Harini Bralor
The Mandalorian Assembly
Posts: 165 
Affiliation: The Mando'ade
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Post by Harini Bralor on Apr 26, 2023 5:23:07 GMT -8
Sent out from Norg Bral to investigate an alleged sighting by a Bes'uliik starfighter pilot during a routine combat air patrol over Manda'yaim's western hemisphere of a large ship of some kind entering the planet's upper atmosphere, with no record of any ships being cleared to land having been assigned a flight path matching the unknown vessel's heading, Cian Bralor pilots his Kom'rk-class fighter towards the forests stretching out ahead of a vast mountain range while his co-pilot, Kayle Bralor watches the sensor readings coming back their ship's scanner array for any sign of the ship they have been sent in search of.
Cian, pointing out the Kom'rk's canopy at some kind of disturbance in the forest below, asks in Mando'a, What is that? Anything coming back from the scanners?
Kayle, looking up from the scanner readout, looks out to port as they pass over the area of the forest that appears, from what he can see from their current elevation, to be in the process of being cut down, Can't tell. Deforestation op maybe. Pointing towards the mountains, which appear to be in the process of being actively mined even as they speak, he ventures a guess, Mining operation?
Ignoring most of what Kayle has been saying, too distracted by the sight of a massive tower being constructed, revealed briefly as he begins banking and climbing to pass over the mountains, Cian asks in a mildly concerned tone, Please tell me you scanned that tower?
Kayle, his attention having been captured by the sight of what appears to be a nearby volcano in the process of erupting, shakes his head and admits apologetically, Negative, swiveling his neck to get a look at the tower and only managing to catch a fleeting glimpse of it as their Kom'rk passes over the mountain. Creepy looking though, right? Take us back around and I'll do a sweep, then mutters to himself, Should probably just have the thing bombarded from orbit.
Nodding and beginning to bank to bring their fighter back around, Cian says, Comm in the coordinates, I have a bad feeling about this. And keep an eye on the threat indicator, yeah?
On it, Kayle says, one eye on the ship's threat indicator as he sends an encrypted message to Be'mando'ade cabur Torin Bralor, head of Clan Bralor and the commander of its military forces, apprising him of the suspicious activity their search for the vessel that slipped past Manda'yaim's orbital defenses and has yet to be located. As Cian brings the Kom'rk lower and adjusts their heading to pass the tower on their starboard side, Kayle watches the sensor readings for any information they can reveal about the dark, sinister looking tower being built.
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Otto Von Bralor
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That which we cannot destroy, we will defile.
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Post by Otto Von Bralor on Apr 26, 2023 7:26:16 GMT -8
Scans would indeed reveal lifeform readings. Fifty of Otto's diseased brethren had joined him with the arrival of the Iron Shrike, on top of the questionable labour force he employed, of which several hundred toiled below at the whim of the dark cult leader. Word reached Otto's rot ravaged ear as the command vessel in the sky overhead transmitted its findings into his helmets internal speakers. He stood on a black balcony overlooking the industry afflicted forest below, his T-visored helmet following the Kom'rk-class fighter as it flew past the the tower of Norgal-dûr, listening as the communications officer aboard the Arquitens tells him what he already knows. An unidentified gauntlet has entered Norgal-dûr's airspace, shall we launch Shadow Droids to intercept?
Otto shook his head, then chuckled with a wet gurgling cough as he realized his error. The comms officer obviously couldn't see him. He opened the channel with a flick of his eyes inside his toxin filled helm and replied to the Iron Shrike.
"Now, now. Let's not be rude to the neighbours." He snorted. "I'm sure they're very curious who moved in next door. Heh." He lifted a leg and placed one foot on the edge of the balcony, waving at the Kom'rk-class fighter as it flew by, attempting to draw its attention. "I'll handle this personally." The Mandalorian scientist replied to the Iron Shrike over the comm channel before jumping over the balacony's edge and plunging towards the ground below. He activated his jetpack as he descended rapidly, slowing the last few meters before his booted feet struck the recently scorched dirt under foot. He had landed in a clearing in front of the tower that was more than large enough to encompass the transport flying past, should they choose to land, though he was well aware they fighter didn't need to set down to unload whoever was inside of the thing. Issuing a command into his cadmium green coloured armours right forearm device, he sent a signal pulse to the techno-beasts to remain out of visible sight, compelling them into the tower or mines as the mountain backdrop continued to belch clouds of smoke and the planet's flaming spittle.
It was clear by the design that Otto wore the armour of a Mandalorian, though his particular suit was comprised of a stygian-triprismatic and lead-polymer substrate he had personally developed, rather than more traditional beskar. While it lacked the pure protective quality of Mandalorian iron, it made up for that shortcoming in other ways. His sickle and chain, Grimharvest, was strapped to his back below his jetpacks exhaust. A few radiation grenades were strapped to his waist, though he carried no weapons in his gloved hands. Any Mandalorian worth their beskar would know the best assortment of lethal toys were sure to be built into the armour itself, as was their way. Even with a cultural gulf between these Pzobian bred Mordolorians and true born Mandalorians, there were clearly some similarities. The Mandalorian scientist stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his T-visored helm turned to the sky as he waited to see if the occupants of the gauntlet craft would accept his obvious invitation.
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Harini Bralor
The Mandalorian Assembly
Posts: 165
Affiliation: The Mando'ade
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Post by Harini Bralor on Apr 26, 2023 11:52:49 GMT -8
Are you really waving back at that guy? Cian asks his co-pilot in Mando'a, his tone one of commingled incredulity and amusement as they pass by the tower they have just been waved at from by what looks to be a fellow Mandalorian; there have been a few instances where individuals have posed as Mandalorians, but none that Cian can recall taking place on Manda'yaim, and certainly none where the imposter in question was bold or foolish enough to try remaking a slice of their homeworld into a vision straight out of some twisted individual's idea of Haran, * not that the thought is a particularly comforting one when you are the one that has just been invited down for a visit to Haran.
Looking at his hand and seeing that, yes, he was waving back, the response an instinctive one, Kayle mutters defensively, Just being polite. Snapping his fingers, he asks excitedly, You know what that reminds me of? That holovid with the Bimms, a Morganian and some human dudes that the old jetii leads to that fiery mountain to destroy that thing crafted by a dar'jetii, you know the one with. . .
I don't have kids, man, Cian replies as he starts bringing the Kom'rk back around.
Oh, no, it's not just for kids, see it's a really rich, deep thematic work, exploring things like the nature of . . . Kayle says, clearly about to go off on a tangent.
What do the scanners show? Cian interrupts his co-pilot before he forgets why they are here completely.
Right, let's see, Kayle shakes his head and gets refocused on the task at hand, Got about fifty or so lifeforms, some droids, power generators, some mineral analysis it would take a while to really. . .
Nodding, getting the gist of the sensor analysis, Cian says hesitantly, still feeling as though something is amiss, Maybe you were right. Mining operation headed up by Mr. Friendly with the disturbing taste in decor. What do you think, wanna go say hi to the new neighbor?
Bobbling his head indecisively, Kayle suggests, Might be best to get some orders. Fingers crossed for that aerial strike, he adds while contacting Torin to update him on the new information and request orders on how to proceed. After a moment, he tells Cian with a sigh, Looks like we're the welcoming comittee, bro'. He's getting some backup ready in case, you know, that missing ship turns up and destroys our fighter while Mr. Friendly and his friends sacrifice us to . . .
Cian, adjusting their course to bring them around to the clearing in front of the tower where their new neighbor is already waiting for them, interrupts Kayle mid-rant, Awesome. We'll drop down though, he continues as he starts setting the Kom'rk's controls so he can use the slave circuit in his buy'ce to operate it remotely after they use their jetpacks to get down to the ground since he thinks that having the Kom'rk available for air support if things go sideways sounds like a good idea if they really have to go through with what they have been ordered to do.
Great, at least the ship will survive, Kayle says with mock excitement as he gets up from his seat and follows Cian aft and down to the rear hold and slaps the control to open the Kom'rk's drop doors.
Moments later, Cian and Kayle are on the ground a few yards from where their host has been waiting. Cian, a few feet ahead of and to the right of Kayle, doesn't have any weapons in hand, but undoubtedly has a few built into his green and black beskar'gam while the A280 blaster rifle hanging from a sling in an off-side drop and the Dissuader KD-30 slugthrower holstered on his hip are both visible. Nodding a greeting to their host, Cian says, Su cuy'gar, vod. ** Glancing up at the tower stretching up behind their host, he adds dryly, Kar'taylir darasuum meg gar ganar ti te taap. ***
Kayle, armed similarly to his clansman and armored in blue and grey beskar'gam, has his A280 hanging in a patrol ready position with his finger resting casually outside of the trigger guard as he nods a silent greeting of his own.
* Hell
** Greetings, brother
*** Love what you have done with the place
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Otto Von Bralor
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That which we cannot destroy, we will defile.
Posts: 23
Affiliation: Formerly of the Eye
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Post by Otto Von Bralor on Apr 26, 2023 19:01:15 GMT -8
There was a slight mechanical purr as Otto twisted his body to look at the growing fortress behind him. It was a dark dreary thing, a ghastly reflection of the darkness they harbored inside. A great crimson banner unravelled from a balcony above, depicting a solid black image of a fanged mythosaur skull. The Mandalorian scientist turned back, unclasping his hands to reveal empty gloved palms turned upwards as he scrunched his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. The ground still trembled slightly with residual tectonic activity, occasionally eliciting a soft rumble to let them know it did not slumber soundly.
"It's a bit of a fixer upper." His voice was projected through his helmets speakers, possessing a synthetic twang as the audio technology enhanced his voice which was ravaged by disease to the point of being little more than a hoarse whisper. There was also an unmistakably unique dark melodic quality to his accent, even though it was spoken clearly in galactic basic. "But I'll grant you it's none too shabby for such rustic living out here, far from others. After all, why shouldn't we make ourselves comfortable? My clan intends to stay. This planet is our birthright. We are of Mandalorian heritage, long separated by duty to clan and family."
A few generations at least. It was unclear when Otto's father, renowned Mandalorian weaponsmith Ballz Bralor broke ways with the Mandalorian Empire or however its people were organized at the time. What was known is that he moved his people between Clackdor VII and Pzob, raising his son Otto amongst the Eye worshippers that lingered there in their dark deity's shadow. To be associated with such sinister forces of evil had given the name some notoriety. A dark stain on Clan Bralor. But that was not the Clan Otto represented, whatever his name may be. His was far worse.
"We haven't yet been introduced." In an even rhythm the sound of a slight hiss escaped from the seals on the Mandalorian scientist's helmet, as his suits built in respiration system continued to pump a steady stream of his own special blend of chemicals, while also providing needed air to his scarred lungs. He offered Cian a polite nod of his helmet. "My name is Otto Von Bralor, I speak for Clan Goregoth. Welcome to Norgal-dûr, vod." His helmet leaned slightly to the left, though his helmet's tracking software was still doing an adequate job of monitoring both targets. "You'll forgive me for not rolling out the welcoming mat. As you can see, we are currently renovating." The clang of hammers on anvils rang from the tower's murder holes, chasing away the reek of burning metal and sulphur rising from cracks in the surface.
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Harini Bralor
The Mandalorian Assembly
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Post by Harini Bralor on Apr 26, 2023 23:33:06 GMT -8
Maybe it is the oppressively malevolent atmosphere, real or imagined, emanating from the dark tower stretching up behind Otto, or maybe it is the haughty tone, real or imagined, that Cian thinks he detects when Otto declares that his clan intends to stay, but the longer he listens to what is said, the more he feels like something nefarious is afoot that makes Kayle's proposed orbital strike seem like the right idea. Regardless of his own unease and suspicion, founded on nothing more than a gut feeling, however, Cian is forced to admit that nothing they have seen or heard by the time Otto has finished speaking justifies taking any action at this time. Cian is no expert on mining or property rights, but maybe once the higher ups get a chance to look into whatever records they can find now that they have Otto's name someone will find a reason to take a closer look at what is going here.
Another time then, Cian says in as cheerful a tone as he can manage, using Basic since it was their host's way of addressing them, after Otto, in a way that seems to him to suggest they have been dismissed in as polite a way as it is possible to dismiss someone, makes it clear he won't be inviting them in to see just what kind of renovations are underway inside his unsettling tower. Now that we know you're here, we'll have to come back sometime after you've had a chance to settle in. We'll bring some uj'alayi, nodding back towards Kayle, he says, His riduur * makes a great uj'alayi. Since Otto has introduced himself, Cian figures it is only polite to do the same given that his unease may be attributed to nothing more than his imagination, and that it would be a shame if he failed to show a brother Mando'ade the respect he deserves, and so says, We're Cian and, he nods back towards his comrade, Kayle of Clan Bralor. Welcome to Manda'yaim, Otto. Using specific eye movements to use the slave circuit installed in the systems of his buy'ce to start having their Kom'rk return to the air overhead, Cian says, We'll get out of your hair then, let you get on with those renovations.
Glancing upwards to watch the Kom'rk's approach, Cian says as though the thought has just occurred to him, Oh, one more thing. Your clan didn't happen to have a ship, light cruiser size, arrive earlier by any chance, did they? Reason we're out here, see, is one came down from orbit without getting cleared. Forcing a laugh, he lifts a hand, Oh, we've all done that before once or twice, right? Get in a hurry, or figure it doesn't hurt anything if you're not going to be going anywhere with heavy enough traffic that being assigned a flight path is really necessary, but, you know those orbital control guys like to know who's coming and going. Anyway, we were sent out to see if we could ascertain where that cruiser was now, and ran across your tower here, and so here we all are. So, Otto, vod, can we report back that we've determined where that cruiser was headed for, just another Mando'ade eager to make a home here on Manda'yaim since, you know, it's your birthright after all. Or do me and Kayle have to keep on looking for that cruiser after all?
* wife
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Otto Von Bralor
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That which we cannot destroy, we will defile.
Posts: 23
Affiliation: Formerly of the Eye
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Post by Otto Von Bralor on Apr 27, 2023 10:14:51 GMT -8
This Cian Bralor was clearly referring to the Iron Shrike, there was no mistaking it. While he had hoped its arrival might have gone unnoticed, his plans hadn't relied on it remaining so. It would seem that miscalculation on his part was what had led to this meeting, much earlier than he had intended. To deny ownership of the vessel would only invite further scrutiny. Plus there seemed little point now that its presence was known.
Casually he moved the long fingers of his left hand and tapped on the device built into his right forehead guard, briefly muting the speakers on his helmet as he opened up a private channel to the Arquitens. Azog, lower the Shrike on the vertical plane by three hundred feet. He gurgled with a wet rasp into the comm, though his voice remained contained within his T-visored helm.
In the background as the black mountain continued to spew toxic smoke that darkened the sky, the belched curtain of naturally occurring poisonous gas redirected up through a less than naturally occurring chasm, began to part as a wedge shape descended through the rising ash plume. The ship was an Arquitens-class command cruiser with a creaking hull painted the same colour as the Mandalorian scientist's own cadmium green armour. The current wreath of super heated gas that swirled around the ship's rusted plating as it hovered above the volcano further enhanced its sinister appearance. Sections of the hull had clearly been replaced with foreign alloys uncommon to the Imperial variant. During its time anchored above the former rakatan colony of Xeraxus out beyond the edge of civilized space, the diseased inhabitants of its corrupted decks had been forced to make repairs with whatever was available, replacing damaged sections with improvised parts smelted from eroding derelicts left behind after the Infinite Empire's decline. Even with a recent application of paint, darker sections of the hull made clear which armoured plates had been replaced, which sadly was more than a few. Otto reactivated his helm's speakers, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the smoke obscured ship, its hull turning darker by the minute as ash caked onto its exposed surface.
"You must be referring to the Iron Shrike." He stated the obvious. "My father's ship before mine and our traveling home for some time. I am certain you can surmise by its current state of visible disrepair why we were so eager to resettle on the surface as soon as possible." Hidden by his helmet, the diseased bastard son of a Bralor spread his lips in a hideous grin, thankfully concealing the scant few yellow teeth that loosely clung to his rotten gums. "It has been far too long since we were able to make repairs with quality materials, of which this world possesses a bountiful supply." A logical connection would be to assume that was what the mining was about, though he didn't claim as much, nor would it have been the truth anyways. They were digging for something else entirely, something that should probably remain buried by the ages. "My sincerest apologies..." Though his tone suggested he was perhaps less than sincere. "...for the lack of standard decorum. A mistake we shall endeavour to not repeat. As you say." He licked cracked and bleeding lips. "We were eager to make a home."
More eager to spread the good word. The diseased and darkside addled denizens of the plague colony had been less than willing to listen to his cult's ministrations; those creatures had their own malign system of belief. But here on Mandalore where warrior culture was strong, he was certain he would find some suitable dark souls to fill up the ranks in no time.
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Harini Bralor
The Mandalorian Assembly
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Post by Harini Bralor on Apr 29, 2023 5:00:58 GMT -8
There is a certain undeniable beautifully terrible majesty to the moment when Otto's ship, wreathed in the smoke and ash that it had been concealed by, is at last revealed. And if the tower - that dark and disturbing monument casting its shadow over Otto, who stands in the shadow he created - had given Cian an unsettling glimpse into the depraved, disturbed, mind of its architect, then that ship coming down out of the smoke and ash revealed another quality as well. You are clever, aren't you Otto, Cian thinks as Otto says something about it being his father's ship, you are clever and sly, aren't you? Tricksy, that's what you are, and furtive, like a rat skulking and skittering out here in the darkness you've created. You want to spread that darkness, don't you Otto? Spread it like rot, like poison, with your tower the thorn/knife/blade that has been sunk into the flesh of Manda'yaim, and oh, you didn't want that to be known yet either, did you? No, you wanted to save it like your ship hiding in the ash and smoke that you've created out here, save it until it's too late for anything to be done, reveal it at the moment of your choosing and let everyone see how clever and tricksy you are. That's why you skulked down here, snuck in like a rat in the dark and started building your foul little nest, the nest you'd like to expand and grow (Otto says: Why shouldn't we make ourselves comfortable) until the whole world has been remade into a vision of hell, because it isn't just this mountain, this tower that you want, is it, Otto? No (Otto says: This planet is our birthright) you want to claim the whole world and pollute it, corrupt it, befoul it, poison it just like you've poisoned this place, sullied it and defiled it and made into something meant to terrify, to inspire horror, fear and despair like the horror I feel as I stand here in the shadow of your ugly tower and like the fear I have of what dark plans and designs are skittering and skulking around in the shadows of your depraved, disturbed, but oh so tricksy and clever mind.
You are clever, and you are arrogant too, aren't you Otto? You would have to be either arrogant or a fool to believe that anyone could look upon your work out here, all darkness, shadows and flame, and not understand that you've come to Manda'yaim (Otto says: My clan intends to stay) not seeking fellowship, to be a part of the people you've been separated from (Otto says: We are of Mandalorian heritage, long separated by duty to clan and family) but to poison, to pollute, to befoul. Are you dar'manda, Otto? An outcast/exile/failure seeking revenge on the people who cast you out? Were you a failure, a traitor, a disgrace, did your tricksy, clever mind make you do something that revealed what you are like your tower and this place reveal you like your ship was revealed when it came down through the ash and the smoke? Were you made to feel dirty, Otto, dirty like your ship in the smoke and the ash, dirty like standing here in the shadow of your tower makes me feel? Cian can hear the pounding clang of the hammers on the anvils in the castle BOOM BOOM (hammered pair) like the beating of a diseased heart BOOM, can feel the beat of his pulse in his temples and chest as Otto apologizes, and he knows that Otto lies because that is what clever little tricksy rats do, they lie and they spread filth and disease like Otto wants to spread it out from his tower, and Cian knows that he can't do anything about it because there are rules, rules of engagement (must never provoke, must exhaust ALL other means of response), rules of society (Resol'nare), and he knows that Otto knows those rules too, that he is counting on them, hiding in their shadows, and you are laughing on the inside, aren't you Otto? Because those rules don't apply to you, do they? you've left them behind, haven't you? what else have you left behind (morality? decency?) during your journey to the mountains out here where you build your tower in the shadows? The hammers on the anvils go
BOOM BOOM
ringing in Cian's ears
BOOM
and he thinks about Otto and his father's ship. Cians's father didn't give him a ship. but he did give him a KD30 Dissuader. Did your father teach you to fly, Otto? My father taught me to shoot, and one of the lessons he taught me was the failure to stop drill, do you know that one Otto? Two in the chest BOOM BOOM and one in the head BOOM. What was your father Otto? My father was a marshal. Was your father haunted by anything Otto? My father was haunted by the time he failed to stop something he knew was coming, by the time he recognized a tricksy little rat like you for what he was even though there was no evidence, just a feeling in his gut, and his father knew what kinds of things the rat would get up to if he were allowed to scurry back into the darkness and shadow he crawled from like the shadows you have made for yourself here, Otto, but he followed the rules, my father, followed the rules of engagement (Deadly force must ONLY be used in response to a REASONABLE belief of an IMMINENT threat or SERIOUS BODILY INJURY or DEATH to self or others and when lesser means are exhausted or unavailable) , the rules of society, and innocent people died, and when I asked what he would do if he could do it again, do you know what he said Otto? He said he'd put two in that clever little rat's chest and then one in his head. BOOM! BOOM! (my father said the first step is a double tap, hammered pair to center mass, where it is easier to hit) and BOOM! (my father said the area to aim for is right between the eyebrows and the upper lip)Cian wonders if he'll be like his father someday, and tell the story about how he looked at the tower and knew nothing good would come from it, only misery and rot and filth would spread out from it like an infection and there isn't much longer to make a choice, Otto is saying something about a mistake that won' be repeated, and the hammers on the anvils go
BOOM BOOM
and Kayle said the sensors showed fifty lifeforms and some droids
BOOM
but you're the only one that matters Otto, aren't you?
(Otto says: I speak for Clan Goregoth)
You're the head, the heart, and without you whatever you are plotting in your dark, poisoned tower that you have sunk into the earth will be stopped, won't it? Your tricksy plan will bear no rotten, spoiled, pestilent fruit, will it? I will probably die, Kayle too, but if I stop you, Otto, I will die without regrets no matter what your men or your droids do to me because I will have stopped whatever foul, fell deeds you have planned.
(Ara'nov, aliit) Otto says says something about making a home and then stops, stops and that means it is time to go or time to stop Otto, so Cian gets ready to say I'm glad we cleared that up, and he thinks he is talking about the matter of the ship, but really he is talking about the matter of his indecision, because his hand knows what he has decided even before he does
because as he says I'm glad he is gripping the butt of his Dissuader and pulling it from his holster, and it comes out smooth and clean
and he says we cleared as he fires twice for Otto's chest
BOOM! BOOM!
and then says that up as he fires once more for Otto's head, aiming for the spot on his T-visor where his eyebrows should be so that he avoids any bony areas that might protect the diseased brain he hopes the acid filled round will destroy
BOOM!
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Otto Von Bralor
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That which we cannot destroy, we will defile.
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Post by Otto Von Bralor on May 1, 2023 8:07:01 GMT -8
If they were comparing fathers then for certain Otto's would be found wanting. There wasn't a single memory in his rotten brain of the old man that didn't include tihaar on his breath and cruelty writ across his features. The closest his black hearted papa had ever come to embracing his bastard son with love was when he set into his young flesh with heavy fists, beating him each and every day until he stopped reminding his father or how similar Otto had looked to his mother. Her he had never known. His earliest days had been spent on Pzob, receiving an education under the dark ministrations of the fanatical priests that called it home, save for those infrequent times Ballz had taken more of a direct interest in his unwanted son's upbringing. To his credit, daddy dearest had at least taught him the essentials, such as how to properly skin a sentient while prolonging their suffering for as long as possible. In fact it was his interest in flaying skin from meat and gristle from bone that had initially caused him and Belisarius to become fast friends as children. That bond, one forged by brothers in arms, was far stronger than anything his family had ever given him.
Green lines of falling viral code from his helmet's built in threat assessment software flashed warning runes as Cian's hand came to rest on the handle of his Dissuader, triggering the agile servomotors of his mechanical legs. He was forced to temporarily lose focus on Kayle so that he could maintain his entire attention on the immediate threat, but it was worth it. Each time that trigger pulled, Otto's body wasn't there, a blur of automated motion that utilized the superior speed his cybernetic limbs provided over his failing flesh. In the same instant his stealth field generator crackled to life, distorting the air as it attempted to keep up with his rapid movements. Two metallic slugs passed in front of his chest as his left leg slid back and turned his body, followed by a third that came within a hair of the horizontal lens of his T-visor. Lacking true invisibility due to the plainly visible distortion of the air, almost like staring through a blurry window, it was at least slightly harder to make out the details of his lanky armoured form.
His right arm snapped up in reply, firing two toxic saber darts from the launcher on his forearm that he had picked up while visiting Hydra Station on Kamino, even as his legs began to unnaturally side step and back pedal. The darts were aimed less with skill and more calculated precision as the warfare suite of software written into his suit made fighting Otto more like challenging a machine than a true being of flesh and blood. A scientist and creator of killing implements, combat was a secondary interest, which is part of the reason he let some of his more automated features do the heavy lifting, as it were. Both darts fired in near silence towards the space between Cian's helmet and chest piece, aimed at the neck. Meanwhile, his only remaining organic limb reached behind his back, wrapping his gloved left hand around a length of coiled chain and the sickle handle of Grimharvest. He pulled it free in a single motion, even as his blurring legs side stepped towards Cian like a furious crab.
This was a problem...yet, oh how he enjoyed the thrill. Poxus and Festerbile, Knights of the Plague Reavers on poisoned Xeraxus, had all thought his decaying brain had finally turned to mush when he had proposed traveling to Mandalore in pursuit of the Plague Lord's agenda. They said he'd be found out immediately, that the Mandalorians would be vigilant after the events of Obroa-Skai. And of course, they were completely right. What they had failed to consider, however, was how much Otto enjoyed a good challenge. This was just another puzzle to piece together. Only this time, he'd solve it with the tools of his father's trade, to kill his father's people.
By now the sounds of slug-fire had drawn the attention of several of the Mordolorians in the dread inspiring tower of black stone and wrought iron, as black T-visored helms appeared at the murder holes, watching with sinister delight as diseased gums salivated at the sight of combat. None moved to assist, not yet, but it would only be a matter of time before bloodshed or a desire to defile caused them to give into their more violent urges and intercede. For now, they simply watched, dragging bloated tongues over canker caked lips.
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Harini Bralor
The Mandalorian Assembly
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Post by Harini Bralor on May 4, 2023 13:00:00 GMT -8
Boom! Boom!Cian thought that starting to shoot while talking would have been tricksy and clever, but Otto doesn't miss a trick and the first two shots are a miss and another miss, with Otto seeming to virtually disappear, which doesn't seem possible, and Cian thinks, Oh stealth field, of friggin' course, why wouldn't tricksy ol' Otto have all kinds of clever little tricksy things built into his armor? Gotta try to aim for the distortion, he thinks as he adjusts his aim for the third shot and remembers that annoying little smug shrug Otto gave when they first set down and he said his ugly tower was a fixer upper, which was something of an understatement, and there was that faint mechanical whirring noise, his mind recalling that detail, which he maybe should have realized was of significance at an odd, not particularly useful moment, like now when it would have been better to have suspected Otto had souped up his armor before deciding to try and shoot him. Kayle drops into crouch and sets the stock of his A280 blaster rifle into his left shoulder as Cian's second shot is fired, pivoting to look up at tower and expecting to see Otto's friends boiling out of windows, doors, and hidden posterns, all the while babbling into his comm over his clan's encrypted channel that they are engaging, the enemy is really fast, has a stealth field, and asks how far the reinforcements are out, not particularly comforted when the reply he gets is that they are five minutes out since he figures it may as well be five years for as much good as it is likely to do him and Cian. Boom! Another miss, Cian thinks, of course, he was too fast the first two times, why would it be any different now? Need to try something different, what do I remember about stealth fields? well, probably won't last too long, and moving too fast usually causes them to fail, so try and make Otto move fast and maybe he'll be easier to hit Cian raises his left arm while, unbeknownst to him, Otto is raising his right arm and Kayle is pivoting from checking out the tower to aim his rifle towards where Otto was when the first shot was fired. Kayle starts advancing in a crouch and opens fire with his A280, set to three round semi-auto bursts, traversing his fire from just in front of Cian where Otto had been when things started and then towards the tower, watching for the tell-tale distortion in the air most stealth fields cause to correct his aim accordingly as he continues firing.ZZZzzztttZZZZzzzttZZZZzzztt!! ZzzzttZZZzztZzzzztt!! ZZzzzzttZZZzzzttZZZzzztt!!Thwip! Thwip! go Otto's darts ever so silentlyCian, doing his best to keep his eyes on the distortion in the air that betrays Otto's approximate whereabouts, neither sees nor hears the tiny darts that Otto fires, and feels only a sharp pinching sensation in his neck as he takes a step back when the distortion in the air seems to rush towards him. activating his flamethrower and sweeping it from left to right, thinking it will either make Otto move fast enough to reveal his position or, if he's really lucky, set him on fire How fast can you dance, Otto? Fwwwooosssshhh!!As Cian's arm is completing its sweeping motion, he feels a sudden massive headache, a stabbing pain in his chest, his vision gets fuzzy, and his limbs start to feel heavy and clumsy, and he thinks, damn it Otto, you poisoned me DidN'T YoUUUuu, you Rat BaSTarD? and knows he has only a few seconds to live as he staggers clumsily back another step, his knees feeling wobbly.ZzzzttZZzzzttZZZzztt!! Kayle sees Cian staggering and watches both the pattern of the flames Cian is spraying as he staggers back and the air for any sign of distortion that would make sighting in on Otto easier, firing another burst as he continues advancing closer to make spotting the visual distortion from Otto's stealth field easier. As he advances, Kayle moves his right hand, which he has been using to steady the forestock of his rifle, so that it rests on the side of the forestock rather than underneath it, his wrist pointing forward as he prepares to fire his fibercord whip from the whipcord launcher in his gauntlet to, if he can catch sight of Otto, try and ensnare him, maybe pin his knees, hips or arms and slow him down or, if nothing else, give away his location for as long as the whip stays attached to him, should he ever succeed in getting it attached in the first place.Cian thinks ShoULD hAVe juST wALKed awAY, FlOWn bACk to the Kom'rk, nOT goINg to be nEEDiNg it Now,
and then figures he is starting to hallucinate as he sees Otto, his fists beside his hips as he pumps his hips obscenely and says, OohhHH YeeAAhhHH, I RrreallLLYy GggOOOttt you good, LiTTle BuuDDyy!! You OnlLY GGoottt a FeW SseconDS leFT noW! HoW yA FEEliNg? HaRd to BreATHe, huh? ShouLd HavE FloWn AwaY Up tO youR LiiTTle shIP when you Had the ChaNCe. That gives Cian an Idea and as the funny Otto that isn't really there continues taunting him, he uses his eyes while he still can to use the slave circuit in his buy'ce's systems to bring the Kom'rk's shields up and alter it's course to send it on a collision course with the tower. HeY, the funny, not really there Otto says, ArE yOu paYinG AttenTion tO me? The Otto is sitting on his chest, which is funny because Cian is stumbling back a step and dropping his arms to his sides, his flamethrower shutting off as he feels his strength failing him as he is falling to his knees as his feet get aaalllll tangled up and he feels a crushing pain in his chest like something is really sitting on it. The Otto shrugs his shoulders, asking in a mockingly concerned tone, Uh-OH, YoU FalL doWn, gO Boom? HuRT yOUr KnEeS? GeT an OouuCHie? DoN'T thINk You HaVE ToO mUCh LonGer leFT nOW, bUDdy, SorrY tO SaY. WhAT'chA gOnNA do? CrY? The Otto makes fists and rubs the front of his buy'ce where his eyes would be, WaaaHHHhh, wwAAhhh! Cian, eyes watering as he struggles to breathe as his lungs start filling up with fluid, ignores not real Otto and finishes adjusting the Kom'rk's flight path so it will crash into the tower midway up it's length just as he starts spitting up pink frothy sputum and collapses onto his side, convulsing violently once and then a final time as his brain shuts down. As Cian drops, Kayle, thinking he sees where Otto is from the distortion in the air, fires his fibercord whip just as he hears the Kom'rk's engines roaring loudly as it passes overhead and continues hurtling towards the tower . . .
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Otto Von Bralor
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That which we cannot destroy, we will defile.
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Post by Otto Von Bralor on May 6, 2023 18:09:26 GMT -8
There was nothing quite like the thrill he was feeling in this moment. He thought his senses were so rotten away that he was immune to pleasure of any sort, but this he enjoyed quite a bit. Cian's clever intuition brought this about, but Otto was more than happy to see this through to whatever conclusion.Side stepping as he was towards Cian, the mechanically limber Mandalorian scientist felt what could only be described as a wasps sting followed by a mules kick, as one of Kayle's initial three round burst clipped the diseased fiend's left shoulder. The bolt had made contact into the plate, scoring deep but not quite penetrating, leaving a boiling welt that filled the air with the delightful mingling scents of burning metal and scorched ozone. The kinetic force behind the bolt also threw him off balance and sent him spinning towards the ground as Cian's sweeping flame scorched across his backplate and jetpack, peeling the paint and carbon scoring the metal, as well as creating enough interference to cause Otto's stealth field to overheat. His slightly scorched cadmium green armour crackled into existence as he slid across the ground, the servomotors in his cybernetic limbs quickly adjusting into a splits to slow his movement and correct his balance. Acting of its own accord, his left leg lifted as a a fibercord wire whipped beneath it, kissing dirt instead of his gyroscopic ankles. He began to slow just in time to see the earlier Gauntlet streak towards his so recently constructed tower.Boar-wolf horns blew as the alarm was sounded inside the tower. Those Mordolorians that could raced towards the nearest exit. For a lucky few they managed to leap off the ramparts or find a balcony to jet away from. Those inside the heart of the structure would be forced to take the stairs down, a far slower method of escape. It was unclear how many of the original fifty that had set out with the Iron Shrike made it out before the fighter crashed into the tower's stone and iron guts, shattering through to the other side, causing the back to burst out towards the base of the newly awoken volcano. It was enough to disrupt the building's supports and the tower groaned a grating metal shriek. The time and effort aside, he knew what this symbolized. With the remaining brick and beams finally giving out, the top portion of the tower collapsed down, showing the clearing in front with brick and twisted iron beams. The area quickly became blanketed in choking dust, and Otto felt somewhat relieved that his stealth generator was kaput for now.As the world around them exploded into a collapsed flaming ruin, it would be easy to sneak away, to hide in the chaos. After all, did Otto really have honour to offend? He'd long cast any semblance of a moral compass aside long ago, even before his body had become ravaged by a deranged reptile's insidious disease. All he had to do was slip away and vanish in the dust, but where would be the fun in that? He hadn't asked for this but boy was he excited now. He really had to give it to these Mandalorians, they were true warriors. The treachery aside, their cunning and quickness to action awoke something in him. Perhaps this was his Mandalorian spirit. Or maybe it was just bloodlust. He wanted to see this match through, whatever the consequences.With his sickle and chain Grimharvest already in hand, the part-rotting man part-cybernetically enhanced machine, sprung forwards even as bricks and debris flew past. His fast pace in so much anarchy was only possible due to his mechanical nature, his legs and right arm moving on autopilot while his diseased left hand gripped the sickle's handle, stroking the activation stud for the blade's ultrasonic vibration generator. The black sickle blade hummed wickedly as its lethal edge heated to an orange glow. Meanwhile the length of chain in the cyborg's right hand was released and was sent spinning rapidly in a spiral in front of him as he continued to spring forwards, following the whipcords length as he accelerated towards Kayle's position. His thumb on the sickle's handle slid over a second stud, sending a signal to the cone like cylinder attached to the end of the spinning length of chain, which began to hiss as it released a toxic cloud of luminous green trihexelon gas. The very same substance used on Obroa-Skai.SSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!! As Otto charged towards Kayle, his helmet's speakers broadcast a terrible piercing wail like a starweirds shriek, a nightmare specter in Mandalorian themed armour. Wreathed in dust and shrouded by a spinning black Sith iron coil of chain and miasmic cloud of poisonous vapour, his position was still given away by the glowing orange edge of his sickle. He wanted him to see him coming."Fight me!" His speakers roared as he rushed towards Kayle, as large blocks of stone continued to skip around them. Despite his HUD being full of nothing but endless lines of glowing green viral code, all the Mandalorian scientist could see in that moment was red.
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Harini Bralor
The Mandalorian Assembly
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Post by Harini Bralor on May 8, 2023 20:19:38 GMT -8
As the Kom'rk hits the tower and explodes in a harsh, loud barking cough that is followed by the thunderous cacophony of falling stone and iron, Kayle does his best to keep watch for where the enemy combatants that manage to escape the destruction of the tower end up, his attention divided between them, the flaming chunks of stone and metal raining down on the clearing, and Otto, who makes the surprising decision to stand and fight rather than slink away. Kayle, often accused of having no sense of urgency due to the pacific calm with which he typically meets any crisis despite his inherent pessimism, accepts the turn of events evenly, little in his posture or bearing revealing anything other than a cool, almost dispassionate air of appraising the ongoing developments for threats as he activates his fibercord launcher’s winch and draws the whip back into the launcher.
Unable to move with the same speed and precision as Otto's armor enables him to dodge the deadly rain of stone and twisted metal that falls down around them, Kayle nonetheless manages to nimbly move back or to the side quickly enough to avoid the larger hunks of debris that drop towards him, a few smaller bits of black stone bouncing off his blue and black beskar'gam as he moves to keep Otto, rushing towards him all the while, in front of him.
Deciding that his rifle, powerful as it may be, will be of little use in the close quarters the fight is rapidly heading towards, Kayle lets it fall from his left hand and sweeps it behind his back to hang from its sling in a rear sweep position as he grips the handle of his beskar kal, or short dagger, with his left hand and draws it from his sheathe in a reverse grip while his right hand wraps around the handle of his beskar tactical axe and slides it from its sheathe. The axe has a wide upswept blade with a piercing spike on the back end, and is approximately 15 inches in length. Not content to let Otto simply close the distance between them and seize the initiative, Kayle jogs in a slight crouch right towards him at a deceptively leisurely pace, axe and dagger for the moment hanging down at his sides as he watches the dull, wicked orange glow of the sickle within the cloud of sickly green vapor that serves as a beacon for Otto's position.
The horrific wailing that precedes Otto's roared demand to fight makes Kayle squint his eyes in pain, but his pace does not slow, as he breaks instead into a full run, his left arm raising from his side so that it crosses his body on a diagonal with his hand at the level of his right shoulder with the blade of his kal pointing outwards as though he intends to strike with the weapon first. As he approaches to within arm's length of Otto, however, Kayle jukes and leaps forward to his right as though attempting to move to Otto's left side, his jetpack emitting a brief roar as he feints an outward strike with the kal for Otto's side and activates his jetpack for a single, short burst as he makes the leap, making the leap both faster and slightly higher than it would have been unaided. Twisting in midair and raising his right arm upwards as the burst from his jetpack ends, Kayle, now dropping towards Otto's back on the left side, swings his axe swiftly down and outwards for the back of Otto's neck. . .
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Otto Von Bralor
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Post by Otto Von Bralor on May 13, 2023 17:32:55 GMT -8
As Kayle leapt forwards and to his right, Otto practically mirrored the other Mandalorian, diving downwards and to his right. He came up and turned just as his opponent twisted midair, turning to face his foe rather than present his neck as the quiet warrior struck with his axe, and Otto's vibro-sickle came up to greet it in a burst of sparks. The very nature of Grimharvest's ultrasonic vibrations caused the glowing orange surface to repel the axe blade, delivering a kinetic kick that caused the sickle in his grip to buck and his diseased arm to strain as he held onto it. Meanwhile his mechanical right arm was still spinning that Sith iron chain, twirling it above both their heads now as he bathed them in a luminous ghastly green fog.
Legend among the sickly hearted leprous inhabitants of diseased Xeraxus was that strange things could be seen in the glowing mist of a trihexalon fog, the mutant denizens venerating the glowing green gas as though it contained supernatural qualities. They saw phantoms in the poison mist, demons born of the dragons breath that wilted all it touched.
Otto only saw red. His diseased fevered mind had seized access of the cybernetic warfare suite built into his mechanical body and armour, giving his current rage fueled side full control over his body's actions. As his helmet speakers broadcast a wet gargling snarl, his cracked and bleeding lips frothed at the corners inside his cadmium green helmet. He pressed off his back leg and tried to continue forwards into his foe. This leader of the Mordolorian cult weaved a figure eight in front of his chest with the glowing sickle blade of Grimharvest, striking back and forth at his opponent as his mechanical legs pistoned his lanky form forwards. His movements were fast, designed not to leave a moments room to breathe, somewhat savage even as each sweep of the sickle blade was accompanied by an enraged growl from his speakers, broadcast unnecessarily loud. He breathing ragged and wet, delivered in rhythmic pace by the machines pumping oxygen through the scarred remains of his ruined lungs.
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Harini Bralor
The Mandalorian Assembly
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Post by Harini Bralor on May 14, 2023 23:09:47 GMT -8
The speed and unrelenting ferocity of Otto's counterattack immediately put Kayle on the defensive, his brief attempt to seize the initiative and dictate the pace of the battle lost as his foe eludes the axe aimed for the back of his neck by turning with preternatural speed to meet it with his sickle. The vibration of Otto's sickle nearly causes Kayle to lose his grip on his axe, and he finds himself backpedaling as Otto, without a pause, launches into a relentless onslaught with his sickle becoming a red blur as it seems to attack from all sides.
The clang of axe or kal against sickle sings out, sparks raining down steadily in the sickly green fog that surrounds the air around the combatants as Kayle backs away while blocking the strikes that come swiftly one after the other, each seeming harder than the last and all threatening to tear his weapons from his grip as the vibrations from the sickle begin to make his hands feel numb. Kayle has no time to think, no time to plan or, perhaps mercifully, to despair as he allows his instinct and training to guide him, his arms all but moving of their own accord to bring his axe or kal into the path of the glowing sickle that, should it but tear his armor mesh flight suit, would allow the almost certainly poisonous fog to end his life.
It is pure instinct that leads Kayle to try and turn the tide of the battle, a plasma personal combat shield springing to life from his left vambrace as the latest swing of Otto's sickle rains down, and Kayle jerks his left arm up and out to meet the glowing orange blade, sparks hissing and spitting as it meets the circular plasma shield. Without pausing, Kayle dips down as soon as the sickle's blow has been met by his shield, his right arm swinging out and then swiftly back in as he aims the blade of his beskar axe for the side of Otto's right knee.
Three minutes out from Norgal-dûr
Harini Bralor, piloting one of the two Kom'rk-class transports that departed from Norg Bral, frowns beneath her yellow and black buy'ce as Kayle, who had been tersely narrating the action on scene after the fighting first broke out, no longer speaks, the only sounds coming over the encrypted comm channel grunts of exertion punctuated by the ringing sound of metal against metal.
Sounds like he's in trouble, Conaodh Rodarch, a Bimm with a knack for stating the obvious, muses as he studies the readings from the Kom'rk's sensors while listening to the comm transmission from their embattled comrade. That gas he described sounds a lot like what was used on Obroa. Think this Von Bralor was involved in the attack?
Zdzislaw Bralor, the leader of Harini and Conaodh's squadron, replies in his customary dry, gravely tone, We'll be sure to ask Von Bralor if we get the chance. For now, stay focused on watching for the enemy ship and Von Bralor's comrades. Patting Harini on the shoulder, Zdzislaw says, I'm heading back to the troop bay, let me know when we get into position to drop, and then heads aft from the cockpit.
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Otto Von Bralor
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That which we cannot destroy, we will defile.
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Post by Otto Von Bralor on May 16, 2023 7:41:01 GMT -8
Red cybernetic eyes glared from behind a T-visored helm of carbon scored black as a Mordolorian appeared from the gaping wound of broken stone and burning metal that served as the shattered tower of Norgal-dûr's spilt open corpse. Vitrius Woves, son of one of one of the ill intentioned Mandalorians that set out with Ballz Bralor so many years ago, was perched on the ruins of their recently constructed and even more recently destroyed fortress. Behind his emotionless helm, those photo-receptic lenses serving in place of eyes that had long since rotted away, zoomed in on the fight taking place below. It was hard to follow, what with Otto and his opponent moving fast, not to mention the veil of dust and increasing amount of green fog belched out from the cone cylinder on the end of the cult leader's spinning chain. Wires securing his lower jaw after it had fallen off from his leprous condition, groaned in strain as he grit the iron dentures serving in place of his original teeth. An anger welled in his breast, festering like a cancerous tumour, of which it had plenty of company in his diseased chest.He had cautioned Otto about moving too quickly, especially after the events of Obroa-Skai, which unfortunately they had not been a direct part of. Vitrius and his degenerate leprous brothers argued for their inclusion in that initial strike of the Reaper Prime, as Belisarius Vilebroth pursued the first leg of his grand plan to eventually transform the Mandalorian people into an unstoppable army of beskar clad technobeasts. They had been denied, not idle but far from the action, which chafed Vitrius' warrior spirit.An oily ichor seeped from the corner of his pox-scarred lips, pooling at the bottom of his helm, unbeknownst to the Mordolorian as he leaned closer over the edge of the tower's smoking centre. Even with this latest slight, the destruction and desecration of their new home, he found himself denied battle. None of them would interfere in the fight between Otto and Kayle. While each and every one of them was a morally absent fiend, they possessed something of a warped sense of honour, at least as far as duels were concerned. His gloved right hand rested on the hilt of the saw toothed short sword sheathed on his right hip, forged in the choking foundries of Runnelsore Keep that blotted out the sky with chemical clouds, with a grip bound in strips of tanned man-hide. He gripped it tight enough to burst the weeping pustules on his knuckles, feeling the slick puss run down his fingers, making his digits sticky. The Eye itself must have sensed the wicked intentions in his sour murmuring heart, because the next moment the comm crackled with static in his ear, as his private comlink was accessed by the Iron Shrike overhead. Vitrius turned his fire blackened helm to the sky, observing the sulphur wreathed Arquitens as a familiar voice gurgled wetly in his ear.Commander Woves... Spoke Eidolon Skirata in Vitrius' ear slit, with a voice liked a bubbling cauldron. ...we've picked up two transports on approach. More gauntlets judging by the radar shadow, likely carrying troops, currently heading in our direction. Gather our forces and lead a tactical withdrawal into the mines.Blue veins spider webbing away from Vitrius' mechanical eyes pulsed as phantom memory wanted the cybernetic replacements to bulge in fury, though his artificial ocular implants were incapable of doing so. He snarled back at the bloated toad that served as the captain of the Iron Shrike in Otto's stead. Unlike the other Mordolorians that had replaced their decaying limbs and organs with the purity of cybernetics, Eidolon eschewed those enhancements and fully embraced whatever the darkside manifested disease was slowly transforming him into. The captain somewhat resembled a hutt with his fat rolls of diseased bloated flesh spilled over the arms of his command chair on the bridge. Virtrius had no problem letting Otto's second-in-command know how he felt about that order.Coward. He growled back into the mic. We should stand and fight! This is the war we've been waiting for. Why are we even here if not to kill our weak-blooded cousins?OH HO HO HO! This is only the opening skirmish, brother. The war hasn't even begun. Follow my orders and lead our forces into the mines. Those are your instructions. Then was a pause as Eidolon let out a wet rasping cough that spattered the technobeasts the toad-like captain used for crew with specks of yellow phlegm and diseased sputum. Those ships appear to be coming from the direction of Norg Bral. I will take the Shrike and see if I can divert their attention while you...retreat. Heh.That bloated bastard! Vitrius wanted to argue, but he knew the disgusting villain that served as Otto's second had a point. Their initial plan had relied on masking their intentions. With that currently foiled, they needed room to breath and reformulate their plan given these new factors. Acknowledged. He growled reluctantly in reply, activating his jetpack and taking to the air. All around the shattered tower, similar jet flares were witnessed as half the original fifty of their number now headed in the direction of the rumbling mountain that continued to belch dark acid clouds of heavy metals that poisoned the sky. The other twenty five remained buried in the rubble, dead or dying as their oxygen supply dwindled. Vitrius turned his head to observe Otto still fighting on the ground, sparks shooting from the trihelaxon fog as he clashed with his opponent. Turning his helmeted head away, Vitrius led his brothers towards the mouth of the mine carved into the black mountain's side by their small army of technobeasts.Meanwhile, the Iron Shrike's three engines glowed cobalt blue as they bled radioactive particulate, propelling the Arquintens-class command cruiser through the rising volcanic vapours as it began to accelerate in the direction of the approaching Kom'rk-class transports. Surprisingly, the transports themselves we're not actually the target of the fat bellied captain whose neckless face seemed to merge with his disgusting bloated mass. His slit pupils were focused on what lay beyond them, towards Norg Bral."Raise shields and prepare concussion tubes." Ordered the master of void-warfare, who now found himself in unfamiliar terrain within the confines of the planet's atmosphere, no more than a few hundred meters off the ground. "Divert auxiliary power to the engines. Full speed ahead!"
Sophisticated software originally written by his father and later modified by Otto updated the cult leader of his forces disposition as he continued to battle Kayle in one on one action. His comlink crackled with the same chatter the rest were receiving, though this along with the various black script runes that occupied the corners of his vision were all ignored. For the Mandalorian scientist there was only this fight, this sliver of time where he finally felt alive. His tumor encircled heart and the cybernetic aorta connected to it thumped hard in his chest, pumping filthy blood and chemicals through his withered veins, both natural and replaced."DIE! DIE! DIE!" His helmet continued to broadcast through strained speakers that crackled with audio distortion, his bestial shrieking lost over the sounds of their blades clashing back and forth. Completely lost to battle-madness, the bastard son and cult leader, had lost all sense of himself.The only thing that seemed to bring the hateful mechanical wraith of a man to his senses was when Grimharvest's vibrating tip rebounded off a conical plasma dome of coherent blue that sprang from the personal shield generator built into Kayle' left bracer, throwing the sinister scientist's arm wide and exposing his midsection as his opponents beskar blade swept in an cleaved through the prosthetic joint of his right knee in a shower of sheared metal and hissing sparks. Vile by design, he actually experienced pain from the blow, as the cyborg's wired nervous system delivered a phantom jolt in his malefic mind in the form of electrical current. That zap filled his exposed nostrils through the gash in his helmeted face with fumes of burnt ozone that overpowered the chemical soup his brain was swimming in. It was enough to bring him out of this malaise of bloodlust and lack of good sense.He had just lost his advantage of speed. In the half-second that followed the blow, his servomotors shifted his weight over onto his left leg, as the right sputtered sparks and foul lubricants that looked more like half congealed blue milk that had sat out in the twin suns of Tatooine for far too long. Calculating... The machine was back in charge, with the man taking the co-pilots seat in his own body, just as the exhaust nozzle of the jetpack on his back flared to life.As far as the computer in his suit was concerned, he needed to end this quickly or his story would be a short one. Even before the metal splinters from the axe blow scattered across the dirt at their feet, Otto's jetback thrusted him up and away, rapidly creating a few meters distance between them as his mechanical right arm released the chain in its grip at the apex of its swing, flinging the linked length of Sith iron in an attempt to lasso his opponent around the mid-section. If ensnared, he would use his currently thrusting jetpack to drag his foe across the debris strewn ground towards the broken towers remains.
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Harini Bralor
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Post by Harini Bralor on May 20, 2023 20:41:37 GMT -8
Kayle absently notes the blue fluid dripping from the blade of his axe as he hears the distinct sound of Otto's jetpack thrusters engaging, his instincts and training not permitting him to pursue the significance of the former detail as, instead, his gut dictates that he not give his opponent any quarter or opportunity to catch his breath and spurs him to activate his own jetpack so that, a fraction of a second after Otto clears the sickly green cloud of gas that had obscured their battle Kayle emerges from it as well. Rather than intimidating Kayle, Otto's broadcasted chant, DIE! DIE! DIE!, is co-opted into a mantra that Kayle uses to keep his mind cleared so that, much like Otto's armor takes charge of the cult leader's body, Kayle's fighting instincts, honed in battles fought on several worlds against many kinds of foes, guide his actions.
Throwing his right shoulder back while his left leans forward when he sees the length of chain descending towards him as it is released from Otto's right arm, Kayle deftly yet narrowly eludes the attempt to lasso his torso with the midair turn while still ascending towards his foe. The turn having brought him onto Otto's right side, Kayle swings his axe out swiftly and powerfully on a course for his foe's arm, aiming for the typically unarmored space between the vambrace and pauldron in an effort to cripple, if not sever the limb entirely.
Two minutes, thirty seconds out from Norgal-dûr
Conaodh, without looking away from his sensor screens, tells Harini in Mando'a, The enemy cruiser just came within sensor range. Looks like a light cruiser from the size. Huh, he chuckles more in surprise than amusement, they're, uh, actually heading right for us.
Harini arches an eyebrow beneath her buy'ce as she raises the Kom'rk's shields, quipping dryly, Convenient. Saves us the trouble of chasing them down. Opening an encrypted comm channel to the second Kom'rk, Harini tells the pilot, Ksenia Itera, Have Niall and his troops drop and head for the tower once we're just outside of weapons range of the enemy cruiser.
Ksenia, sounding slightly perplexed given the plan had been to have both Kom'rk's troop complements drop and head for the tower while they engaged the enemy cruiser in their Kom'rk's , asks, What about your Buir's group?
Harini, smiling predatorily beneath her buy'ce, enigmatically explains only, I have an idea of how they might be more useful, then opens a comm channel to her adopted father, Zdzislaw, and asks him, Remember that light cruiser we took on over Rendili? After her buir laughs affirmatively in response in a way that lets her know that he knows what she is thinking, Harini tells him, I'll let you know when we're in position, and then returns her attention fully to piloting to Kom'rk as they steadily close the distance between them and the enemy vessel heading towards them.
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Otto Von Bralor
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Post by Otto Von Bralor on May 26, 2023 8:27:59 GMT -8
A mid-air ballet took place in front of the broken tower of Norgal-dûr as jetpack flares produced contrails of oily smoke while Otto engaged his opponent, both ascending into the sulphur stained sky choked by slowly descending dust from the dread fort's destruction and heavy metal laden clouds produced by the belching black mountain. It was almost beautiful, in a deadly sort of way, were it not all so stained by the ill intentions of Otto's disease addled mind. He jerked back his chain as it missed, dragging the conical shaped Sith iron head on the other end after him, to create a rising curtain of luminous green dragons-breath, further adding to the sinister picture he presented. Metal shrieked again as a secondary jolt of stabbing pain cooked his cerebral lobe when Kale's axe bit into mechanical flesh for a second time. The angry bite of the beskar axe's cleaving blade snuggly wedged itself into the metallic meat of the Mordolorian cyborg's mechanical right arm just below the shoulder. Correctly predicted, that part of his arm was indeed unarmored for need of the joints flexibility, though his opponent would find the artificial limb gave ground less easily than one of cursed organic nature. It sank all the way down to the titanium skeleton, wedging into what served effectively as metallic bone.As the battle fog fizzled from his view by the electrical jolt sizzling his synapses, Otto's organic left hand let go of the handle of his wickedly singing vibro-sickle, barely heard over the roar of their raging jetpacks. His hand dropped to his belt, plucking a metallic pin from one of the radiation grenades strung across his waist, initiating the two second countdown to a flaring green blast of intense heat and Geiger-ticking radioactive particulate.One... Two... Ka-Boom!
Appearing more mucous slathered hutt than the obvious human he had been a decade earlier, Eidolon seemed to stew in his own oozing juices as he squirmed in the command throne of the Shrike, causing several of the filthy pustules upon his sore covered back to pop in a symphony of vomitus white pus. Unlike Vitrius, or even Otto for that matter, Captain Skirata did not view their affliction as a curse the same way his fellow Mordolorians did. He had spent his time on Xeraxus acclimatizing himself to the changes wrought onto his mutating body, even encouraging the tumorous growths while under the ministrations of the Plague Bearers beneath Mt. Offalrot. While his body had become blunted and soft like a bag of rotten slime, his devious mind had become as sharp as a fileting knife. Flies scattered from his swollen lips as he dragged his bloated tongue over his drooping jowls, leaving a layer of filth upon his fat chin in the process.Eidolon needed no tactical display to picture the fight ahead in his fiendish brain. He closed his bulbously large eyes, drawing in a deep breath of the pestilent air that circulated throughout the ship, harvested from the plagued colony they called home before departing for the land of their forefathers. The toxic fug brought him a sense of clarity and dispelled all worries, as those dark currents whispered all manner of evil promises into the rotten hole where his ear used to be. His eyes opened with a wet squelch as the seam of scum formed around his pox scarred lids made them difficult to open once closed."Load discord missiles and prepare a target lock on those approaching ships." His mucous-mired lungs gurgled wetly. "Activate the Shadow Droids in the hangar. We'll wait until their first pass before setting them loose." His bloated belly shook at a deep disgusting chortle sounded from within the toad-captain's bile-filled stomach. "OH HO HO HO!"Four hundred feet off the lush surface of Mandalore below, the Arquitens cast a dark shadow over the landscape as its three powerful engines continued to accelerate, bleeding a trail of foul vapours as it picked up speed. With its deflector shields engaged, the wind resistance was minimized. Inside the near-malefic vessel, the Shrike's screaming converted reactor which had been taken from a rakatan derelict out beyond the borders of civilized space, crackled with blinding flashes of sinister green lightning. The large engine cones at the back of the command cruiser began to glow orange as the intense heat being funneled through them caused the edges of each cone to fray, dripping drops of super-heated metal that set fire to the vegetation below.One and half minutes to the approaching Kom'rks...
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Harini Bralor
The Mandalorian Assembly
Posts: 165
Affiliation: The Mando'ade
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Harini Bralor on May 26, 2023 23:09:53 GMT -8
Norgal-dûr
Kayle feels his axe sink into Otto's arm and lodge firmly into the metal serving as bone beneath the mechanical flesh, wasting the few seconds he does not know are remaining in his life attempting to pull the beskar axe free and then, when it stubbornly remains in place, deactivating his shield and beginning to dart the kal in his left hand forward for Otto's throat.
Before Kayle's kal finds its target, the grenade Otto pulled the pin from explodes, the resultant blast wave sending Kayle sailing back away from his foe, his jet pack sputtering and then failing, bringing him into an uncontrolled fall to the ground. The beskar plates covering his chest and his buy'ce afford Kayle some protection from the blast, but the shock wave still causes him to suffer bilateral hemothoraces, ruptured eardrums and an acute subdural hematoma over his right temporoparietal region. Tiny bits of irradiated shrapnel from the grenade casing tear through his flight suit in three places, exposing him to both radiation and the deadly trihexalon, but Kayle's death is perhaps more merciful than either the gas or radiation would offer him; the damage to his lungs leading to respiratory arrest that ends his life even before his body hits the ground.
One minute out from Norgal-dûr
Opening the encrypted comm channel Clan Bralor has dedicated to use in combat situations, Ksenia tells Niall in Mando'a, ::We've reached the insertion point, opening drop doors now. Good hunting.::
Once the Kom'rk-class transport, the Kaden Senaar's drop doors open, Niall and the twenty Mandalorians accompanying him fall into the air, their jetpacks flaring to life seconds later as they begin their aerial advance on towards the tower where Kayle and Cian have now both fallen. Niall, a forty year old human armored in beige hued beskar'gam and armed, as the majority of Clan Bralor's warriors are, with an A280-CFE blaster and a KD-390 slugthrower, briefly ascends through the air to fly alongside the Kom'rk's cockpit, giving Ksenia a salute before peeling off and angling his body down to lead his comrades into whatever awaits them at the tower.
Conaodh, serving as co-pilot for the second Kom'rk, the Abiik Marev, shifts in his seat anxiously as he watches the sensor readouts and clears his uncomfortably dry throat before announcing, ::We should have visual in under thirty seconds now. Shields are up, missile tubes and laser cannons are hot.::
Harini, adjusting their heading to approach the Iron Shrike on a course that will initially take them along the starboard side of the enemy vessel for their first pass, simply nods, her gloved fingers flexing on the control yoke as she watches the HUD's threat indicator and mentally prepares herself for the task ahead.
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Otto Von Bralor
Member
That which we cannot destroy, we will defile.
Posts: 23
Affiliation: Formerly of the Eye
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Post by Otto Von Bralor on May 29, 2023 13:10:48 GMT -8
When the radiation grenade affixed to Otto's waist went off, his whole world transformed into agonizing green flame and intense searing pain, the resulting blast cooking his armour and the diseased meat within it. His smoking form was hurled from the shrinking motte of sinister green light, falling from the expanding grey cloud of radioactive particulate scattered in its wake. Half protective suit, half life-support system, his armour was remarkably well suited for the rigour it was currently being put through. The lead-polymer substrate protected him from the worst of the radiation, though the initial expulsion of intense infrared radiation was enough to blister the outer shell and not-so-cleanly sear its way through his lower half. As he fell towards the debris strewn ground where tower's upper half had crumbled around the bottom that thrust up from the ground like a broken sword blade, his figure seemed to split into two halves. A pair of battle damaged cybernetic legs attached to a half melted metal waist still glowing orange with heat struck the pile of twisted metal and shattered stonework, tumbling to the dust choked dirt. The upper half of Otto's body struck the tower itself, clipping a crumbling wall before crashing into the ruinous slope of collapsed tower as it rolled to a stop on the ground below.Runtime Error...
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Major systems malfunction...
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Standby...
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Rebooting...
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...His entire world was agony. Then again, had it ever been different? Even before the events of Xeraxus where the Reaper Prime broke his covenant with the Order of the Eye and those under his command were summarily punished for those transgressions with a horrendous darkside manifested plague that continued to slowly kill them to this day, he had only ever known suffering. Pzob had never been a kind place, even to a child of one of the Order's evil generals. The beatings from his father had been the least of it. Say what you will about the mental stability of those malevolent Eye worshippers, they excelled at the art of torture, coming up with new inventive ways to induce pain in their victims. Unlike other groups that allowed torture, there never had seemed to be a point to the sadism of those fiendish ghouls, who pursued their debaucherous ministrations for nothing more than their own depraved amusement. He remembered one of the jaundiced eyed freaks taking a serrated toothed dagger to his 'beskad' after he had been caught by Lord Kaan rutting in his private chambers with one of the hannite priestesses. His bloodline ended with him that day, never to be continued through natural means. To think, that had happened before the rot took his lower half.Black gauntlets gripped the side of his smoking helm, struggling to pop the latches that held it in place. "Otto!" A disembodied voice yelled at him, as radiation laced smoke filled his scarred lungs and exposed bleeding nostrils, staining the wet gash where his nose should be grey with poisonous particles. There had never been a doubt in his mind that following Belisarius was the right choice, not at first anyways. Even after they had been infected and their bodies began to degenerate and decay, he had believed full heartedly that his childhood friend and closest confidant would find a cure and set them on a path to prosperity and glory. It was only after the events of Obroa-Skai that he began to question the Reaper's wisdom. The cure, as it was called, was not so very different from the disease that was already killing them. Where the Famine Lord's curse caused their fluids to congeal and their flesh to transform into a leprous rot, the cure promised to eat all that remained, replacing it with synthetic purity. Assuming the half-machine/half-cybernetic slaves could truly be described as such. They had all been infected with a lesser variant of the nanogene spore that had been improved upon by the Reaper after studying the archives of Obroa-Skai's galaxy famous database. The successor variant, the Reaper Prime had promised, would allow its victims to retain their individual autonomy. It had also never been tested."What...are...you..." The Mordolorian scientist's natural left arm pathetically came up to fight the hands pulling at his helmet, prying it from his ruined face. His fingers were swatted away by a stronger hand, revealed as Vitrius Woves who had watched him fall from the mouth of the mines. While the commander had not been willing to intervene in the duel, he had stayed long enough to watch it end in a bright eruption of sickly green light and dirty rads. A dyed crimson plume of bothan hair protruding from the crown of his wrought black helm marked his position, allowing the slowly expiring cyborg to easily identify him as his milky eyes strained as they became exposed to natural daylight. Otto had always been ugly, but the creature revealed when Commander Woves pulled off his helmet was something else entirely. The scalding smoke had blistered the remaining scar tissue on his face, causing the skin to droop and melt like wax. The cult leader coughed up a foul smelling sputum of oil and blood, flecking Vitrius' T-visor as his fellow Mordolorian appeared to be searching through his med-kit. "Let me...die, Vitrius."Otto turned his head, fixing his cataract crusted orbs towards the horizon. Even with his ruined vision, he swore he could just make out the sinister shadow of the Iron Shrike. He had led his people to the promise land. It would be enough. Finally he could rest and know an end to this constant pain. More so, he had died in battle against a worthy opponent. "I will...die, a Mandalorian." He coughed up more blood and black tissue, his ruined lips twisting into a satisfied grin that displayed the few yellow teeth he had left in those rot blackened gums, exhaling smoke that stank of burning wires from his sparking waist that had been bisected by the explosion. He was so tired. He just wanted to sleep."You won't die at all." Replied Vitrius coldly, finally wrapping his gloved hand around a sealed vial that he slid into a medical auto-injector.Rolling his head the other way, which took nearly the totality of the strength he had left in his dying body, Otto turned to see what his subordinate was doing. His lidless eyes bulged in their ichor weeping sockets as he saw the vial of nanogene spore inserted in the syringe-gun, the commander's finger resting against the trigger. "No..." He started, attempting to swat at the other in vain, lacking the strength now to lift his only remaining flesh and blood limb to defend himself. "Stop!" He squirmed on the debris pile, his actions limited by a lack of a lower half and an unwillingness in his cybernetic parts to comply. Vitrius pinned him to the ground, placing the razor tip of the auto-injector against Otto's still smoking neck. "Let me die! I don't want..." Click! And it was already too late. When Commander Woves pulled the trigger, the medical device injected the vial of nanogene spore directly into the Mandalorian scientist's remaining circulatory system, infecting him with the vir...I mean, the cure."Take him." Ordered Woves to two Mordolorians that had followed him to their leader's dying side, his voice emotionless and cold as a machines. Otto shrieked on the ground, screaming as microscopic nano-bots devoured his insides and began the painful process of transforming him into a techno-beast. Rumour had it the inhumane cry that left his lips in the following moments could be heard clear across Mandalore, though perhaps that was a bit of an embellishment. The two black armoured Mordolorians didn't risk touching the changing scientist as his legless torso writhed and thrashed. Instead they fired their whipcords at him, snagging his remaining half before igniting their jetpacks and dragging the shrieking cyborg towards the mines.Vitrius watched them go before turning his head towards the swarm of flaring lights speckling the sky darkened by clouds of smoke and ash. A metallic scrape sounded as he drew his saw-toothed short sword from its scabbard on his right hip. He held the man-hide grip in his right gauntlet, kissing the blasphemous blade against his helmet before lowering it to his side. His left hand grasped the handle of his well oiled SE-14r light repeating blaster, the same service weapon he had been given back when he was still a loyal servant of the Eye. Despite the horrendous withering sickness that decayed more than just their flesh, he had always kept the side-arm in good condition, even when everything else around him descended into disease ridden filth. Sword in one hand and blaster in the other, Commander Vitrius Woves looked every bit the Mandalorian warrior he considered himself to be inside, even if beneath that facade of black plate he was as horribly devolved as the rest of his cursed brethren. So it was somewhat fitting that a small force of twisted technological degenerates emerged from the mouth of the mines, marching past a shrieking Otto as the virus continued to devour what little flesh of his remained. There were fifty of these techno-beasts, each falling in line with the standard template, with wrists that ended in blades and bodies conjured straight from a madman's nightmares.With Otto down for the count, it was up to Vitrius and Eidolon to buy enough time for their forces to fully retreat into the mines, then seal the way behind them. Admittedly, the Commander would have preferred to have more of his brothers present when facing down the approaching strike team, but he understood the necessity here. It didn't change the fact that it was still a suicide mission."Conceal yourselves in the debris." He snarled coldly at the degenerate cyborg freaks, before raising the blaster pistol in his left hand. The technobeasts, these smaller variants anyways, lacked true ranged weaponry. It made them poorly suited to taking on a force of gun-slinging commandos attacking from the sky. But if Vitrius could bate them into coming close enough for a blade... Pew-Pew! Well out of range for personal arms, he began taking lackadaisical shots in the direction of the descending swarm of Mandalorians, standing atop the debris pile next to the shattered tower as the fifty technobeasts that had marched out to support him began to bury themselves amongst the detritus. He squeezed the trigger every few seconds to let his foes know he was waiting for them.
"FIRE!" Roared Eidolon's froggy throat, raining spit and mucus onto the techno-beast drones serving in place of bridge-slaves. Two expanding plumes of smoke belched from the Iron Shrike's forward missile tubes as a discord missile erupted from both warhead launchers. One streaked towards the Kaden Senaar, the other did much the same as it raced towards the Abiik Marev, though that the second was soon forced into a wide looping turn as the faster Kom'rk zoomed past the Arquiten's starboard side. The missile had a short shelf life but would continue to pursue for the next few seconds until it did its job, was intercepted, or ran out of fuel. Whichever came first. The quad laser batteries attempted to track and follow, but they were mostly spewing emerald green bolts of deadly laser at the vapor trail in the much more nimble and quicker transport's wake. As for the much smaller swarm of Mandalorians, they were too small to target with any of its weapons, thus left alone for the time being.
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Harini Bralor
The Mandalorian Assembly
Posts: 165
Affiliation: The Mando'ade
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Harini Bralor on May 30, 2023 5:59:41 GMT -8
Norgal-dûr
At the lead of the airborne Mandalorians, flying in a semi-circular formation as they rocket towards the ruins of the tower, Niall Bralor lowers his external targeting rangefinder over his buy'ce's T-shaped macrobinocular viewplate when some di'kut starts taking potshots at them while they are well out of range, sounding more amused than concerned as he says in Mando'a over Clan Bralor's encrypted comm channel, ::Haa'taylir guuror kaysh copad cuun Ke'sush'.:: *
Abiageal Carid of House Bralor, a 28 year old female of Lorrdian descent armored in red and black beskar'gam, replies cooly, ::Ni sirbur vi dinuir bic at kaysh.:: **
Dzyun'spitak Spar of House Bralor, a 33 year old human female armored in blue, red and yellow beskar'gam, after looking more closely at the readouts from her buy'ce's sensors, says in Mando'a, ::He isn't alone. I have multiple additional lifeforms. No visual though, and the readouts are . . . odd though, part human and part droid.::
Mynah Ha'rangir of House Bralor, a 24 year old female of Chalactan ancestry armored in green and beige, points out in Mando'a, ::Cian said something about droids, right? Could be them concealed in the rubble.::
Niall, signaling for the formation to pull up and hover now that they are in weapons range, decides that it would be best to take no chances and says, ::Lenedat ibac an veeray, then waves his right hand down towards the lone armored warrior amidst the rubble below while targeting him with the MM-9 rocket system in his right gantlet as he orders the Mandalorians with him, Nau bic laam!:: ***
As Niall, after juking to his right to elude a blaster bolt coming his way, fires a type-12 A anti-personnel rocket at the lone visible enemy, the 20 Mandalorians with him open fire on the rubble strewn general vicinity of the armored figure below; 6 of the Mandalorians, like Niall, send anti-personal rockets from MM-9 rocket systems onto the target area, 6 spray the area liberally with blaster bolts from their A280 blaster rifles, 4 armed with Z-6 rotary blaster cannons rain down 166 blaster bolts per second towards the visible enemy and the area around him, 3 that prefer the DC-15A blaster rifle to the A280 use their weapons to add to the firestorm, and 1 prone to overkill fires the anti-vehicle homing missile from his Z-6 jetpack right towards their only visible foe.
The Kaden Senaar
Ksenia, after dropping Niall and his comrades off, brings her Kom'rk up and back on course to make their first pass against the Arquitens rapidly approaching. The fighter's threat indicator warbles a warning alerting them to the single missile streaking towards them, and Ksenia calmly tells her co-pilot, Tadhg Bralor, ::Missile. Get it with the forward laser cannons.::
Tadgh, feeling a hint of déjà vu elicited by having been in the co-pilot's seat when he and Conaodh had seen action on Obroa-Skai that is flavored with a tinge of apprehension given that they were shot down during said action, sights in on the missile streaking towards them and, though he does his best to hit it while giving voice to a string of muttered and increasingly creative curses, ultimately fails, allowing the rocket to get near enough to hatch its 7 buzz droids.
Ksenia, shaking her head as she sees the first of the buzz droids, the heat dissipating alloy of their outer shells permitting them to pass through the Kom'rk's shields, pop open and use their magnetic legs to attach themselves to the fighter's wing and start using their circular saws and drilling cutters to begin tearing it apart, says sarcastically, ::Nice work. You're going, she tells Tadgh as she banks and dives to avoid an emerald green bolt of laser fire, to have to go get those things off us before they rip us to pieces.::
Tadgh, continuing to utter curses steadily. leaves the co-pilot's seat and, barely a moment later after having dropped from the troop bay and activating his jet pack, fires his grapple line to fix himself to the rear of the Kom'rk as he fires a well aimed shot from his KD-30 slugthrower at the first of the seven Pistoeka sabotage droids once his winch has pulled him within the fighter's shields, rewarded with a satisfying tiny explosion. ::One down, Tadgh says in between curses as he sights in on another buzz droid that looks like it is extending a probe that he probably doesn't want to allow to get where it is going and fires a second shot that sends the droid to join its buddy in droid heaven. And that's two.::
The Abiik Marev
Harini and Conaodh fare better against their missile, Conaodh managing to take it out with a heat seeking missile fired quickly enough to intercept and destroy the rocket and its deadly cargo. Their shields are dropped to 75%, however, when Harini raises the nose of the Kom'rk and banks hard to port after, once they are on the Arquitens' starboard side, they pass the vessel's forward spars and are hit by a spattering of laser fire from the two turret-mounted quad light turbolasers in front of its command tower.
As the Kom'rk passes over the Arquitens' command tower, Harini opens the troop bay doors so that Zdzislaw and the twenty Mandalorians accompanying him drop from the bay, their jetpacks flaring to life as they fall towards the stern of the enemy vessel.
Moment of truth, Zdislaw thinks as he and his comrades fire their grapple lines towards the rear of the Arquitens' command tower. Given that most ship shields only stop energy projectiles and missiles - ray shields scattering or deflecting energy, while particle shields diffuse impacts from high-velocity projectiles like missiles and proton weapons - the much slower moving grapple lines should be able to easily pass through to the command tower and allow Zdislaw and his fellow Mandalorians to winch themselves in through the shields so that they can ascend the tower and board the enemy ship. If, however, the Arquitens also has concussion shields - which repel space debris and other solid objects- and fortuitously also has them oriented just so given they typically need to be moved into position, Zdzislaw and his comrades will, naturally, be forced to adjust their plan if their grapples are repelled.
As Zdzislaw and the other airborne Mando'ade drop from the troop bay, Harini continues speeding along above the stern of the Arquitens while weaving and dodging expertly to evade any enemy fire that comes their way, Conaodh gleefully sending laser fire from the Kom'rk's forward laser cannons and the occasional missile at the ship, continuing to use the rear laser cannons to fire on its engines briefly before Harini banks and begins turning the fighter around to make another pass at the enemy ship.
* Looks like someone wants our attention
** I say we give it to him
*** Target that whole area . . . Light it up!
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Otto Von Bralor
Member
That which we cannot destroy, we will defile.
Posts: 23
Affiliation: Formerly of the Eye
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Otto Von Bralor on May 31, 2023 7:24:53 GMT -8
Five years ago... Location: Unknown Regions | Xeraxus (former Rakatan Colonoy) | Boiling Marshes of Sulphuria Metal clangs accompanied by shrieking showers of sparks sounded across the cracked sunburnt planes of Sulphuria as two Mordolorians exchanged hammering blows, the screaming orange sickle blade of Grimharvest deflected off the saw-toothed edge of Lepur's Kiss. Vitrius had just received the cursed blade from Lord Poxus of the Plague Reavers, freshly forged from the foundries beneath Runnelsore Keep, the home of that prestigious order of diseased knights. It hummed in his grip, whispering foul promises in his mind, encouraging him to take this friendly duel to the next level. The pace of his strikes increased, putting Otto Von Bralor on the backfoot as the scientist was forced to give ground in the face of the Commander's assault. With their T-visored helmets removed, Vitrius Woves could taste the rads in the air, leaving an itching metallic tang on his shriveled tongue. A pea green mucus mired froth seeped from the corners of his lips as his breaths became ragged, his renewed effort quickly sapping what strength he had left."When?" He demanded of his spidery leader, his sword strikes slowing while his lithe cadmium green opponent only seemed to quicken, enhanced by a new set of cybernetic legs. Now Vitrius was forced to give ground, back peddling several steps as the screaming sickle's razor edge whipped dangerously close to his exposed sore covered face."Soon, brother." Replied the nasally toned cult leader, his own face already hideously disfigured by their shared condition, waxy and scarred. Pustules pulsated on Otto's neck, weeping a pungent smelling milky substance down his chest plate. He struck hard, knocking Vitrius blade arm wide before slipping a slender leg around his opponent's stance and driving his shoulder into the commander's chest. The other went down hard, falling onto the salted ground that threatened to steal the moisture from their plague ridden flesh. The fiendish weaponsmith stood over Vitrius, a smug look of satisfaction splitting his bleeding gums, exposing his poor dentil hygiene. "The Reaper Prime is close to finding a cure for our condition. You must have faith, Vitrius." Lowering his sickle, he offered Commander Woves his other hand.Grasping the offered mitt, Vitrius climbed back to his feet, picking up his short sword in the process, which he slid back into its sheath of blue tinged nagai flesh. He placed his hands on his hips and shook his head, looking out across the boiling marshes to the rising filthy brown smudge on the horizon, Mt. Offalrot appearing through the acidic vapors rising from the sulphur belching sinkholes in the near distance. "We will be dead from this disease by then." His blue eyes met Otto's sightless gaze, peering into those cataract crusted orbs of off-white. "Faith has always been the problem. First the Eye, now this self proclaimed Plague Lord. I am a warrior, Otto. I want to die with a sword in my hand." "You will, Vitrius. I promise."
The present... Beneath the crimson crested helm of dour black, Vitrius' long since yellowed eyes closed, as his arms lowered down to his sides in the face of the coming firestorm. His armour, built for war of the brutalist sort, weathered that storm as well as could be expected. The faster bolts of energized blaster gas reaching him first, striking across the expanse of his fire blackened plate. As though assaulted by a swarm of swift stinging insects, his body seemed to rattle and shake beneath the onslaught from his place atop the debris pile, standing proud in the shadow of the shattered tower. He could smell the stench of his own burning flesh through the scorched seams of his environment suit beneath the hardened plate, which had turned orange with heat from the screaming shower of bolts, fusing painfully to his rotten flesh as the leprous skin beneath it melted. His blaster was struck from his hand, several of his fingers now little more than scorched stumps.Then the rockets hit. Not directly, but close enough to disrupt the hill of debris and blast Commander Woves from its summit. Stone and twisted steel work scattered in all directions and Vitrius fell with it, first thrown to the ground by the explosion that had erupted at his feet, then carried by the descending rockslide. The pained scream that escaped his strained throat next was a match for the explosion in shear pitch, as the commander's broken body slid to the bottom of the slope, his lower half trapped beneath a massive piece of brickwork that had rolled on top of it. His legs trapped while the rest of him remained face down, he tried to push himself up, only to feel his freshly crisped flesh tearing as he moved. The pain was indescribable. As he briefly lifted his head, he could see his saw-toothed short sword had fallen close to him. He reached for Lepur's Kiss with his right hand, pox scarred fingers now revealed as the suit covering them was now congealed plastic fused to his skin. His sword was a foot beyond his grasp, just out of reach.But...you promised. In that moment, he thought he could just make out the inhuman cry of the monster he had helped birth begin to undergo whatever transformation the Reaper Prime's cure promised. It brought a wry grimace to his agonized face. Otto had promised a cure. Now let him prove it. Vitrius' only regret was that he hadn't saved enough for himself. He lay there, smoking, waiting for the end.Around him, however, the pile of debris was beginning to move. The unusual readings the strike team from Norg Bral had picked up was beginning to make itself visible to their scopes. Nightmarish amalgamations of cables and metal mingled with corpse grey flesh and exposed organs that were threaded with wires and covered in durasteel plate rose out of the crunching smoke wreathed gravel. These half mechanical zombies emerged from their places of concealment, howling binary curses and ghastly moans as they poured out of the ruins, numb to pain and programmed for obedience. They clawed at the air, reaching to the sky as the flying formation of Mandalorians neared, well out of reach of their warped hands that ended in a uniform pair of blades. The menacing left blade jutting from the hordes left wrists was a snarling vibro-saw with revving teeth, while the right was a scoop shaped entrenching tool with a bladed edge. Fully revealed, some of the enslaved techobeasts began hurling stones at the heroes in the sky, using their scoop-like right hand as shovels.
From his slimed soaked throne on the bridge of the Shrike, Eidolon croaked in fury as his large bulbous eyes watched the live feed, glaring hatefully at the exterior display presented on the main screen. There attached to his bridge tower, almost as if they were staring at the back of his bloated neck, were twenty-one Mandalorians that had effectively grappled onto his ship. He could already see the lines of their whipcords shorten as they winded up, pulling his enemies closer to his domain.There was little that could be done, at least by the Arquitens itself. Its weapons would have proved effective against a starfighter or small capital vessel, but targeting something as tiny as a person was frankly out of the question. Wait a second, of course! The shadow droids.Fat pudgy fingers punched a sequence of buttons on the arm of Captain Skirata's command chair, releasing the remaining stores of toxic vapours into the air vents. A luminous green fog rolled through the blighted corridors of the ship, shrouding the mindless mutant cyborgs that served as its skeleton crew in blessed trihexalon. The same nasty green curtain began to pour from the duct grills of the bridge, bathing the pestilent toad at its center in the eerie luminescent mist.OH HO HO HO! Came another croaking laugh over the Shrike's PA system. Launch fighters and prepare to repel boarders. Glowing red photo-receptors flickered as the technobeast crew paused in their labours long enough to crane their creaking heads towards the speakers mounted on the wall, listening to the decree of the captain. With the order given, they began to march through the green mist towards the command bridge, a groaning hoard shrouded in poison. The corridor halls they traveled through shook as the Abiik Marev zoomed past again, striking the deflector shields with a concussion missile and follow-up barrage of laser fire. The shields wilted, flickering as they struggled to recharge, with most of the available power still diverted to the engines. In return, its quad laser batteries continued to spit envenomed green globs of energized blaster gas, filling the sky with deadly emerald lances of light.That was when two dark metal moths spewed from its hangar, trailing green vapours as their repulsorlift systems sent them hurtling ahead of the Shrike, hot on the tail of the Abiik Marev as it past, briefly taking down the shields with its latest strike, only to have them sputter back to life seconds later as the rakatan power core serving as the heart of the foul vessel continued to cling to operation.0100 1100 0111 1010 1001 0110! All public communication frequencies filled with screeches of rabid binary as the lobotomized brains encased in a cocoon of nutrient fluids vented their cybernetic fury. These were Shadow Droids, of the same ilk as the ones that had been witnessed during the attack on Obroa-Skai, there could be little doubt to whom they belonged. One of the two droid-fighters gleaming red lens glared after the streaking Abiik Marev, and throttled after it, quickly making its presence felt as its electromagnetic pulse gun fired crackling forks of lightning towards the Kom'rk's tail.As the Kaden Senaar was currently dealing with the less than friendly robots on its sleekly designed hull, the second Shadow Droid kept pace with the Shrike only long enough to drop beneath it as it passed, then rise up behind it. It emerged from the dirty brown trail of smoke and exhaust bleeding off the Arquiten's engine cones, awash in ions as it ascended towards the Mandalorians sky-surfing from cables affixed to the command tower. Its red lens flared brightly as it emerged behind them, moments away from opening fire with the repeating blaster cannon attached to its upper left wing tip. |
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