Corr
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You can lead a fool to knowledge but you can't make him think.
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Post by Corr on Jun 9, 2013 5:41:52 GMT -8
Sheva followed Ashrah easily, watching with veiled amusement as he struggled with the heavy Jedi burden, lugging the fallen Concordia over the ridiculously rough terrain. She had no trouble keeping up, managing to continue with her adjustments of the comm signal, mastering the mediums needed to keep the channel intact through the weather and interference.
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Duke Australis
Member
Posts: 84
Affiliation: Ashrah Ithalbo and Clan Australis
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Post by Duke Australis on Jun 10, 2013 16:53:51 GMT -8
-Mando ground encripted chanel-
Have fun. I want that Temple clean and reculturised so when I come back, I want to feel as home as if I was in the Baat.
click
"All right, I am gonna take a look around the peremiter too, you are boss Mereel untill me or the Mand'Alore returns. Use the rest of the blasting wire to extend the landing pad and be ready to help anders boys out if they kriff up."
He turned to ander.
"I want ships landing here with supplies and men within the hour. Get it done."
If Corr is not going to land ships because its too risky, Ander will have to. He was the best candidate. Duke would not deny the man chances to show his prowess, if his intentions were true. Getting supplies would get some good points in Dukes book, and if the man is turning on the vode, well, at least his troops are gonna be hit.
For Duke and the Vode, it was a win-win situation.
Turning to Sherer finally
"I need your tracking skills."
-Sherer-
"I need you to be polite.
"I need your tracking skills, please."
Sherer nodded.
"Howlers."
The two of them dashed off into the woods.
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Corr
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You can lead a fool to knowledge but you can't make him think.
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Affiliation: Clan Vhett
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Post by Corr on Jun 13, 2013 12:12:09 GMT -8
Mereel raised an eyebrow at Duke and exercised restraint of tongue, instead just flashing a casual salute to the bellicose Mandalorian. He wanted to point out that he didn't take orders from Clan Australis, or even the Mand'alor for that matter. Corr had made that clear and it was no secret that the head of Clan Vhett only just acknowledged Ashrah as the leader of the clans, and that the acknowledgement was only there for the good of the vode. To keep some semblance of order and structure in this endeavor.
Nodding to Sven and Darian, Mereel got up and made his way over to the temple, peering into the darkness inside. Anders boys should be nearing completion in their mission to clear out the place and turn it into a good base of operations for the Mando assault on the Praxeum. Judging by the increased comm chatter the rest of their forces were closing in on the rendezvous, and soon they would have the forces gathered here to crush the Jedi murderers under a wave of beskar'gam...
Over the next hour or so more and more armoured warriors managed to find their way to the area surrounding the Temple of the Blueleaf Cluster, linking up with the Mandalorians already there. They arrived in pairs and three's, their nomadic nature lending itself to this kind of behaviour, allowing them to drift in nonchalantly even in these circumstances. Some said undisciplined but such idiosyncrasies often proved to be an asset and probably had done this day. If the Jedi were to attempt to lay traps for them they would be thwarted, or the casualties minimised, due to the haphazard trek through the jungle. That is not to say the Mandalorians hadn't suffered losses due to Jedi surprises and the local wildlife. There had been several encounters that had caused injury and even death, the steady attrition of the dangerous world winnowing down the numbers. The up side for the Mandalorian, at least the way Corr and Ashrah would look at it, was that the weak had been purged from their ranks leaving only the strong to arrive at the camp raring to stick to the saber-wielding mystics.
The camp was soon teeming with armoured figures as they arrived and immediately set up their own little camps, setting up cooking facilities and latrines in preparation for the coming weeks. Some dropped straight onto bed rolls and caught what rest they could, seasoned warriors knowing that such luxuries may be few and far between when the action began.
The Clan Vhett Mandalorians tended to stick together, casting wary looks at the others that were setting up shop around them. The Concordians were a stand-offish lot and distrusted outsiders, even other Mandalorians, most of them closed mouthed and disdainful of those around them. The disparaging looks and suspicious glares were rife as they clustered around the south-west edge of the temple watching as the camp grew around them, setting up defenses that were as much to protect against the other vode as they were to defend against the jedi.
One of the many groups of Concordian warriors to arrive was Gra'tau Traat'aliit, the other Special Operations Squad from the Ori'gehaat'ik, led by one of the most fearsome warriors Concord Dawn had ever seen. Trained by Cassus Fett alongside Corr and Cayne Trsitan, Tray'sha had matched those two premier warriors as they progressed from cheeky kids, to punchy teenagers, to adept young commanders. Even so, neither Cayne nor Corr could match her for sheer determination and steely resolution, her unmerciful nature lending her to be disliked by her peers, but respected nevertheless.
She wandered through the camp, helmet held nonchalantly in her left hand, blaster rifle leaning casually on her shoulder. Her piercing green eyes flicked left and right as she assessed everyone she saw noting the layout of each individual camp, each a separate entity in itself, but each a sum of the total camp. Every isolated little community nevertheless added to the defensive properties of the Mandaorian encampment, each an integral cog in the machine of war. Once the temple was cleared they would keep these little redoubts as a defensive perimeter, laying traps and surprises for any invaders.
She had left her team at the first camp they had encountered, allowing Parah and the other three men to get something to eat from the massive bubbling pot that sat over a fire. She had carried on deeper into the mass of armoured figures in an attempt to locate some of her own in this mass of faceless killers.
Finally her emerald gaze locked on Mereel as he stood outside the temples entrance looking lost in thought. She ambled over, her approached not noticed by the other Concordian. With deft and silent movements she attached her helmet to her belt and drew a wicked, hook-bladed knife from her belt. She got behind Mereel and, reaching around him smoothly, set the blade under his chin.
=Tray'sha=
"Tion'ad hukaat'kama, evaar'la jag?"
Mereel froze, a natural reaction to having a razor-sharp knife against your jugular, his eyes flicking to his left as if he were attempting to look out of the back of his head. Though he knew he was likely safe, there was also a small part of his mind that said that a Jedi could have infiltrated the camp. Though why a Jedi would be using a knife...
Her voice sounded in a sibilant whisper, spoken directly into his ear, causing him to growl low in the back of his throat, annoyed with himself for being caught with his pants down by the one person who would mercifully rag him about it for the rest of the campaign.
=Mereel=
"Naasade, ni gehatyc..."
She released the pressure a little and allowed him to turn. He did so, still keeping his movements slow and in a nonthreatening manner, to meet her eyes. She was still as striking woman, her face only lightly lined around the eyes, a tiny fleck of grey in the auburn hair that was tied into a severe braid that ran over her right shoulder. There was an amused glint in the turbolaser-green gaze as she retracted the knife, spinning it one over her knuckles before sliding it smoothly into the holster.
=Tray'sha=
"Udesii, ner tat. Ni olar jii..."
She smiled and flung her head to throw her braid back off her shoulder, the only femanine mannerism he had even seen her exhibit.
=Tray'sha=
"Ni nayc duumir te Jetii bah shuupur gar."
He returned the smile and waved her off towards where Sven and Darian were waiting, heading that way while they spoke.
=Mereel=
"Nunhunla. Vai ar gar ade?"
They spoke as they walked and continued to discuss events when they reached the Concordian camp. After a while the rest of Gra'tua traat'aliit wandered in, making the Concordian contingent of the Mando land forces complete. There were rumours of Corr making the trip down to the planet, his arrival signifying the starts of an assault, but such speculations were vague at best.
The Concordians awaited Ashrah's return and news from the Jedi Temple itself...
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Ashrah
The Mandalorian Assembly
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Post by Ashrah on Jun 17, 2013 9:00:16 GMT -8
The relative 'silence' of the camp was broken randomly and rather violently as a ball of scales and beskar'gam came hurtling out of the underbrush. They landed in a heap, Ashrah on the bottom, left arm jammed into the Howlers mouth, the teeth slamming into the Chain wrapped around Mand'alors forearm repeatedly. Ashrah slammed his right fist into the side of the beasts head as hard as he could twice in a row rapidly. The Howlers eyes went cross for a moment, and Ashrah tucked his knees up into the chest of the beast and pushed up and over his head hard, the Howler flying over top of him to land in a pile just behind his head. He scrambled to his feet, his armour scratched and the paint flaking where the thing had attacked him. As he came to his feet, his blade came off his back, and he burst into a run, leaping in the air, blade held inverted. He landed on the damn thing as it was trying to right itself, his blade slamming through the arm chest and into the ground beneath it. Ashrah, silent, never saying a thing, began to slam his left fist into the side of the head of the animal, his entire left arm now spattered in Howler blood and brains. He stood, pulled his blade free, wiped it on the ground, looked at the Howler.....Then kicked it as hard as he could in the ribs. He looked around the camp at everyone...
What?
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Corr
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Post by Corr on Jun 18, 2013 14:07:31 GMT -8
What may seem like a grand entrance on first read was actually not that noteworthy to the Mando's gathered around their campfires. Ashrah's "what" was met with vague shrugs and irrelevant looks if it was met at all. Truth be told, most of those gathered there didn't even spare the Mand'alor a glance as he came crashing out the jungle, finding their diner far more interesting and worthy of attention...
A few souls did drop what they were doing to watch the frantic struggle as it rolled across the sodden floor, kicking up tufts of grass and clods of earth. It was noteworthy, and somewhat typical of the Mandalorain culture, that nobody offered any sort of help to Ashrah as he contested manfully with his playful foe. Should their Mand'alor not be able to best such a challenge then he was not worthy f the tile and the helm would be taken, and fought over, before being bestowed upon another. That was their way. The way Kad wanted it. The way it always has and always will be so long as this writer has a login.
As I said, a few stopped to watch, cheers and roars of encouragement echoing through the jungle. This was their territory now and everything in it belonged to them. They had pegged back the Jedi, forcing the weak and pacifistic monks to hide within their temple, praying fervently for their beloved Force to save them. The Mando's didn't care. No amount of supplication to a heathen magick was going to save them now. The vode were here and blood would be theirs. That was the end of it.
The brawl ended and the warriors drifted off some calling out congratulations to the victor, others pointing out where he had made hard work of it for himself. The wary respect and grudging admiration for their leader was there but hidden behind jovial remarks and mocking criticism. Again, this was their way and none there would have it any other way I'm sure.
Having noticed the commotion, and seeing that it was Ashrah at the heart of it, the two Clan Vhett commanders had made their way over amusement marring both of their faces. As the shouts of "OYA MAND'ALOR" and "KANDOSII" quieted down Mereel and Tray'sha approached the battle-scarred Ashrah the former handing out a wineskin, the former tutting a little as she surveyed the damage done to the armour.
=Tray'sha=
"Gar linibar a'jate cinarin, Mand'alor...}"
{You need a good bath, Mand'alor...
She smiled at him her striking looks belayed by the steel in her eyes and by the lines carved from hardships endured and won through. Neither she nor Mereel wore their helmets the unwritten rule of not wearing your buy'ce in camp still alive with Clan Vhett. Aside from Corr. Corr was the exception and wore his face always in the field.
=Tray'sha=
"Ni Tray'sha, aliit Vhett. Al'verde Gra'tua Traat'aliit."
{I'm Tray'sha of Clan Vhett. Commander of Vengeance Squad.}
She nodded her head stiffly while Mereel rolled his eyes at her stiff and militarily precise manner.
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Duke Australis
Member
Posts: 84
Affiliation: Ashrah Ithalbo and Clan Australis
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Post by Duke Australis on Jun 18, 2013 15:09:36 GMT -8
*Duke himself dhowed up after nightfall. Sherer and Duke sneaked back into camp, and started rattling up some of the mandalorians that gathered. With this dude, there was no sitting untill you had built something for the camp. One mandalorian set camp for two more, an other fixed barricades and alarms around his, and two other camps. Those who went off to gather food they better come back with more then what they requir, or their Buyces would have dents in them from a beskar Spatula. The more Mandalorians there were in camp, the more the camp could take in. The inner rooms of the temple were being settled in, supplie rooms, armouries, workshops were being set up in the upper and brigher halls of the temple, Ones that has been cleared first of any insectile vermin.
Everyone also brings something with him. There was a team that walked in with an entire pack of working power cells, an other came in with a prefab packed comm tower. Third brought cables, some others brought security installments, some other came with spice and kitchen equipment (to Dukes happyness), some others came with weapon maintain tools and machinery. All in small quantities per group, but the many groups put tugether a fully equipped base.
They even had the new gaming console for relaxaiton. It was called JoyStation One.
Duke showed up beside the Mand'alore and those Vhett commander boys a bit later setting his report. What was curious about that is what he was wearing. He was still earing the armour he had when he fought the Alpha howler. Uncleaned.*
"Hey boss! Nice to see you back. Got some new boys around, as you can see. Those right there brought a nice Comm Array, so we can get word out through that through every mando comlink around here. Good stuff, vode up there should know who is here and who is... not. Got a little armoury workshop set up in the west wing of that temple thing, and a medical station sanitised and cleaned in some kind of great hall. We also found... eh.
A thing.
A crystal really, a biiiiiig, Huge one. I kinda happened to toake it as spoils. If you dont mind, boss. I mean... My team DID take out that station."
*Duke was not joking. When they showed him the crystal, he told everyone to stop touching it, because it was his. To Sherers sarcastic exitement, it was love at first sight with duke.
Now, if you looked at it, you could read the words written with an extra fat marker pen:
DUKES SP Y OILS! HAND OFF!*
"Other than that, Both anders boys and the kiniks have not showed up wich means they must be doing something right!"
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Ashrah
The Mandalorian Assembly
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Affiliation: Mandalorians
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Post by Ashrah on Jun 19, 2013 9:54:41 GMT -8
He pulled his buy'ce off and clipped it to his belt and looked around. Nodding he looked back at Duke, Mareel and Tray'sha, a worn grin on his face
"Good to meet you Tray'sha. And yes. There is a fairly good chance I need a bath. Mareel, has Sheva returned?"
He was bone weary, and would go have a quick nap as soon as he could. RIght now, he needed to make sure everything was covered and ready to go. Soon it would be time to siege the main temple. He was nearly giddy with excitement. Not that you could tell by his face. Corr's buy'ce had more expression than Ashrah did at this moment.
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Duke Australis
Member
Posts: 84
Affiliation: Ashrah Ithalbo and Clan Australis
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Post by Duke Australis on Jun 19, 2013 10:59:41 GMT -8
Dukes night was intresting. He got their own room by basically bribing the occupants with a bascet of sausages and Tihaar. Settling in for the night, they engulfed in nightly activities like... sleeping. Waking after a couple hours of rest, they donned armour again, and used the panorama window to sneak out of camp. They did it badly too, because scentries (ones Duke himself had organised) cought up on duke leaving the camp with an other.
Suspicious of the Mandalores lapdog, sneaking off in the night just when they would meet battle the day after? Where is he going? So close to the enemy, at the night before battle, is he meeting someone?
A jedi?
Several sentries sneaked off after the australis pair.
They all hiked through the jungle, persued and persuers. Ever deeper into the green hell. Suddenly, one of the sentries had some information about thier location, and alerted the others of their heading. The Jedi temple. This was more then suspicion, this was pure paranoia with evidence. So, confrontation was needed. Not combat, duke was still reguarded as honorable, and thus parlay had been asked.
Duke and Sherer had gotten so close before their chasers ambushed them. Five man ambush, from five directions, high in the trees to nutralise crossfire. A grinn voice uttered in the dark, filtered through a helmets speakers.
-Sentry-
"Australis, why are you out here, and not in bed?"
"Heh, you turned into my dad all of a sudden?"
It bugged most vode, that Duke always spoke basic, and this just enlarged their suspition, even now. Why other people talked basic to Duke, whenever around, nobody knew. A real Social mystery.
-Sentry-
"Why are you out here."
"I am meeting some friends, if you want to know."
-Sentry-
"Friends? Jedi friends?"
"Do I look like I want to wave around with a flashlight all day?"
-Sentry 2-
"Heh, its true, He is a nut with that thing on night missions..."
"Shut up and point that thing at something else."
Duke became agitated, but his scanners showed good news. He could do it now. He pointed at them with an angry gesture, and they lowered the weapons. Their scanners showed something too. But it was too late.
Duke let out an angry shout, and every mandalorian aimed him in, but since he was just nutting around like an idiot, trying to call out whoever his "friends" are, the five ambushers were ready to take on whatever that came, and get clear insigth in this mystery.
The bushes roared, and twenty two howlers showed up, climbing up trees and filling the ground around Duke and Sherer.
"DONT SHOOT! They are the friends I talked about..."
*The mandalorians didnt shoot, thought they would let this nut get killed by that wich is food for the hunter. But no, the howlers did not attack the pair, and that was soon explained. Duke spoke fast, catching his breaths, talking about blood and smells and Alpha hunters, social and structural hirerchy, predators, pray share sistem, claw lenght, attack pattern, shreaks... All in one bundle. He was so exited, and he never was a good talker, it just came out as a blur. The mandalorians looked questioingly at Sherer, while Duke babbled on about Howler nobility and observed behavioral patterns.
She shrugged and translated:
-Sherer-
"He figured out how to be friends with the lizards. Become one of the pack."
-Sentry 4-
"Oh..."
-Sentry 2-
"Ah..."
-Sentry 3-
"Aaaah!..."
-Sentry 1-
"I see..."
-Sentry 5-
"Ah... Oh... I see... So... can we join?"
Duke was building himself a new pack. The hunt WITH real predators of the wild? Real beasts as pets? Some even called their friends and clanmates for this.
When morning dew, Duke and about fifteen mandalorians were purely gone from their posts. Only Sherer was deep asleep still when the arming up for battle started, long past the wakeupcall. She decleared that she is tired, and nothing will get her to sleep amongst lizards, so she is going home.
She was sound asleep in armour, nobody dared to wake her.
Why?
She had a howlers head decorating her right shoulderguard.
The Alpha Howlers head was also missing from camp, along with all the others.
Also, That night, the jungle was echoing with roars both from howler and humanoid throats.
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Corr
Member
You can lead a fool to knowledge but you can't make him think.
Posts: 940
Affiliation: Clan Vhett
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Post by Corr on Jun 19, 2013 13:13:12 GMT -8
Right here, Mand'alor.
She emerged from the same group of foliage that Ashrah had burst through previously, scaly playmate in tow. Walking with the casual ease of one who had been chilling out for the past ten minutes, blaster rifles held nonchalantly in her right hand while the left reached up to tug her buy'ce from her head, revealing her matted hair and grime-streaked face that, even as dirty as it was, still managed to convey her beauty. She stopped across from Ashrah and the two Vhett commanders, inclined her head politely to her superiors, showing just enough deference to show respect, before flashing a lavish smile at Ashrah.
=Sheva=
"I could see you were having fun with your new girlfriend so hung back to allow you to finish..."
She adopted a forlorn expression, voice dropping into a tragic tone, very close to a forsaken wail of a woman scorned, the likes of which fury hell hath no. She addressed Tray'sha, casting an evil look at Mereel as she did so, mocking both men.
=Sheva=
"I really thought I was in with a chance with our Mand'alor. I saw the eyes he was giving me earlier when I was leaning over with the comm device but alas who'd have thought our fearless leader was into Howlers..."
She fell silent as Tray'sha frowned at her, probably not finding anything the younger woman said pertinent to the mission ahead. As Sheva dropped her eyes to the ground, looking even cuter with her contrite act, Tray'sha turned her attention to Ashrah. Mereel was away with the fairy's as he tried to work out who Sheva's mockery had been aimed at while Sven and Darian made their way over to see what was occurring.
=Tray'sha=
"What now, Mand'alor?"
It was obvious to everyone that Ashrah needed some rest. Everyone apart from Tray'sha that is. This chick was so hard that she birthed her first child on the battlefield, handed the tiny infant a beskad and told him to watch her back. True story.
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Ashrah
The Mandalorian Assembly
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Post by Ashrah on Jun 20, 2013 7:55:18 GMT -8
He looked at Sheva and damn near burst out laughing at the absurdity of this woman looking forlorn and lost in love.
"Stick to your own beskad Woman. Besides. She is better looking than you"
He almost winked, then turned to face Tray'sha, his face looking a bit tired. The stim pack was wearing off, his bruises hurt and he was exhausted.
"I am going to sleep. In the morning we hit the main temple. It is time to push this Forcies from their perches. Teach them that they are indeed touchable."
He paused a moment, arching an eyebrow, then with a dry sarcasm that could penetrate Corrs buy'ce...
"If you are into that sort of thing"
He turned and headed for his tent. He would sleep outside, not in the temple. He crawled inside, still in his armour, and passed out, his body finally getting the rest it would need to heal
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Corr
Member
You can lead a fool to knowledge but you can't make him think.
Posts: 940
Affiliation: Clan Vhett
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Post by Corr on Jun 21, 2013 12:53:07 GMT -8
Sheva grinned in delight at Ashrah's return flashing a wink at Mereel to further confuse him, causing his frown to deepen, a comical look of uncertainty on his face. Darian and Sven snickered to each other, flashing a knowing look at each other, executing a cheeky little fist-bump behind Mereels back. Tray'sha, eyes intent, watched Ashrah stagger off towards his tent, noting idly that he had a rather nice bum even in armour. That though may surprise readers but be in no doubt that beneath the armour, stoicism and dogged professionalism, she is all woman under that beskar'agm.
She glanced at Mereel, a perfectly formed eyebrow arching in question, as she put her fists on her hips to produce a very matriarchal stance.
=Tray'sha=
"Is he always like that?"
She muttered the words, eyes continuing to track Ashrah until he disappeared into his tent, the silent men in black following him all the way before they too disappeared into their own tent. He was a hard man no doubt, though that reckless edge, that shereshoy was rather endearing if a little alarming in a leader.
Mereel dragged himself back from the puzzled cloud within which he was swimming for the surface, turning to look towards where Ashrah had disappeared, a resigned look on his face.
=Mereel=
"You have no idea..."
Darian and Sven stepped up to flank Tray'sha and Mereel, Sheva stood between the two mando commanders, the five of them staring after the Mand'alor. Their minds on the coming campaign they paused a moment, gaining strength from the bond of common purpose, basking in the glow of Kads purpose, before they too drifted apart. Sven, Sheva and Darian returned to the Clan Vhett camp near the Temple while Tray'sha and Mereel meandered their way through the troops, offering a word here, a pat on the back there, keeping the vode sharp and alert...
Night settled over the Mandalorian camp, snatched of "Vode an" drifting out from the many campfires as the savage warriors of the Mando clans showed the softer sides of their nature, engaging in song and play as they waited for the morning to come. It was a stark contrast to the brutish demeanor they presented to their enemies this playful, artistic side as they patiently passed the time before their skill would be called upon to do Kads will. With natural ease did they take their leisure while keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings, making the area around the Blueleaf Temple their own, daring any to come within their territory to disturb their merriment. The ale flowed but not too freely, each man knowing that he'd have to be at his best tomorrow, none of them wanting to have a foggy head when going up against the Jedi. Despite their disdain for the saber-wielding mystics none among the vode underestimated them, each having grown up with tales in one form or another of Force-using heathen sorcerers causing havoc through the ages, meddling in the affairs of the galaxy whether it was their business or not.
The camp was a controlled circus of activity when Duke sneaked away with Shearer, comically tip-toeing off into the wilderness when he could have just walked away with all the activity going on. The sentries, fastidious men of meticulous dedication to duty, saw it as their job to follow the man and that was fine with the rest of the warriors content as they were to let the eccentric cook from Clan Australis to have his fun. If he wanted to sneak off to have some fun with the Howlers then who were they to argue...
The activity didn't carry on throughout the night and things started to quiet down just after midnight, the seasoned warriors knowing that they should grab some rest while they could. As the camp dropped to a slow pulse, snores replacing the garrulous songs, three figures crept through the darkness. Unarmoured forms, deft in using shadows to hide their passing, ghosted through the camp, closing on Ashrah's tent in silence...
Darian paused at the edges of a light cast from a nearby fire, peering intently at the target, a plain tan tent about eight meters ahead. The soft snores of the Mando's gathered around the low-burning fire assured him that they were, indeed, asleep and enabled him to make a dart to the entrance of the tent, glancing around to make sure he had reached his goal unobserved. Happy with his secrecy he waved back the way he came, drawing Sven and Sheva out of the shadows. They made the same scuttling creep across the open space to crouch alongside the Clan Vhett sniper, using hand signals to indicate their readiness.
Leaning around and lifting the tent flap silently to peer at the recumbent form of Ashrah Intalbo, lying in his armour, exhausted from the previous twenty-four hours. With a nod to the other two he slipped inside with weapon in hand, Sheva and Sven following silently with the latter taking up position at the flap, keeping a watch for any disturbance. As Sven kept an eye out, paying special attention to the other tent opposite within which the black clad guards of the Mand'alor slept, Darian and Sheva knelt to either side of Ashrah, looking down at the faceless mask of the Mandalorian leader. Meeting each others eyes across the sleeping form, they each gave a grim nod before Darian raised his occupied right hand, drifting it over Ashrah's chest and up towards the unconscious mans neck. There it hesitate, the slight shadow caused from the small camp fire outside casting an evil shape over the sleeping mans throat, hovering over the vulnerable area beneath the helmet with malicious intent...
Sheva fidgeted restlessly, glancing at Sven who flashed her a nervous grin.
=Sheva=
"Do it!"
Her hoarse whisper sounded very loud in the silence of the tent and all of them stared down at the still form in concern. Ashrah growled softly in his sleep, shifting slightly in discontent, perhaps knowing something was up on some subconscious level. The blew out a collective breath as the Mando leader settled back down, Darian leaning over with his hand poised....
... and scribbled "Mir'sheb" on the sleeping Mandalorians helmet, just above the visor.
Trying to muffle the hysterical laughter that came bubbling forth, forcing its way out in small hisses of amusement, the three Mandalorians from Clan Vhett beat a hasty retreat, leaving Ashrah's tent and retracing their steps back towards the Vhett part of the camp. Their mission complete, their fun had, not one of them noticed that Darian had left the pen lying their besides Ashrah, its Concordian origin easily recognisable should one look closely enough...
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Ashrah
The Mandalorian Assembly
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Affiliation: Mandalorians
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Post by Ashrah on Jun 26, 2013 6:50:09 GMT -8
Ashrah woke up quickly, as was his way. The morning light streaming through the bullshit that was the jungle foliage of Yavin IV. He peeled himself off the ground in his tent and stretched, his joints popping as he did. He did a quick loosen up exercise and grabbed his buy'ce and was about to slam it on his head when he noticed a lovely note left for him by some ne'er do wells.....He smiled, in his tent where no one could see him. He looked around the tent briefly, and spotting the pen, knelt down to pick it up. He examined it closely, his smile broadening to a quiet smirk. He tucked the felt pen into his belt And walked out side, buy'ce tucked under his left arm, his smile gone, replaced by his usual dour visage.
"Alright!! Party's over. Gear up. We make for the main temple. Lets get that shield generator found and dealt with. Where the hell is Corr?!"
He bellowed over the regular Camp noise. He didn't really care if people thought him ridiculous. It was time to go. He looked around quickly and spotted his quarry. He made his way briskly towards the Vhett camp, suppressing a chuckle as he did.....
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Ander Tagira
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Well, I'll be...
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Affiliation: GALSAF, Mandalore, Yavin 4 Jedi Praxeum
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Post by Ander Tagira on Jun 27, 2013 23:38:46 GMT -8
 Ander woke.
The cool morning air hit him first, slipping through his hair and brushing it across his forehead. The exposed skin of his throat prickled, sending a slight shiver down his sternum. The former Jedi opened his eyes, inhaling a long deep draught of the crisp open air around him. When he looked forward, all he saw was the sky. When he looked down, all he saw was the green of the forest lining the perimeter of the Mandalorian camp. To his left and right, Ander saw groups of his own men hanging around small cook fires or mingling with the Mandalorian soldiers the various clans had brought with them to Yavin 4.
All Ander saw was good people. Strong people.
He sat up, the thick collar of his body suit brushing against his unshaven face. He checked his chrono: 0520 CST. Ander looked around, blinking the sleep from his eyes and buckling the collar of his body suit. He reached for the armor plates that rested in a small pile at his feet, chest and back only. He had left the rest of the plates on while he slept, and though the heavy beskar made a poor source of physical comfort, Ander had long since grown more used to sleeping while armored than not.
An image rushed through his mind as he reached for his father's chest plate and pulled it to him. The image was of himself and Mai, on board the Merry Miner, after returning from his father's homestead on Mandalore. She had held the plate up for him to grasp, her small hands gripping the edges of the armor, her deep baleful eyes glancing up at him for only the briefest of moments before they darted away. He wondered if she had loved him, then. She certainly did now, though whether she would after all the Jedi on Yavin 4 had been killed in the fighting or arrested and carted off to some distant corner of the galaxy, he was not sure.
Ander slung the back plate over his shoulder, clipping it smoothly to the front that now hung from his chest. He pulled his gauntlets back onto his hands, flexing the chill from his fingers. Mai would be there, he knew it. She hadn't forsaken the Jedi, but she certainly loved him much more than she did the Order. Why else would she have left it to seek him out, after so many years?
Ander had no other logical answer. He only hoped he could one day deserve the love she'd given him. He doubted he ever would..."Oy, Tagira!" It was 1st Battalion's Foreserjeant, Sylka Duntas, a Mandalorian by upbringing, if not by birth. She was human, and one of Ander's closest resources on his own people's culture and history, so much of which had been lost to modern methods of remembrance. Often times a story only survived through oration, and Mando'ade were plenty fond of telling stories.
Duntas was trotting over to him now, her rifle slung across her back, and her trigger hand on her sidearm, to keep it still in its holster. She slowed her pace and pulled the mottled green-grey buy'ce from her head. Her cheeks were rosy pink, and she was breathing heavily."What is it, Duntas?" Ander grunted, slapping the restraints for his beskar plates to secure them."Friendly activity, Larty Able Three-two. Her crew's alive."Ander narrowed his eyes. "I watched Three-two get blown from the sky by one of the Jetii fighters. No way anyone survived a crash from fifteen thousand feet."Duntas shook her head, "That was Baker One-One. Three-two was forced to land after they took an engine fire. The explosion we saw was the Larty, ya, but the crew ditched before it hit the ground. They've got everyone alive, fifteen commandos from Fourth Platoon, plus the two pilots. One casualty, urgent surgical, not ambulatory. Pilot broke his leg jumping from the cockpit it seems. Beyond that I have no info, their comms are being screwed with by the atmosphere, only our end was calibrated, that's how we even got in touch. They couldn't give me a location, not yet."The Foreserjent was visibly out of breath, she must have run from the heart of the temple to relay the news. Which meant...Ander looked down and snatched up his helmet from the grassy ground. He pulled the bucket over his head and was instantly awash in a cacophony of message alerts. Morning reports on equipment and personnel from the entire Brigade."Duntas, hold on a moment," Ander muttered through the vocoder as he began eye-flicking through each message. Fourth Battalion was up, as was Third and Second. First Battalion had sustained multiple casualties throughout the previous days of fighting, though they numbered thankfully no more than forty commandos. An entire platoon, gone. And they had only started with a strength of two thousand...
Ander shook his head of worry. The fleet had suffered its own casualties as well. Eighty dead and twenty-something wounded from the damage the Flatterer had taken during the initial raid, fifteen lost to the Jedi snubfighter squadrons.
Dragon Squad, Ander suspected. They were the only ones around that could have matched his own trained pilots. Though they had obviously surpassed his own, Ander was hardly surprised. He would have been shocked to hear Dragon Squad had taken any casualties at all, they were the best pilots that were, pure and simple.
All in all, the casualty reports were minimal, though they had hardly taken the brunt of the fighting, and the taking of Yavin Station had been a cautious one. Ander and 1-1's Black Ops team had seen to that.
The last message was indeed from Duntas. He removed the helmet, clipping it to his belt."Keep trying for contact with Three-One. I want to get a location fix on them immediately, and have them maneuver to meet us near the Great Temple. No point having them come here if we'll already be gone."Duntas nodded, then turned away and made off for the Temple entrance. Ander watched her go, reflecting on her physical condition. It was superb, so no jaunt from the temple to the outside should have left her breathless. Ander narrowed his eyes in thought as Duntas vanished into the stonework construct once more. He'd figure it out.
In the meantime, Ander rallied the rest of the men, organizing each platoon and gathering the Black Ops team to him for a quick brief on the plan for the day. Mostly maneuvering towards the Temple once all their forces were consolidated. He updated the Company on Able 3-1's position, reporting they were all safe, for the moment. The news overall was good.
Ander wondered if it was going so well for 3-1's outfit... |
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Post by Aya D'Ordinii on Jul 8, 2013 14:30:19 GMT -8
One of the groups making their way into the encampment was a quartet of B2 super battle droids. Each was covered in obviously mandalorian markings & clan Or'dinii symbols. It didn't take long for the droids to locate someone that was in charge. They managed to find the Mandalore.
-Aya (In Mando'a, using the droids for a carrier signal)
Oya, Mandalore. Most of my forces are scattered across half the moon. My first wave has already reached the main temple & is trading fire with them now.
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Corr
Member
You can lead a fool to knowledge but you can't make him think.
Posts: 940
Affiliation: Clan Vhett
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Post by Corr on Jul 8, 2013 16:00:10 GMT -8
The Clan Vhett part of the camp wasn't difficult to find, the Mando'ade from Concord Dawn taking up a significant portion of the area. It was a hive of activity with soldiers cooking, gearing up, wrestling, playing games, none of them seeming to have bothered with the quaint and prosaic custom of sleeping. In the dawn light, filtering softly through the tree's with a muted grey cast, the warriors of Clan Vhett went about their business. Gone was the garrulous noise of the night before, each Mando'ade respecting the stillness of the morning by going about their tasks in a quite and hushed way. Soft words, the snarling Mando'a sounding poetic and melodic, were exchanged around low burning campfires as men and women alike geared up for the coming assault.
As Ashrah made his way towards the center of the Vhett camp the noise level increased somewhat, the sounds of raised voices and argued commands giving the impression that some sort of conflict was underway at the heart of the Concordian force. There was...
A game of Knucklebones was underway under the watchful eye of a dozen beings in armour ranging from full to half dressed. Knucklebones, or Chuckbones as they were known to the boys and girls of Clan Vhett; named so after Chuck Norris, an ancient Mando deity the represented Pain and all things Roundhouse, was a game involving five small objects, originally the "knucklebones" (actually the astragalus: a bone in the ankle, or hock) of a Nerf, which are thrown up and caught in various ways. The winner is the first player to successfully complete a prescribed series of throws, which, while of the same general character, differ widely in detail. Its all very loud and confusing, involving a lot of cursing, shoving, and general tomfoolery.
Among those watching the game were Sheva, stretched out on a large rock with her long legs stretched out in front of her. Like a queen she perched, reclined on one elbow with some kind of fruit held nonchalantly in her right hand, a battered and mishapen hat on her head. To either side leaned her two minions Darian and Sven, watching the approach of the Mand'alor with scowling frowns that did nothing to hide the mirth in their eyes. None of them looked as though they had indulged in the time-honoured institution of sleep either, all looking as if they needed nothing so much as a sanistream to perfect their demeanor. It was said that Clan Vhett lived off battle and blood, needing not the mundane privilages of the rest of the drools and fools of the galaxy. So true...
With a lackadaisical loll of her head, sending her mass of dark hair, seen down for the first time in living memory, tumbling over her shoulder Sheva brought her eyes around to watch Ashrah's approach. Seeing the helmet tucked under his arm she smiled as the rest of the Vhett mercs tore their eyes of the game of knucklebones to watch the mans approach with hooded eyes.
"Jate vaar'tur, Mand'alor..."
{Good morning, Mand'alor...}
A winsome smile crossed her face, her tone was chirpy, totally at odds with the death stares he was getting from the dozen or so warriors, all of who were slowly beginning to form a half circle the middle of which Ashrah would have to go to address Sheva directly. Even those playing the game had desisted and turned to watch the lone man approach a group who hated his guts.
"Emuurir gar nuhoyir?"
{Enjoy your sleep?}
She smiled again and jovially bit into the fruit, rolling her eyes extravagantly as if it were the nicest thing she'd ever had in her mouth, and boy had she had some things in her mouth. She held out the half eaten fruit as Darian and Sven tried very hard to hold in the laughter that wanted to boil forth.
"Copaanir majy?"
{Want some?}
She asked brightly around the mouthful, her expression vapid and vacant, as she did her best blonde-Sidara impression.
"Bic jatisyc!"
{Its delicious!}
She finished with a pleasurable shudder, snapping up another bite. The clattering clank announced the approach of the battle droids, a group of Vhett soldiers following along behind them curiously, muttering to each other in their guttural language as they debated on whether to blast the strangely acting machines. Sheva's eyebrow rose majestically as the lead droid spoke and she opened her mouth too late to interrupt Sven's outburst.
=Sven=
"Uur, etyc beskar'ad slanar!"
{Silence, dirty droid bastard!}
He leveled a threatening finger at the mechanical quartet and Sheva rolled her eyes at the mans belligerence. Darians face was as impassive as ever as he watched the exchange though the rest of the Clan Vhett Mando's had eyes only for Ashrah.
=Sven=
"Jorhaa'ir tion'tuur johayc bah!"
{Speak when spoken to!}
It was pretty obvious he didn't get the significance of the female voice issuing forth from the confused looking droid. Or maybe he did and didn't give a fuck. You never knew with Sven.
Sheva drew her eyes back to Ashrah, ignoring the droids for now.
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Post by Aya D'Ordinii on Jul 9, 2013 6:40:01 GMT -8
The droids didn't even bother to turn to face the fool. He apparently didn't recognize the voice as the one that commanded the space battle. Or the markings as belonging to a rather important Or'dinii.
-Aya (in Mando'a, through the droids)
Hide your foolishness by keeping your mouth shut.
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Ashrah
The Mandalorian Assembly
Posts: 329
Affiliation: Mandalorians
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Post by Ashrah on Jul 9, 2013 13:14:31 GMT -8
He walked slowly and methodically through the crowd of vode in the Vhett camp, stopping in front of Sheva, the droid walking up behind him. In the blink of an eye, his movements smooth, precise, and faster than they should have been, Kad'marev cleared his back, leveled at the droids face, erupted in molten Dhoom and was safely maglocked on his back once more, his eyes never breaking from Sheva's. The obvious phallic symbolism notwithstanding, he reached to his belt and pulled out the felt pen, flipped it once, then whipped it end over end, throwing knife style, and the forehead of Sven
"You dropped something"
All of this was done with his right hand, as his buy'ce was tucked under his left arm. He ignored the rest of Clan Vhett standing around him at the moment. As much as he enjoyed the humour given by writing on his buy'ce, he had a point to make. And damn that womans eyes....
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Corr
Member
You can lead a fool to knowledge but you can't make him think.
Posts: 940
Affiliation: Clan Vhett
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Post by Corr on Jul 9, 2013 14:44:29 GMT -8
Sven had been intending to draw and shoot the droid, his writer thinking along the same lines as Ashrah's that it'd be rather amusing to have to explain the action to Admy afterwards. Instead the pen cracked off his ample forehead, him being a big lurch-looking mutherfucker, spun lazily in front of his eyes as t rebounded off before dropping to and in his right hand that had instinctively moved of its own will after his brain had decided the pistol draw was now redundant. A low growl escaped his through as his eyes moved from the pen in his hand to lock on the shorter Mando'ad in front of him.
Darian, eyeing the smoking husk of the droid with barley enough interest to appear awake, snorted a chuckle under his breath before sweeping his eyes around the gathered vode a malevolent glint flickering in the blue-black orbs. The Nagai's voice when he spoke as low but clear, the tone ding nothing to mask the intent.
=Darian=
"Te Mand'alor enteyor ganar tayli'laam bat te ashi eso be te haav, burc'yase..."
{The Mand'alor seems to have gotten ot of the wrong side of the bed, lads...}
His smile was predatory as he glanced at Sven. The big man tossed the pen over his shoulder to Sheva who was now looking a bit concerned. She opened her mouth as if to call Sven back as he started froward but seemed to think better of it. Her apple forgotten in her right hand she watched as the circle closed in around Ashrah, Sven stopping in front of the Mandalorian leader, Darian on his shoulder. It was the latter that spoke, still addressing those gathered around.
=Darian=
"Ret mhi narire nar kaysh daab par tug'yc nuhoyir."
{Perhaps we should put him down for another nap.}
Svens glower was just as nasty as Darians smile as he jabbed a finger at Ashrah's chest, referring to Ashrah's fight with Cassus...
=Sven=
"Emuurir bah gaanader akaanir ti ruug'la jag, Mand'alor te traatok'or?"
{Like to pick fights with old men, Mand'alor the fail?}
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Ashrah
The Mandalorian Assembly
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Affiliation: Mandalorians
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Post by Ashrah on Jul 9, 2013 15:01:22 GMT -8
Ashrah's right eyebrow rose a fraction of an inch, his eyes still on Sheva. HIs right hand shot up like lightning, his hand wrapping around the bigger mandos hand, over the top. He twisted his own wrist, wrenching the other mans arm awkwardly, and drove his left hand, palm open, into the back side of the Elbow, making it bend the wrong way. He let go with his right hand, and slammed it forward, now palm open, into the chest of Sven. He barely moved.
"Surely you could have come up with something better than 'Mand'alor the Fail'. Why not, 'Mand'alor the Handsome', or 'Mand'alor the Fuck-up'?"
He knew that the rest of the would probably attack him now. It was inevitable. It was something that needed to be done. He wasn't worried. Much.
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Corr
Member
You can lead a fool to knowledge but you can't make him think.
Posts: 940
Affiliation: Clan Vhett
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Post by Corr on Jul 9, 2013 16:16:51 GMT -8
Svens howl of pain roared out as his arm bent at an unnatural angle Ashrah's move too fast for him to defend against adequately. He did manage to twist a little, stopping the limb from snapping back on itself completely. here was still an audible crack however and the big man fell back a couple of paces, cradling his injury to is chest. Sheva noticeably winced at the damage done though her lips did twist into a mysterious smile as she locked her pale blue eyes with Ashrah.'s turbolaser-green orbs.
The surrounding warrors now formed a loose circle, happy to see how this would pan out. Wagers were exchanged and encouragements yelled. Others from the Vhett camp drifted over to see what all the noise was about, a surprising few coming along to cheer on the Mand'alor. A lot of the bets went his way too, some of those having heard storys of his prowess, other having witnessed it first hand. A few had even been on the receiving end, being veterans of Jai'gigidygigidygoo. Each held their own resentments about this man but he was a fearless leader and a cracking warrior, therefore worthy of respect in this honour duel. Once done either they would be free to pursue their own grievances with the object of their ire.
Ashrah was in for a long morning...
As Sven fell back to hug his broken arm to his chest Darian slipped forward, the Nagai sniper moving with all the grace and poise of one of his kind, both professionally and genetically. Almost as fast as Ashrah his own arm flashed out towards the exposed face of the Mand'alor, crushgaunt with spiked knuckles proving a very real threat to an unarmoured face. While the punch was followed through with enough venom to hit and score it was not heavily stack and was, in fact, a feint. Alongside the punch, following just one hundredth of a second in its wake, came a savage stomp aimed directly at Ashrah's right ankle. Darian's right foot, the second advancing step, thundered down in an attempt to hobble Ashrah early on and make it difficult for him to maneuver int he coming struggle.
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Corr Vhett - puts the "Laughter" in "Manslaughter"..... 
