The Major
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Post by The Major on Jun 17, 2013 20:20:25 GMT -8
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
HA HA HA HA HA HA
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA If the woman otherwise known by the moniker, 'Major,' could laugh -she would. The Fallanassi would laugh and laugh until tears of imbecilic joy flowed down her cheeks, until her throat was aflame with irritation, until her bladder pinched and hurt like a percutaneous spirit.
She could not.
Smiling widely would most likely also convey the epitome of a challenge. Why challenge these idiots? They were beneath even spent rifle casings. Perhaps they could redeem themselves. Perhaps when she watched them fight then and only then would a sense of appreciation be developed. Odd. How was this situation so similar to primary school? Ah, right, the morons. How quaint and cute! The puppy was trying to offer her a pittance through a promise of test subjects. How effective! Effective as offering a Rancor a tiny fish. Certainly now her stupid mind would jump at the chance of testing and just follow on like a some dribbling Mandolorian. Whoa there, Rip. Reel it in before your mind breaks out in yet another fit of outrageous, howling laughter. Regardless of how asinine these hulking bootheels made the day, in the end, she needed to be here to witness more. More about mandos, more about piracy, and more about how exactly the Bloodrage Pirates operated -down to the last gun-loving cretin. Besides, things were looking positive: they were already proving to be on the lowest end of the intelligence scale. If they began to fire then they would truly be no better than shattered rocks. From her perspective, they could only impress her from here on out. Of course, time would tell if Murphy's Law proved true once again.A blink passes and her helmet disappears. She cocks a quizzical eyebrow at Dred, and while there is a touch of amusement in her expression, mostly it conveys a sense of passive confusion."Tut mir lied! Ich spreche ein bisschen Basic, und Mando'a spreche ich nicht. Nein, gar nicht! Is mein Basic off? Thought I saidt, 'Ja,' eeeeyyyes. Yes. Yes! Ich habe kein Problem. No issue."Her face wrinkles, and rather than continue this lurid exercise, she pulls out a datapad from a compartment, scrolls and skims some text, then appears more confidently."Ist, 'let us execute,' dehr vwrong tense? I am trying to say I vwill follow zyour plan. I am not saying I see anything vwrong vith zyour plan."The Fallanassi holds out her hands again. |
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Dred Vizsla
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Post by Dred Vizsla on Jun 18, 2013 18:23:16 GMT -8
*Dred sighs deeply. They were wasting time and only time would tell if they could trust her to have their backs.*
"Whatever you say demagolka."
*Dred hears the condescending undertones of Major. Something to deal with later. He looks over at Kraval.*
"Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur."
*He then pops in his mouthpeace and tapes his mouth. Kraval then puts the cuffs on him and they start to head towards the depot.*
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The Major
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Post by The Major on Jun 19, 2013 11:47:37 GMT -8
The Macabre Scientist wondered briefly what it would be like to be insane -to not have control of one's thoughts and actions. Truly, to be reduced to such a state would be worse than death. Other than that, everything seemed to be running so smoothly; except, she realizes that she shouldn't have drank that bottle of water after that nap in the Cutlass earlier. It was sad to neglect a trip to the bathroom before exploring the country side and meeting with Dred. Now her bladder felt tight. No wonder she was being so. . . expressive.
"I do like zyour armour, Herr fVizsla. Vas ist dehr name for it in Mando'a?"
This of course was spoken while she began to point one of the Rippers Dred had tossed her a few minutes ago -marching along next to Kraval.
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Kraval Ordo
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Post by Kraval Ordo on Jun 19, 2013 13:57:43 GMT -8
Kraval kept to himself as he accompany Major and Dred towards the supply depot where several Clan Vhett soldiers awaited their unavoidable deaths. Kraval had grab Dred's buy'ce; with his crushgaunts tuck inside it, and his jetpack; with his personal Darksaber still attached, before they made their little trip.......figured Dred might want to be in full gear when the fighting starts eventhough he could handle himself without it. He over heard Major asking Dred about his armor and what we call our armor in our native tongue. He decided to indulge her curiosity.
Its called beskar'gram. The basic meaning is "iron skin" because our beskar'gram is made out of a near-indestructible metal called beskar.
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The Major
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Post by The Major on Jun 19, 2013 22:24:53 GMT -8
"I understandt tat . . . Beskar-zgram. . . ist quite an important part ov uyour culture. Iron skin. . ."
Nevermind that she was butchering every language she came across, nevermind that she could easily alter the sounds of her vocal patterns by dipping into the White Current, and creating a lie. The Major was a strange human at best, a combination of lies and truth, and both in the most unexpected of places. Where she should lie, she does not; were she should speak truth, she does not. It was almost like she was raised in an entirely different bizzaro universe. Besides this, there were thoughts about Mandos. Funny, her last interaction with any of these offset of humans was during the battle of Myrkr. The N.O.E had lost quite decidedly in that operation. She could remember it vividly: her task force being stalemated in the giant forest, before being routed and forced to retreat or risk encirclement. She had learned two things on that day
One, you could burn mandos in Beskar with a flamethrower. The volatile jelly would stick to the armour, burn, and cause the trooper inside to roast to death. The screams of such mighty men dying on that day proved to be disturbing. Underhanded. Cooking fat and muscle was a pungant prospect, at best.
Two, she could accurately fire high caliber rounds into the the "T" visor that most of the soldier wore, killing them instantly - nor was this a difficult prospect if she had proper positioning. Proper positioning was in short supply in the jungle.
It would have probably been a terrible idea to tell them both of the number of those men she had killed. Technically it was in self defense. No, more like retroactive self-defense. Advancing defense? Oh, what the Hell, she was trying to blitz into the city and failed. Certainly it was the Ysalamiri at fault.
". . . sounds fvaliant!"
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Dred Vizsla
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Post by Dred Vizsla on Jun 20, 2013 11:52:36 GMT -8
*Dred can't speak but he looks at Kraval. Mando'ade aren't supposed to explain things to aruetii. But damage done. He shakes his head slightly and continues to march towards the depot. Beskar took a lot of concentrated heat to cook a man. A normal flame-thrower would take a while to heat up beskar'gam. Ionic heat would take less. One would have to take time to ask the selves a rhetorical question. Who would stick around to allow themselves to be cooked?*
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The Major
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Post by The Major on Jun 20, 2013 13:28:01 GMT -8
Question asked through narration; question answered through narration: when you meet certain requirements killing a Mando becomes a process. Combine being under fire by a sniper who could consistently place rounds into their eyes, a Sith Lord running amok and pinning them down, and then loyal troops attacking from different vectors, along with large swathes of forest being burned in what seemed random patterns along the axis of advance. Add unto this that these were just normal front-line Mandos, not uberkommando Boba Fett incarnates. Have you tried running out of a fire the size of a square kilometer in all this panic? Right. People die. So you see, you don't let yourself burn to death in Beskar, you get trapped and then melt slowly as you freak out and try to run. But not to be all hum-drum and negativity, consider that the mandos equipped with jet packs, or the ones that did not panic, had no problems -hence why the N.O.E was routed that day.
Lesson: hate your neighborhood Mando, but respect their lethality.
The Major was beginning to really enjoy having these thoughts which just appeared as a coincident. That their thoughts somehow lined up into what appeared to be an argument of sorts was tickling her funny bone, although she did not know why. It was as if they so opposed to the idea of one another that their discussion went far beyond the realm of reality and broke a wall of some sort -one they weren't aware of.
They draw to within eyesight of the guards, who are already beginning to tense up in mistrust.
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Dred Vizsla
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Post by Dred Vizsla on Jun 21, 2013 14:00:09 GMT -8
*This back and forth through narration seems to be mildly comical if only in relief. Certain circumstances were indeed rare, but quite specific. Too true it might subdue, say a less seasoned mandalorian. Super Commandos, like Dred, weren't so easily cornered. In fact, should said scenario be what happens, Dred would only allow it to happen because he laid a trap and he himself was the bait. Much like what was happening in a few minutes. Dred looks around a bit confused. He cocks an eyebrow. This voice in head or rather this voice he heard wasn't his own. It spoke matter of factly with greater diction and alliteration. He looks over at Major with a "WTF" look on his face.*
*They get close enough to the depot where orders were starting to be barked out to halt their forward maneuver while they came to be inspected.*
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Kraval Ordo
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Post by Kraval Ordo on Jun 22, 2013 9:36:28 GMT -8
The ongoing but comical narration was helpful to ease tension before the upcoming firefight. Yes there were many ways to kill a Mandolorian especially an unseasoned one, but you're talking about trying to kill a super commando like Dred; who been fighting and surviving all his life due to being born into and honoring the name of the most hated clan in mandalorian culture....Deathwatch, and you have a shock trooper like Kraval; who enjoys being in a fight he can't win which makes in that more dangerous cause he will do just about anything to survive. Kraval heard about the run-in the Mandos had with the N.O.E. and the reports were gruesome at best especially on how the N.O.E. had to fall back during that faithful battle.
As the three got closer to the depot, the guards had called out to them ordering them to halt. Tension was slowly starting to build up again since the guards station at the entrance already at their guns pointed at the three unexpected arrivals...typically Vhett greeting. Kraval wanted to play this scene out nice and smooth with the three of us greeting directly into the heart of the depot and once Dred looked back at Kraval and gave him a simple nod.....that would be the signal for the party to begin
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Dred Vizsla
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Post by Dred Vizsla on Jun 22, 2013 15:33:23 GMT -8
*Such an interesting narration indeed. However, the situation has become more serious. Three members of Clan Vhett have walked up to them but Dred takes note of the three up on the wall 75 feet up. Sharp shooters at an elevated position. If things go according to plan, the three on the ground will become shields to use against the three up on the wall. One of the more larger ones, about 6'5", comes up and barks his gruff voiced order.*
=Alor'ad Vhett=
"Ke'mot! Me'copaani ti ibic aruetyc dar'manda chaavla?"
*Dred looks at the fool with contempt. How dare a Vhett call him that. Ironies abound. Dred waits as Kraval explains that they found him napping in the field and got the drop on him. An unforgivable sin even for Kyr'tsad.*
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The Major
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Post by The Major on Jun 23, 2013 5:15:06 GMT -8
Once again, the magic of a higher, ultimately more aware power somehow binds these self-styled pirates into a language not bound in words. Usually it took years of interaction for operatives to develop such keen senses about one another. For the sake of this story, this partnership -what would take years to forge, is caramelized quickly, efficiently, and with precision unparalleled, or really, it was dumb luck.
It would be a complete fabrication if the Major said she could understand Mando'a. Those Vhett soldiers could have been calling them sluts, weaklings, or -perish the thought- badly dressed. Rather than make a fool out of them, she quietly awaits for Kraval to say something back at the guards that will hopefully give them an opening. They couldn't just start fighting openly like this: it would be like a Civil War musket line reenactment. Come on, Joe Pig Mando, get them to dip their weapons. Somehow, although you couldn't see her expression from behind the stylish, and White Current aided T visor helmet, her face mirrored exactly what Dred was throwing at these clowns. Something about the way they spoke -it disgusted her. The Fallanassi's arm tenses as she prepares to throw Dred his weapon. Mentally, she expects another group of soldiers to be inside. For them, she is beginning to prepare a special brew of the White Current to really put the screws on the reinforcements in such a way that wouldn't need bullets -but would require scans for data.
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Kraval Ordo
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Post by Kraval Ordo on Jun 23, 2013 17:37:28 GMT -8
Kraval noticed how both Dred and Major were really staring to tense up like they were both itching to spill blood especially on what the Vhett guard said eventhough Major didn't have a clue what he said but the tone really pissed her off. Figure Kraval would have to do all the talking just enough to allow this Vhett guards to let the three waltz into their depot and then surprised them with blaster bolts to the skull.
*Mando'a*
Me and the young blood here(Major) found this outsider camping out several clicks away from this depot. It didn't take us long to bag and tag this scumbag while he was catching his afternoon nap. We're hoping to drop in off in your custody while me and the young blood re-up on supplies before we venture off.
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Dred Vizsla
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Post by Dred Vizsla on Jun 24, 2013 11:10:55 GMT -8
*The Captain lowers his weapon to alert stance and motions for them to make their way inside.*
*Mando'a*
"Caught napping in the field, eh? Typical non-mando, criminal Death Watch. Bring him inside."
*Dred starts to get pushed by one of the Clan Vhett guys and Dred refuses to budge. The Captain gives Dred a swift butt-stroke. His head moves barely but it breaks the skin just above his right temple. Busted open it starts to pour out down the right side of his face. Dred gives him a look of he just signed his own Death certificate. He'll make sure this one takes a long time to die. All the captain does is laugh. Kraval nudges him forward as they head inside.*
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The Major
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Post by The Major on Jun 24, 2013 14:42:27 GMT -8
Nope, not allowed. She could insult those men named Dred and Kraval, those pigs, because she believed -she knew- she was better than them, better than a thousand of them. These vagrants, kittens tossed into a turbulent sea were not even to register as the fleas sucking upon a hobo mutt. They would not be allowed to insult her allies regardless of how minuscule they may seem. If the Major was willing to waste even a few moments of her time with someone, then they at least were in the top 5 percent of potential in this galaxy. But these vermin, these despicable non-humans, did not deserve to breath out another word.
"Fick Dich! Sohn von einem Weibchen."
A few of the guard pause, hearing a language they were not at all acquainted in. It might also be noted that they did not expect a woman to be present.
"Non-mando? Typical criminal Deathvatch? Schrullen, zyou shhtupid pups aren't even vorthy enough to lick his boots."
!BAHHHHZZZZZZIITTT!
A crimson lightsaber decapitates two of the Clan Vhett cleanly -just between the gaps of hardened armour and cutting the rubber that allows a soldier to pivot his head. One of the heads lands neatly in its proper place, melting back unto the severed tendon, and slowly tipping over. The other soldier experiences the surreal joy of watching your eyes roll away from your body. The captain who was just talking the big game whoops out an expletive and quick draws his weapon, leveling it upon the now unarmored apparition of the Major. He nearly manages to aim and fire, but then that saber whips back around, spinning upwards and cutting out a gash in the floor as it travels upwards, skewers the fingers of his right hand, and cuts the blaster into two sputtering pieces.
There stands the Fallanassi, glasses glowing red with the reflected light beams radiating from the lightsaber which was securely fastened like a bayonet to the end of what appeared to be an antique: a heavily modified cherrywood musket balanced expertly in her white gloved hands. Her right hand reaches into her suit jacket and wrenches out Dred's Ripper. The grinning woman tosses it with a healthy spin back towards its owner. With her black tie ripping loose in the wind due to the violent manner she procured the now flying weapon just a moment ago, she stands squared, ready to fire, and both deactivates the Hellish bayonet and shoulders the rifle and aims for the T visor of the furthest Vhett-sow.
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Kya Xemo
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Post by Kya Xemo on Jun 24, 2013 16:08:25 GMT -8
Captured. Defenseless. It was exactly the position that Kya did not want to find herself but it was exactly the position that she was in. And as she floated in the light, shackles around her wrists and feet, she tried desperately to move or draw upon the Force in order to free herself, but her efforts were in vain and only caused her to become more susceptible to the disorienting effects of the containment field as she spun slowly in place.
And how did she get here? By trying to help a friend of course, as he had helped her so many times. Using her illusions to divert so many attacks away from the innocent lives caught in the crossfire of this violent dispute and lulling the enemy into a false sense of security as they believed they were approaching victory. Their spies however were cunning, and her actions were exposed leaving her completely unprepared for the trap that would set for her.
Foolishly she let her confidence take control and blindly she walked into an ambush. All she could do was give the enemy the illusion that they had slaughtered the troops in her company while they fled, but her efforts left her exposed and vulnerable. And she was captured without resistance when she was hit with a stun blast. Now she waits for what she believes will be execution or torture or both.
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The Major
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Post by The Major on Jun 26, 2013 13:28:25 GMT -8
"It's a trap! Blast them!"
The trooper aims his blaster at the aiming figure of the Fallanassi and begins to fire an accurate volley upon the spidery woman, filling her with bolts of intense energy. One blast hits the Major's throat, sizzling a neat hole right on through the jugular, cause enough for her body to twitch violently in a death throe.
"!GLLLLLLLLARRRGH!"
Her steaming body begins to fall over at an odd angle, sideways, and much too slow to be natural. A wide grin breaks out upon the stained face, and from the lethal wound something black begins to spray. The long hair warps and blows, shearing away in clumps, and then the Major's entire upper body peels off in flying, cawing ravens -first two, then ten, then a hundred, all coming out as if someone opened the gate of a dam. The birds dart about the air, form a massive group, and begin swooping down to attack another three of the guards. Those men have never seen a sight such as that, and amidst a plethora of ohs and oos they fire on the strange, viscous creatures -to no avail. The screeching birds overtake them, encircle them, and begin pecking at tearing the weak points of their armor. They see their visors crack, their allies fall, and blood gush. They scream, fire blindly, while another of their number begins to roll on the floor, screaming.
It was an ultra-realistic illusion. Nobody but the three effected mandos could see birds or even the figure of the Macabre Doctor. The best part was that the trick only required an expert in White Current manipulation like the Major as much effort as snapping the fingers of her right hand once.
She has already entered the depot, and she walks calmly past the next wave of guards waiting to rush out and greet Dred and Kraval with fire and brimstone. The form of the lanky woman has been completely hidden with a standard cast of Force Immersion. Again, this also is nothing but a giggle, as hiding oneself is one of the first things a Fallanassi child is taught, even before learning to speak.
How thrilling it was to be ghost.
And what does she plunder with this great advantage? Not a single thing of worth is touched, because she has sensed a presence, a familiar tang, that she hasn't felt since the Fall of Reecee. Deeper into the depot do her legs take her until she reaches what appears to be a converted prison for -what, enemies of the state? There was no state. Perhaps the shackles and containment fields were for prisoners of war, any and all who would resist the Vhett presence and most likely end up as a slave on the trade market, or little more than glorified blow up dolls for the war-pigs with the more voracious of appetites. What sad fates. But then the Major felt it, finally understood what exactly what the sensation of Déjà vu was trying to kick her face in with.
It was another.
"Teufel im Himmel
. . .Impossible. . ."
Already, her body was trembling with anger. The Fallanassi's lips were curling into an enraged sneer. Goosebumps formed on her arms and neck as a rush of emotions and memories play across her mind, stabbing it like thousand rusty knives, over and over and over.
"No. No. No, no, no. No! "
Now the Major stands just on the other side of the containment field Kya was trapped in, turning redder and redder with each passing second.
"vWhat kind of lie are zyou. How ist this deception possible!?"
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Kraval Ordo
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Post by Kraval Ordo on Jun 26, 2013 15:06:59 GMT -8
As the Vhett guards ran past Major like she wasn't there with guns aimed at both Kraval and Dred, Kraval figured it was time to let Dred release that pent up frustration of his since being hand-cuffed and insulted by these Vhetts grunts. Kraval moves over towards Dred and slaps his jetpack onto his back and then slams his buy'ce over his head before reaching over for his PAC20 on his right gauntlet in order to deactivate the stun cuffs that restrained Dred thus freeing him to do as he pleased.
Time for all you dar'mandas to die this day.
Kraval pulled out his 2 Zabrak Tystel Mark III blaster pistols and opened fired at the incoming platoon of Vhett solders one by one. The Vhetts took cover and returned fire. Dred and Kraval the same on opposite sides of two storage building. While Kraval continue with the support fire, Dred took a moment to get his gear in order especially now having his Rippers back around his waist. He felt so naked without them mainly the Darksaber he kept on his jetpack.
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Dred Vizsla
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Post by Dred Vizsla on Jun 26, 2013 17:16:24 GMT -8
*Dred is amazed at the speed Major jumps the gun. Dred gets his stuff back rather quickly with the aid of Kraval. Grabbing his ripper with expert precision he shoots the ones on top then the captain who tries to run away. Hut'tuun dar'manda. He grabs him up by the throat and lifts him off his feet. The cracking and gurgling sounds of someone having their throat crushed could be heard. Within several minutes the 12 have been taken out. Some super commandoes they turned out to be. The time to address the berserk nature of Major would come later. She proved to be useful even if she had a tendency to fly off the handle. Usually she has a condescending tone when she speaks to Kraval and Dred. However, she went off when someone made Dred bleed. Ironies abound. Dred walks over with a limp. One of them caught him in the hip with a blaster shot. The wound is cuaterize but the Gash over his right temple was not. He activates his dark saber and removes his buy'ce. He then looks in a reflective surface and stops the bleeding by burning the wound closed. Dred closes one eye and winces. It didn't feel good thats for sure. He deactivates the saber and puts it back. He walks over gingerly towards Major. She's visibly upset.*
"Something wrong demagolka? You look like you've seen a ghost."
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Kya Xemo
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Post by Kya Xemo on Jun 27, 2013 18:52:51 GMT -8
Who was that? Kya thought from within her prison. She had been held prisoner here for several days and the containment field was beginning to wear at her mind, and it was painful. The field also seemed to prevent her from drawing upon the White Current no matter how much she tried to concentrate. And now there was someone out there, someone different from her normal guards, yet someone familiar.
Kya squinted her eyes to look out into the darkness, the light around her prevented her from getting more than an outline of a lanky figure who seemed to be quite upset at seeing her. But why? And then another approached and she heard him speak. Demagolka? What is that? It sounds Mandalorian. At least she thought it sounded Mandalorian, Kya had heard the language a couple of times, but did not understand it. But she could see clearly see that only one of them was Mandalorian by their silhouettes.
But that was not the voice she was interested in, Mandalorians were a decicred a dozen, but the other voice, it was--familiar somehow. It was the accent, but it was impossible, wasn't it? Was the containment field playing tricks on her? Or could she really be here? There was only one way to really be sure. Kya tried to focus her eyes squarely on the lanky figure.
"Riplian?"
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The Major
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Post by The Major on Jun 28, 2013 6:17:56 GMT -8
"Nein!"
The spidery woman recoils at the sound of her name. A fist crunches as knuckles pop, and she nearly sends a punch soaring into the containment field. Self-preservation quickly checks the gesture, thus saving everyone the sight of someone's left arm disintegrating. Instead the tightly wrapped tension breaks and collapses as something in the Major's body switches to numbness -a defense mechanism to compensate for the intense rush of emotions. Her next words come out dull and flat, nearly repeated as if it were a mantra.
"zThat vweakling perished long ago. She ist tot, dead; just as zyou should be, Kya."
What was this nothingness? How did something so simple make her feel infinitely small?
"How did zyou survive?"
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