Topic: Great Mandalorian Rebellion RP

First I would like to apologize for my absence, as it was a lifetime ago I suggested doing this RP, however the combination of school/jobhunting/work have done much to impede my progress in making this a tangible reality instead of aa cumulative of interesting thoughts in my mind. The research I myself conducted was not very extensive (Or at least not as extensive as I'd have liked.) and  I have therefore decided to go with a non-canon based story line. I apologize for the disappointment, but just can't seem to draw this up anyway where it would make sense alongside canon. If anyone has any suggestions or pointers on how we could do so it'd be a godsend, truly I would appreciate it with ineffable sincerity. Now with that out of the way lets get this startedl

    RULES: The time setting I've decided to go with is just at the beginning of the galactic civil war, as such I'd be interested in seing acouple jedi/sith so long as they interact with the main story and as long as there isn't a plethera of them. It just won't do to have thirty billion jedi running around after the near extinction of force users. As well for those of you who do decide to choose jedi, please exercise caution in how your characters interact with the enviroment. An extremely hunted down jedi isn't going to run around slaying Imperials. Other than that, I merely ask that all of you keep in accordance to the timeframe. For instamce your character shouldn't be someone or something that should be dead. Although some exceptions can be made under the right circumstances. Atop that just keep your roleplaying realistic to a sense of carrying capacity, wealth, injury, and location/action. If someone blows something up like a building, one can't be chilling in that building that just got blown to pieces. Beyond that have fun :) Questiions and concerns can be directed to me if necessary but i think we're all able to understand the general rules.
      STORY: The galaxy is headed into conflict once more as the rebellion grows stronger, bolder, now recognized by the empire as a true threat. However the galaxy is not limited to this fight alon as the galaxy is certainly no "safe" place. And on the planet of Mandaloria, fissures have begun to grow between brothers. The search for a new Mand' alor has been in progress for some time. Each day, by and by, more attempt to claim the title for themselves. Whether through false cries of lineage to Fett or by claims of ability to unite and guide the Mandalorian people. As more and more attempt to grasp the title of greatest, the fissures grow deeper and farther apart. Many have already chosen their allegiances, whther to themselves or to another. As tensions rise, conflict seems inevitable, and many feel that a civil war amongst the galaxy's greatest warriors is close at hand.

Name: Nehutyc Vren
Race: Human/Mandalorian
Beskar: Mediate plate mandalorian armor, black with gold trim and white accents (Image pending) Wrist and calf plates are composed of vrikk for engagements with enemies using energy weapons E.G. lightsabers, energy whips, beam rifles, most blasters. Heartbeat sensor integrated into buyce near rangefinder. Wrist mounted wire cable, as well as a tactical pad on left forearm, and a tactical trauma kit embedded into the right forearm, slides up and back to elbow to reveal several stimulant packages to fight through the pain. Modified Buyce links up with tactical pad for labeling of enemies on the Buyce's HUD in real time, in some cases through wals and cover depending on the strength of the heartbeat sensor. Torso embedded holodisplay emitter on upper right side of chest plate
Gender: Male
Height/Weight: 5"11; 181 lbs.
Appearance: Tan skin; sleek, strong, angled facial structure; slender build; brown eyes; black buzzed hair. ( :( i havem't been able to upload any of my drawings, so this will have to suffice for now)
Occupation: Bounty Hunter/document forge artist.
VoC: Heavily Modifed N-1 Naboo Starfighter boarded aboard a Concular Class Corvette Cruiser. (also modifed. most notably the salon pod at the front being removed for a SMALL hangar) Specifications to be posted at a later date.
WoC: DXA8 Heavy Carbine Blaster, DL-14 Outback Blaster Pistol, and a vrikk edged machete holstered in a sheath on left hip.

      Nehutyc Vren wasn't a renowned bounty hunter, but he did do well for himself between that and his "artwork". Using his skills to, for the most, part further his own agenda. Vren had never intended to become so concentrated on just the numbers, but he found himself at some point, he couldn't remember quite when, but just giving up on focusing on the details. He shuffled uncomfortably as the idea of becoming a cold and calculated assassin crossed his mind. Only ever caring about the size of his bank account. He shook off the feeling though and pressed on through the lower levels of Coruscant, even tossing a twi'lek down on his luck a 100 credit chit. Picking up his pace he reminded himself he had a contract to complete, and once again the image of a darker him popped into his mind. Vren's contact had pointed him to a cantina on Coruscant's lower levels, some place called "Talia's Place". He continued walking through the city, until the blare of a siren pulled him away from his thoughts. Only several meters from where Nehutyc stood sparks shot out of a neon sign. smoke poured out of the entrance of a cantina, but not just any cantina. The distressed sign read "Talia's Place". "Damn!" Vren shouted, rushing off toward's the door Vren noticed something odd about the fire reacuemen. "HALT!" The rescuemen held an E-11 blaster rifle chest level at Vren. Thats when it hit him, these were imperial soldiers. The soldier barked on "The owner and several patrons of this cantina have been identified as rebels. For security purposes I'm going to need to see some identification." The man must have been stark mad. Not many stood up to a fully armed Mandalorian, fewer tried to take anything from them. Nehutyc whipped out his pistol, it now aimed directly ag the center of the storm trooper's visor. "Hows that for identification?" He said, ice driping off his words. The storm trooper simply lowered his rifle and made a gesture with his arm behind his back. Three more troopers set off in a jog, blasters raised at Vren. "How about that identification" The trooper asked, his hand extended...

Name: Naya Alta’ec
Species: Twi’lek
Gender: Female
Age: 25
Height: 5"7
Appearance: Green skinned, slim yet toned, a pretty face with a brain behind it.
Occupation: Slave for cantina entertainment.  Formerly an explosives technician for a renegade faction back on Ryloth.

-

20 minutes prior…

Naya stood behind the stage curtain, her fingers holding the heavy fabric open slightly to view the small crowd beyond. She was up next, much to her distaste.

As usual she was adorned in the scanty outfit the cantina owner had instructed she wear: a metallic silver halter top with plunging neckline, a matching skirt that reached mid-thigh with a split up to the heavy black leather belt that sat low on her waist. Plus a pair of knee-high black leather boots trimmed with silver highlights on the eyelets and toe.

Naya inwardly cringed at the thought of her parents seeing her in such attire. Not that it was possible since they were both dead. Talia’s Place had been her home now for over seven months, yet she still hated it with as much passion as the day she had arrived.

The tempo of the song playing slowed and Naya took her cue. A pair of Rodian females exited the stage as Naya and two other female Twi’leks took their place. Naya moved into position beside the dance pole furthest to the left. The music became more tribal as she and her fellow dancers started their routine.

As Naya swang around her pole and into a squat she noticed that something rolled through the door. It was a small metallic globe. Suddenly two more joined the first and smoke started streaming from all three. Within moments the doors were stormed by the tell-tale white of Imperial troopers.

Naya rolled to the floor and tumbled her way back behind the stage curtain. She saw the lead stormtrooper giving hand gestures to his squad and knew something bad was about to happen. “Patrons, remain where you are.”

Naya immediately darted to the change room and threw on a black lightweight cloak. She needed to find a way out.

Vren reluctantly holstered his pistol, then reached into one of his pockets and withdrew his Identification passport. He'd never crafted a fake one for himself, he had never really needed to. He briefly made a mental note to do so as soon as he got off this rock.
    "Nehutyc Vren, bounty hunter, al around handy man. I'm currently pursuing a target who was last seen at this cantina. If you'd be so kind as too..." Before vren could continue the Imperial cut him off, "Not so fast there, you're going to need to be detained and interrogated until we can be assured that you have not ties with the rebellion. Men."
    The Imperial soldier stepped back and raised his rifle once more, "Any resistance would be unwise." The soldier continued.
    That was it. Nobody, absolutely nobody would get in the way of his contract. Not today at the least. Vren lunged forward, his vrikk edged machete already in hand and plunged it into the trooper before a pin could drop. Whirling around to face the other three troopers, his pistol finding its way into his hand instictively.
    The world seemed to slow around him as adrenaline coursed through his body. Vren counted the shots, each of them seeming to take forever to meet their targets. But Vren knew in reality he'd placed each shot within a fraction of a second after the other.Blasting down the troopers before they knew what had eve happened.
    Vren grinned, but from behind his t shaped visor like a sliver of midnight, nobody could see anything but another mandalorian holstering his weapon.
    The moment didn't last long though. Remembering why he'd come here Vren jogged through the front door of the cantina. His trusty DXA8 in hand and his rangefinder, Vren began scanning the cantina for thermals.
   Just in the mainrom he could make out two signatures, probably Imps. But something was off, their signatures were weaker than they ought to be. Like something was masking them, the smoke perhaps. Or maybe new armor, he couldn't tell.
    Switching off his thermal he could see the blasing white of their armor. Taking aim, he dropped both in a matter of seconds. Continuing through the cantina he could tell that a firefight had only just recently taken place. The rebels must have fled which meant there was more than one exit.
   Searching through the dead he tried to find a match for his mark. He'd get les thaqn half of what the bounty was worth, but at least it was something.
   Finally he stumbled across what he'd been looking for, behind the cantina bar counter, sat crouched and whimpering a corellian. Vren's corelian. Vren shouldered his rifle and poised his wrist at the corellian. "Indo Drasten, I'm here to collect the bounty on you. Stand up and place your arms straight down at your side."
   Surprisingly, the man did as he was told. Vren fired his cable and watched as it wrapped round the man dropping him back to the ground with a thud.
   Vren couldn't help but to chuckle. Making his way round the bar, Vren collected the man and tossed him over his shoulder. The man was small enough that that carrying him in such a fashion wouldn't be too difficult.
   As Vren made his way for the door he heard the crunch of boot against debris on the floor. Dropping the bounty to the floor, Vren turned to the source of the noise, his rilfe once again in hand. There stood a Twi'Lek, adorned in a black cloak.
    She must've been one of the working girls, but there was something to her. She didn't seem frightened given what had happened. Not even scared that a Mandalorian held his weapon aimed at her.
    For the second time today, the usual fear inspired by the presence of Mandalorian warrior was absenst. Vren was beginning to get annoyed.
   "What are you doing here, who are you?" He questioned menacingly in attempt to intimidate this mysterious Twi'Lek. Who, he had noticed, was entirely unscathed despite the firefight that had just erupted in the bar.

After finding a hiding place beneath the stage floor, in a bunker of sorts, Naya had waited out the inevitable fire fight. She wasn’t alone in the bunker as one of the Rodian dancing girls had grabbed her by the arm and dragged her inside.

Once the noise of battle had died away, Naya had cautiously emerged from the bunker. The Rodians had stayed put, too scared to move. But Naya was not one new to battle. She knew there would be reinforcements soon, it was best to get out now.

Pulling the cloak tight against her body as she moved, Naya wished she had access to a weapon of sorts. Not that there were any real options in the dressing room, nor any of the other rooms the resident slaves had access to. The only way out for her was through the front door. No doubt the rear exit would be covered.

The smoke was starting to thin as Naya stepped into the shambles. Debris littered the floor, making it impossible to travel quietly. Suddenly the soft sound of a body hitting the ground, along with a groan, turned Naya’s attention to the front exit. There stood a Mandalorian, who had clearly dropped Indo Drasten on the floor, to line her up in his sights.

Most beings feared Mandalorians, but not Naya. One of her closest and most trusted friends had been a Mandalorian. He had fought side by side with her during the chaos back on Ryloth. She never knew what happened to him, although she suspected he’d been killed in the final battle.

The Mandalorian spoke with a voice meant to intimidate, "What are you doing here, who are you?"

“I’m trying to get out of here, just like you. My name is Naya Alta’ec and I have no desire to stay here for the Imperial reinforcements.” Naya took a step forward, “So may I leave now, or do you intend to shoot me?”

Vren kicked an E-11 across the floor to the Twi'lek 'I could actually use some help getting out of here. No doubt there'll be reinforcements soon enough and I don't intend to go down in a blaze of gunfire. Not to mention I've got to drag this bounty back to Nal Hutta. You don't frighten easy. Thats a good thing. So how about it? I'll drop you off wherever you're headed in exchange for another gun at my side."
    Vren tumbled the thought of help around in his mind. He didn't usually see himself asking for it. His father had always tought him to trust in his own abilities. The idea of actually needing it was something that made him extremely uncomfortable. He'd be charging his contractor double, no triple for the expense of putting him in this position.
    Although Vren truly lnew it was his own fault for being stuck in his current predicament. Vren brushed the thought from his mind. His inner conflict seemed to grow explosively the further along this contract went.
    Vren gritted his teeth in frustration, until he once again became aware of the Twi'lek standing in front of him. She hadn't moved and as he began to wonder why, he noticed he was still aiming at her. "Sorry" He said, lowering his rifle. "Its a habit."

Naya kept her eyes on the Mandalorian as she lowered herself to pick up the blaster. The E-11 was a little heavy, yet sat comfortably in her hands. She lowered her eyes from the hunter momentarily to check over the weapon. It seemed the blaster had almost full charge and was set to kill.

"Alright, I'll help you." Naya said as she stalked forward. "Although going out blasters blazing isn't the only way out of here. I'm sure your bounty over there has access to areas of this building that I do not. I have heard the establishment owner talking of an escape tunnel. Mind you, I wouldn't trust Indo as fair as you could throw him."

Vren admired this Twi'lek's intellect. Quickly dropping the bounty once again. "Tell me what you know. Or we're all dead" Drasten's breathing was heavy, indicating that Vren would need to be more careful with his bounty. 
    Finally regaining his breath, Indo looked up at Vren "Whats the matter, scared of a few imperials? The corellian chuckled to himself as though he'd made a small victory.
    "I'm in no mood for games" Vren pressed, his voice growing louder and his carbine now pressed into Drasten's ribs. "Ok! Ok, ok. At the back left corner of the cantina the seat flips back to a set of stairs that lead into the old sewer system."
   Not wasting any time, Vren snatched Indo up and strode over to the hidden exit, flipping the seat back, and sure enough, a small set of stairs laid before Vren leading down into the dark dank of what Vren guessed was indeed a long unused sewer.
    Nehutyc looked back at the Twi'lek. "Ladies first" He uttered, gesturing towards the stairs with his hand.

Naya had to refrain from snorting. “How about age before beauty,” she replied as she pointed at Indo. “I figure if there are any booby traps down there, we let Indo cop it.”

The Mandalorian looked at Indo for a moment. “A good idea, however Indo’s bounty is for live capture.”

Naya snorted, “Typical.” She took a moment to run over to the bar and grab a couple of disposable glowrods from under the bench top.

“What are you doing?” The Mandalorian asked sharply.

“Getting glowrods so we can see through the gloom,” Naya stated as she cracked one of the five glowrods she’d found. The Mandalorian eased back and Naya reluctantly took the lead.

The passageway was dark and dank, yet the floor was relatively clear and clean. “I get the impression this tunnel has been used fairly recently,” Naya told as The Mandalorian closed the seats back down. It felt like being enclosed in a tomb.

They were only a few paces in when they heard an explosion behind them. “I guess the Imperials blew the doors,” Naya said quietly as she picked up the pace.

The illumination of the glowrod exposed Indo’s sinister grin. “What’s with the creepy smile?”

Indo started to cackle, “You’re not going to make it out of this tunnel alive.”

At that moment Naya felt the stone beneath her foot sink. She immediately jumped backward, just as a burst of flame shot out from both walls. The flames rolled together for only a few moments before going out.

Naya turned to glare at the Mandalorian. “Once again, I suggest the scumbag goes first.”

Name: Ralin Drakus

Species: Human

Age: 25

Appearance: 5'11'' Lean athletic build. Short crop of dark brown hair with the sides shaved high and tight. Lean face with an angular jaw. Many scars from combat as well as training across body, most on arms and chest

Personality: Cold and indifferent to most beings he meets, but possesses a friendly and even dry humor with those select few he is close to or who earn his trust

Occupation: Freelance Mercenary, sometimes accepts bounty hunting or assassination contracts.

Loyalties: To his Clan and Code. He and his clan are unaffiliated with any of the major players in Mandalorian politics that are currently attempting to gain power

Bio: Ralin is descended from an ancient line of Mandalorian warriors. Some of the earliest humans recorded in Mandalorian history were members of Aliit Drakus. Clan Drakus has traditionally had very strong ties to the ancient Crusader Code that was dominant in Mando culture before the Mandalorian Wars 4,000 years BBY, and Ralin is no exception. His belief in the Manda and code-bound mission to gain honor through combat are as strong in him as any of his ancestors, despite the rarity of such such beliefs of his people today. Ralin's father Konnar was one of the Cuy Valdar, the famed training sergeants of the Clone Wars era Commandos and ARC troopers. Unbeknownst to Konnar his wife had become pregnant just before his departure for Kamino and had died in childbirth. When word finally reached him, Konnar abandoned his post just prior to the Clone Wars to raise his son. Little is known of the Drakus Clan since that time as they all boarded their heavily modified assault frigate and assorted fighters and starships and disappeared. Only in the last year did Ralin return alone, his armor painted black with the traditional red chevron upon his breastplate indicating leadership of his Aliit. He has taken several mercenary and bounty hunting contracts since his return, and has a growing reputation for his cold efficiency and effectiveness

Weapons: Custom long barrel sniper rifle (imagine a Star Wars version of an M-14); Matching Mandalorian heavy blaster pistols(strapped to legs Jango Fett style, but a little higher on his hips. Both pistols are of ancient Mandalorian design recovered from a Dxun storage cache); Jetpack mounted rocket/missile launcher, usually a high explosive warhead pre-loaded; Double edged dagger with 'brass knuckle' style grip sheathed horizontally on belt behind his back hidden under Kama.

Gauntlet mounted weapons/gadgets include: Dart/Rocket launcher; Interchangeable flamethrower or micro-grenade launcher (Ralin mounts the grenade launcher as his standard gear); Cutting laser and holdout blaster; A fiber-cord line with grappling hook for scaling/descending obstacles which can be mounted and fired from grenade launcher; Two-prong retractable18 inch blades in right gauntlet (like those used in the Predator movies); Personal cloaking device recovered from ancient weapons catch on Duxn; Gloves that deliver bio-impulse waves to the muscles giving enhanced strength

Armor: Black with red accents Mandalorian beskar armor over gray flightsuit ; Helmet possesses advanced targeting integration with Ralin's weapons and his ship's combat systems allowing him to have a sighting retical that is fully adjusted for range and movement of the target displayed on his helmet's HUD allowing for seemingly unaimed shots in directions Ralin doesn't appear to be looking; Flightsuit is a medium weight armor mesh resistant to heat and slashing attacks, Kama made from heavy leather treated for heat resistance that protect the back of the legs from blaster bolts and jetpack afterburners; Jet-pack painted black and gray (often stored aboard Ralin's starfighter until needed for a specific mission or visiting urban/inhospitable worlds where vertical maneuverability is likely to be needed); Sound sponges mounted into the heels of his armor plated boots so when activated absorb nearly all sound created from Ralin's heavy footfalls and the ancient spurs he wears

Ship: Blood Hawk - a modified StarViper Assault fighter; two of the original six laser cannons have been replaced with MassDriver cannons (which fire energized projectiles that pass through shields unhindered), the four long barreled laser cannons remaining have been modified sacrificing rate of fire for massive destructive impact, two ion cannons mounted in the chin of the starfighter to disable fleeing starships; the living quarters are spartan at best, with a simple bunk and hygiene essentials for himself, and two sealed prisoner stasis capsules (simple bunks that are enclosed in shatterproof plexi and equipped with restraint cuffs and Intra Venus (IV) med units for medicating and/or sedating bounty captures for a guaranteed quite transport) that are large enough to transport a wookiee- sized being

"JOIN US! The time to restore Mandalorian independence is upon us! The Empire is offering ransoms and bounties for these pathetic Rebels that could fund a nation! Our Nation! A MANDALORIAN NATION! Why should the bounties of a generation be squandered by alien hunters and those of our own with no vision to use it? We can bring back the GLORY of our ancestors and return the power that is rightfully ours to this planet! And with your help we shall! The Deathwatch is calling! Answer! And you shall know true glory!" The ranting never ceased these days. If it wasn't one faction promoting their choice for Mandalore, leader of all the clans, than it was a pack of mercs standing at a street corner begging people to join.

The Deathwatch recruiter continued with his lies, knowing nothing of his ancestors or what true honor or glory is. Ralin straightened himself from the wall he'd been leaning against across the market plaza. The holonet hub he'd ventured into the market to access had confirmed his most recent payment. The gray overcast above promised rain, making the dirty cobble stone street of the market seem all the darker, and the ancient stone structures surrounding the Keldabe plaza seemed abandoned and lifeless. The Deathwatch banners snapped in the wind around the table where recruiters tried to argue the righteousness of their cause to the handful of spectators who bothered to stand around. None in the crowd seemed overly interested. Only Ralin and the Deathwatch were even wearing armor. The recruiters were in full battle gear to display their prowess and attempt to impress the masses. Ralin couldn't help but notice how there wasn't so much as a scratch on any of them. He snorted in disdain behind his own black T-Visor.

A crack of thunder broke across the Mandalorian afternoon sky, and seemed to signal the end of the recruiting for the day. The five Deathwatch Mandos began to move their flags and gear indoors. Ralin made his way down a narrow alley to the tavern he frequented.
Once this wouldnt have been anyplace special to Mandalore. Like all inns, taverns, bars, and even restaurants contracts could have been found posted somewhere in the establishment, booths and tables of a private setting were easy to find, and the barkeep knew what gossip to pass and what questions not to ask. Ralin's father had told him many stories of his home world and the best places to frequent when looking for a certain contract. Much had changed in the last generation however. Only the oldest and seediest parts of Keldabe still catered to the hunters of their society. Ralin still remembered the disgust he felt when he landed at the starport and saw the pacifists lining some of the walkways, holding holosigns protesting all those who were clad in the armor of their forefathers, yelling that war and fighting would only bring more misery to Mandalore. Had the home world of the greatest warriors in all the galaxy truly been reduced to this? Ralin sighed deeply as the barkeep brought a stiff Corellian whiskey to his corner booth.

A youth entered the tavern, a heavy military canvas duffle bag hung over his shoulder.  His skin was dark from what looked like hard laboring in the sun, his form thin but corded in lean muscle; Ralin could even make out the white of calluses on his hands, and a bulge under his rough out tunic that might have been the butt of a blaster pistol.  His clothes were worn and ragged, leather boots covered in dirt not from the city. He stopped at the bar and ordered a drink. He seemed weary, tired beyond his years though he appeared no older than Ralin himself. Despite the dim lighting, he spied battle scared helmet that rested on the table beside Ralin. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, but made his way to the corner booth. Ralin sat relaxed, one hand toying with the glass in front of him, the other resting on the grip of his holstered blaster.

"Beggin your pardon, you mind if a I take a seat?"

Ralin's eyes narrowed on the man for a long moment, but then wordlessly nodded to the opposite side of the booth opposite himself.

"Thanks. I don't mean to intrude, my name is Valok, Valok Haal."  Before taking his seat Valok carefully placed his bag down on the floor beside the booth.  Ralin caught the faint clank of Beskar plates.

Ralin slumped back in his seat, relaxing and keeping his blaster aimed squarely at the youth's abdomen. "What can I do for you Valok Haal?"

*Let me know if this works for you Rev; I'll edit as necessary*

Name: Valok Haal

Species: Human

Age: 24

Appearance: 6', athletic build, light skin tone, short brown hair and dark brown eyes.
   
Personality: He is generally calm and level headed, usually keeps to himself but will voice his opinion if deemed necessary. He also tends to observe people and situations before making a decision on his next move.

Previous Occupation: Agricultural Farmer

Additional Skills: Sharpshooter, Heavy Equipment Mechanic

Loyalties: His Clan and personal Code of Honor

Armor: Scout set Beskar'gam (Boba type setup) - Primary pieces painted rust red with beige and gold details; mismatched brown(R) and yellow(L) gauntlets, with grey/beige cod and neck plates over a gray flightsuit.

Equipment: Typical ammunition and storage pouches worn with his armor, medical kit, small blaster/slugthrower mantainence kit, fully equipped sensor array built into his helmet with rangefinding hardware as well as holonet and ground-to-orbit communications capability.

Weapons: Modified (Collapsable) Czerka Series 145 Scoped Slugthrower; Morellian Weapons Conglomerate .48 caliber Enforcer Pistol carried on his right hip, plus a snubnosed DE-10 blaster pistol tucked inside his boot.

Gauntlet Weapons: (L) Dur-24 wrist laser, MM9 wrist rocket; (R) Integrated FWG-5 flechette launcher

Bio: Vahlok was born and raised on Mandalore, the youngest of four brothers, growing up as farm hands on the Haal Clan Agricultural Farm; now currently a major supplier of food on the regional scale surrounding the Kelita valley and Keldabe. Things worked out well for him at first in the family business, so Valok decided to stay under contract for his father when he came of age. Eight years of crucial work maintaining equipment and keeping local wildlife out of the growing zones had kept his mind sharp and an excellent shot, but he decided it was in his best interests to move on after the job had been completed. In recent months, Valok left the Farm to stay with his older cousin, Solus Auurin, to train for the weeks ahead of him as a Mercenary; in this time he learned advanced ballistics and honed his skills as a sharpshooter, along with building a client database and sub-contractor network to rely on steady work. Finally, Valok was ready step off world and face the galaxy for the first time

_

NOW

"Shabla Deathwatch." Solus muttered while piloting his speeder through the streets of Keldabe. "There for a while I didn't have to see their bantha-ugly faces around here until all the political mess with the frackin' Pacifists."

"We aren't going to be able to stay out of it for long." Valok sighed. "Revolution is on the horizon, alot of Mando'ad see it."

"Way I see it, the strongest will come out on top...and it ain't gonna be either one of them two." Solus smirked. "And I'll make sure of it, even if that means the death of me."

"I say let those two fight it out, then we'll just clean up what's left." Valok grinned. "After all, how hard can it be to run a nomadic warrior people?"

"Heh, not that easy ad'ika, not that easy." Solus chuckled as they pulled up to one of his usual tapcafs. "Grab your bag, this is the place. The man you need to talk to is sitting in the corner booth, his name's Drakus. Ralin Drakus." Solus gestured to the door. "No need for me to introduce you, now go. K'oyacyi."

"Ret'urcye mhi." Valok nodded, they clasped forearms and went their separate ways. "Ralin Drakus, eh?...Hmm."

Valok grabbed his bag and threw it over his shoulder as he walked  up to the door entering into the dimly lit establishment. The majority of patrons glanced at him for just a moment a he stepped in, but resuming their meals afterwards. Valok simply nodded in acknowledgement to those that kept their eyes on him as he worked his way around the numerous dining tables centered in the room. He finally moved up to the granite serving counter to order a tall glass of tihaar from the barkeep; grunting in amusement as a portion that had sloshed onto the bar fizzled as it hit some unknown residue coating most of the stone top. After a few swigs of the fruity, yet fiery clear liquid, he casually observed the corner where Solus had indicated his old partner was sitting.

...That has to be him there...

He took a long gulp of the strong liquor and made his way over to the man, noticing a clean, but battle-damaged helmet on the table. In front of him sat a scarred warrior with a cold expression on his face, fumbling with the empty glass at his fingertips.

Valok paused for a moment. "Beggin your pardon, you mind if a I take a seat?"

He noticed the man's eyes narrow on him a long moment, then nod to the opposite side of the booth he was sitting.

"Thanks. I don't mean to intrude, my name is Valok, Valok Haal."  Before sitting down, Valok carefully set his bag down on the floor beside his at the booth. He moved to the center of the seat, placing his glass of tihaar on the table. He noticed the man relax slightly, leaning back in the booth.

"What can I do for you, Valok Haal?" The man said, almost uninterested.

"I believe you know a brother of mine, Solus Auurin." Valok leaned forward slightly. "What do you know about the Karrek job?"

The Mandalorian didn’t say anything but he shoved Indo forward, he emphasised his point with the barrel of his blaster.

Naya smirked, “Ah good. You can be toast for the next round.”

They walked another 20 metres before the next trap sprung to life. This time it was electrical arcs that sizzled from the walls. The problem was that Indo was on the other side of it when it began.

The Mandalorian cursed in a few choice native words and charged after Indo as the trap fizzled out. Naya kept up the pace, but was sure to be two steps behind. Fortunately Indo tripped over and fell heavily to the stone floor.

As the Mandalorian yanked Indo to his feet, Naya was able to see a faint glow. “It looks like there’s something up ahead.”

**Sorry for the short post, it's late here...**

Dun Gorah watched from a window several stories high as the storm broke above the Deathwatch recruiters. The newly emerging group were gathering their things and retreating beneath him, out of view and into the first floor of the building.

"Peons shepherding peons. I do not think we will gather many capable warriors from this lot. There were...pacifists... when I arrived at the terminal this morning. I had to exercise some restraint from vaporizing them." Dun turned away from the window, and faced his master. As his tall and wide body tilted, shadows crept along his dusty-white Mandalorian armor.

Dun Gorah's enormous and fearsome visage had earned him the nickname "The White Wall". A wall that few could pass. Dun was exceptional at combat and killing, using any and all weapons at his disposal. Whole squads had been massacred in seconds when wielded a heavy assault blaster, and the melee weapons he favored had sprayed the blood of guilty and innocent alike across his bone colored armor.

"I will worry about the recruiting. You only have to concern yourself with the eliminating, Dun. Who else would be so capable?" Dun's master smiled from the shadows.

A scarred helmet hung comfortably under Dun's thick arm. His armor provided the utmost defense, and supported him on his charges through barrages of blaster fire and chaos as he rained down death on his opponents. Combat prowess was only matched by the man's merciless ambition and calculating mind. The Deathwatch provided Dun with an opportunity for great power, and unrestrained death dealing.

"Their lack of will disgusts me." Dun said as he raised his helmet and slid it over his jet black hair and passed a jaw of rock.
Heavy boots thumped as he strode across the room for the exit, like a great beast on a hunt. His booming, baritone voice patched through the helmet.
"I must find the time to crush them between tasks."

(Left the Deathwatch leader empty for whoever or whatever. If any plot elements need to be amended, let me know.)

((will do Valthonin. And I'm so glad to finally see more people posting here. Apologies for my tardiness, mid terms :P))

   Vren looed upwards, his grip on his mark firm. The Twi'lek spoke truly. There was a faint glow ahead. "Can't be that easy." he muttered to himself.   
   Thinking quickly, Vren pinned Indo to the ground with one powerful arm, while the other ripped off his boots. The Corellian cried out "What the frak 're you doin" Vren did't reply, simply hoisting Indo up and tossing him back towards the Twi'lek who readied her rifle in alarm.
   "He moves shoot him dead" He instructed the Twi'lek. Honestly he hoped she wouldn't, but the situation's novelty had long worn off, as if at had ever existed at all.
   Vren tossed one boot forward and watched as it tumbled across the floor, resting finally before sinking slightly. Another pressure plate. The people who'd constructed this passage certainly lacked any form of creativity.
    Once more fire sprung from the wall. Before moving tough, Vren tossed the other boot, several meters ahead of the last boot. Well what was left of it now. Once again the floor sank and at first it semed nothing would happen.
   Vren listened closely, for a mechanism to clink into place or something to happen. He didn't hear anything. From his tactical wrist pad Vren upped the pickup on his helmet's audio monitors. He could now hear Indo's heartbeat, and something else. A digital whirring of sorts.
   Vren pondered where he'd heard that sound before. The thought brought him to action throwing Indo down to the ground and diving himself. "Themal dets! to the floor!" The Twi'lek dropped to the ground and then all was silent.
   But he felt the area around him rumble though. Vren could only a ringing and warm thick something dripped down each side of his neck.
   Vren tried to speak but couldn't hear a word. The blast must have damaged his hearing.
   Vren would worry about it later, a hole had appeared in now collapsed tunnel ceiling and light poured through it.
(was hoping to finish this beofre I had to head in to work. No dice. :P )

At the sound of the next booby trap being activated, Naya took a step back. Next the Mandalorian shouted, "Themal dets! To the floor!" Naya didn’t hesitate as she dropped and tucked herself into a ball but also stuck her fingers in her ears. She knew from her experience with explosives that the noise would be deafening in such enclosed quarters.

Naya had her eyes closed as she felt the shockwave. She counted to thirty before opening her eyes and removing her fingers from her ears. She stood carefully and cringed at her ringing ears. The Mandalorian was up and looking a little disorientated.

Indo was still lying on the floor. Naya wasn’t sure if he was unconscious, dead or just playing dead. “Is the scumbag alive?” she asked, but the Mandalorian made no acknowledgment of hearing her question.

Naya squinted her eyes to look up into the hole in the ceiling. The light was bright but there were shadows moving. The shadows drew closer and Naya recognised the armour they wore. She turned to the Mandalorian, “Friends of yours?” she queried, but again he didn’t respond in any way.

“Who dares to blow their way into a Deathwatch property!” One of the many Mandalorians boomed.

Naya waited for the Mandalorian beside her to say something, but still he said nothing. Naya decided it was up to her to stop a possible fire fight. “Sorry friends, the moron lying on the ground forgot to tell us about his thermal detonators.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

“State your business,” the same voice asked.

Naya made her way to the Mandalorian and elbowed him. He raised a gloved finger and tapped the side of his helmet. It was then that she noticed the blood staining his collar. Naya sighed, he’d lost his hearing.

Naya had no idea why the Mandalorian she was with was after Indo, but she had a good idea. “We’re retrieving a Rebel bounty for the Imperials.”

This started a conversation above, generally it sounded positive. Naya briefly glanced at her blaster which was lying on the floor where she’d accidently left it during the explosion.

The Mandalorian beside her, tapped her arm and passed her a filmsi card. It was a business card of sorts and it was for Nehutyc Vren. He pointed to himself.

“Vren?” Naya said quietly, making sure she mouthed the word so he could read her lips. He nodded then returned his gaze to the Mandalorians above.

**Had to post, sorry Nehutyc if I messed up where you wanted to go with this...**

Vren couldn't hear a thing, it was bad. Hopefully bacta would be able to heal the damage. His price for the return on this jounty was going to be astronomicaly high.
   Vren turned his attention from the Twi'lek to the Deathwatch soldiers. He held a hand up to turn their attention to him. He didn't know what they were saying, but he could tell they probably weren't to happy about the hole in their floor.
   Noticing the majority of their attention focused on him he began to speak, he did't know if he was even speaking ellegibly, but he figured it was worth a shot. "Vv-vren." He managed before collapsing.
   The light 'round him seemed to evaporate into nothingness, warmth flooded through him before he went entirely numb and slipped out of conciousness.
   When he regained conciousness the first thing he could discern was that he wasn't touching the ground. He could also hear. His eyes shot open and his head swiveled frantically.
    He was submerged into water. No it wasn't water. "Bacta" He murmured in thought. Relieved he could once again hear his own voice. Apparenty he wasn't the only one who could hear him speaking.
   The al too familiar black T of a Mando visor popped into view. At first Vren couldn't make out the rest of the helmet, it gradually came into focus against the metallic silver of the rest of the room.
   "Bacta isn't cheap ya know" A voice that seemed to float into Vren's ears said. It took him a second to connect the voice to the figure before him. "But then again neither are soldiers with such" The voice paused. "Unique skills as yours." There was definitely emphasis on the word unique.
   Vren wondered what skills the voice was referring too. Everything seemed to take too long to click into place. Like a shroud hung over everything, and had to be torn away to be understood. Vren tried to shift amidst the tank but couldn't seem to get anything rom doing so.
   "Disorientation wil be normal for afew hours, but it will wear off." The voice coninued. "Don't worry you can pay us back as son as we get a computer under those craty hands of yours"
   The picture finaly emerged before Vren. The voice was talking about his ability to "retrieve" creds.
   Before Vren could make an protest, warmth flowed once more through him and his eyelids dropped as if under a great pressure. His muscles loosened up and he once again dropped out of conciousness.
   When next he awoke, he was on his back in a darkened room. A more thorough investigation of his whereabouts revealed he was on a small bunk. Sitting up and swingin his feet over the side of the bunk, Vren stood up and frther looked about.
   After finding the locker and his armor inside he drssed silently as he could, and began to search about for his weapons. Much to his disappointment he could not. Making his way to the door at the corner of the small room he pounded the open button in annoyance. 
    The door flew upwards. Lighted surged into the room blinding Vren for a moment. There in the dorway before Vren stood a silouhette.

Naya watched as Vren proclaimed his name to the other Mandalorians. However a moment later he collapsed on the ground. Naya knelt down and shook his shoulder, but he didn’t respond.

A Mandalorian clad in silver and orange armor descended into the tunnel using his jetpack. He checked Vren’s vital signs and gave a thumbs up to his companions, “He’s alive. Looks like the explosion did more damage than we initially thought.”

Indo chose that moment to groan. The silver and orange Mandalorian’s gaze turned sharply to the captive. “I can only assume the bounty on that one is worth more with him alive rather than dead.”

Naya shrugged, “Vren didn’t go into detail.”

The silver and orange Mandalorian studied her for a moment, “Odd, considering you’re his partner.”

Naya gave an awkward grimace, “I was more like the backup plan.”

Two more Mandalorians descended and lifted Vren’s unconscious form to the upper level.

“Come here,” commanded the silver and orange clad Mandalorian to Naya. She moved closer and he wrapped his arms around her. “Hold on,” he said simply as he ignited his jetpack and helped her out of the tunnel.  Unfortunately the gust of wind created by the jetpack blew Naya’s robes open momentarily, showing her skimpy attire. As soon as they landed on solid flooring the Mandalorian released her, yet his hands were a little slow on departing.

“Thanks,” Naya said as she looked at her surroundings.

The Mandalorian clad in silver and orange extended his hand, “I am Gripp Taldane.”

Naya took his hand and shook it, “Naya Alta’ec.” To shake hands was very much a human greeting, but Naya was okay with returning the gesture. “What will you do with Vren?”

“We have a bacta tank we can immerse him in. However he’ll have to pay us back for the privilege of using it.” Gripp said coolly. Naya inwardly cringed. “We can provide you with accommodation while you wait for him to heal up.” Gripp offered.

Naya didn’t have a lot of options, “Sure, that’d be great.”

**I'd write more, but I really need to get to bed. Hopefully will add some more in the morning.**

**Sorry for the double post, but here's the next part I wanted to write...**

Naya was led to a small but well set out room. It was clear that the Mandalorians stayed at the building regularly, although the place looked more like a basic motel room rather than any sort of permanent living quarters.

"So do you guys live here?" Naya asked as Gripp was about to leave.

He shook his head, "I don't and most of the others don't. This is just temporary accommodation while we seek out others to join our cause."

"And what cause is that?" Naya asked warily.

Gripp turned to face her, his face was still hidden by his silver helmet with orange highlights. "It is our goal to restore true order to Mandalore, by whatever means necessary."

Naya managed to hide the shudder than ran down her spine at the cold tone of Gripp's words. "So is Vren part of the Deathwatch?"

"If he knows what's good for him. The leaders will expect some sort of repayment for the use of the Bacta tank," Gripp stated.

"How long do you think he'll be in there for?" Naya queried, eager to change the subject from Deathwatch.

Gripp shrugged, "Probably no more than a day. I suggest you take the opportunity to rest." He moved to the door and gave her a once over, "In the meantime, I'll see if I can find some more suitable clothes for you."

He was gone before she could make comment on that. Hopefully more suitable meant the clothes who be made of more cloth rather than less.

-

Naya felt that she'd only just closed her eyes when there was a chime of the doorbell. She sat up, stretched and then quickly rearranged her cloak before opening the door. A young female Mandalorian stood at the door, in her armour but without the helmet. In her arms she held a pile of clothes.

The Mandalorian smiled, "Here," she said as she thrust the clothes into Naya's hands, "Gripp said you needed some new clothes. There are a couple of my old things there that might fit you."

Naya looked at the Mandalorian, she was a good head shorter than her. Somehow she had a feeling the pants were going to be too short. But she thanked her and went back into her room to try on the clothes.

As she suspected the cargo pants were on the short side, however Naya put her boots back on and tucked in the pant legs so no one would be the wiser. She put on the long sleeved t-shirt which again was too short in the sleeve department and a little too tight across her bust. Luckily the Mandalorian girl had also supplied her with a vest which partly hid the overly tight shirt.

She left on the decorative lekku socks that covered the majority of her headtails. They didn't match anything she wore except the boots, since both contained silver highlights. Naya refused to take of the lekku socks anywhere but in the privacy of her own space. Her right lek was horrendously scarred. She shuddered as the image of "The White Wall" came to mind. That particular Mandalorian was a psycho butcher. She hoped never to cross paths with him again.

At that moment the door chimed again. She answered it to see Gripp once more, "Vren's awake."

I'm posting my char concept based on my MMCC character, I plan on writing a story post later (maybe after work tomorrow.)

The idea is that he's just made his way home to Concord Dawn from the Unknown regions after being nearly killed by a dark side assassin known as a Killian Renegade, who had killed both his parents while they were on a job.

Kilian renegades are the dark-sider version of: http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Kilian_Rangers

For now, here's his basic bio:

[Expired link to Photobucket removed 1/2018. -- Admin]

Name: Zul Veyrde
Race: Kiffar [mother's side (Clan Konshi)]/Mandalorian
Born: 31 BBY
Beskar'gam: The armor is a cybernetic life support system designed to keep him alive and maintain him after the mortal wounds he's recently suffered.
Notable armor markings- Has Mando'a runes for "Aay'han" on the back, the right breastplate says "Shereshoya" and the backplate is inscribed with "Vencuyot."
Color scheme: Red with black and gold accents.
Medium Heavy-plate configuration:
-Durasteel with cortosis weave: Ab plate, Right arm: shoulder, and bicep plate, Cod, and Leg plates.
-Beskar: Chest and diamond plates, neck guard, and back plate (Cortosis shielded life support cables imbedded into the armor of the back plate and neck guard.)
-Cybernetic Arm: Zul Veyrde's left arm is Beskar and cortosis weave shield. The arm is cybernetic, with built in mini-rocket launcher, medium blasters, and a personal shield generator from a Shield Gauntlet**, as well as a built in personal holonet transmitter keyed into a private frequency which transmits to the offices of Tannor and Raddam Veyrde at VeyrdeTech Industries.   
**(via Wookiepedia: 'The Shield Gauntlet was a small personal shield worn on the off-hand which could be used to absorb and even deflect energy weapons and shots. The gauntlet accomplished this by projecting a small energy shield, similar in function to that of a Gungan personal energy shield. The shield's range was less than a meter, and typically took on the appearance of a concave disk of clear energy, having no real color'.) [This particular device was accquired from his parents' killer, a Kilian Renegade (a dark-side version of the Kilian rangers), a dark-side version of a Kilian Ranger, a group of Force Adepts found on the planet Kilia IV in the Unknown Regions. who had attempted to kill Zul when he had walked in on the aftermath of his parents' murder.]
Buy'ce- A custom designed helmet of solid Beskar, fusing traditional Mandalorian with Clone Wars Era Commando. This helmet belonged to his father Jinn Veyrde, who was the youngest son of a former Cuy Val Dar trainer named Raddam Veyrde. Growing up, Jinn became close friends with several clone soldiers who'd defected after Order 66 and been adopted into several Mandalorian Clans.
Gender: Male
Height/Weight: 5"9; 155 lbs.
Appearance: Tan skin; slim, athletic build; dark brown eyes; head shaved bald and adorned with tattoos, also bears the blue chevron markings of his mother's Kiffar Clan, Clan Konshi.
Personality: Can be friendly to those he considers close friends or family, generally is rash and headstrong, fueled by the desire to live up to the Mando'ad warrior spirit of his parents and to find their killer.
Occupation: Freelance Mercenary, sometimes accepts bounty hunting or assassination contracts, especially if it gets him closer to the Renegade who murdered his parents.
Loyalties: To his Uncle Tanorr "Barve"' Veyrde. He and his uncle are unaffiliated with any of the major players in Mandalorian politics that are currently attempting to gain power. Tannor Veyrde runs VeyrdeTech Industries, an independent weapons and defense technologies manufacturer, also specializing in robotics and cybernetics. Tannor also has contacts at Xamonet Weapon Labs, a lucrative business that caters to the rich and elite of the galaxy.
Bio: Zul is the son of Jinn Veyrde and Xyla Konshi. Born and raised on Concord Dawn, he was trained in several forms of combat, including boxing and Teras Kasi, as well as Mando'ad beskar combat. Clan Veyrde has never been very large, but it is a close and tight knit group. They have always been staunch loyalists of the Mandalorian Resol'nare and its tenets. An only child, at the age of eight, he began working alongside both parents, enjoying especially when they both teamed up to take contracts. A recent job that the Veyrde family took on behalf of a Veyrde Tech Industries client proved their last fateful job together. Contracted to take a body guarding job for the heiress of House Tionc on the planet Kilia IV, in the Unknown Regions, Aliit Veyrde was seperated at Tionc Agricultural's carbonite processing station, owned and used by House Tionc to preserve Kilian Bantha meat and hides for transport off-planet. and ambushed by three Kilian Renegades before they could reach their client. Jinn and Xyla had managed to kill one of them, but were killed by the second, while Zul was in a separate fight with the third. He was able to kill his attacker and fled to join his parents- just in time to witness them die, and the killer flee. Zul was able to give chase, but already wounded was easily bested, his left arm was severed above the bicep, and he was left for dead. He awoke in time to activate his father's emergency commlink/ homing beacon which transmitted on an emergency frequency to his Uncle's private comm at the offices of VeyrdeTech Industries on Concord Dawn. Desperate to survive, he was able to perform emergency field medicine cauterizing the severed arm, and placed himself into Carbonite storage using a Processing Droid to calibrate it to human specifications. After his rescue, Zul was pulled from carbonite freeze and underwent emergency cybernetic surgery, performed by Tannor himself. Since his recovery, he has taken several mercenary and bounty hunting contracts, and has vowed revenge against his parent's killer, and those who hired the Kilian Renegades to capture the Heiress, thus killing Jinn Veyrde and Xyla Konshi (I'm thinking someone in Death Watch was responsible, maybe for several reasons, including the fact that the Veyrde Clan are very openly Anti-Death Watch.)
VoC:

“Talyc Runi (Bloody Soul)”
Modified Rainhawk-class transport
Manufacturer: Kuat Systems Engineering
Technical specifications:
Length   
20.46 meters
Armament   
Quad laser cannons (2, Front and rear *can be fire-linked)
Laser cannons (1 front)
missile launchers (1 front)
Crew   
Pilot (1)
Copilot (1)
Passengers   
Prisoners (1)
Usage Role(s)   
Transport Shuttle
WoC: His mother's GVPG-MFP01 Custom Heavy Blaster, a wedding present courtesy of his Uncle Tannor "Barve"' Veyrde, co-owner of VeyrdeTech Industries. Zul also carries a cortosis-weave vibroblade holstered in a phrik sheath on his left hip, produced and purchased by his grandfather from a family contact, an old Falleen woman by the name of Nyris, who is the current CEO of Xamonet Weapon Labs. The sheath itself has the words Ka'rta Tor "One Heart of Justice" inscribed on it. The blade has the runes for Gra'tua be Tal "Vengeance of Blood."

The grubby looking Sullustan stared at his brother dumbly, "What do you mean we're losing altitude?" Naska whined.

"Look at the readout, moron. We're falling out of the sky," Truska, Naska's brother, growled back.

"Who are you calling a moron, moron!" Naska spat back.

"Stop arguing and help me land this bucket before the witch gets ticked off," Truska snapped.

Naska dove for the co-pilot chair, "Good point, I'd hate her to zap me again."

"Again? What the frag did you do this time? Oh never mind. Just help me get this thing down in one piece." Truska said as he frantically adjusted controls.

The two brothers fought to keep the ship from burning up in the atmosphere, "What's the read out on the thrusters?" Truska shouted.

"Up to shi..." Naska started, "Wait, one is okay. The other is fried."

"Great, just great. We can crash lopsided, fantastic." Truska spat and he continued to fight the ship down.

Naska shrugged, "Think of it as falling with style."

"You really are a moron," Truska snarled as he watched the flames of re-entry die off. "I see trees, lots and lots of trees. Where's a frick'n clearing when you want one!"

Naska pushed up on his tippy toes, while in his seat, to look out the view port, "Looks like there's a clearing up there."

"That's the ocean you fool!" Truska said as he tried to pull the ships nose up.

"Well you asked for a clearing, you never said if you wanted it on land." Naska pouted.

Truska glared at his brother for a moment, "I swear you were adopted."

"Bah, you're just jealous that you missed out on the good looks," Naska said as he folded his arms.

"Good looks! Grab the controls, you fool. Damn it, you didn't get the brains that's for sure." Truska hissed.

Naska immediately went back to his duties, "Sorry bro, didn't mean to let go."

Truska snorted, "We're nearly down." He flicked on the internal com, "We're going down. Strap in or hold onto something. This is going to be a bumpy ride."

"Do you think the witch will toast you or me over this?" Naska asked.

Truska threw a brief glare at him, "Just shut up already and pay attention."

"Okay, okay, but where are we again?" Naska asked.

"Mandalore, as instructed by the witch." Truska said as the first tree tops scratched the belly of the ship.

"Why'd she want to come to Mandalore for?" Naska asked, completely unfazed by the situation.

"Shopping? How the frag should I know. I just fly the ship and get paid. Hopefully we're not about to get dead," Truska said as the ship got lower, larger branches were starting to hit the ship.

"Why didn't we land at the spaceport?" Naska queried as he looked out the view port.

"Because she wanted to come in undetected," Truska said between gritted teeth.

Naska's face scrunched up, "That's weird if she's only shopping."

Truska groaned, "You really have no clue about anything."

Naska frowned, "Well I know how to land a ship without crashing it. I seriously doubt this is the witch's version of discreet."

Truska wasn't able to say his piece as the ship finally hit a larger tree, spinning it out of control and into another tree. The ship continued to careen out of control until it finally hit one too many trees. Both Sullustans were out cold. Their passenger however, was not.

-

Name: Helena Torrel
Age: 34
Gender: Female
Species: Zeltron
Appearance: Short, her skin is a shade lighter than red with black hair and beautiful features. The outward beauty hides an inner ugliness. Helena is tainted by the dark side of the Force, however she is no Sith, merely a self taught Force user with a lot of anger issues. She wears a black bodyglove with a short maroon dress over the top. Generally she wears a dark burgundy cloak over the top.
Force Powers: Choke, Force Lightening, Speed, Push and Pull.
Weapons: Collapsible staff and two small blaster pistols
Purpose: To help the Deathwatch "persuade" high up officials to bend to their ways.

Gripp led the way to Vren. The corridor was brightly lit but had the sterile feel of a laboratory. Gripp approached the door to Vren’s room and activated it. Inside Vren stood in his armour talking to another Mandalorian dressed in black armour with gold highlights. “That’s Grenatar Cheln,” Gripp said quietly, with an undertone of respect.

Naya got the impression that the name was supposed to mean something, but she’d never heard of Cheln. Perhaps he was the leader of this branch of Deathwatch.

Naya was able to recognise Vren due to his armour, this time he actually had his helmet off. It was the first time Naya had seen him without it. His face was all sharp angles yet he didn’t have a look of cruelty that some men did with such features. His skin was tanned and his hair cut short. Naya always found human heads fascinating. It seemed so strange that they were devoid of headtails. They lacked the extra appendages for added body language, plus they surely felt unbalanced without the additional weight.

Vren’s eyes met hers and a slight smile tugged at his lips. “So you’re okay,” he said simply.

Naya gave a nod, “Yes, and you look much better.”

Vren’s smile dropped, “I feel much better, but it comes at a cost.” His gaze turned to Cheln.

Naya wondered what that cost was.

**Nehutyc if you're not happy with where this is going, I can edit. I'm just in a writing mood. Plus it's nice to see the old crew back again!**

((Warning adult content in this rather long post!!))

The wildlife in the forest was silent as the ship sat smouldering. The ship was making a clicking noise due to the heat and damage that had stretched its metal skin. Suddenly the outer door blew off with extreme force.

From the torn opening came a petite woman of only five feet. Helena stepped out of the ship with the grace of a big cat. Her head pivoted from side to side, analysing her surroundings with cold calculation.

Her mood was dark, being a Zeltron also meant she was naturally empathic and she had picked up on the annoyed feelings the Sullustan brothers had been emitting. She’d allowed herself to delve into the emotions to feed the dark power of the Force within her.

Now out of the ship, Helena pulled a datapad from her cloak pocket and activated it. There was a message from the Deathwatch master. Her job was to track down several high profile detractors from the Deathwatch cause and either scare or kill them. Apparently she’d been given the more subtle jobs to do. The out in the open and get your hands bloody jobs had been delegated to the master’s right hand man: Dun Gorah aka The White Wall.

Helena smiled darkly, she’d like to meet this Dun Gorah. His emotions would surely feed her power to new heights. Plus there could be side benefits, be they on the battlefield or in the bedroom.

Helena smirked and looked at her first quarry fact sheet. His name was Algath Potrone. He was a high profile reporter who had repeatedly bagged out the Deathwatch and had been slowly undermining their credibility. He needed to be silenced and it needed to be permanent. Direct murder wouldn’t do but Helena had something more sinister in mind.

She turned off the datapad and turned back to the ship. Raising her hands she summoned the Force and pulled a large chunk of the ship’s hull apart. With the chunks held in mid-air Helena threw them to the side to expose her speeder bike. Stepping through the wreckage, Helena mounted her speeder and headed to Keldabe.

-

The sky was fading to black as Helena reached Keldabe. The sky had been filled with darkening clouds which blocked out the distant stars that were trying to shine through the dwindling sunlight. Helena was to go to a bar that Algath Potrone frequented called “The Drink Easy” which was located only two blocks away from Potrone’s apartment.

Thunder echoed through the sky, yet the storm was still some distance away. Helena left her cloak on in case the need to stay dry from a future storm arose. With the speeder parked safely away, Helena strode to “The Drink Easy” with a seductive sway of her hips.

She confidently made her way into the bar with a sultry glance around the place. She spotted Potrone’s thin figure and mop of blonde hair immediately and made her way towards him. She waited until she had his attention and then shifted her path to the bar stools instead. As she sat down, she ensured that her cloak draped behind her and that her stockinged legs were exposed for Potrone’s viewing.

From her research Helena knew that Potrone was something of a player. He liked one night stands and easy conquests. Commitment was a dirty word as far as he was concerned and he had even been quoted saying so.

Zeltrons were often considered one of the most alluring humanoid species around and Helena knew there weren’t a great deal of them in this part of Keldabe. Chances were that Potrone would want to add a Zeltron to the notches on his bedpost.

The bartender had just approached her when Potrone moved to the stool beside her. “I’ll have a Rodian Twist,” Helena told the bartender and reached for her credits.

Potrone’s hand covered hers, “Allow me to pay.” He said with a smile that was supposed to be warm and welcoming.

Helena smiled back, “Well thanks.” She caught the bartender rolling his eyes from the edge of her vision. Clearly Potrone did this a lot.

“My pleasure, I’m a regular and I like to make sure any new comers feel right at home here.” His hand lingered on hers a moment longer, then his fingers brushed lightly against the back of her hand as he pulled away.

They began chatting and Potrone continued to buy her drinks. Apparently he didn’t know that alcohol didn’t affect Zeltrons nearly as much as it did humans. Before long he was touching her shoulder in conversation, then her hand and finally on her thigh.

Potrone’s desire was very evident to Helena. She let it feed her own emotions which she then sent back at him, increasing his want. His fingers reached the hem of her skirt and slowly moved upward. Helena caught his hand and brought the tips of his fingers to her lips. “It’s getting hot in here, don’t you think?” she said as she nibbled each of his fingers.

Potrone let out a deep breath at her touch, “Yes, it certainly is. Would you like to come to my apartment? It’s air conditioned.”

Helena bit her lip and gave a coy look, “Sure that sounds great.” She took his hand and let him lead her out of the bar. She had to hide a satisfied smile as this was exactly what she wanted him to do.

They walked hand in hand to his apartment block, rode up the elevator giving each other hot looks, but it wasn’t until they were in Potrone’s apartment that he pounced. Helena was as worked up as he was. Feeding off his emotions had only heightened hers and she fully intended on getting as much pleasure as she could from Potrone before she killed him.

Potrone had her cloak and her dress off when she pushed away from his kiss. The thunder outside was getting louder and distant lightening was brightening the night sky. “Let’s go to the rooftop, I’ve always wanted to do it outside when it’s raining.”

Potrone grinned as he re-buttoned his shirt, “Sure, let’s go.”

Helena remained in her black body glove as they made their way to the rooftop. As Helena expected, no one was around. She took the opportunity to shed the remainder of her clothes. Potrone did the same. They embraced, kissed and came together as one as the thunder boomed and the rain started.

Once it was over, Helena lay sated on the rooftop ledge as Potrone moved off her panting. “Was it good for you?” Helena asked with a cryptic smile.

Potrone grinned as he pulled on his pants and shirt, “You know it was.”

Helena shifted into a sitting position. “Good,” she grinned as her face took on a demonic smirk. She raised her hands just as lightening lit the sky. Lightening also shot from her fingers as she electrocuted Potrone. She watched as he writhed like a fish pulled from the water. When she stopped he dropped like a sack of wet sand. He was very much dead. Helena threw her head back, closed her eyes and let out a satisfied sigh. She’d had a very good time.

((I can edit this if too rauchy. I wanted to show just what a cold killer this character is.))

“So, tell me again how exactly you managed to get yourself stranded in the Unknown Regions,  and sealed up in a carbonite block… or how my vod’ika and his wife are dead, leaving you with a missing left arm that looked like it got scorched and chewed off by a firebreathing rancor? Huh,  Zul’ika?”

I can’t look Uncle Barve in the face right now. Maybe it’s residual hibernation sickness, maybe it’s guilt or anger, but I’m fighting the urge to throw up again. I’m looking at my reflection in one of the giant metal cabinets in his cybernetics maintenance workshop. My face still looks pale, a sharp contrast to the blue chevron qukuuf on my cheeks that mark me as a member of Kiffar’s Clan Konshi, at least through my mother.

Mom…Dad…osik…

“Stay still, chakaar, or I won’t get this thing calibrated right.” Uncle Tannor “Barve” Veyrde is a genius when it comes to machines, especially the beast of a cybernetic arm he’s currently adjusting to optimal performance specs. I wince as I feel the feedback of the newly formed nerve connections, a reaction to his precision fine tuning. He feels me fidget and puts his tools down, lifting the multi-lensed adjustable goggles from his sweaty face. He grabs his handkerchief from the breast pocket of his coveralls and wipes his bushy red eyebrows. He stuffs the cloth back into his pocket, shifts his workbench stool to face me, and stroking his long, braided red beard with hands that could palm my head as well as solder the wings off of a flitgnat, he looks at me with a sad smile.

“Never mind, ad’ika. I get it…I’m just surprised… and angry, I guess.”

“I tried to get ‘im, Ba’vodu. Karkin’ dar’jetti got the drop on me at the carbonite freezing station.” I feel my anger rise again, it feels stronger even than the fresh sense of loss right now. I don’t remember dreaming when I had the Kilian IV Agri-plant’s processing droid put me in Deep Freeze, but I’d like to think it was about revenge.

Uncle Barve’s massive hand pats me on the new arm, making me feel like I’m eight years old again, fresh into my apprenticeships with my buir’e. Normally, I’d be annoyed and shrug him off, but right now, it feels oddly comforting. “No worries, kid. At least you were clever enough to call me from Jinn’s comm and do what you had to, to survive till I got there. Once we get you fixed up, Papa Radd will want to see you. He wants to hear firsthand that his only grandson's going to be okay.”

I can’t help smile, “Yeah, I'll manage. Kilia IV’s a real long way from Concord Dawn. Glad you came and got me. Hoped I was worth the trouble.”

“Are you kidding?”  Barve offers his trademark gruff chuckle and knee slap combo; my knee, not his. He continues as I rub the newly sore spot. “Those prissie nobles wanted nothing to do with a pissed of Mando in full combat mode. They handed your parents and their stuff over right away. Seems they were embarrassed about a murder in their precious bantha slaughterhouse. Getting their sheb'la droid to convince the plant’s computer to release you was the biggest problem. Okay, let's finish this."

He pulls the goggles back down onto his face, adjusting the magnification as he opens a hidden maintenance panel in the cyber-arm, just before the wrist. He picks up one of his many micro-tools and makes a few adjustments to the internal workings. I can feel a couple of sharp twinges as I watch the servos and pistons make increasingly smooth motions while each of the arm's clawed fingers alternately bend to touch the thumb. I can't help smile at the ease of which I'm growing accustomed to the new arm. I find it equal parts  pleasing and unsettling.

"There," Uncle Barve says, satisfied with his cybernetic genious. " How's the respirator holding up, ad'ika?" He looks, somewhat concerned, at the ingenious armored chest and collar plates that house my new life support system.

I breathe in with a slight metallic rasp, afraid of any sign that my dearest uncle might see me as any less now. "Feels much better than the first bacta dip. The 'droid breath' is a lot less annoying."

He nods, eyes melting into a look of love and supportive approval.  I didn't realize how much I needed that. "I told you we'd get you back together, Zui'ika…collapsed lungs and all."

I can't help rub my chest with my right hand, flesh fingers tracing along the cable filaments embedded in the armor. My hand jerks away, as the thought of accidentally pulling something loose comes to mind.

Uncle Barve smiles, as if picking up on the reason for my fear. "No worries. Kid. Those conduit lines are made of a durasteel and cortosis weave. They'll hold up fine."

I guess I looked as confused as I felt. "Cor...toe..sis?"

He chuckles again, "Cortosis...didn't have enough for full coverage...just where it really counts. Stuff's rarer than beskar right now. Trust me, you find that hutuun'la dar'jetti, and he beats his lightstick against even a small piece of that, he'll be in for a real shock."

I nod, getting up from my stool. "Let's go see Radd’ba'buir. I'm excited to see what he'll think."
_______________________________________________________________________________
"It's safe to say I've overstayed my welcome." The Kilian Renegade known as Sutekk Jors, muttered to himself. Kilia IV no longer held any allure for him. His failure in assassinating the Heiress of House Tionc left a bad taste in his mouth as he packed his few meager belongings, a few sets of clothing and the lightsaber he'd been given by his last client, courtesy of some unknown loose affiliation with a group of Mandalorian agitators who called themselves The Death Watch.

...Morbid... but perhaps appropriate, he mused. The dark side of the Force whispered promises of much to be gained by leaving this backwater planet. He had no desire to continue as a Renegade, not after the deaths of his brother and his squire at the hands of those Mandalorian mercenaries and their young whelp. He remembered the ferocity of the boy who'd engaged him. He was indeed formidable, but inexperienced, especially against the powers wielded by a fully trained Renegade. Sutekk was unhappy to hear that his younger brother had fallen to the child's blade, and surprised by the wounded Mandalorian boy's ability, but avenged his fallen kin by dispatching the boy as he had both parents. Of course he suffered injuries himself,  owing, in his opinion, to the prideful mistakes that came from the overconfidence he had felt in his dark side powers, wielded against the supposedly legendary Mandalorian combat prowess.

No, he said to himself. He couldn't put the blame on anyone but himself. He felt the anger as he remembered fleeing to the Renegade’s Lord for help, only to be cast out on his own for his failure to kill the Tionc Heiress as planned. He'd soon learned that another Mandalorian had arrived on Kilia IV to claim the dead family and that the boy had miraculously survived. Another failure. It was time to go...start a new life... no more failure...not again. He boarded a rare transport off planet, hiring the greedy pilot for passage as near to the Mandalore sector as possible.

Perhaps this Death Watch could use a new enforcer.

Sutekk Jors smiled.

"Outstanding."
Dun Gorah wiped his mouth with a napkin as he lowered his spoon. After consuming three heaping helpings of Vhe'viin chili, Dun was now prepared for his task tonight. (Vhe'viin are small rodents native to Mandalore)

The chair creaked as it was released from the weight. No waiter came with the bill. The manager watched, sweating profusely, several feet behind Dun's table. He dare not go out of sight after the last visit.

"I believe the recipe is perfected. Where is the cook!?" Dun's voice boomed through the empty restaurant. All other patrons had fled.

"I'll fetch him right away, sir!" The manager stammered and scampered away into the kitchen.

Dun adjusted his armor. Turning his head, he peered out the window to view the storm once again. Lightening struck in the distance and flashed light into the dining hall of Fauna Foods. They had the best chili in town. Dun greatly enjoyed his food, and he looked forward to stuffing his face with the finest cuisine when his ambition takes him forward. He could be quite hedonistic when he wanted to.

From the window Dun could see his objective: A MandalMotors warehouse containing a brand new assault ship prototype. The buyers were arriving soon, and had paid a small fortune to have the opportunity to employ a state of the art assault ship for their cause. Dun's mission was to ensure the ship did not leave the warehouse. MandalMotors would soon be having a... change in management... and the prototype was highly prized.

"......." The cook had been standing beside Dun for some time. He gazed up at a hard jaw line and sleek black hair, and to eyes that seemed absorbed with something no one else could see.
"Sir you requested my-"

"Ah yes," The cook shuddered as Dun turned to him and looked him up and down with what would have surely been a look of disgust had Dun not enjoyed his meal so much. "The chili was superb, the best variation I've had thus far. I would kill you to ensure that none could pride themselves as I do now in eating it... however I have decided to return for more chili soon."

With that Dun took his helmet under his arm and strode out of the restaurant. The cook collapsed to the floor upon his departure.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Dun stood in front of the MandalMotors warehouse as three Death Watch soldiers approached him. They were his designated squad this mission. Many soldiers looked forward to being assigned "Wall Watchers" and accompanying Dun on his missions, as it usually involved sitting back and watching the beast at work.

"You're cloak has returned from repairs sir." Said one of the soldiers as he lifted a heavy, greyish white cape into view. Dun motioned towards his back and the soldier unfolded it, and clipped it onto Dun's helmet sized shoulders.

"The Rodian emissary arrived in Keldabe spaceport a few moments ago. Sources report he is on his way with his guard detachment. The scout reports 18 men, two squads of 9, blasters and heavy repeaters. 19 with the emissary." The solider detailed.

Dun nodded. "Child's play. Have you brought two weapons?"

"Yes sir." The other two soldiers revealed their haul. Each man had to carry a weapon and the cape because of their weight. Dun's cape was made of a durasteel allow inlaid with cortosis weave to defend against some blaster fire and extreme temperatures. It was his most defensive tool and his most expensive one at that. It required maintenance from time to time to restore it after numerous or particularly heavy battles.

One soldier handed Dun a gigantic double edged vibrosword that required two hands to wield. Running up the middle of the blade was an enhanced ultrasonic emitter that granted the blade added cutting ability. Dun took it and moved it to his back, where it magnetically held at his command.

The third soldier gave Dun his modified Mandalorian Heavy Blaster. The blaster had single and burst fire modes, with an enhanced module that granted added energy damage. Complete with an extended clip, the blaster was a formidable side arm.

Ready for battle, Dun briefed his squires. "The emissary is not to enter the warehouse. MandalMotors mustn't communicate with them, they are to be dispatched before the deal occurs. We evac, and the deed is done. The prototype never leaves the warehouse."

The soldiers confirmed their understanding.

"Do not get in my way." This point needed no stressing.

Dun looked up at the Keldabe skyline, the warehouse was on the outskirts of the city. The MandalMotors tower rose high, a notable edifice of the metropolis. Soon, Dun would be enjoying the view from its highest office.

When Helena has finished relishing the moment, she walked over to pick up Potrone’s door key he’d ditched when stripping. Next she retrieved her black bodyglove and found it saturated. She scrunched it up and squeezed as much water out of the garment as possible but it was still wet. It was clear that she wasn’t going to get it on easily. So she held it in her hand and carefully made her way back to Potrone’s apartment in the nude.

She opened the door and slipped on the dress, cloak and her ankle high boots. She rubbed the wet bodyglove over the cloak to make it look as though she’d worn it in the rain before walking back into the corridor. She moved to the elevator, took a deep breath, then ran to the nearest apartment door and knocked frantically, “Help! Help!” she cried.

The door before her opened along with a few others. “Please help me! Algath…” she panted, “He’s on the roof, he got struck… by lightening!”

The human before moved into action, “I’ll call an ambulance!”

“I’ll see if I can get Dr Rangest!” another resident shouted.

Helena swam in the panic, shock and horror of the residents. She let it feed her emotions to give a more convincing performance.

When the authorities arrived, her performance was so good that they suggested she immediately see a councillor. When it all quietened down, Helena left as the authorities did. Within the hour there were news telecasts on the holonet broadcasting the tragic accidental death of Algath Potrone.

As Helena returned to her speeder bike, she felt her datapad vibrate. Pulling it out of her cloak pocket she saw that she had received her first payment from the Deathwatch, clearly they had seen the news. She grinned and looked up the next target: Xenio Trask, business entrepreneur and pacifist.

Ralin smiled.  The Karrek job... he remembered.  One of the shadier ops the former partners had ventured on, but by far the most memorable.  

"Your cousin would use that misadventure to verify your identity." Ralin released his grip on the butt of his blaster and waved for another drink.  "How is he?" 

"Eager to pass me off to Concord Dawn  and my new trainer so that he can get back to the hunt; he's probably half way to his next bounty already."

"I shouldn't doubt it" Ralin stated wistfully as he rocked back the glass and let the harsh liquor slide down in a single gulp.  

Valok narrowed his gaze slightly; his brown eyes taking the measure of the man sitting before him.  "What did happen on the Kerrak mission?"

Ralin grinned slightly, a chip in his tooth visible for an instant.  "It was a bank heist.  Corporation contracted us to copy certain information from a rival business; vital to a trade or some such civilian throat cutting.  Of course the terminal easiest for us to access was on Kerrak: Outer Rim world with minimum risk of Imperial entanglements.  Only issue was that the data terminal we had to access was in a company owned bank... company owned city honestly; mining interests.  Long story short, our plan of a quick in and out op without a shot being fired disintegrated into a full blown firefight, the two of us trading shots with every security force officer the company had.  We walked six city blocks moving from speeder to speeder for cover until we wee able to exfil.  We saved each others lives more than once that day."

"Wow, I never knew.  Solus has told me of many of his missions, but he'd never even mentioned you until this past week.  You worked together for over a year; why'd you split?"

Ralin stiffened slightly, he clenched his jaw for a moment.  "He didn't tell you?"

Valok gave a quick jerk of his head.  "No."

"Can't say I'm surprised" Ralin said with a snort.  He stood from his booth and in a single quick motion pulled his helmet on over his head.  "He has his reasons; no doubt he'll tell you in his own time.  Let's go farm boy."

Ralin strode out ahead as Valok collected his gear and chased after.  Stepping outside they were greeted by a solid sheet of rain.  He started down a narrow street and aimed himself toward the star port.  

Valok trotted up beside him.  "If you're gonna be training me I'd like to know more about you... and why it is my cousin won't work with you anymore."

"I'm not training you" Ralin snapped without turning.  "I'm simply giving you transport to Concord Dawn and will tell you about some of my contacts."

"If that's all he asked you than why didn't he take me himself?" Valok fought his hair back out of his face as he was drenched."

"Because like any good trainer he realizes he has limitations and a biased scope of experience.  He has placed you in the hands of others who will give you a greater spectrum of skills and experience."

Ralin stopped abruptly.  The narrow ally they had been following was closed in and partially protected from the deluge above by the overhanging second and third stories of the stone structures that surrounded them.  Helmet mounted scanners swept the even tighter alleyways that branched off to their left and right, and the ways ahead and behind.  

Valok was quick to take notice.  "What is it?"

In a single quick motion Ralin turned on his heel and started down the narrow passage to his left.  

"This isn't the way to the spaceport..."

"We're being followed."

Years prior...

Granpappa Radd looked lost in thought. He paced back and forth as we sat in his plush office, his rightful domain as CEO  of VeyrdeTech Industries. As plush as you can get for Concord Dawn,  that is. Rubbing his hand through his silvery goatee, he turned to me and Uncle Barve, both seated on a nerf-hide couch awaiting my grandfather's reaction.

"The boy seems geared up for a one man war, Tann'ika. You sure that's what we want?"

Uncle Barve barely bats an eye at the affectation. A full grown warrior in his mid-forties, he wouldn't let anyone but his father, former Cuy'val Dar and veteran of the Clone Wars, get away with calling him Tannor, let alone,"Little Tannor." He shrugs, "The kid wants payback. So do I. We both know you do too, Buir."

Radd’ba'buir nods, then smiles. He walks over and gestures for me to stand and spin slowly for a full inspection. He pats me on the backplate, just between the built-in jump jet nozzles mounted at my shoulder blades, a look of full approval on his face. "How's it feel, Zul?"

I flex and stretch to show that despite the heavy coverage of the armored torso plating, I'm actually pretty comfortable. "It feels good, Ba'buir. Uncle Barve made it like a second skin. Prime calibration skills."

Granpappa Radd smiles and nods. He walks back to the wall behind his desk and reaches for the vault keypad.

Uncle Barve smiles at the compliments. "All pleasantries aside, what now? The trail of Jinn and Xyla's killer's growing colder and cold-"

"No Tannor. Vengeance is best served cold." My grandfather pulls three durasteel cases out of the vault.  One long one, about the length of my armspan and two square- box shaped, the third smaller than the second. He hands me the second box, big enough to fit a human head in. "Open that one first Zul'ika," he smiles.

I do as he says, and inside even with dramatically different colors and symbols, I can still recognize my father's rare buy'ce design: the hybrid ComMando. I feel a lump form in my throat and the heat of falling tears, as I pull the newly gold and black helmet from the box. I feel a sense of awe staring at my father’s helmet, which seems to follow the same detailing patterns and colors of all the Aliit Veyrde buy’ce, the Mandalorian mythosaur skull emblazoned on the T-visor’s faceplate.

"Osik...Radd'buir...I don't know what to..." I stutter, my voice a hoarse metallic whisper.

"Don't say anything, kid...Here." Radd's eyes are wet with tears as well, and I swear I hear a sniffle from Uncle Barve's direction.  I take the smaller box and open it. It's a one of a kind VeyrdeTech Custom Heavy Blaster- The GVPG-MFP01. I recognize the unique lines of the vertically mounted double barrel blaster nozzles housed in the single box frame, as well as the side mounted micro rocket launcher. Xyla Konshi’s favorite colors, stark black and vibrant gold, adorn the surface…a pure work of art.

...Mom's blaster...

I remember as a kid asking why no one else had a blaster like hers. She used to tell me how Uncle Barve gave it to her as a wedding gift, which surprised her because when she and dad had first met, it was because Barve and Jinn Veyrde had been hired by Sheyf Tinte Vos of Kiffu to kill her. She used to be one of their Guardians, and must’ve karked the Sheyf off real bad to warrant hired Mandalorian assassins. My dad, despite Uncle Barve’s warnings, immediately fell in love. They married only a few months later. It seems fitting that it was kept painted black and gold...the colors of Justice and Vengeance.

Granpappa Radd smiles, having wiped his tears, and opens the last box himself. "This one's from us, Zul'ika. We had it commissioned by an old contact at Xamonet Weapon Labs. The plan was to celebrate your first successful mission as an adult warrior of Aliit Veyrde. Now, it's an instrument of Justice."

I smile sadly, accepting the black sheathed vibro sword with reverance.

The words flow from me without much thought, "Red for Honoring them...black for Justice...and gold... for vengeance..."

Xenio Trask was known to work long hours, and it seemed that tonight was no exception. Helena sat on the opposite building rooftop watching him through her micro-binoculars. Trask was in his early forties, darked haired and a little soft around the middle. It seemed he sat at his desk, just a bit too much.

Helena watched as Trask’s secretary came into the room and dropped off a file before waving goodbye. Trask absently waved goodbye, as he continued working.

Helena lowered the binoculars and studied her datapad. Apparently Trask often did a walk around of the factory before going home. He looked to be sorting his paperwork so Helena decided it was time to move.

It didn’t take her long to get into the building. She used the Force to help a security guard trip over and smash into the closest wall and then she stole his clothes and redressed. With the security guard’s pass she got inside without any trouble.

Helena made her way to the empty loading dock. It was one of the last places Trask would inspect before leaving. It also held the most options for killing him. Helena studied the suspended loads and grinned. Now she just had to make sure he was in the right position for squashing.

Trask walked along the designated path, oblivious to Helena’s presence. Helena used the Force to push a small toolbox over. It clanged to the floor loudly and Trask left the safe pathway to inspect.

Helena waited until Trask was in the optimum position and used the Force to pull the crate downward, snapping its chains and letting it fall. Trask looked up dumbfounded before he was squashed. Helena flinched, “Messy,” she said quietly to herself.

Cheln turned to Vren, “As agreed, you can take your bounty and claim your pay.” Cheln turned to look at Naya, “She comes with us back to Mandalore.”

“What?” Naya gasped, “Why do I have to go Mandalore?”

Cheln smiled coldly, “To ensure Vren keeps his side of the deal.”

Naya’s eye twitched slightly, it seemed that Cheln thought she meant more to Vren that he actually realised. She was a virtual stranger to Vren and she gave him a questioning glare.

Vren spoke, “I’m to meet them at Mandalore. Then you can go do as you like.”

“When exactly are we going?” Naya asked as she narrowed her gaze at Vren.

Cheln took her arm in his large hand, “We leave right now.”

-

They were half way to Mandalore before Naya realised she’d made a potentially fatal error. She hadn’t had much choice in the matter of going to Mandalore, however Naya’s blood had almost frozen in her veins as she overheard Cheln mention the need to report to Dun Gorah.

Naya’s hand absently touched her damaged lek in response to the White Wall. She’d barely escaped death at his hands only months before. Her mind wandered back to the image of him standing over her. He had some sort of clawed glove on his hand. He’d grabbed her by the right lekku and twisted the claws into her delicate flesh. Through the pain she’d somehow managed to obtain her hidden pistol and shot him between his thigh and knee plates.

Naya shook her head in attempt to push the memories away. A faint sweat had broken over her skin and her hands were holding the material of her cargo pants so tight that her knuckles were white. She decided to vanish to her quarters before Cheln decided to make that call.

"Upon your arrival you are to meet with my master at once, understood?" Dun barked to his holo emitter projection of Grenatar Cheln

"Yes sir. And what of the twilek?"

"She is of no matter to me. Proceed with her as you wish." Dun shut off the holo transmitter and rejoined his three man squad.

The four men were positioned on a roof top next to the road leading to the warehouse entrance.

"Are the claymores in place?" Dun inquired

"Yessir, two of them on either side of the road."

"Very well. I will give the signal for when to detonate them. If any try to escape, you will also wait for my signal before picking them off. Understood?"

"Understood." "Yes sir." "Affirmative."

With that Dun lept from the roof, and his heavy boots revealed their hidden nature: Rocket boots. The propulsion wasn't enough to carry him great distances, but just enough to help him make great leaps or soften a fall. He slammed to the ground, his cape fluttered behind him.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

The Rodian Emmissary waited for a few of the bodyguards to move out before emerging from his cab. They had chartered two large transports, with 9 mercs in each and the emissary in one of them. It was a lot of security but it was standard procedure for a purchase this large. The Emissary was actually quite interested in this assault ship and what it brought to the table, considering its price and secrecy. Transporting it from Mandalore to its buyers location will require some smuggling to avoid Imperial entanglements.

The team now moved towards the large warehouse, wherein there was a hangar that stored the ship. The street was deserted, just as was arranged. Neither party wanted word getting out of this deal, considering the precious cargo involved.

One of the mercs made his way to the emissary "We're off schedule. Do you think we'll have to wait to make the deal?"

"Esschuuta doolun doora, no'osko eetal" (The deal is done already, and they will not wait for this one.)

The merc nodded and rejoined the group. Nine in front, and nine behind the emissary. Again, standard procedure, no one expected trouble this time around.

The transports could be heard behind them priming their engines. The Rodian and a few looked back to see them fly off and away. That was not what the emmissary had arranged. Something was wrong.

"Wha?...AMBUSH!"

KABOOOOOM!!! The claymores go off and kill 6 men instantly. Smoke pellets whiz from unknown places and quickly fill the street with smoke. In seconds the mission had descended into chaos.

"Fan out!" A merc officer could be heard yelling to his troops.

Blaster fire erupted from behind them, the Rodian emissary bolted to a building, taking cover in an alcove while drawing his blaster.

Unseen to most, a very large Mandalorian Death Watch warrior clad in white was at the rear of the party, already hacking apart mercenaries with deadly efficiency.

Dun Gorah crept through the thick white smoke and approached a male Gree searching for any sign of friend or foe. With a swipe of his great blade he cleaved the Gree in two as he screamed with his final breath. Two men near him heard the death cry and began firing towards the position.

Moving the defensive cape in the way, Dun blocked the incoming fire and strode through the smoke to their position. He spun, wheeling the vibroblade in the air and chopping off both their heads while fear overcame them at the sight of the white beast.

Just then a thermal detonator thuds to Dun's feet. Without hesitation he punts it back to where it came, and as it explodes several death rattles could be heard.

The smoke began to clear, and many mutilated bodies came into view. Dun rammed his blade through another man's chest, and with only one more left the merc decided to bolt for his life.

"We've got a runner" Chimed in one of the Death Watch soldiers.

"I have him." Dun said as he lifted his sword, and heaved it forth with great force. It flipped and whirled through the air, and struck the merc with such velocity that it impaled him upon the wall beside him.

"Another, to the rear."

"Hold." Dun said as he unholstered his heavy blaster and flipped his  range finder into position. It easily acquired the target and Dun let loose a volley of three shots, two in the chest and one in the head. The man fell dead.

"One more, then we must flee." Dun informed the troops as he casually walked towards the last remaining humanoid alive: The Rodian Emissary.

The Rodian remained in his alcove, shivering from fear, overcome with astonishment as the rapidity with which his party was dispatched by one man... clad in white.

Dun's heavy rocket boots thudded as he made his way to the cowering Rodian. He looked up at Dun, as the white Mandalorian helmet and the black visor that showed no emotion. It was splattered with blood.

The Rodian lifted his blaster and Dun snatched it in his large hand, crushing the feeble fingers of the Rodian as it screeched in pain. With his free hand, metallic claws emerged from his gauntlet. Dun allowed a moment for the Rodian to admire the instrument of his own death, and then plunged them into his face, partially crushing his skull.

Dun rose, wiping his claws on the Rodian's vest before moving to retrieve his sword.

"We're moving out."

Helena had finalised the last few touches of the “accident” Xenio Trask had fallen victim to and was moving on to the next target. This new one wasn’t a kill job, much to Helena’s disappointment. She was to “influence” an R&D technology scientist at MandalMotors. This one’s name was Harold Rotash. The odd thing was, he’d moved up her list from sixth priority to now first (as she’d already killed the top two).

She also had further instructions from the Deathwatch master to get to MandalMotors immediately. It was only when she arrived at MandalMotors that she understood why. The place was a war zone, at least on the upper levels.

It would be much easier to manipulate a terrorised target when the battle was going on, then when it was over. Now she just had to work out how to get inside. The main entrances would be in lock down due to the attack. Helena took a moment and realised the easiest way in would be from the attack point. The hardest part was not getting attacked by the people up there.

Helena rode her swoop bike to the quietest part of the rooftop and slid off. Down low she made her way through the blaster fire and screaming to the nearest entrance. She was almost to the door when she spotted Dun Gorah’s bloodied visage.

Helena could feel the fear of Gorah’s targets as he slew them with amazing finesse and skill. She watched on with a kind of awe and admiration that only a fellow psychopath could understand. Dun Gorah’s emotions flitted to her momentarily. He was in his element, thrilled at watching his victims die in gruesome horror.

Naya had been sitting in her room for less than ten minutes when the door chimed. She answered it to see Cheln facing her. She somehow managed not to swallow. “Yes?” she said keeping it short.

Cheln was looking fairly relaxed, “We’re still at least an hour away from Mandalore. I was wondering if you’d join me for dinner.”

Naya was a little surprised by the invitation. Although it didn’t really sound like it was optional. “Ah, sure, when is dinner?” she said.

“Now,” Cheln said as he extended his hand. Naya stepped forward but avoided his hand, in turn he placed it in the crook of her arm. “This way,” he said guiding her down the corridor.

Naya had expected to be led to the mess hall, but instead she found herself in Cheln’s rather large quarters. A table for two had been set and a large covered serving platter sat in the middle of the table. Cheln pulled out a chair for her and Naya sat, surprised at the gesture.

Cheln lifted the platter cover, “I had slow roasted gornt with red wine jus cooked as I heard it was something of a delicacy on Ryloth.”

To say Naya was surprised was something of an understatement. Cheln had either been to Ryloth or he’d done his homework. “Wow, er… thank you.”

A smile touched Cheln’s lips, “Sometimes it’s nice to taste a little bit of home.” There was an undertone to Cheln’s words but Naya had no idea what it meant. Cheln served up the dish and then took his own seat. “So have you been to Ryloth lately?”

“No, I haven’t been to Ryloth in quite a while,” Naya said truthfully as she started eating her meal.

“So you’ve been travelling with Vren for some time?” Cheln said casually and Naya suddenly realised where this was going. Cheln was trying to assess her worth as a bargaining chip with Vren.

Naya shrugged as she took another mouthful of the delicious meal. “You could say that,” she said, considering that they had travelled down that dark tunnel for ‘some time’.

“How did you meet?” Cheln said, asking a more direct question.

Naya took a moment as she finished her mouthful. “We met under fire. The circumstances led us to a co-operative agreement,” she told, looking Cheln straight in the eye.

He studied her for a moment, “So what is your field of speciality?”

A broad smile spread across Naya’s face, “Explosives.”

Cheln matched her smile, looking impressed, “Ah a lady after my own heart. I started my career in explosives.”

Naya nodded, “So what’s your preferred product?”

“Ultra-blast,” he grinned.

Naya’s eyes widened with enthusiasm. “It’s good stuff if you can get your hands on it.”

His look turned smug, “I’ve got some on board.”

Naya’s jaw dropped, “No way!”

“I’ve got a unique job that requires something more spectacular than regular explosives,” he said as he looking at her with a tilt to his head. “Perhaps you’d like to assist my team?”

Nehutyc slipped his helmet on, and made his way through the lobby of the makeshift Deathwatch HQ. Quietly pondering what they'd done wit Naya. He wasn't about to chase after Cheln in a rescue attempt, but he was worried.
   He brought his communications online and radioed the ship. Vren had never really cared for human company, so he'd fixed up ome droids to help him around the ship. The only other person aboard was his accountant. Its not like he couldn't keep track of his money. It was just easier when he didn't have to.
   The Nautolan also helped around the ship in other ways too. She was a damned good engineer, and oftentimes served as a mission operator to boot.
   Her smooth voice came in through Vren's buyce. "There you are. Where in the blazes have you been?"
   "I've been busy. Look I got the corellian and I'm on my way with him now. But I kind of got pulled into doin somethin" He paused, unsure how closely he was being monitored. "We'll talk more on the ship"
   "Vren whats going on? Seriously talk to" her voice cut out abruptly as Nehutyc switched his comms off and headed for the cell where the corellian was being held.
   Wastng no time he powered down the protection barrier and tossed the man once again over his shoulder.The marks wil seemed to ave completely died out as he made no attempt to free himself or struggle in the slightest. Vren wondered if the Deathwatch had drugged him. It was an entirely probable option.
    Bounty in tote, Nehutyc headed for a taxi. It took several minutes but he finally hailed one down. Hopping inside he handed the driver a 150 credit chit and stuffed the corellian on the double seat opposite him. "Spaceport" Was the only thing he uttered to the drive and they were off.
   Vren began to think about what he'd do with the money he'd pull in off this character. Scenarios didn't float around in his mind for long before he remembered the deal with the Deathwatch.
   He rolled several ideas around in his mind on how to deal with the situation. He could just compl wih Deathwatch. It was good pay and Vren wouldn't need to constantly look around for jobs. They'd just assign him something and he'd do it.
   There was something about them though, Vren couldn't put his finger on it but there was something aout them that made him feel uneasy. Vren stowed the entire thing away, they'd made it to the spaceport.
   Rather annoyed with his situation, Vren kicked the door open and dragged out his mark. The driver looked as though h wanted to say something, Vren simply turned his head, the T-Visor appearing in the rear view mirror. "H h have a gggood day sir" The driver stuttered.
   Vren jogged off towards the Spaceport through the sea of people. Bumpng into and knocking over anyone not clever enough to move out of the way. Even another Mando, who made a particularly feminine "Oof" as he bumped into him.
   Vren didn't stop to look to see if he knew them or not. As far as Mandalorians were considered, Nehutyc never really stuck around his fellow Mando'ad. He'd always considered himself different from them, a black sheep of sorts.
   He hadn't come from a notable lineage of Mandalorian warriors. His parents hdn't even come from any clan of any sorts. They'd put thier beskar away long before Vren had been born and settled down as farmers like most others on Mandalore. Vren had spent hs childhood farming and chasing vermin off the property with his fathers old hunting blaster. Constantly wishing for more than a famrer's life. When He turned 16 he snuck off with his father's old beskar and hunting blaster.
   He took odd jobs here and there around the agrarian parts of Mandalore, as soon as he was able he took passage to Naboo from the spaceport in Keldabe and never looked back.
   Nehutyc hadn't realised how long he' been in thought. He'd ade it the the port where his ship, "The Crusader" had rested for the past week or two.   

   There by the dock hatch stood Brina, his accountant. "What the hells going on" She said as she made her way across the port floor. "On the ship." Vren replied, brushing past her.
   An hour or so had passed since he'd been on the ship and vren still hadn't explained what had happened. He'd locked himself in the holding area after tossing his mark into a cell.
   Finaly he decided he'd tell her. He made his way over to the door and tapped on the console to unlock the door. But it wouldn't budge. "Brina open the door" He said into the comm rather irritated. It swished upward, and Vren made his way to the ships control room.
   Sure enough Brina was there. Leaning against the wall near the starchart. "Whats going on Vren,  what happened down there?" Her large black eyes boring into him. Vren sighed. "I got into some trouble trying to grab the bounty. Next thing I know Deathwatch is conscripting me" He let out, his head lolling to the side to avoid meeting her gaze. He' messed up, but he wasn't sure why she'd made him feel guilty. Their relationship was never this personal.
   She didn't respond so Vren headed over the starchart and began plotting tthe course for Corellia. "Was she worth it?" Brina asked, her voice giving no indication as to what she felt. Vren couldn't believe it. "H-how did you" Vren stammered. "The only other time you've made this big a mess of thing is when that girl from Naboo got in your way. Just be careful, I make my living off of your career. You cross the line and end up paying for it I might as well start hitting cantinas up for work. Besides, remember what happened to that girl in the end despite all that trouble you went through"
   Vren shook the comment off "Its not like that. I got her into some trouble and I kinda owe it to her to get her out." Brina tried to peer past the black depths of Vren's t-visor but couldn't. "Just be careful whatever you do." She said as she headed out of the room. "Paint job and that last set of modifications on your fighter are done too by the way." She managed before the door slid shut behind her.   
   Vren went to confirm the course to Corellia but couldn't. The feeling in his gut tugged at him to go to Mandalore. He sighed, he'd probably regret it but he punched in coordinates for Concordia. Vren hadn't remained totally disconnected from Mandalorians, just the majority of them. His personal armorer was the only other Mandalorian Vren associated with, and Vren got the feeling he'd need his help.

(Hoping this was where you were heading Mel, although you're last post somewhat suggests otherwise. I'll edit if need be but my opposition to Deathwatch wil adamantly remain)

Naya did not like the idea of having anything to do with Deathwatch, let alone join their demolition team. However, if she agreed, there was the potential for escape. “Let me think about it,” she said out loud.

Cheln studied her for a moment, bringing his hands together, finger tips touching. With a nod he replied, “Very well.”

“So what happens when we get to Mandalore?” Naya asked.

Cheln returned to eating his meal, he took his time in answering. “I have some business to attend to. You will be my guest, until you decide on whether or not to be part of my special ops team.”

(Sorry for the short post, will hopefully get more done tomorrow.)

After taking a moment to admire Dun Gorah’s handy work, Helena continued her journey into the depths of MandalMotors. She eventually came upon the office which Harold Rotash worked in. Unfortunately her mark was not in his office.

Helena shifted her focus to the labs in which Rotash tended to work. As she approached she saw one figure deeply engrossed in what he was doing. Again it was not Rotash. Helena ground her teeth in frustration. Yet she approached the lone man, “Hey have you seen Rotash?”

The man lifted his head, peered at her for a moment and then shook his head, “Nope, I think he went home over an hour ago. Had a hot date, or so he told us.”

Helena gave a nod, “Thanks, guess I’ll try again later.” No sooner had she spoken and the man was back to his research.

Helena headed back to the rooftop, perhaps there’d be some poor souls left that she could take out her frustration on.

**Sorry for the delay!**

Naya seriously didn’t want to join Deathwatch, but she suspected that her only possibility of escape was by gaining the Mandalorians’ trust. That was not going to be easy under any circumstances. However the likelihood of having Vren come to her rescue was probably pretty low.

As much as Naya liked the idea of Vren helping get her out of the situation she was in, she wasn’t about to throw all her hopes on it. She’d been a slave long enough to know that the only person she could depend or rely on was herself.

The ship was into its final descent when Cheln returned briefly. “So have you made up your mind?” he asked.

Naya nodded, “Yes. I’ll help your team. What can I say, the idea of playing with ultra-blast is just too tempting.”

Cheln smiled, “I’m glad to hear it. I’ve got to go back to the bridge. We’ll discuss the op more when we land.”

I miss these...

I remember this.... wonder if we could resuscitate this... Probably not. :(

Any of these can be resuscitated - I'm game if we can track down any of the other players

Ralin, try diving into one, and I'll get the word out on Twitter/Facebook. :)

I'm game also, just say the word.

Word. :-)

Ready when you are.

(Ok so its been a while since I jumped on, and i do apologize for such. However I'm all caught up with my classes for the moment and figured now was as good a time as any to start back up.)
   Vren gripped the controls firmly as he set his ship "The Crusader" down on the landing pad. He'd decided to meet his armorer out by a shabby farmstead instead of in Concordia. Should he run into any trouble he could contact Brina and not have to worry about trouble getting to the ship.
   With the ship set down Vren headed to exit the ship. At the ramp Brina stood against the doorway, her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. "Don't make me regret this." She spoke, her voice calm and even. Vren simply nodded in agreement, unsure of how things would play out from here.
   As he set foot on the dead grass, a sinking sensation filled his chest. This might very well be his end, here on the planet he fought so vigorously to leave behind. The sinking sensation quickly turned into fire, and he strode off towards the farm where his contact was to meet him.
   The building was ramshackled and deteriorating. Its inhabitants having left it behind long ago. Vren put his hand out to the wall and touched it solemnly, wishing for a moment to have his old life back. A noise from another room snatched his attention, and he shook the idea from his mind. Drawing his blaster from its holster he rounded the doorway and prepared to fire. Amidst the room was a short lean man clad in flawless beskar. Vren smirked behind his buyce. "Still never had to use that huh?" He asked the man.
   "I came here for your business, not conversation." He responded briskly. With that the man gestured his hand at several closed cases. Again he spoke, his tone lighter than before. "I brought my best, as you requested.".....

I don't know how many can be revived but I'm gonna jump in on this it's a great story :) I'll post soon

Just noticed the replies - Is anyone still game for this RP?

**I'm up for a revival...**

Naya had never been to Mandalore but the place lived up to the image she'd expected. The spaceport was immaculately clean, with huge windows which displayed the elegant skyscrapers outside.

A hand grabbed Naya's elbow, turning her around. "Do you like what you see?" Cheln asked.

Naya was unsure if Cheln's question held a double meaning, "It's certainly an imposingly impressive place."

Her answer seemed to satisfy Cheln, "Yes it is. It's pleasant to be home." He turned and looked at Naya sharply, "However we have business that must be addresses very soon."

Cheln's communicator suddenly buzzed and he released his hold on Naya's elbow. He walked a short distance from her but she still caught enough of his side of the conversation to know that something was up.

"...yes I know I need to see the boss ASAP, however I thought I'd have some time to actually get to Teramine Tower," was the sentence that caught Naya's attention.

**sorry bub just woke up, will write more soon...**

The rain was like a torrent now, pouring down in sheets from the shingle rooftops three and four stories above.  What little glow the evening sun offered the countryside around Keldabe wasn't visible here. Only the marginal glow of the city's lights reflecting off the clouds above remained. Near total darkness dominated the back alleys. 

The squad size group approached two by two, shoulder-to-shoulder through the narrow passageway. Their armored boots treading as lightly as possible against the dirty cobblestone.  Weapons shouldered, the group came to a stop as the passageway opened. Their sergeant silently motioned for the group to take a knee as he scanned the area. The way opened into what was once possibly a place for pedestrians to rest and the tenants of the looming apartments to sit and talk.  Now the widened intersection to the entrances of several alleys branching off in this place had degenerated into a spot for the locals to dump their trash and escape pursuers with the maze of escapes offered.  Piles of junk and bags of garbage littered the scene.  The sergeant checked the scanner strapped to his wrist again: one obvious blip remained stationary just inside a covered alley to their right. The other had vanished from his sensors soon after the marks had turned from their course toward the star port.  Turning to the mercs behind him he signaled with his hand one target ahead. Beginning with three, he made a quick countdown.

In an instant burst, the nine mercenaries rushed from their position.  As each left the alleyway they moved abreast to the left of their sergeant creating a firing line and rushed forward towards the target. Before even half of them had reached his position Valok Haal leaned forward and fired his .48 calibre pistol.  One merc, a Devaronian, was lifted from his feet by the massive slug that ripped through his chest.  The bullet proceeded to nearly tear the arm off the human that was passing behind him.  The mercenary's scream of horror echoed off the stone walls as he lay trapped under his dead comrade's body's and stared at his quivering fingers. 

Before the bodies of their teammates even hit the dirt the other seven members of the mercenary crew had darted to cover and all opened fire. The hail of their bolts sent Valok ducking back under cover.

Quickly and methodically, two mercenaries at a time would move forward from one cover position to the next as the others rained fire into the edge of the stonework building Haal hid behind.   Valok leaned out and fired a couple of shots but couldn't get a clean aim.  Slowed by the blind fire coming from the alley the mercenaries hunkered down behind whatever they could find.  The Sgt. unclipped a grenade from his combat vest and yelled from behind the crushed remains of some now unidentifiable kitchen appliance he'd found.  "We're not here for you Mando! Tell Us Which Way Drakus went and we'll let you live!"

Haal's answer was quick, twisting around the corner and squeezing a shot into the combat helmet of the nearest Merc, dropping the Aqualish with a thud.

The mercs all instantly return fire. The sergeant cursed to himself and activated the grenade in his hand.

Behind them, under a pile discarded trash that they passed, Ralin kicked off the bags of garbage that concealed him. The sensor cloak being generated from his wrist gauntlet masked him from the mercenaries personal scanners.  Both heavy plasters drawn, Ralin instantly targeted the mercenary sergeant. A blaster bolt into the back  of the man's head sent the live grenade rolling by the feet of his comrades.  One of the mercenaries, a Trandoshan, spotted it and tried to flee. Ralin fired both blasters into the aliens chest.  The grenade detonated next to the other two mercenaries who had been next to their leader before they even had a chance to face the new attacker. The last two mercenaries, peppered by debris and knocked from their positions darted for the nearest exit.  Ralin cut one down as Valok moved in and shot the other.  Both were dead before they hit the cobblestone. 

Valok's eyes were wide, adrenalin  pulsing through his body. " Damn..." he whispered to himself and he took in the carnage of the scene.  His fist was locked around the grip of his pistol, knuckles white and drained of blood. His eyes were fixed on the half hollowed out skull of the Aqualish merc he'd shot. 

He shuddered back to reality has Ralin's gloved hand gripped the shirt around his shoulder.  "Wake up."  Valok stared into bleak T-visor of Ralin's helmet for a moment before taking a deep breath and refocusing.  "I'm alright."  Ralin patted the younger man's shoulder stiffly.  "You did good kid.  Search him" he pointed to the charred remains of the mercenary leader.  Valok shuddered slightly, the man's body had been blown against the far wall by his own grenade.  It was hard to tell where his scorched flesh began and burnt clothing and armor ended.  Gritting his teeth, Valok went about the grim business. 

A single blaster bolt to the temple of the Trandoshan who was barely breathing ended his suffering. Then Ralin walked over to the young human who is still pinned under the body of the Devaronian.  The youth was straining to reach the blaster carbine he'd dropped, the blood from his disfigured arm and dead partner awash in the rainwater that pooled around them.  Ralin lowered himself down onto his heels.  "Who sent you?"

The youth continue to grope for his weapon, his bleeding fingers clawing into the rough stone.  Ralin holstered his blaster and then slowly slid the youth's weapon even further from reach. "I'll ask again boy, who sent you to kill me?"

The rain made it invisible, but the red in the boy's eyes betrayed his tears of pain and fear. "It was just a contract, we flew in to do a job that's all I know - that's all any of us knew!"

"Who was the contracting agent.  The middle man."

"I don't know. I swear I don't know!"

Ralin nodded his head.  "I believe you."   In a swift motion Ralin's wrist mounted fighting blades sprang to extension and pierced the mercenary's heart.  With a twist, the young man bled out in seconds.  Retracting the blades, Ralin stood and walked over to Valok.  "Find anything?"

"Well they sure as hell aren't from Mandalore.  Think this one is Corellion."  He handed over a identity chip and charred datapad. 

Ralin examined the chip for a moment.  "The rest of the galaxy hires us to come from off world to do their dirty work, makes sense hire unaffiliated mercs to do your killing for you here."

"You think Mandalorians want you dead?"

"Only thing that makes sense.  There are bloody days coming to Mandalore; politics brings the worst out of all beings.  Some smell power like blood on the air, and they'll always find those willing to follow their banner.  Let's search the rest..."

Before Ralin could finish lights flashed down from above; an armored speeder hovered over them, the colors of the Mandalorian Protectors painted across its hull.  Troopers from the Mandalorian militia police appeared from the alleys and leveled their weapons.  "Make no sudden movements" boomed a voice over a megaphone from the speeder above. 

"Relax" said Ralin to Valok.  "Maybe Fenn can give us some answers about this. 

*Let me know if I need to edit anything. My aim is to be taken to Fenn Shysa who will question me about the dead mercs and try to recruit me to his bid to become Mandalore. Anyone who wants to be a Mandalorian Protector this would be a great in for you, you can help me and Rev investigate who these assassins are and why they wanted me dead*