe it needs a memory wipe.

 

Vihk looked to the rest of his crew and shrugged nonchalantly. He wiped the sweat of labor from his brow and began to pack up the delivery for rapid shipment to Mandalore. When all was said and done, he encrypted a comm message and sent it out to Fett and Mirdala's personal comms. He did his best to attempt subterfuge. Even if he wasn't good at it sometimes.

b9bOzf7.png

<< Look at the bottom of the Character Sheet >>

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 3 years later...

A soft knock rang on the door of the armourshop and a young imperial squire, the equivalent of a jedi apprentice, stood looking into the darkened storefront. She held a flimsiplast list in her hand that had been crumpled thoroughly by nervous hands.

 

"Hello?" 

Raphenal.png.96d1c7b8a3eaea41f94e96db627f96d9.png

Lord Commander Raphenel Karlovci Contispex- Imperial Warden

 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

×
×
  • Create New...