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Iota
You wouldn't like me without my coffee *hulk face*
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last online Feb 4, 2012 7:43:30 GMT -5
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Dec 25, 2008 7:52:36 GMT -5
Post by Iota on Dec 25, 2008 7:52:36 GMT -5
Joranus looked to Raynes, who was what some could consider a behemoth amonsgt men. He then proceeded to look to his squad for a few moments before removing his helmet. His face scarred from the many battles he had taken part in over the years, the main scar running down the right side of his face from the top of his for head over his eye and down to his chin. He looked deep in contemplation before he finally spoke.
"Very well... you will be assigned a new company of fresh warriors... of your chosing of course.. use what ever resources you can find to replenish any ammunition or updated weaponry you can find...Also, if you need a new ship... we have a wide range for a small company to operate that is up to date and capable..." He paused for a few moments before walikng to a near by terminal to look at some information.
"The Republic, as always.. is stagnant and corrupt state who at any cost or by any means want to quiet this so called "insurgency"... This sector of space is ours by birthright, the mandalorians owned it before the republic even existed and for them to say it's theirs is blasphemy... i do not care for the republic, nor the sith... eventually they both will fall "Absolute power, corrupts"..." Joranus looked back to Raynes. "The galaxy already know of our prowess in battle, they also know that any army the republic can cough up, special forces or not.. will never beas good as the might of the mandalorian... The republic out number us... but we have far more warriors than they will ever have.". Joranus walked back to Raynes stopping once again a few feet infront of him.
"Be our eyes and ears in regards to the sith, take what you need and come back for supplies when needed.. you will have our full co-operation.. to get back to our former glory, we shall not make the same mistakes as we did prior to the mandalorian wars". Joranus swiftly brought his hand to his breast plate and nodded slightly.
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Regnier
I get paid to kill bodies, and I enjoy my job. Any questions?
802 posts
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Maimkillburn?
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last online Jan 19, 2012 4:30:24 GMT -5
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Jan 5, 2009 4:09:11 GMT -5
Post by Regnier on Jan 5, 2009 4:09:11 GMT -5
"A small company will suffice. A few less than ninety-"
"Eighty-nine."
"-is all I require to fill my ranks. Too many in number, and we begin to lose our edge as an assault force. Too many, and we become a hammer, not a precision tool."
Mkohar and Felix nodded a few times, the Barabel folding his arms across his chest. He let out a quiet hum as several things ran through his head, formulating his words before he spoke. "Never turn down more ammo. The guns and blades we won't need, though, except possibly for new recruits. Arkas was a damned good weapon-smith, and he taught his wife everything he knew. Each of us have spent quite a bit of time, money, and metal piecing together exactly what we need, and some of us started...well, a very long time ago."
"Last I talked to Bralin, though, our beskar stock is running lower than he likes, and he won't patch our armor with anything else."
"We won't be needing a new ship yet, either. Our ship will hold all we need, and will serve our purposes just fine; Hollis'd probably kill someone if we tried to replace She'eta, anyways. We'll keep the offer in mind, though; a ship other than our own may prove useful at some point."
"I have no love for the Republic, and neither do I hate them, but rather my views on them are...complex. Let us leave it at that. Their government is indeed full of flaws, of that I have no doubt, and neither do I doubt that the Mandalorians will outlive it, but it has had its uses. Whether or not it will have more...well, that is up to fate. Kad Ha'rangir will bring change, in time. I do not believe the Republic will require much of my attention in the coming days."
Chuckling lightly, Felix exchanged a glance with the Barabel and the Twi'lek. He grinned beneath his helmet. "We plan on being more than just your eyes and ears, General."
"We'll be in touch, Joranus. Until next we meet..." In near-perfect sync, all four snapped their fists to their chests in response to the salute. "If you have need, we will be on the planet. By your leave."
Just as they had come, the four left the room, stopping a few paces outside.
"Deggeram, get back to the ship; I want updates from the others. Carthen, hit the cantinas, ask around for prospects. Mkohar, sweep the streets, see if you can find anyone useful, and keep your ears open. I'll look around here. You know what to look for. Move."
The three nodded in unison and set about their respective tasks as Raynes turned and started down the opposite hall.
It was time for a recruitment drive.
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Squee
The Keeper
2,286 posts
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I am Deception, and I defy your holiest moralities.
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last online Oct 24, 2016 0:33:56 GMT -5
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Jan 6, 2009 1:36:40 GMT -5
Post by Squee on Jan 6, 2009 1:36:40 GMT -5
Valry appeared from yet another doorway. Her jaw was locked and her brown eyes smoldered. A few paces from information center, Valry stopped and pinched the bridge of her nose. A frustrated sigh passed through her mouth as she rubbed with her fingers. Blinking several times after releasing her nose, she glanced down at Orak.
He stood beside her as always, attentive to the world. A silent onlooker. His eyes swept the street, watching for… Valry was never sure what. Her son always just stood and stared. She knew he didn’t look into space because he constantly moved his head. A small noise could be heard and he’d snap his neck around to examine where it had come from and, if possible, notice what had caused it.
She couldn’t say she blamed him for being so mindful to his surroundings. They had lived in some unstable and nasty places. In an environment like that, it was eat or be eaten. One learned to pay attention to their environments quickly, especially after a horrid encounter of some kind. Valry had a lot of practice. Orak had established such a skill at a young age.
So, it wasn’t so much as they were paranoid when they looked around as they did. It was out of habit. Valry felt a little silly darting glances over her shoulder when her mind registered sensing some one behind her, but it was a merely an ingrained reaction. If anyone had been behind you in the low levels, they were usually coming to do harm.
Valry wanted the rest of her family. Her mother and father, and so on. She was so sure they could cure any uneasiness and Orak could begin to train properly. That was what she had come here for. All she had to do was find them. And to do that, she had to purchase a vehicle. And to do that, she needed the money. She had enough to rent out a room for Orak and her to stay in for a little while. It was back to civilian ways until she could get that vehicle.
Orak made her heart leap in surprise by suddenly tapping furiously on her thigh, trying to gain her attention. “Buir! Buir, buir, buir!” he hissed excitedly. His taps were light. They were hardly large enough to appear as trouble. That would’ve marked him as a bratty troublemaker.
Valry blinked a few times and finally responded: “Elek?
He stopped tapping, though his hand remained to contact her. “Buir, te meg ori Mando’ad.” He was looking…
Ah yes, the one from before that had passed her a little while ago. Valry could distinguish him from the crowd easily, just as her son had. He was by himself this time. Valry almost shrugged to herself. Whatever he was doing, it was no concern to her.
She touched her gloved hand to the top of Orak’s head. The gesture was unexpected and Orak tilted his up to look at her hand for a moment as if it were a foreign object.
“… Orak, have you been scratching at that scab?”
There was no answer. The boy took a half a step from her side and dropped his chin a little.
“Don’t scratch it. I’ve told you before. If you scratch it an continue to open it up, you’ll get a bigger scar.” That was the truth, but not why Valry wanted him to quit scratching it off. If it got infected, she’d have to pay for someone’s healing abilities. She didn’t want to do that, but if that scratch got infected, Valry would pay every last bit to cure him. But, it was best to prevent the infection first, right?
“All right, enough of that. We need to go find us a place to stay.”
“Mommy…”
“Yes, Orak?”
“Can we not live some place smelly again?”
That hint of a smile poisoned her lips. Leave it to children to bring up the littlest things that seem the biggest problems in life.
((Not my greatest work. Bleh.))
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Regnier
I get paid to kill bodies, and I enjoy my job. Any questions?
802 posts
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last online Jan 19, 2012 4:30:24 GMT -5
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Jan 7, 2009 7:10:18 GMT -5
Post by Regnier on Jan 7, 2009 7:10:18 GMT -5
Concord Dawn...
Raynes had never much liked the planet in the first place, but now...now, walking upon its surface again for the first time in more than half a century, the building, people, even the very air around him served as reminders. Loss, gain, love, war...for as relatively little time as he'd spent here, the planet held ties to numerous things from his past, the majority of which were not pleasant memories. Still, some good had come from it, he supposed; a little, but enough. Enough to have made this place worth more to him than just any other rock he'd bled on.
Sliding both thumbs beneath the edge of his helm, he caught the releases and slid it off, resting the large piece of metal on his belt. Eyes, cold and lifeless as the green gems from which they took their color, took in the area around him meticulously, going over every detail. With one hand, he tested the tie holding his hair back in a ponytail, while with the other, he opened a small, metal pack resting along the back of his belt and reached inside. The small piece of metal he withdrew, no larger than a coin, appeared almost fragile in comparison to the massive, fully-plated gauntlet it was held within, though it was actually quite the opposite. A solid piece of Mandalorian iron, the red paint still apparent on the one side, even with the slightly scorched edges, removed from the center of a Mandalorian's breastplate a long time ago. Other than the black around the edges, the marks left by fire, and a few small nicks, its only notable feature was that it had quite obviously been sheared clean in half, though it was remarkably intact when you considered how old it was. Few, however knew from where it had come.
For what seemed an eternity, he simply kept his head lowered, his gaze fixed on the small piece of armor in his open palm, ignoring the rest of the world as it passed him by. A shoulder grazed him every so often, though it did little to effect him, he simply remained motionless as a mountain caught in a flood, the tides of bodies filling the air around him, but doing nothing to move him. "Ni su'cuy, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum..." He said in a whisper, his voice hardly loud enough to carry far in the street. As his open palm turned into a fist, gripping the piece of metal as if it could in some way bring back who it had belonged to, his eyes closed, and for once in a very long time, a trace of regret surfaced upon his face. "Selna...udesiir o'r ky'ram, ner riduur...ner cyare."
As quickly as it had come, it disappeared, the weathered warrior's face returning to the indifference it had born for so long. He missed her, with every shred of soul he had left he missed her, but in this life, he could never allow that to affect him. He had promised, his father, Hesh...he had sworn to become what he was now, and Raynes was a man of his word. Feeling was not something he could allow himself. Bringing his head back up, he scanned the crowd again as he slipped the small fragment of his past back within its pouch. So many Mandalorians...but he saw none that would-
But wait, what was this? The woman he had made note of earlier...yes, it was her, child in tow as before. There was something to be said for being a head taller than virtually everyone else. Yes, she would make an acceptable candidate by his estimation. He started towards her, but stopped but a few strides forward when his ears picked up the all-too familiar sound of a power cell coming to life as it was activated, running a charge through the blaster it was attached to.
"Kohul."
The word was nearly hissed. Male. Human, most likely, and judging from the faded inflections of an accent, he gauged Mandalorian, native to Mandalore itself. From the tone, it was an easy guess to say that it was someone he'd made an enemy of. Unfortunately, that really didn't narrow things down much. Raynes didn't flinch, didn't move.
"Correct."
"I can't believe my luck...never thought I'd have the chance to kill you, hut'uun. Guess life is fair, after all."
Honestly, it was amazing how fast something that large could move. Raynes had already come clean around, his arm fully extended in a powerful backhand as that blaster pistol went off. The bolt seared a faint line along the side of his neck as it passed, almost in perfect unison with the impact of the juggernaut's gauntlet against the Mandalorian's armored wrist. The tendon snapped, audibly, as the bone shattered under the immense impact, but the air within the man's lungs never had a chance to form the roar of pain as Raynes followed through in one swift motion, driving his gauntlet directly into the seventh rib on the right side and activating the blade resting on the back of his fist as soon as he connected. He felt the bone give way under the blow, the blade pushing through the light armor and into the flesh beneath. As he reversed his right hand and drove it inwards as he had done with the other, he more of felt, rather than heard, the second blaster go off as the bolt caught him in the shoulder-blade.
He didn't even slow down, ignoring everyone around him as several weapons were drawn, though he did make an exact note of from where the shot had come. As soon as his main hand connected and the blade had penetrated beneath the bone, he easily lifted the man off his feet a ways, let his weight drop, then drove his arms up before he touched the ground. Beneath his helmet, the man's face twisted in silent agony as bones snapped under the sudden redistribution of weight and power, the short vibros carving through his armor, flesh, and bone like paper. Jerking one blade free, Raynes turned on his heel, lifted the lifeless body over his shoulder, and threw him at the second shooter as he fired a second shot, which only succeeded in catching the first man in midair.
The man barely had time to get a hand on the ground to prop himself up and bring his rifle up in one hand before Raynes was on him. Before the rifle could be fired again, Raynes drove one gauntlet-blade through the grip, as well as the Mandalorian's hand. Twisting inwards, he set one boot firmly against the man's chest, drove his second blade through his elbow, and pulled out, his now-free hand moving to his hip and pulling the blaster he carried free. Drawing a bead on his throat, Raynes stopped, watching him tremble from the immense amount of pain inflicted. He gave the man credit for managing to remain quiet, though, he supposed blinding rage tended to do that.
"If memory serves, there were three of you left last we met. Tell me, where is your sister?"
"Memory's still sharp, I see."
Raynes turned his head to face the origin of the voice, scarcely thirty feet behind him. The streets as relatively clear as they now were, most other Mandalorians having simply moved on to let them settle their dispute themselves, or having moved clear of being in immediate danger, it was fairly easy to spot who had spoken. That, and he recognized the woman training a heavy rifle on his skull. Raynes made no move, the only sign of life from him being the rapid movements of his eyes and the wisp of smoke flowing off the back of his shoulder from the small carbon-score.
"Hmph. Your family never could let go of the past, could you? I'll not bother trying to explain my actions to you again, so if you're going to try it, then pull the trigger, and we'll see who walks away. I've wasted enough time with you and your deluded sense of vengeance as it is."
"Never much one for mincing words, were you? Well, fine by me. See you in hell, Kohul."
The woman braced her shoulder and drew in a steady breath.
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Squee
The Keeper
2,286 posts
95 likes
I am Deception, and I defy your holiest moralities.
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last online Oct 24, 2016 0:33:56 GMT -5
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Jan 8, 2009 1:15:31 GMT -5
Post by Squee on Jan 8, 2009 1:15:31 GMT -5
Valry was about halfway across the hallway, ready to leave to the dusky expansion outside of these halls when the commotion began. Orak jumped at something, making Valry more alert. The awareness in the other beings passing her by was also peaked, and some passed quickly by her, tense, as if running from trouble. One nearly collided with her, streaking down at a strict pace. Her nose nearly grazed, Valry shot a glance down at Orak to see he remained with her as usual.
The boy was staring to their left. His arm was wrapped tightly against his waist, his fingers curled into a balled fist. He looked slightly pale, if Valry thought about it. Something worried or troubled him. He reached a hand out for her, missed her body, and gave a little stumble as he quickly regained his balanced and finally placed his hand against her thigh, drawing some reassurance from her.
Valry’s eyes flicked up, and the sounds of scuffle tickled her ear. The actions from here were more noticeable than the sounds. There was a snap and a sizzle rising from it, she could here. But her eyes told most her most of the story.
Someone had obviously found the behemoth Mando’ad, or the other way around. Whoever found the other, they most certainly didn’t like each other. And whoever had taken on the large Mandalorian was losing… horribly. Valry watched his movements, reminded of her mother and her quick body, striking again and again and dwindling the opposition’s strength.
Few were standing spectator. As she noticed, the people found an alternative route or scampered around the fighting men. She watched the unwilling behavior toward the fight for the briefest of moments until her expert ears picked up the cough of a second blaster shot. This one caught the large Mandalorian in the back, but he didn’t phase. This time, Valry blinked in some admiration. The only other person she had seen take a hit and not give it much reaction like that had been her father. So many, even the decent warriors, still had trouble taking a hit of some kind and not letting it enter their train of thought or falter them from executing their intentions.
And then the smaller Mando’ad was hurled at another. The second, she realized through the mass of striding bodies passing her, held a blaster. Apparently, he had shot the large one in the back.
“Mom-“
“Come, Orak. You need to see how real Mandalorians hold their own.”
She led her son off to the side after taking him by the hand. She kept to the sides of hallway, avoiding the bodies and placing a respectable distance between her and the fighting individuals. Orak stayed as silent as ever, eyes glued to strife.
Valry crouched beside her son, a hand on his back as she looked on with her own interest. Whenever she looked at Orak, his eyes were flickering wildly as if unable to stay focused for three seconds. His face was no longer pale, the color returning some to give if a more fleshy appearance. His hands had casually slipped into the pockets of his trousers. Valry wasn’t exactly sure what was going through the boy’s head, or how he seemed so relaxed suddenly.
Words. Valry’s attention slipped from her son and her head tilted so she could listen to what had to be said between the two people. She recognized a woman with a rifle now, aimed at the large Mandalorian. That most definitely had Valry’s attention. Rifles were like her best friends, and the correct form and use of one was just as important to her as a well cared for weapon. At least the woman acted like she knew what to do with such a tool…
As for the brief, very brief, exchange of words, Valry concluded as much as a grudge was floating through the air. She could never really understand grudges. This was all about vengeance, she thought. Nothing but a few people ready to mount weapons and shoot down the others who have pissed you off in some way. You had to control your temper just a little. Mandalorians were your typical folk to gain revenge. Most of them anyway.
Valry only shot down the people who threatened her survival or the life of her son. She didn’t go tracking for the survivor of the speeder crash her husband had been part of and shoot him down. She could’ve. She could have been successful, but she didn’t find any worth in it.
After revenge was lived and through, many found themselves wandering aimlessly. There was nothing behind an act of vengeance. When it was finished, it was finished. It wasn’t worth going after. Valry had decided that when her husband was killed. It wasn’t worth bantha fodder.
Valry couldn’t think of an excuse for doing what she did. To rise from her position after telling Orak to remain put. She didn’t understand why she drew her pistols, squeezing off a shot as the woman hefted the rifle to her shoulder. Her eyes had shifted at the beginning of the rifle’s body and fire without thinking about it. She left Orak in a half shadow, walking forward and pulling the trigger once more.
Valry had been slightly behind the woman. Her shot aimed for the hand that held the trigger ready to be squeezed, and another went off to the hand that braced the barrel. Arms uncrossing, Valry sighted one of the blaster pistols on the woman’s head and the other on the battery pack of the rifle.
“So much as a twitch and I’ll make the next one go through your eyeball. Why are you being as daft as animals? If you want to kill, you don’t do it publicly.”
Her cinnamon eyes gave the large Mandalorian a stern, three second glance. A hardness rested within them, acknowledging him but a warning glinted there. She wasn’t exactly on his side. While her right arm was tensed on the woman’s head, her left one remained loose, ready to shift in his direction if need to be.
She still didn’t know why she was standing there. For goodwill? She could’ve let the woman kill him. But she didn’t. Foolishness never crossed her mind, fortunately. They didn’t need to ask for reason; they can assume she had one. With a set intent, she sure did appear to have a reason for stopping a blaster bolt searing through the behemoth’s head.
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Regnier
I get paid to kill bodies, and I enjoy my job. Any questions?
802 posts
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Maimkillburn?
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last online Jan 19, 2012 4:30:24 GMT -5
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Jan 11, 2009 16:41:21 GMT -5
Post by Regnier on Jan 11, 2009 16:41:21 GMT -5
The let out a hoarse yell of pain as a blaster-bolt caught her main hand. She released her grip and recoiled off to the side, the second bolt impacting the side of her rifle as she twisted away. Dropping the rifle, she turned her head sharply, fixing the shooter with a glare that burned even through her own visor as she cradled her hand, her breathing quickened and pained. She turned back to Raynes.
"Having your minions do your work for you, now, Raynes? You never were much one for a fair fight..." She growled. In the back of her mind, that burning need for satisfaction told her to reach for her sidearm, but logic said she didn't have a chance in hell at getting a shot off. Her shooting hand wouldn't allow her to pull it off. As much as she wanted it, needed just that one shot, she knew it wasn't going to happen as it was.
Raynes didn't even flinch as the first shot went off, however. His eyes flicked to where the bolt had come from. It had been her, the one he'd been looking at. It was just his kind of luck, wasn't it? If such a thing existed. He simply met her eyes with an empty stare, returning his gaze to his last would-be killer.
"She's not one of mine, Cala. Take the hint. Is this what your Clan would have wanted? I gave you three a chance, a shot at returning you Clan's honor; they left me no choice, but you...you could have changed. I could have finished the lot of you when I had the chance, but I didn't. Should I have, Cala? Should I now? Or can you get it through your thick skull that you can still walk away from this?"
"I'll never be able to stop, and you know it." Turning slightly, Cala brought her gaze again to the woman who had shot her. "Do you want know what this man did to me, to my family? He killed everyone I ever cared about, save for two brother. Everyone. My entire Clan, he hunted down and murdered like...like animals. There was no honor in what he did, and he denied my entire Clan honorable deaths. I've been waiting for this...for more than fifty years. Who are you to take this away from me?"
"She is a Mandalorian, as am I, as are you. Act like it. It is regrettable the deed had to be done, but that doesn't change the fact that it did have to be done. I'll not shed tears over blood spilled for a good cause. Perhaps I should show you exactly what it is your Clan, you family did to deserve their fate. You know why they had to be stopped, but perhaps you need to see it for yourself. Maybe then you'd realize that it's not me you should hate. I'll not willingly die so that you may seek false peace."
Straightening himself, Raynes jerked his blade free, eliciting a howl of agony from the Mandalorian beneath him as he pried the man's weapon from him. He looked it over briefly, shaking his head and throwing it off to the side of the street. He had hoped that things had changed since he'd left, that truths had come to light in his absence, but it was obvious that such was not the case. Had he the capacity to feel, he would have been saddened by this discovery, but...he felt nothing. He didn't have the time to feel sorrow.
"I tire of your naiveté, Cala. Take what's left of your family while you still have it and go home."
Pulling his helm from his belt, he once again raised it to his head and slid it on, pausing immediately after it sealed when a familiar sound came from behind him. He didn't even need to think to know what it was, instinct told him it was a concussion grenade arming. First reflex told him to throw his weight as far away from the blast zone as possible, but he didn't moved. Slowly, he turned his head back towards the downed Mandalorian, a live grenade held in his functional hand as his chest heaved. Cala dropped to her knees, a crack forming in the harshness of her voice.
"Brother, no..."
"See you in hell, ori'vod..."
"Imbecile..."
Turning on his heel, Raynes did exactly what his trained reflex told him. There were other Mandalorians nearby, children even, and a live grenade in the middle. He didn't so much fall as aim, dropping his torso over the Mandalorian's body, draping himself over the grenade. He hugged the ground as tightly as possible, pressing his chestplate into the grenade, in an attempt to contain as much of the blast as possible. A concussion grenade it may have been, but Mandalorian munitions were extremely powerful by nature, and he didn't like collateral damage among Mandalorians unless absolutely necessary. His life was less important in his estimation. Besides, he gave himself fairly good odds of surviving.
The explosive went off with a muted whumpf beneath the armored giant, lifting him partially off the ground and throwing dirt, smoke, and a red mist out in an obscuring cloud. For several second, no sound same from within the cloud, though it's not as if Raynes would have been able to tell anyways with the way his ears rang.
Slowly, he pushed himself off the lifeless corpse beneath him, first to his knees, then to his feet, smoke flowing from the moderate damage on his breastplate. It would take a lot more than that to crack his shell. Swaying ever so slightly, he attempted to shake the shell-shock out of his head, but the blur refused to leave his vision. Again pulling his helmet off, he leaned to the side and spat the blood pooling in his mouth and wiping the small trail that had begun to run from the corner of his mouth away, much preferring it on the ground than floating around inside his helmet. He'd had that experience all too often in his line of work, and it wasn't pleasant. Arching his back, he felt something in his ribcage shift unnaturally with a faint crack, but made no sound otherwise. He'd broken ribs before, and he'd fought wars with a lot more than a few fractures. Pain, like sorrow, was not something he had time to feel anymore.
"So it ends. Do not make me shed any more Mandalorian blood today, Cala. Bury your revenge, for it will get you nothing, even if you succeed. Rebuild your clan, and leave me to my own cursed fate."
She made no response, instead leaning forward until her helmet touched the ground, a quiet sob wracking her frame once.
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Squee
The Keeper
2,286 posts
95 likes
I am Deception, and I defy your holiest moralities.
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last online Oct 24, 2016 0:33:56 GMT -5
Master
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Jan 11, 2009 21:59:24 GMT -5
Post by Squee on Jan 11, 2009 21:59:24 GMT -5
The glare Valry knew was there didn’t phase her. No swaying, no fidgeting, not even shifting her feet. She could almost feel the tension, and she knew the woman disliked her much for shooting her hand. The rifle out of fight, both pistols trained vital spots on the woman’s body. That left arm still remained loose, just in case her target had to switch to the behemoth.
There were several parts of the conversation Valry didn’t like. First of all, she wasn’t anyone’s minion. Minions were little pests called ankle biters. Valry was no ankle biter. And as for fair fights… when was there ever a fight that could be considered fair? There was always some advantage that another didn’t have, making no such fight fair.
At least the Mandalorian, who the woman had referred to as Raynes, had the sense to correct the woman. That was good. At least of the two had figured out there was no reason to needlessly decide to irk another.
As for the woman explaining to her what she believed had happened to her clan… Valry’s give a damn was busted. Her husband had been denied an honorable death. Being killed in a speeder crash was hardly honorable to the Mandalorian beliefs. He was killed by someone who merely hadn’t been paying attention worth a womp rat’s ass. There had been no battle field. No anything. A weapon hadn’t been in his hand.
Her jaw steeled a little more, her eyes sizzling at the helmeted woman. Her left arm locked firmly onto a vital spot.
“Don’t tell me about honorable deaths,” she hissed. “I don’t want to hear it. If you want to trade sob stories on which deaths were honorable, I’m sure I’d win.”
And there was nothing more said from Valry as Raynes spoke. She did keep her pistols on the woman called Cala. From the corner of her eye, and second glances, she watched as Raynes collected himself and placed his helmet over his head. He stopped suddenly, and Valry once more tensed some more. Her face was now turned toward Raynes and the others.
She could just make out the grenade. As Cala began to drop to her knees, Valry’s heart skipped a beat. She turned, almost a blur as she moved, before a word could be uttered. Her pistols found their holsters and she pelted for her son.
“Orak! Orak, turn to corner, cover your face, NOW,” she screamed. Orak blinked at her in utter bewilderment, not understanding what the hubbub was about. “NOW, ORAK, NOW!” She motivated her son. He was moving much too slowly for her.
By now, Raynes had only uttered, “Imbecile”. Valry was already scooping Orak into the corner, ducking his head and wrapping her arms around him as he was forced into a crouch. She buried her face between her arms and Orak’s head, muttering soft words with as much comfort as her shaky would let her. By now, Orak had picked up on the excitement and was shaking slightly. ‘Whumpf’ was all Valry heard. Her arms constricted around Orak a little more as the sudden sound. It wasn’t the sound of a grenade though. Valry didn’t understand until she lifted her face from her son’s head and stole a glance over her shoulder.
She saw a large form, smoking from the breastplate, struggling back to his feet once more. Orak had lifted his head and was peering around his mother’s arm curiously. His eyes were wide as it dawned on him it had been a grenade. He grabbed at his mother’s forearm as she stood once more. She only went a couple of steps from him, and Orak followed, sheltering behind her legs, continuing to watch on.
The large Mando’ade was unstable, her saw, but he was alive and speaking. It was far more than enough to awe the child.
Valry’s respect was only growing. As Cala bent over double, her body heaving with unheard sobs, she only dipped her head some and shook it. What was left was a mess that someone was going to have to clean up.
“Come on,” she said down to Orak. He glanced up with those black eyes and nodded, slowly making his way back to his bag. Valry collected hers as Orak took up his knapsack on his own. Instead of heading down the hall Orak thought she would, she went up to the large Mandalorian. He followed very close behind, taking up the position of the far side of Valry.
“You going to be all right?” Valry asked the far taller Mandalorian as she approached. The question “You okay?” would not be appropriate considering her threw his body over the grenade. If he was in need of something in the immediate moment, Valry was sure she could supply him with something.
But otherwise, it was back to apartment hunting.
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Regnier
I get paid to kill bodies, and I enjoy my job. Any questions?
802 posts
0 likes
Maimkillburn?
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last online Jan 19, 2012 4:30:24 GMT -5
Guardian
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Jan 17, 2009 23:25:16 GMT -5
Post by Regnier on Jan 17, 2009 23:25:16 GMT -5
Hooking his helmet back on his belt, Raynes ran a giant hand along his chestplate. Bralin wasn't going to like this. Repairing the suit was no small undertaking most of the time it needed it, because most of the time it got hit by something that would do much of anything...well, there was usually quite a bit of damage involved. Raynes didn't do his battles small for the most part.
Turning his head to the side as a short fit of rather violent coughs hit him, he made a mental note to mention that there was quite a bit of blood coming up when Mkohar checked him over. Something was bleeding in there, and judging from the extra strain on his breathing, it was at least a lung. He shrugged it off as he brushed the trail of red running from the corner of his mouth with the back of his gauntlet. Slowly, he held the gauntlet out and spread two of his fingers. Alright, Raynes, how many fingers...? Narrowing his eyes, he put one finger down, leaving only one. Three? Great. Bringing his head back around as someone spoke, he focused his attention on the woman before him; deafened as he was, he'd still understood the words. Slightly hunched, his breathing heavy, blood once again slowly trickling from his mouth, and eyes rapidly making very small back-and-forth movements in an attempt to focus and turn the three women in front of him into one...he didn't particularly look to be in too good shape. Things were worse from his side; he knew what kind of shape he was in, and it was rapidly starting to feel like he was going to need medical attention after all.
"Me?" He asked, almost as if he was wondering why he wouldn't be, even as the edges of his vision started to shrink inwards. Wait...oh, that's just perfect. Gradually, a little more black crept into his eyes, even as he shook his head to clear it. That was going to complicate things, and it was going to slow him down far too much. Especially if the other Verda had to try and drag him back to the ship when they found him. Which might not have been for awhile at the rate his day was going. It didn't help that he was fairly certain the concussive force has damaged a few things in his helmet, including his communicator, judging from the static that had flared out of it. He shrugged his massive shoulders slightly. "Sure. Some internal bleeding, a few cracked ribs, punctured lung, and a fairly bad concussion. Nothing particularly serious."
Calm, and completely devoid of any humor, Raynes' steady, albeit somewhat slowed, tone was that of a man who'd cut himself shaving and was still a little groggy after waking up, nothing more. Even with the slight wheeze in his breathing, he still managed to sound relatively unhurt. What was another injury, on top of thousands, that he would survive? So what if he couldn't keep himself conscious? His implants would keep him alive through far worse wounds than would be fatal to most men, as he believed his could be if left alone. The only thing that irritated him was that he was probably going to lose the entire day out of this, and if there was one thing he didn't like, it was losing time. Efficiency was a trait he valued greatly, and time spent in a medical bay was not time spent very efficiently.
"I'd say I've got...maybe less than a minute before I go unconscious. Probably be out for...several hours at the rate I'm bleeding. What about the two of you? Any injuries?" Turning, he spat blood off to the side again. He'd definitely taken a solid hit. There was little doubt now that a rib had punctured a lung, possibly more if he was right, and Raynes had been injured enough times to have a pretty good guess about such things. Not even all of his organs were entirely, well...organic anymore. Synthetic tissue was such a useful invention. Unlike bones, which you could just replace with a little metal, organs required a little more functionality.
Shifting slightly, he lowered his weight into a crouch and sat down. Fully armed and armored, he was akin to a small mountain on the ground.
Squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds, he drew in a long, ragged breath. It was actually considerably easier to remain balanced without his eyes. Harder for the vertigo to take full effect that way. "Hmm...you wouldn't happen be looking for work, would you? No, nevermind...don't answer that. I doubt I'd remember when I wake up again." Leaning back so that his weight was against the large powerpack mounted on his back, preventing him from falling over, he drew in another breath through his nose, exhaling slowly out his mouth. "If you are, stick around for awhile. If not, then you may continue along if you wish. I'll..."
Shaking his head, his eyes blinked open, the black having conquered most of his vision, leaving only small tunnels of multi-colored blur. He'd counted wrong. Slowly, his head fell forward, only to be snapped back upright again. He didn't have long.
"I'll live, most likely..."
Again, his head fell forward, slumping against his chest as his eyes flickered closed.
So much for a quiet return to their old lives. Honestly, would just a few days have been too much to ask for after fifty years away from their homes, their people, their families? Obviously so.
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Squee
The Keeper
2,286 posts
95 likes
I am Deception, and I defy your holiest moralities.
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last online Oct 24, 2016 0:33:56 GMT -5
Master
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Jan 20, 2009 1:12:26 GMT -5
Post by Squee on Jan 20, 2009 1:12:26 GMT -5
((This is what happens when you leave Squee in charge of unrestricted actions and scenes. Have fun, Regnier. And who ever else is reading it. >_>))
Valry was doing a lot of blinking. Her head was tipped to one side, shagging bangs into her face. Her eyebrows were slightly together, her mouth partly the slightest ever now and again as if to interrupt Raynes. Each time she shut it and merely listened. Her hand rested on Orak’s head, her thumb caressing her son’s forehead as a comforting gesture for him. It was apparent Orak was a little uncomfortable standing this close to Raynes. The boy had just reasons. A lot of large things have tried crushing him, accidental or purposeful. He was going to have to learn Mandalorian culture from hands on experience, not by listening to Valry. And as long as Mommy stood there, he would be fine.
“Yes, you,” she said back when he questioned absentmindedly if she was referring to him. His figure swayed a little when he looked down at her. His eyes flickered and swirled in circles. Yeah, he wasn’t all right. He was getting dizzy trying to focus on her.
He referred so casually to his injuries that it made Valry roll her eyes and shake her head. She didn’t know why some Mandalorians did that. Sarcasm when referring to injuries was annoying. For her, that is. She was one of the straight forward, cut the crap kind of people anyway. But, she figured he wasn’t forging the sarcasm too much. He had just suffered a concussion blast, which would play a havoc tap dance on your brain. So she didn’t say so much on how he addressed his injuries.
“If he or I was injured, I guarantee I wouldn’t be standing here asking you anything.” She felt Orak flinch when Raynes spat on the ground. Her hand drifted to the back of his head and stretched to between his shoulder blades, where she patted firmly a couple of times.
He shifted, swayed a little, and Valry instinctively reached out to rest a hand on his forearm. Raynes was losing it fast. Fierfek. This was going to be slightly problematic. She braced one of his arms as he dropped his weight to the floor, keeping a steel grip until he was relaxed. She didn’t know how much it had helped. It was just one of those things that Valry would’ve done. She sensed Orak backing off a couple of half steps. When she darted a quick check-up look on him, he was still within arm reach. His head was tipped to the side that was an obvious trait he had gained from his mother. He wasn’t saying anything yet.
Work? It was the hot word that had Valry’s attention. Of course she was looking for work! She all but looked like an immigrant. Sooner or later she would be in some kind of crazed up job with a meaningless pattern behind it. Raynes here… didn’t look like a desk person. Valry had her head tipped again off to the side and her face remained straight. After a moment, her head flipped back vertically like it was supposed to, watching as his chin dropped to his chest. He closed his eyes and he was out.
She wasn’t going to leave him unconscious in the middle of a hall. Especially not after the proposition of work. She had hardly been on Concord Dawn for an hour and she might have a chance at work. That was a record.
She had to get him back to his men. Some way or another. Valry was sure he hadn’t contacted them, considering his helmet wasn’t on his head. And when he talked, he was foreshadowing they weren’t coming. If he was unconscious, there was no telling for how long. Perhaps too long under his condition.
“Buir…” Valry turned to look at Orak. He had come up to her right side. “What are we going to do?” His voice was almost a whisper, and Valry had to ask him to repeat it. When she heard his question, she was a little surprised. Maybe Orak would pick up being a true Mandalorian faster than she anticipated. “We can’t leave him sitting here, buir.”
Her eyes went back to the unconscious man. She wished she could just drag him. Unfortunately, Mother Nature was against her in these circumstances. And looking around, no one was sticking around long to help or showed little interest. Valry chewed the inside of her lip and looked back at Orak.
“Uh, give me a moment, honey,” she told her son. She looked beyond the people and at her surroundings. If she searched a little, maybe she could find a repulsor sled. Then it would be a matter of getting him onto it and finding his friends. She didn’t like what she was about to suggest to Orak. It there was anyway she was going to get Raynes anywhere, she was going to have to leave Orak to his own devices for at least a few minutes.
“Orak, look at me,” Valry said, grasping his head gently and bringing it to her own. “I’m going to go find something to transport him on. I need you to sit here with him. I would be surprised if you didn’t attract attention, do you understand?”
“I will get looks from people.”
“Yes. Now, if anyone pauses long enough to ask, I want you to tell them he’s your ba'buir [grandfather].” Orak’s eyes widened a little, but he nodded against her forehead. “If they ask if they can help, you tell them yes and that your mommy will be back in a few minutes. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes.” It was a simple word of obedience. There was something behind it that made Valry smile and kiss the top of his head. She released his head, stood up, and strode down the hall to start her search.
---
Orak did most of what Valry had told him. As he lost the sight of his mother’s back into the group of people, his black gaze wandered back to the unconscious, monstrous heap he was now standing by. The boy couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated, even though the man was unconscious. He had seen what Raynes could do. That meant he could wake up and snap his spine like a toothpick.
Orak shuddered and backed off a couple of paces. He lowered his knapsack to the ground, eyes still on Raynes and sat down. His legs were drawn up to his chest and he wrapped his arms around his calves. Half his face was hidden behind his knees and black hair hung in his eyes. Mommy had promised him a haircut. He hadn’t had a haircut in months. Even Orak was disgusted at the length of his hair. He had hoped he and Valry could have settled down quickly here on Concord Dawn. Mommy had referred to this place as home.
So far, it was as foreign and as dangerous as every other planet he and Valry had been on. He didn’t feel anything from it. And if fights were going to break out in ever hall they walked down, Orak most certainly didn’t want to live here. He was so sick of having to look over his shoulder. If he had to keep doing that in a place Valry was calling home, he might be better off in the lower levels of another planet. These were supposed to be people like him. From what Orak had seen the Mandalorians were just like the aliens on Coruscant.
He blinked. No, they were different. Despite a dislike of violence, he couldn’t help but feel awe when he watched Raynes toss the man away as if a toy. He hadn’t understood that it had been a grenade at first when buir had yelled at him, but afterward he had. And Raynes had thrown himself on top of it. Any other being would have run the opposite way. No, they were not like the aliens on Coruscant. They were different. Orak found he liked Raynes because of it. It didn’t fight off the fear, but it was enough to make the boy change his position.
He scooted over beside Raynes and put his back to the unconscious man. He wasn’t exactly touching him, but it was enough to make Orak seem as if he belonged to the unconscious man. With his arms still wrapped around his legs, he hoped he gave off a vibe that he was a boy who didn’t know what to do.
“Son?”
Orak’s head came up and he blinked. Standing not far was a man and a woman, both in the special armor he was seeing rather frequently around here. Orak said nothing, keeping his quiet nature in check.
“Son, what happened?”
Ah. Mommy had said he might attract attention. Looks like he got it.
“Ba'buir got into a fight,” was all he said. It felt and sounded strange to Orak. It seemed to convince the couple standing there, however.
“Are you by yourself?”
Orak quickly shook his head. “No, Mommy went to find help.”
---
Valry herself had seemed to acquire a couple of men to help her. It hadn’t been hard to ask for a repulsor sled. She had earned a couple of suspicious looks at first. With a little explanation, she was able to gain possession of the sled and the men agreeing to come help her.
Orak had played his part rather well. Valry felt a relieved when she saw he wasn’t hurt and was conversing with a few other Mandalorians, who looked like they were waiting rather expectantly. Oh what Mandalorians would do when they saw a child by themselves with no one conscious to look after them.
It took a few minutes to get Raynes onto the sled. With a couple of grateful words later, Valry was guiding the sled through the hall, muttering under her breath. Orak remained by the sled.
“All right, Raynes, where are your little buddies? What does your ship look like?” she kept asking herself, glancing at the ships inside the hangars. Orak was looking out for one of the other three Raynes had been with earlier. At least he was trying to. Valry wasn’t sure if she would recognize them unless they recognized the behemoth sprawled on the sled.
Well, she was either going to find the ship or his comrades wandering around the place.
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