Objective: Naboo RPG (Page 5 of 7)

POSTING FOR REGIMAS

Regimas drew his blaster and fired rapidly into the crowd of maybe twenty Naboo.  Several went down either dead or screaming before they managed to spread out for cover and return fire. 

As the first shots came his way, Regimas was already on the run evading fire.  Running up the steps of an especially elegant building, he took cover behind one of its white marble pillars.  He took one shot, then another, but it was getting harder to find an opening with the increasing amount of incoming fire. 

Darting from one pillar to the next, Regimas tried to find a better angle, but the street seemed filled with enemy. 

“Red Team, Blue Team, this is Regimas calling anybody out there.  My HUD map is down and I’m pinned down.  Anybody receiving me??”

Turning around, he looked through a large window; an old one that seemed to be made of glass.  The insulation must have been good, because most everyone inside didn’t seem to notice anything was wrong until the fattest human Regimas had ever seen caught sight of him and the light-show of blaster bolts at his back.       

Here goes nothing he thought as he charged the window and dove through, shattering the glass.  As he rolled to his feet, he was met with a wave of screams as people stampeded for cover…

((Sorry going back a bit))

Jag was no longer aware of what was around him.  He only saw his fists and Joslyn's helmet.  But then someone was yanking him off and throwing him off.

Jag immediately got up but was greeted with a blaster to the face.  He fumbled to find words.

"THIS IS OVER!"

"Sir it's my fault.  I let my-"

“Shut up!” Joclyn choked out from one knee, still holding her neck.  “All my fault.  We…”

“ENOUGH!” Fynn snarled.  “Get back with the others NOW, and I’ll CONSIDER not having you both sent back to Mandalore in disgrace.  Now go!”

Jag walked off.  He shut his comm off not wanting to talk to anyone.  This was his worst moment.  He had just made the worst rookie mistake of his life and now this.  He was glad he had this visor because he couldn't bring himself to look Fynn or Joslyn in the face. 

He followed Tracyn into the house and hunkered down in a corner by himself.  He pulled off his visor and found a ration pack.  The rations tasted more stale than ever.  He would do something to make this up.

Fynn checked his six, making sure they weren’t being followed.  Stomping in, he kicked over a nearby caf-table, which sent it and a flowerpot that had been to top of it crashing down. 

Unsealing his helmet, he pulled it off; he wanted the others to see the anger in his eyes. 

“What’s happened to my team?  Huh??  We are supposed to be the elite of the ELITE!  Yet we couldn’t handle those glorified policemen out there??  We can’t even keep our PETTY grudges in check on the mission??” 

Fynn paced back and forth a couple of times.  “This Op. is still a go.  I will NOT allow this mission to be a failure.  It’s time we all shape up, because if we go out there looking like we did before one of us will be getting killed, and it might not be a Naboo who squeezes the trigger.  Understood?”

“Ahh Oooo” most replyed rather softly.

“I asked UNDERSTOOD??”

“AHHH OOOOO!” 

Fynn resealed his helm and then looked around.  "Where the hell is Regimas??"

Jag tenderly wrapped her hand.  He felt terrible.  This was his fault.  And watching the conversation only made the knot in his stomach grow worse.  He looked at Joslyn's eyes.  They burned with a fire that he had grown to know and love.  His mind flashed back to Mandalore...

She was a darling.  Curly brown hair hanging down.  And there was a fire in her eyes.  Jag looked to my wife.

"I say she's prettier then you."

"You said no one would look better than me."

"Wait until she gets her first set of besk'gam."

"My place as the love of your life is threatened by a four year old."

Just then a gurgled cry was heard from outside.  And a scream.  They both rushed outside and saw Ki'era sitting on the ground blood pouring out of a cut on her arm.  Snuggled in her arms was a baby strill.  A wild one at that.  She looked up at her mum and dad and said one word eyes blazing.

"Mine."

Jag laughed and picked up his daughter, strill still in her arms.  "HA!  Her first catch!  I told you she would give you a run for your money."  Jag took her in and bandaged up her arm still staring into those beautiful eyes...

He snapped back to the present.  Finishing up the knot Jag stood up.

"I wouldn't do too much damage to you anyway.  Solus would have murdered me if I had."

With a chuckle he made his way to the rest of the group.

Joslyn stared at Jag’s back as he walked away. What had he meant by that comment,
"I wouldn't do too much damage to you anyway.  Solus would have murdered me if I had." What did Solus care? He wasn’t her squad leader or anything.

As far as Joslyn knew, Solus was still sniping on the roof, as the thought crossed her mind Solus was revealed to her as Kelborn stepped back. She looked at him for a moment and wondered what Jag could have meant.

She shook her head and replaced her glove over her injured hand and reached for her helmet. Before she placed it on her head Solus approached her. “You were fighting against Jag in a battle?”

Joslyn didn’t like his condescending tone. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing but a gargle came out.

“You alright?” Solus asked as he touched her shoulder.

Joslyn pointed to her throat then did an action with her elbow, “Jabbed in throat.” She said hoarsely.

Solus immediately turned to glare at Jag. Joslyn tugged on his arm to try and correct his assumption but was interrupted as Fynn and Tracyn decided the course of action.

Sorry for the late join, I was gone. Anyways, I talked with Ralin, and I'll be part of Blue Team when I join up with you. I'll say I was an advance scout or something.

Name: Kal Goran [blade, blacksmith]

Age: 27

Appearance: 6’2, well built and well-muscled. Blond hair, worn longish, small goatee . Bright blue eyes. Average scarring.

Armor: Black beskar’gam, gold highlights around the T-slit visor, and on his gauntlets. Red Mythosaur skull on his right shoulder piece. Gauntlet vibroblade in right gauntlet, as well as a dart launcher/wrist rocket. Grapnel cord in left, and a cutting laser. Flamethrower attachment available as a snap on replacement.

Weapons: Black-handled beskad, with gold tracings. Modified Verpine shatter gun, Assault model (turns into sniper with longer barrel and a scope added). Blastech Rifle, handguns, knives, etc. Various other weapons depend on situation.

Ship: Custom Mandal-Motors ship, effective size comparable to Slave I. Name, Tra’kad, Mando’a for “Star Saber”. Heavily armed, it was designed as a mercenary’s ship, not a bounty hunter’s, but does have two small cages for prisoners. Sleek

History: Born on Mandalore to Orar and Behot Goran. His father, Orar, was a blacksmith by trade, and taught his son the craft from early age. By the age of five, Kal had forged his first blade. By fourteen, he had forged his bes’kad, which he uses to this day. His parents and family were all instrumental in his training as a warrior, a true verd of the Mandalorian society. He was taught how to fight by his father and heal by his mother, whose name means “herb”. But Behot is dangerous, like many herbs—used wrong, they can be a poison. She too taught him how to fight. He was taught love, loyalty, discipline, and respect throughout his early life.  His father’s name, Orar, means “thunder”, and his deep voice and eyes that flash when angry prove this no misnomer. But his gruffness was rarely feared by his children, because he was kind and he loved them fiercely. Of all his sons, Kal showed the most interest and aptitude at his father’s trade, and father and son spent much time working in their forge. Kal loved 

His older brother, Kom’rk, was a frequent sparring partner in his early years, and they have a relationship stronger than a beskar chain—nothing can separate them. Together, they are nigh unstoppable in battle, and have fought together on numerous occasions.

Kal has two twin brothers, younger than him. They never showed much interest in forging weapons or learning how to heal, preferring to spar or play pranks.

When he was fifteen, Kal forged himself his own armor, an unusual practice for such a young warrior. Kal painted it black, symbolizing the justice the galaxy so often lacks. The gold highlights, though, promise swift vengeance to any who should harm those he loves. On his sixteenth birthday, his father presented him with a ge’kal, or a small knife that is concealed in a boot or under the armpit (lit. “almost blade”).

Kal was sent in as an advance agent, before the primary strike force. He scouted some, and is now linking up with the primary force.

Personality: Kal is very loyal—to his family, Mandalorians in general, and to anyone who earns his trust. He is friendly among those he trusts, but less so among strangers and arruetii. He’s a fun loving guy, able to joke even amidst the toughest battle.  Though more compassionate than most Mandalorians, Kal is still a fierce fighter, and merciless in combat.

Skills: The best swordsman of his family, indeed, among the best on Mandalore, Kal could fight many Jedi to a standstill. He’s a crack shot with any weapon, too. Decent explosives skills, and is a mediocre slicer. Kal is an excellent pilot, as well.

Likes: Forging weapons, flying Tra’kad, sparring, and fighting. Kal loves to spend time with his family and friends.

Dislikes: Republic, the Jedi.

Dachande was watching a group of humans as they walked through the city. Suddenly 12 beams shot and marked a target. Dachande began to fire at the hostiles, clearly hitting one and sending the rest scattering for cover and shooting into the sky. Dachande moved immediately, firing as he ran, so they could not mark his position. Ducking and weaving he drew his wristblades, and charged that the squad

Returning from what was the bathroom, Marcus saw that everyone was leaving, and therefore he rushed to catch up.

"HEY! DON'T LEAVE WITHOUT YOUR SERGEANT!"

Catching up to Fynn, he turned and asked, "So, Commander, what are we doing? More pwning?"

"Regimas has gone missing, we can't communicate with him, so there's no choice but to go look. Red Team is leading the search, and we're covering them."

"Oh. Yeah, that might be a good idea to go look for him..."

The teams continued their way into the city.

Posting For Regimas *I noticed you were online today ner’vod, but since I’m not sure if you’re really back or were just leaving, and also since you don’t know what I’ve gotten you into, I’m gonna make this post.  Let me know if you want to take over again and I’ll fill you in on what’s going on*

Turning to look outside, Regimas fired two quick head shots into a pair of Naboo security officers who had run up the steps after him.  With a careful aim, he sniped another soldier in the City Square below.   

With a gulp, he could see Naboo reinforcements arriving from a side street.  From a nearby rooftop, however, blue plasma bolts began to rain down on the formation, sending them into a panicked race for cover.  Good ol’ Dachande

Regimas added his blaster to the fire as well, taking out several as the Naboo ran.  Checking over his shoulder, nearly all the civies had run out the back; only a tall this man remained; his gaunt face seemed to be twisted with rage. 

Another rush of oncoming Naboo diverted his attention.  A few quick shots put three of them down quickly, while two others cut off their charge and dove for cover.  Both were quickly cut down by blue bolts from Dachande.

But then, Regimas heard a crunching sound behind him; he could see in his 360 degree vision that the tall civie was charging at him with a vibro blade.  Not smart…

In a flash of motion, Regimas drew his sword, ducked the stab from the civilian, and thrust his blade back into the man’s lower cheast. 

Stunned and mortally wounded, the civie dropped his blade and gripped the blade that had been thrust into him.  Regimas then ripped the blade out and let the man fall.  Looking down at him for a possible trophey, Regimas suddenly had the feeling he was being watched…

Tracyn was the first to notice the Elite soldiers.

Take cover!" He shouted as blaster bolts flew over his head. The Mandos all took cover, firing at the two Naboo. One fell as Tracyn's blaster bolt hit him square in the chest, but the other ducked behind a fountain and continued to fire at them.

(Netty, Yeetos not dead.....yet. He's gonna get back up soon)

"Oww!" Tracyn yelled as a blaster bolt clipped his shoulder. The other Elite Naboo was surprisingly skilled, as he was holding several Mandos at bay by himself. Tracyn had a bad feeling that something bad was going to happen soon....

Tracyn saw her collapse, and he noticed she was dead. He took one of her shoulder plates, and her Mandalorian rippers as memoirs of her, and continued on without her. Tears would be shed later.