Mandalore's Open Terrain

A emotionless bureaucratic voice send back the coordinates to one of the upper levels launch bay, one that openned directly into the major artery in the city, leading up to the royal palace, the facade towering over the surrounding buildings and estructures. An Imperial Star Destroyer loomed over the dome, docked externally to the city itself. Fighters and beasts of war crossed the skies and patrolled the surrounding area. Soldiers wearing the livery of House Kryze, an owl, allowed the landspeeder entrance, after inspecting its credentials. Jet troopers escorted the vehicle through the city, as populous as ever, flying by its side, faceless behind the helmets with heraldic designs. There were men in armor and wielding staffs and rifles guarding the palatine residence of the city's lord. The gates slid open and a man in slender figure stepped forward, clad in an ellaborate robe, gold and black, by his side were several kinsmen and kinswoman, alongside retainers and servants. The golden hair was combed backwards, carefully trimmed, while the shaved face was marked by a cynic scowl.

"It's Mandalor! To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?"

He said, ironically, and dry, without any simpathy, a cruel smile on his thin lips. The sun, filtered by the transparent steel dome and the many layers of glass, felt palid and weak, but still the city and the palace were vividly illuminated, albeit coldly. The whole city, geometric and cubic, looked statuesque and bereft of any heat. It was splendid, yes, but everything was planned and organized within the walls, nothing was left to chance.

"Sundari welcomes the elected ruler of the assembly"

"Brother"

Said Kryze, his chin up.

"I would hear it, you may pass inside. And the virtues of my palaces aren't owed to me, but to previous generations"

He turned heels and both the Mandalor and the Kryze head clan entered the palace that once belonged to Satine, the duchess of Mandalore. Tor took a seat on the high carved throne, leaning on one elbow.

"My passion is my strenght. I see only weakness in holding it back. The righteous fury of a warrior should not be supressed"

The warriors with the owl sigil lined the transparent walls. He looked to a side, pensive, before looking back to Dral. His bright blue eyes were cold, like a shark's.

"You may have the templates to produce them. But under the only condition that only men and women of Sundari might be employed on their build. Our own tech. This will create employ and give pride to our sharpest minds"

Kryze pitter-patters his fingers on the throne's arm.

"They better don't refuse it. Sundari might very well produce them on its own..."

If they get a contract by one of the leaders of the MDC... namely, myself.

"I accept your offer. After all, I waste myself and my... ample set of skills, as you very well said, in pointless border conflicts and raids beyond our space"

He smiled, but it was a cold smile full of teeth.

"I shall serve, but I have to wield sufficient authority, I'm not a mere lackey"

To say that Kaine was in a foul mood was an understatement, he'd been briefed on the information coming out of the Deep Core, and then before he'd had a chance to digest the details and process them, word had come of an attack on the RV point. By the shabla Yuuzhan Vong. The old enemy.

The old boar made his way down the back streets of Keldabe, drunk, but doing his best to remain upright and mobile.

He'd ensured that word had been spread to the rest of those going on the Byss operation, they deserved to know what they were getting into. "There will be no private Vong hunts, no avenging the Alor's honour." He had told them all. They were going to do a job, and the makeup of the enemy didn't change what they had to do.

Kaine himself made few changes and adjustments, except to order the forces currently engaged to secure intact any Yuuzhan Vong or their biotechnology as was possible.

While he walked, his HUD ran through in front of him more than a few requests from the Captains General who were all going on the mission. He could safely ignore all the requests to be assigned to priority Vong hunts. Those for specialized kit and equipment, he gave more attention to.

Appropriately, all the 6th wanted was extra ammunition. Kaine gave silent thanks to Kad for Captain-General Bronzi. A simple man with simple tastes, who made war like it was a challenge to the war deity himself. Approved. The 2nd and 9th requested additional shield generators and heavy weapons. Likewise approved. Riva Shiel wanted some things he'd never heard of, and he decided, probably couldn't get hold of in time. Unable to approve, he sent back, regretfully. Lastwise, the request, and by far the lengthiest, was from the 7th. Marbo hadn't bothered couching his request in prose, and had just send a list, a very long list of kit.

Even the experienced Kaine took a moment to wonder at the scale and variety of the kit to which the 7th had made request. Mines, explosives, lasers, more mounted weaponry, more droids, flechette weapons, even a stock of lightknives. He thought back to his own battles with the Yuuzhan Vong, and decided there was no such thing as too much dakka. Approved. After finishing the list, Kaine did a quick calculation and estimated that each of the 7th would be lugging hundreds of kilograms of kit into combat. They were not going in unprepared.

Lastly, Kaine saw to his own kit, those of the Jare'rami'kade all pre-approved to requsition anything they set their hearts upon. They were an expensive unit to outfit, but they were always well worth the credits. His own armour was well prepared, restored to full functionality. He'd packed in his sidearms, his blades, and his rifle. His Field Marshal's baton was now a regular part of his kit, and he'd carry that into battle.

Once more, unto the breach.

As the Endowed Hawkbat streaked across the lush terrain of the planet, Otto stared through the black T-visor lens of his cadmium green helmet, focusing his attention on what he could see with the naked eye through the cockpit window. His pilot droid, RX-66, managed the controls while the Mandalorian scientist operated the sensors. Inside his sickly green helmet, which was comprised of a stygian-triprismatic and lead-polymer substrate, cracked and bleeding lips twisted into a knowing sneer, exposing a scant scattering of yellow teeth set into rotten gums. The cursed weaponsmith's body was wracked by a full bodied convulsion as he let out a wet cough, feeling something loose rattle around inside his diseased chest. Tubes connected to his helmet continued to pump a steady mixture of narcotic chems and poisonous air from the rakatan colony of Xeraxus into his plague scarred lungs. He breathed in the highly toxic chemical concoction and instantly felt relief from the pain that spread to every corner of his nervous system.

"There." He gurgled wetly, pointing a gloved finger at a rocky protrusion in the earth that rose over a dark forest. RX manipulated the steering yoke with is manipulator arm, sending the freighter into a wide loop around what appeared to be a mountain standing sentinel over a sprawling garden of veshok trees that seemed to expand from the base of the elevated range of exposed glimmering minerals and rock.

After completing surveillance of the surrounding site, the pilot droid brought the freighter in for a landing. The Endowed Hawkbats landing struts extended beneath it, making contact as the ship lowered to the ground on its repulsors, sending a pile of small rocks tumbling down the slope as the boarding ramp lowered with a pneumatic whine. Completely sealed in his armour, Otto emerged from the shadowy interior of the transport and walked across the peak of the mountain. He lowered the range-finder connected to the right side of his helmet and zoomed in on the distance, noting that they had traveled far enough away from any signs of major habitation. Alone, the Mandalorian scientist reached up and unsealed his helmet with a sickening squeal of escaping poison. As he removed his helmet, his pox scarred face felt the cold mountain air on his pale leprous flesh. His exposed nostrils dried quickly in the absence of a nose, replaced by an ichor weeping gash in the centre of his face. Most of his ears had rotten away and his eyes were a milky mix of white cataracts, though somehow he still seemed aware of his surroundings despite his obvious blindness.

Marching off the ship behind him were two monstrous Gamorrean shapes that had been altered by a combination of alchemy and dark science. Both had been transformed by exposure to Belisarius Vilbebroth's nanogene spore, changed into massively muscular technobeast drones, enslaved to the Mandalorian scientist's sinister will. These tribal warrior boars from Pzob, affectionately named Gork and Mork of the Porkswine Enclave, resembled little the primitive aliens they had originally been. Their green flesh was patchy, replaced in many places by obvious cybernetics as the spores that infected them slowly turned them into cyborg drones, mechanical Sithspawn really, with rusted iron tusks and glowing red photo-receptic eyes. A combination of oil and snot oozed from the ends of their porcine snouts as the two twisted techno-boars raised vibro-pickaxes that had been fused to their wrists, activating the hyper-sonic generators in each, then began striking the rockface as they carved into the mountain top.

Lifting his left arm, Otto checked the status of the other transports on his forearm guards holographic display. Shuttles were already on their way carrying building supplies and fresh labour. He ran a bloated tongue over his bleeding lips. Good, soon he would have what he needed to build for himself a lair on his father's home world. Mandalore lacked the savage natural majesty of Pzob or the wicked worshippers that flocked to the plague marshes of Xeraxus, but he supposed there was some small appeal that could be found in the isolation it provided. Having had enough of the winds frigid bite, Otto raised his helmet and placed it back over his head, sealing away his disfigured features from visible sight. Turning around, he returned to his portable laboratory aboard the ship as he waited for the other transports to arrive. He leaned over a projector table, performing a last minute assessment of the blueprints he had drawn up for his mountain fortress...the Beskar Basilica of Otto Von Bralor.