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last online Jan 14, 2020 17:37:19 GMT -5
Master
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Apr 12, 2010 15:47:52 GMT -5
Post by Jace on Apr 12, 2010 15:47:52 GMT -5
[Alright this thread is for Bane to officially be named the new Mandalore. Gonna keep it nice and simple, all Mandos are welcome to post here]
It had only been a day since they had celebrated the passing of Solus'ad, the liberator. A man who had led his people and attained ultimate glory by falling in battle. There was no doubt that he was a true Mandalorian. A man of true virtue, one who had influenced many under his command. That man has passed on though, and thus it was time for another to take up the mantle. A man who stood proud on the podium before hundreds of his fellow Mandalorians. A man who was about to become the new, Mandalore.
Bane stood in his full armor with the exception of his helmet. It had not been polished or cleaned up, neither would it properly be until he was dead. No, the nicks, scratches, and bloodstains were a testament to his constant service to his motherland. He had worked his way up from a guerrilla soldier on this very planet, to running the Special Operations division of the military. Never once had been regretted the path he had chosen. He would serve Mandalore fully, until the day of his death. Today, he would take his service to its most preeminent level.
The sound of a horn signaled the beginning of the ceremony. It began with multiple speeches from varied members of Mandalorian society. Bane attempted to keep focused, but such things didn't interest him. He even knew that those who gave the speech, didn't necessarily support him fully. Solus'ad had warned Bane about the intricacies of politics. There would always be those who didn't approve of their leader. Mandalore's job was to lead his people to glory and prosperity. How he went about it, would define what sort of Mandalore he would be remembered as.
Finally when all the speeches were done, Bane was officially blessed by an elder, and took to the podium. As he stood there, he looked out at all his brothers and sisters. There were some he recognized, many he didn't but that didn't both him. Bane still had that same feeling he did when he looked upon his Spec Ops group. He was proud. Proud to be given the opportunity to lead the greatest warriors in the galaxy. Bane knew that with these warriors at his side, they would truly achieve something great. It was with that, that the last of his doubts melted away, and he rolled into his own speech.
Ner Vode Mando'ad draar digu Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum
Tion'ad hukaat'kama? Gar Vod Gar Vod Bal Mand'alor
Haat, Ijaa, Haa'it Te Koor Gra'tua cuun Sa kyr'am nau tracyn kad kote, darasuum kote!
(My Brothers and Sisters A Mandalorian never forgets I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal Who is watching your back? Your brothers Your Sisters And Mandalore Truth, Honor, Vision A Pact Our vengeance forged like the saber in the fires of death Glory, eternal glory!)
Thus Bane finished his speech and took a step back from the podium. He exhaled a sigh of relief and then stood straight up. Once more he looked upon those in front of him, and his mouth twitched every so slightly. A rare sight indeed, the closest thing Bane ever got to a smile outside of combat. He slammed his fist against his chest, saluting all his brothers and sisters, in hope that they could one day together achieve eternal glory.
Bane nodded to those who were on the stage with him, and then proceeded to leave. While the ceremony was a great honor, it was also quite time consuming. He still had reports to write, positions to fill, and conquest to plan. As always, he would leave the celebrations up to the rest, Mandalore had work to do.
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Regnier
I get paid to kill bodies, and I enjoy my job. Any questions?
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Maimkillburn?
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last online Jan 19, 2012 4:30:24 GMT -5
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Apr 12, 2010 18:56:20 GMT -5
Post by Regnier on Apr 12, 2010 18:56:20 GMT -5
“Anything yet?”
Metal clicked softly against metal as the Barabel standing behind the human that had spoken set his hand on her shoulder.
”Stop worrying, vod’ika. He didn’t choose to be called Naast, remember?”
The woman lowered her head slightly, her eyes flickering back and forth. She knew Raynes was among the toughest people in the galaxy, but that didn’t make her feel in better. He was her father. “I know. It’s just…it’s been days, Mkohar…days.”
She and Mkohar both recoiled slightly as a sand-colored helmet bounced of her chestplate. The Barabel glowered at the other woman in the room, who was hunched over one of the freighter’s terminals. ”Either shut up and help, or go somewhere else and let me work in peace, haar’chak!”
”Utreekov, dinuir kaysh or’trikar!” The Barabel hissed as he scooped the helmet off the floor and threw it back. Vera came around fast as it caught her in the side, catching herself just before she lunged. Anda grabbed Mkohar by the shoulder and pulled him back, placing herself between the two. Mkohar had always been naturally aggressive, and prone to blowing off steam in such ways, and she only knew he had plenty of reason after watching the closest thing he’d ever had to a blood brother die to save him…but she’d never once seen Vera this…this…pissed.
Vera unballed her fists slowly. ”Why? Would Raynes? What do you think he’d say if he could see you now, huh? Do you think he’d appreciate the time you spent moping? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure he’d be chewing you out quite thoroughly about now! Get ahold of yourselves or get the hell out of my sight! I still have a job to do, remember?” Vera muttered a few choice words as she turned back to the console.
-----
As the boarding ramp dropped unceremoniously open, slamming into the ground and throwing out a dust-could, three armed and armored forms, two women and a male Barabel, moved slowly out of the small, battered freighter, weapons at the ready. The first, adorned in the heaviest armor of the three, which was only classified as medium by her people, had only a select few markings on her sand-colored plates, a large rifle pressed snugly against her shoulder. Behind and to her left was the only non-human, wearing a suit of very light, camouflaged armor, and carrying a smaller, though longer, scoped rifle, his tail flicking slightly. Bringing up the rear was the big one, suited in a dull red that hid blood surprisingly well, a longsword resting blade-up against her shoulder.
The leader, Vera, stopped a few feet from the ramp and looked around the landscape. It was…bleak, to say the least. Like Tatooine with a little less sand and a lot more rock. Honestly, she couldn’t remember the name of the planet, and they were so far from the Core she doubted it was on many star-charts. The only thing of any interest she knew of wasn’t visible from where she stood. Just emptiness stood before her. A quick jog up the nearest outcropping of rocks revealed what she was looking for, however. On the other side sat a large mercenary base, mostly demolished and still smoldering in a few places. Even from nearly half a mile away, she could still make out the bodies littering the base, as well as a few armored vehicles, and even one tank, sheared nearly clean in half. It struck her that this would have been an excellent vantage point for a sniper. ”Mkohar, look around up here. Namara was here. Anda, let’s have a closer look at that base.”
-----
So many dead. This hadn’t been a simple house-cleaning mission as they’d been told. This was a deathtrap. Vera seriously doubted any of her people were supposed to survive. She only had because Anda had come back to the freighter at a very opportune time, though not fast enough to save Carthen. Mkohar had survived because Vrrisk had distracted a battle-tank to keep it from firing at him. Unfortunately for the Trandoshan, he succeeded.
Whoever had set this trap had been willing to throw away a great deal to kill them. Obviously they hadn’t known just what they were dealing with. They were supposed to have been utterly overwhelmed. Instead, they did some serious damage first. All that was left on the ground level was a handful of sentries, who were quickly dispatched as quietly as possible. Once Vera was somewhat confidant that the topside was clear, she spent a little more time looking around. The first thing to catch her attention was one of the hardened structures inside the base. The area around its entrance had obviously taken quite a beating, and there was a slightly larger concentration of bodies in the area in front of it. Stepping through the blown-open doorway, she didn’t even have to look to find just about what she had expected. A few feet behind the door sat a heavy repeating blaster, of Mandalorian make. Custom, and all too familiar. She moved through into the next room, past the bodies strewn about inside, and stopped, lowering her rifle as she leaned against the wall beside the doorway, letting a slow sigh escape her lips.
”Bralin.”
There he lay, pistol still gripped firmly in one hand his dark blue armor scorched and dotted with numerous impacts, some obviously having breached the thick shell. His own blood mixed on the floor with that of the four corpses at his feet and the one beside him with a large knife embedded in her neck.
Vera froze as her ears caught a gentle clunk. Instantly, her rifle was up, her body twisting as she took a few steps to the side, swinging her aim towards one of the desks in the room. Almost in perfect sync, an armored Twi’lek swung up and around from behind her cover, leveling a pistol the size of her head. Almost as quickly as they’d brought their weapons up, they lowered them.
”Vera!”
-----
”Mkohar, check in.”
The Barabel’s voice rasped in response over Vera’ communicator. ”I’m here. Find anything?”
”Xarges is dead, but he kept Deggeram alive. She took a decent hit, but she’s alright. Yourself?”
A brief pause.
”She isn’t up here. Ipsich is.”
”How bad?”
Another pause before the Barabel continued on, though he obviously wasn’t speaking to Vera at first.
”Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum, Ipsich. Mar’eyir naak o’r kyr’am, vod’ika.”
Vera shook her head slowly. It wasn’t right that she should be surviving longer than those she led. She was starting to understand why Raynes had become what he had better and better. ”Mesh’la says this place extends underground. We’ll go down once you regroup.”
-----
More bodies. Plasma and carbon scoring marred the walls everywhere. The Underground level reeked of death. It was like-
k-THUNK
”Mmph!”
Suddenly, Vera was on her back, and for some reason, her chest hurt. A lot. Brief shouting and a few curses followed, then nothing. Slowly, she lifted her head and found herself staring at an armored gauntlet, opened towards her. She grabbed it, and, with another grunt, she was on her feet again.
”N’eparavu takisit.”
Vera waved the other Mandalorian off half-heartedly. ”My fault for not paying attention. What’d you hit me with?”
”Pipe wrench. It was handy.”
Quietly, Mkohar slipped Vera, motioning for them to move on ahead. ”Sasha, we must speak. I found Ipsich outside…”
-----
Even after several twist and turns down the long hallway, Vera had enough trouble staying focused. It was bad enough just knowing what the Barabel had needed to say, but the anguished howls of a bereft mother echoing down the hall behind her made her search all the more bitter. She wanted to just stop, lay down, and go catatonic. But she couldn’t. She had to keep going, for Anda, for Mesh’la, and for herself. Raynes was still out there somewhere, and so was Namara. Neither of them would ever give up on their vod. Neither could she.
-----
Vera was half-way through a door when the first shot rang out, and it was only trained reflex that prevented it from going through her faceplate. She’d barely had enough time to see even a glimpse of the shooter, but that tiny glimpse was enough. Raynes Kohul was easily identifiable. She peeked her head around the doorway again, certain enough that he’d seen enough as well. As she caught sight of the giant again, her arm instantly shot out behind her as Anda started to move forward, catching her in the chest. ”No. Stay here. Mesh’, stay out here. Don’t let her follow me.”
”Me’b-“
”Ibac eyn ke’gyce!”
As Vera stepped through the doorway, she closed it behind her. Before her, back against the far wall, surrounded by bodies, sat Raynes, pistol in hand, his helmet laying on the floor beside him. At first, his face bore a look she’d never seen from him, and it honestly made her feel nervous. The dried blood lining the side of his face only added to it. The complete and utter hatred that twisted his features was something couldn’t recall seeing anywhere, actually, and it still hung with her even as it faded, only to be replaced with an emptiness nothing akin to his usual lack of emotion. There was something behind it, a grief she’d only seen once before in his eyes.
The reason, however, took very little thought to figure out. Stretched out on the floor beside him, head gently cradled in his arm, lay Namara Kohul, a hole the size of Vera’s fist burned through the center of her chest-plate.
It also explained why most of the bodies in the room looked as though they’d been mauled by a wookiee.
”How many?”
As Vera related what she knew, it became increasingly evident to her that this man was no longer the same as what she’d known for many decades. He remained silent, nodding solemnly every so often. Even the news of his daughter’s survival seemed to do little to improve his demeanor.
”Do…what needs to be done. I trust you in this. I…need…I must…think.”
-----
"Vera-"
"I told you already, I'm not saying anything. It isn't my place. Raynes can tell you when he gets here."
Sidestepping as a hoversled passed by her, Vera shook her head again. The sled, with Mesh'la on the front and Mkohar pushing, carried Vrrisk, the last of their fallen vod. Well, almost the last, but Vera wasn't letting anyone even in the same room as Raynes. He'd earned the time to mourn, and he'd most certainly earned the right to carry his little sister's body back to the ship.
"Buir! Ba'vodu!"
Everyone turned, following Anda's gaze.
Raynes was done grieving. From the look on his face, he was about to start doing something else.
"The Galaxy will regret the day it brought anger back into Te Naast."
-----
"What do we do now?"
"Everyone associated with this is dead. This...war we made, it has cost us a year of our lives and many of our vod. I am glad to say that the galaxy will never know of the species that called this place home. We will return to Mandalorian space. Once there, we will bury our vod, you will take command, and I will rejoin Mandalore's army."
Silence reigned supreme for quite some time as every stared at the juggernaut.
Suddenly, the room was filled with Mando'a, most of it vulgar. Raynes brought his hand up slowly. "Enough! I have made my decision! I can no longer willingly lead you into battle as I have."
"You're not getting rid of me that easily, Raynes. If you rejoin the army, I'm coming with you, and don't even try to stop me, because you won't. I've got nothing left. If it's death on the battlefield you're looking for, I'm right behind you."
After a few minutes, Mkohar nodded slowly.
"Eh...I'm too old for this crap anyways."
"Well I'm sure as hell not letting you take all the glory."
"...I suppose someone has to make sure you don't all do something terribly stupid, and it certainly won't be any of you. When did I become the voice of reason..."
"Buir, you are my Clan, my blood, my father. And you will always be my al'verde. I have children of my own. The Clan will live on. It's been a good life. I will follow you into the depths of Hell, if only to drag you back for another round. You lead, I will follow, Al'verde."
-----
"I suppose it's a shame we'll never meet this Solus'ad. I'd heard good things."
"All Mandalores must die eventually. Some sooner than others. At least his replacement seems to knows what he's doing."
As the newly-christened Mandalore saluted his vod, the six rather conspicuous warriors standing in the back replied in kind. Each and every one of them had more than simple cuts and nicks along their armor. All had been shot, recently, at least once, and bot Anda and Raynes had been multiple times. Raynes, Anda, and Mkohar also all had a somewhat significant amount of blood-stains, some of it their own.
Of course, Raynes was always conspicuous, as he stood at least a head over everyone around him at virtually all times.
As Bane stepped off the stage, the six moved to follow, but the way they moved showed that it was not to congratulate him. They meant business. They didn't have much trouble moving through the crowd, either, with Raynes in front. Smart people got out of his way. Not so smart ones were brushed out of the way like grass until Raynes was within speaking distance.
"Fine speech, Mand'alor. Certainly better than the last I heard."
Raynes had never thought much of The Betrayer's way with words.
~~~~~
Translations: Vod’ika – Little Sister
Naast – Destroyer
Haar’chak – Damn it
Utreekov, dinuir kaysh or’trikar – Fool, giver her her grief
Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum, Ipsich. Mar’eyir naak o’r kyr’am, vod’ika - I’m still alive, but you are dead, I remember you, so you are eternal, Ipsich. Find peace in death, little brother
N’eparavu takisit – Sorry
Ibac eyn ke’gyce – That’s an order
Buir – Father
Ba’vodu – Aunt
Al'verde - Commander
Mand’alor – Mandalore
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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
Guardian
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Apr 14, 2010 16:29:02 GMT -5
Post by Iota on Apr 14, 2010 16:29:02 GMT -5
General Joranus had been occupied, far more than usual. He was assigned to mop up the last bands of resistance in the local area. He decided to take this mission himself as he had become weary of the office work a General usually has to take part in. It was unfortunate that Joranus missed the funeral of his good friend, the previous mandalore. He celebrated his passing in his own special manner whilst out on his mission.
Joranus had met the new Mandalore on the odd occaision, he is a proud warrior and more than capable to lead an army, for he was one of the chosen men to hold a high rank, much like him self. Joranus never questioned as to why he wasn't chosen, He knew his day would come, in this life or the next. He was a patient man after all.
General Joranus's shuttle came to a landing behind the main bulk of troopers attending the ceremony, the ramp ceremoniously etching downwards to an open postion with steam being let out from the hydrolic mechanics of the ramp, the first to decend were the General's body gaurds assigned to him to attend the mission to which he had just returned from. The body gaurds moved through the crowd to seperate them to make a single aisle accessible for the General to wander down, of course the body gaurds recieved the usual foul mouthed banter from the riff raff of the low ranking soldiers, it was almost custom in some respects.
The General finally descended the ramp, his armour polished and almost looking new, if it weren't for the battle scars. As Joranus reached the bottom of the ramped, he removed his helmet to show heis battle fatigued face, he placed his helmet under his arm and marched forward towards the front of the ceremony keeping his gaze dead ahead, showing no emotion, no remorse. As the General passed down the corridor, his body gaurds fell in behind him as a sea of mandalorians seemingly falling back into place as if a roof was caving in.
General Joranus made for the stage and walked swiftly to the podium, he raised his helmet and with a bellow of his lungs shouted out.
"FOR MANDALORE...FOR MANDALORE...FOR MANDALORE!"
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last online Jun 4, 2023 4:58:38 GMT -5
Master
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Apr 14, 2010 21:33:03 GMT -5
Post by Talau the Ever-Lurking on Apr 14, 2010 21:33:03 GMT -5
Out of sight and out of mind, there was one form in the distance, laying belly down just over the crest of a hill not horribly far off. Her helmet’s com system had been adjusted to pick up the transmission waves being broadcast by the mic on the podium…which, in turn, had been picked up by the receptors on the sound board mixer and sent to the amplifiers as well as out over the holonet so that mandos everywhere could hear it if they knew where to listen. The viewfinders in those black gloved hands had been trained on the stage for the duration of the ceremony, not missing a moment of the ceremony. Why, if this lone form had been so intent on not missing the appointment of the new Manda’lor, hadn’t she been there with the other officers, soldiers, and citizens that had congregated?
That wasn’t a simple answer…
Blue and black armor, detailed with red and gold, and now grey, lay settled comfortably on her slender form, settled there in the still damp grass from the last few days off and on rain. The storm had broken long enough to get through Sol’s funeral and the “festivities” afterward, then there had been only a little more rain before the clouds broke completely…leaving the ceremony today in a pleasant sort of cool sunshine and the grasses still wet around her. Well…at least she wasn’t baking in her armor. Sighing, one hand came to rest gently on her modified rifle before stroking lightly along the almost tribal conglomeration of beads, feathers, shells and the sharpened teeth of predators she’d hunted and attached to the barrel to dangle down. Her half-thoughts weren’t so much interested in everything else so much as they were on the beads, leather covered fingers toying with a few of them idly as she looked on from a distance. The beads holding her hair were of a similar sort…different colors than any of the ones on her rifle…different patterns, even different materials, but they were there, hanging down below the bottom of her helmet, a constant reminder of what was beginning to feel like a different lifetime.
She was older now…her birthday having come and gone during the mission on Shogun, a horrific way to start her twenty-fourth year of life. So much had been gained that day…but much more had been lost. Solus’ad hadn’t just been Manda’lor to her. Certainly he’d started out that way…a better Manda’lor than the one she had thought him to be at first, kind and thoughtful and wise…a “natural born leader” if she’d ever met one. There had been more to that, though. She’d seen more than that and…for whatever reason…he’d seen more than just another mando’ad, another vod, in her. Whatever had been between them had been something good…too good…it had to have been. She’d felt the beginnings of love for the man, and he must have felt the same way with the way he treated her, the way he spoke to her and made time for her, listened to her and treated her as an absolute equal, despite the difference in their age. It had ended though, that dream. The young woman had been woken from it rudely with his injury, his heroic sacrifice to keep her safe…to keep her from being killed he’d taken her place, shielded her with himself, and all she could do was watch as that vicious looking combat knife had dug into the vulnerable area between the bottom of his helmet and the beginning of his shoulder armor.
The memory of it haunted her, preyed on her mind…her thoughts and emotions.
It hadn’t been directly her fault, but it HAD been her fault. Her fault and his need to protect her. Would he have done that for anyone else? That was a question she had asked herself countless times since it had happened, since the Star had made its impromptu (crash) landing on the surface of Shogun. That was a question she didn’t have the answer to…and that only made the emotional wound hurt all the worse. It had been bad enough…painful enough…what he’d said to her as they’d attempted to get to the Star, seeing him die had been painful enough, the Star being shot down had only made things worse, and then the defense against the Republic soldiers still roaming the area…it had all only led up to the one other thing she truly hated herself for concerning the entire situation…hurting Daryn. If nothing else the man was a close friend, had always been there for her, wanted to be more with her than just a friend…but she’d made a decision before he’d ever even known there was a decision to make. She didn’t blame him for hating her and for leaving as soon as he’d found out…but it HURT, and she hated herself for hurting him when he’d done nothing to deserve it.
Hot tears prickled at her eyes as she mulled over the situation for the millionth time, the liquid clouding the view those green eyes gave her. With a light sniffle, she shifted her position along the ground and collected her rifle, bringing it closer to her body as Bane finally stood up to speak. The supple leather of her kama shifted and resettled against the backs of her legs as she moved and blinked back the tears. Crying in her helmet certainly wouldn’t help, and she wasn’t about to just take it off so she could. Tears didn’t help anything anyway…nothing could help this except, perhaps, her leaving the Special Ops. At least then she wouldn’t be a danger to them because of her emotions. Handicapped by them or not, she knew that with the state she was in, she wasn’t going to be helping anyone if she were part of a team…her emotions would get in the way, make her do something foolish. No, she needed to get away, be on her own where the only one she might end up hurting would be herself. Itani would take care of them and help their buir. He was finally growing up some…and she saw how he looked at Trin. No…the military had never been her place, she’d had hopes once…before Sol died…that it might be, that maybe she could fit back in as part of a team that meant something, with people that meant something to her, but that wasn’t the case. It was because these people meant something to her that she needed to leave…but she wouldn’t just sit idly either.
Just because the young mercenary/bounty hunter didn’t like assassinating people didn’t mean she wasn’t very capable of it. She’d been well trained, she had experience dealing with jobs that required her to be “under cover” so to speak, and she was a very good sniper. Ba’buir Ark could keep her filled in on where the mandos were moving next and she could soften up the Republic there for them if only a little. She’d let Bane know that she was leaving and…partially…why she was. He’d not seemed convinced, but he hadn’t questioned it over-much either, and that was fine with her. Everything had been sorted and she’d had the Star packed up and ready to leave as soon as the ceremony was over. She wasn’t going to stick around, she wasn’t going to say goodbye, she wasn’t going to say she was sorry for leaving, and she wasn’t going to look back.
“Ner Vode Mando'ad draar digu Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum
Tion'ad hukaat'kama? Gar Vod Gar Vod Bal Mand'alor
Haat, Ijaa, Haa'it Te Koor Gra'tua cuun Sa kyr'am nau tracyn kad kote, darasuum kote!”
Bane’s voice had only barely reached her ears through the conflicted and tumultuous thoughts that tumbled through her mind, but it did reach her. Willing herself to listen once more, she very nearly missed the exceedingly short speech and sighed heavily. A man of few words, as always, Bane’s short time at the podium left her feeling…unfulfilled and a bit disheartened. What did she expect though? Bane was not Solus’ad…he wasn’t the one to impassion his people with words as well as deeds, he was a man of action and nothing more. He would have to learn to BE more, however, if he ever hoped to spur on their people, to fire them up again after years of suppression. Clamoring though they were for justice, they were a scattered people now and not always easily rallied. They needed a fire set under them and speeches like that…they just didn’t set fires…maybe a few sparks, a flicker at best, but not enough to catch the tinder. Watching as he saluted the crowd and left the stage, the auburn haired woman huffed and shook her head, lowering her viewfinders and slipping them back onto her belt as she watched from a distance through the T-visor of her helmet.
That speech certainly hadn’t lit any fire under HER, and she nearly ALWAYS had a fire lit under her. Idly she wondered if she was the only one to feel this way or if the other mando’ade felt as she did…if they were wondering about his capability to lead by his speech. Bane was a competent enough leader when it came to actions…and yes, actions spoke loudly…but what happened when you couldn’t always SEE the actions and only words could give you an inkling of how a leader was? It was a concern…at least to her. Picking up her rifle, that blue and black clad form shifted once again before she noticed the six mandos “mobbing” (for lack of a more appropriate term) toward Bane. Faster than thought the woman was back down on the ground with her rifle pressed tightly back against her shoulder. With the press of a finger the laser sight was on, her visor lined up with the scope so she could see down it and the dot of the laser hovering in the space between the bottom of his helmet and his shoulder. Even on the neo-crusader armor it was a weak point…all of the seals were…no matter what armor the person wore, all the joints were weak. If this person…the one who seemed to be the leader of the bunch…so much as twitched wrong he’d have a high-powered slug punching through his neck. Bane may not have been her first choice as Manda’lor, but Italia would be damned if he came to harm because of her negligence to act.
The dull rumble of a shuttle landing close by had her eyeing her HUD readouts to see what was going on. Torn between wanting to keep her vision on the ones closest to Bane and the new arrival, her eyes darted back over to the crowed as someone started parting them and making them move about. More than a few angry protests were going on, she could all but feel it from the congregated mandos as some pompous figure followed his guards (hah, like a mando needed guards!) and stepped up onto the platform before shouting “FOR MANDALORE” time and again.
Just who does this upstart think he is?! Ain’t like he’s the new Manda’lor, an’ what’s with the guards? He aimin’ ta try somethin’ stupid too? Manda help me, I didn’t bring enough ammo ta shoot ‘em all…
Of course she didn’t have enough ammo…she’d not intended on shooting anyone today. Cursing and muttering under her breath, the young woman turned back to the bigger threat to Bane…the fully armored ones standing right in front of him who looked like they’d just done quite a bit of killing. The flashy, arrogant and pompous braggart on the stage could wait. He was visible enough anyway, and if he needed guards, chances were he wasn’t the best of fighters anyway.
Come on, Bane, put on your helmet…utreekov al’verd…and get your com-link on…
The growled statement was, obviously, to herself since Bane couldn’t hear her from her position, but it didn’t hurt to try and mental-mojo him into the action she wanted.
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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
Guardian
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Apr 15, 2010 3:23:25 GMT -5
Post by Iota on Apr 15, 2010 3:23:25 GMT -5
Joranus lowered his helmet and placed it back under his arm as he soaked in the cheers from the hordes of mandalorians, he looked over slowly before addressing the collected congregation of nco's, co's and troopers.
"I am General Joranus Kahn'taal, of clan Kahn'taal, General of Mandalore's army and navy and only second to Mandalore himself.." Joranus took a moment to adjust himself slightly "Some of you know me personally, some of you i trained.. but day by day i see new, fresh faced warriors who continue to exact the will of Mandalore himself.. Proud and honourable warriors, for who i can say are my brothers, my sisters.. my brethren." Joranus used his free hand to lean against the podium. "We have come along way in the past couple of years, for those who don't know my crudentials.. i was the leader of the Concordian Mandalorian Militia legion who crushed the rebel occupation of Concorde Dawn and reunited many of the clans under one banner once again to take back what is by birth right.. ours and ours alone!" The General paused for a moment to let the cheers of the troops die down. "I and the armies i control will continue to serve the new Mandalore with the same loyalty and passion as we once did for the fallen warrior we once praised. Do not get complacent, for i will be watching." The General saluted one last time before leaving the podium and the stage and headed towards the HQ building.
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Regnier
I get paid to kill bodies, and I enjoy my job. Any questions?
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Apr 15, 2010 14:48:27 GMT -5
Post by Regnier on Apr 15, 2010 14:48:27 GMT -5
(I take no responsibility for my minions...nor does Raynes >_>)
Mkohar had never much been one for speeches, personally. Neither had he ever typically cared much for those that made them. Neither did he much like people who he saw as trying to stand in the spotlight, whether it was true or not. Not...glory hounds, per se, for every Mandalorian was, or at least should have been, to some degree. Neither did he tend to like people who utilized bodyguards. Especially when they had shiny armor...
Oh, you didn't even want to get him started on people who polished their armor.
The entire time as General Joranus made his descent from his shuttle, the Barabel watched him, just about like he watched anyone that caught his attention; half-way between prey and predator. Silently, he stepped back from Raynes' side, always keeping a good line of sight on Joranus as he slowly stalked through the crowd. As the Mandalorian found his way to the stage, Mkohar had finally circled back to a few feet from Anda, where he bummed one of the small, incredibly ripe, and therefore incredibly hard, fruit she'd acquired off of her. It wasn't hard, as after sampling the first, she had no intention of attempting to actually eat them.
It didn't occur to her why the lizard could have possibly wanted it until far, far too late.
As Mkohar slipped back into the crowd, he kept his eye on the General on stage, almost as if sizing up a target, as the man made his own speech, gently tossing the small fruit up and down a few times. As the General turned to leave, beginning to make his way from the stage, the Barabel finally stopped moving. Briefly. Then he side-stepped a few inches, lining up the perfect shot. He cocked his head to the side slightly for a few seconds, then moved back to where he had been. Oh, it was perfect...
It was exactly at this point that Anda turned around, honestly just expecting Mkohar to be hassling some bright, young warrior for no real reason other than for the amusement. When she caught sight of him, slowly beginning to push through the crowd to him, she noticed him heft the fruit she'd given him. Anda froze, and her helmet slowly swiveled to the side, trying to locate what the lizard was focused on.
It wasn't hard to find it.
"Osik!"
Instantly, Anda surged forward, muscling her way through the crowd, but it was too late, and she knew it. Mkohar's arm pulled to the rear, he waited half a second, and then he lobbed the organic golf-ball. There were simply too many people in the way for him to make a straight pitch, so he simply arced it over everyone's heads. Sure, it wasn't going all that fast, but it would still probably hurt a little. Besides, it wasn't his goal to really hurt the man...he would have thrown something sharper if it was.
As soon as the small, purple fruit left his hand, Mkohar was pretty certain a freight-train had hit him. Picking his head up off the ground, he looked down. Anda was laying on his lower body, glowering through her T-visor. But it was too late. The fruit was already on its way, Mkohar's accuracy with small, thrown objects once again proving all too well that, while he may have been a comedian at heart at some point in his life...he was one deadly scaled bastard. He would have honestly been surprised if it didn't land squarely on top of the General's head. He grinned beneath his helmet. "Vod'ika, what are you doing down there? If you're father saw..."
Slowly, Anda's head lowered against his abdomen, and she trembled slightly. Rolling off of the lizard, who immediately pulled his tail out from underneath him, she remained on her back, still trembling slightly. Finally, she simply started laughing uncontrollably, tears slowly forming at the corners of her eyes.
It was so wrong. So very wrong. She shouldn't have felt this way, and she certainly shouldn't have after the events of this past week, but...
It was just so damn funny.
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{ Lasky }
Tal's Half-Vampy Slave: Complete With Buckled Boots
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"The Force shall free me..."
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last online Apr 22, 2015 20:31:42 GMT -5
Padawan
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Apr 16, 2010 2:27:30 GMT -5
Post by { Lasky } on Apr 16, 2010 2:27:30 GMT -5
Character: Tor Otani Location: Coronation Ceremony (Concord Dawn)
"Ner Vode Mando'ad draar digu Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum
Tion'ad hukaat'kama? Gar Vod Gar Vod Bal Mand'alor
Haat, Ijaa, Haa'it Te Koor Gra'tua cuun Sa kyr'am nau tracyn kad Kote, darasuum kote!"
Tor listened intently, head bowed slightly and eyes closed, hands clenched at his sides. When the new Mand'alor had finished speaking, he slowly let out the breath he had been holding, glad for the privacy of his buy'ce. The very air around him was charged with a ferocity that was overwhelming, his Zeltron heritage allowing him to reach out and connect to the mindset of others.
Haat, Ijaa, Haa'it. Truth, Honor, Vision.
Bane Haseful was a man of his word - when he gave them. But more than that, he was decidedly a man of action. Opening his gold-green eyes, Tor Otani watched the General step back from the podium. Amidst the overwhelming waves of aay'han - a bittersweet moment of both "remembrance and celebration" - Tor could sense an underlying disappointment. There were some, perhaps many, who preferred a leader who enthralled the people with whinsome words. And psychologically speaking, such things could go a long way towards boosting morale. But words were cheap. Actions spoke the louder, and in the long-run, Tor felt that a man like Bane could stand up to the rigors of leadership far better than one who came with lengthy, dogmatic speeches. Those who served at the man's side would have to see to it that word of his deeds and accomplishments reached the ears of the people. They would validate the new Mand'alor for themselves, rather than him attempting to validate himself.
And maybe that's where I come in. Ironically, Tor had always been good with words, influencing people for the sake of morale or simply for the sake of persuasion. Part of it was the empathic abilities he possessed, and part of it was his personality. It was time. The young Mando'ade had honed his skills for long enough. Now it was time to use them to the full in service of his new leader. My leader. My Mand'alor.
Once again having lost himself in thought, Tor was awakened by a great cheer rising up. "For Mand'alor!" he added his voice to the swell of shouts as the crowd followed the cue of the next speaker in saluting their new leader.
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Cirith An'Gol
"You got something for me? or are you just another slack jawed arruetti admiring my armor"-Cirith
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last online May 31, 2020 19:14:38 GMT -5
Knight
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Apr 16, 2010 14:06:54 GMT -5
Post by Cirith An'Gol on Apr 16, 2010 14:06:54 GMT -5
[from Zombie Hunting on Taris...]
Cirith slowly manuevered his ship The Scarlet Sabre down through the atmosphere of Concord Dawn, his jaw set firmly and his teeth grinding in cautious anticipation of the coming ceremony. He didn't like large crowds, he never had. There were too many things that were possible in large gatherings. Assassinations among the top possibilities on his mind. His mother, Viasha, had contacted him on his comm, telling him of the fall of the previous Manda'lor, Solus The Liberator and the rise of Bane Haseful the new Manda'lor. Today was both the ceremony for the previous Manda'lor's death and the inauguration of the new Manda'lor.
Cirith was merely attending out of respect, he didn't know either of the men. He'd heard ofcourse that Solus The Liberator had been an excellent Manda'lor but, it wasn't like Cirith knew him personally, so it wasn't that big of a deal. Just a side note in his life.
Cirith wore his usual coal grey heavy armor, designed with blotches of maroon paint that looked as if someone's hands had grabbed his armor and slid down it as they died. It was purely an intimidation tactic, and it worked most of the time. Like most Mandalorians, he'd built his armor himself. Tor Otani helped with the intricasies of programming and HUD manipulation. The helmet's visor glowed red, another intimidation tactic, and allowed him to a number of things. One of which, is to control a newly aqcuired recon droid, with some sheidling and a few weapons, that he'd bought off a very helpful Jawa, that modified and built droids for a living. Cirith's nostalgia ended when he passed through the final layer of clouds and the bright surface of Concord Dawn stretched out before him. It wasn't what he'd pictured it would be. It was all rock with a few stretches of sand, and few farming communities that struggled to keep their vegetation alive in the heat. He understood immediately why the Mandalorians here chose this rock invested dust bowl. Life here was a real struggle, even eating had to be a struggle from time to time. Mandalorians loved challenges in whatever form, it made them stronger in the long run, and Cirith's ideals were no different. He did however, prefer something you could get your hands on.
His homeworld of Dxun was a complete 180 in difference when compared with Concord Dawn. On Dxun it rained half the year and then dry the other half. It teemed with Jungles and life, here on Concord Dawn it was probably dry most of the time with sparse rains. The Scarlet Sabre dipped low and came in over a valley like formation of rock where the Inauguration Ceremony was taking place. Cirith sifted through the frequencies so he could listen into the speeches of the ceremony and determine how much of it he'd missed. Apparently he hadn't missed much, because someone, a polotician from the sound of it, was going on and on and on. Cirith's mouth turned upward in a grin, he really didn't even know what the man was going on about. Something about honor and the glory of battle. That struck him as ironic. Poloticians didn't usually like to get their hands dirty, they usually hired someone like Cirith for that.
Cirith set down on the outskirts of the ceremony and dropped the forward loading ramp, after grabbing his gear, which included a large SD-15 rifle with a sniper scope attachment, his two reverse grip vibroswords crossed at an "X" on his back their handles peeking over his shoulder plates, and two Westar-28 Blaster Pistols that had been given to him by his father Verrick, along with his mother's Lightsaber that was clipped to the small of his back length wise. Cirith stood an even 6 foot and weighed some 200 pounds, all of which was muscle. He almost never was seen without his helmet on but, today was a special occasion. He unclasped the seals on his neck, and helmet that joined the heavy Beskar plates to the light fiberous mesh that allowed for better movement. It also protected against the vacuum of space. He shook his head, his normally close cropped hair had grown out a little but, now it stuck to his skull and gleamed with sweat and other oils. His green eyes stood out in stark contrast to his tan skin and black hair. For once he was glad to have his helmet off. The environmental controls for my armor must've been damaged on Taris Cirith thought as he ran his gauntleted fingers through his black hair to loosen it up a little. He walked down a rugged stone path until he got into the Assembly area. He was suprised at how many Mandalorians had shown up. One Mandalorian in particular stood out to him. Tor Otani stood in his goldish tan armor, his buy'ce on his head, his body posture one of reverence and respect, with his head down slightly and his hands clenched at his sides.
Cirith walked up and punched him hard in his right shoulder "Su cuy'gar verd'ika! Shereshoy ner'vod?" ((OOC: literally "You're still alive brother?! Great day isn't it?")) This simple action and statement was not usually like Cirith. Usually he was confined to his own mind, a man of very few words, and usually when he did speak he was in a foul mood because of some mishap. Things had been going well lately though, so his mood was incredibly improved.
He'd patched things up with his sisiter Arwyn and to top it all off they'd taken a bit of a vacation on Taris hunting Rakghouls. That was when they ran into Tor again, selling weapons for the civilians, tourists that came to test their metal against the dangers of the planet, professional hunters or other mercenaries and bounty hunters that needed an upgrade. Yes indeed, today was a very good day. He pushed his caution aside and simply looked up into the sky as his sister's ship The Verd'ika ((OOC: The little soldier)) set down next to his own. On the trip from Taris to Concord Dawn, Cirith had been thinking about how to further make up for his blunderous relationship with his little sister, now he'd made up his mind. He was going to give his ship, the ship his father had trained him so much in, to her. She deserved it after all. Unlike himself, Arwyn had spent much more time with their father socially and in training, and so came to know him better than he did. He looked over as Arwyn popped her seals and removed her helmet, unleashing her fiery red hair to the arid air.
Arwyn grinned as she approached but, Cirith knew that grin all to well. Something was up. Suddenly Arwyn sent Cirith to the ground with a loud crash, a single punch to his right shoulder spinning him around and flooring him. Cirith shook his head and grabbed his helmet I'd forgotten how strong she's gotten. She's like an adult bull Boma back at home he thought as he picked himself up. He smiled and punched her in the arm as hard as he could, as he said "Nakar'mir munet tome'tayl, copikla dala al skota iisa al dini'la kot gar pirunir suhaaise." ((OOC: literally "Warning, cute/charming (usually used for animals but never a woman) woman with a long memory but short fuse and insane strength that'd make your eyes water))
Arwyn eyed him mischeivously and raised her fist again, in response Cirith raised his hands in defeat laughing "kotir! kotir!" ((OOC: I'm defeated I'm defeated)). It was then they all noticed their new Manda'lor take the stage and start his speech. Cirith and Arwyn recited his words with everyone else.
"Ner Vode, Mando'ad draar digu Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum
Tion'ad hukaat'kama? Gar Vod, Gar Vod Bal Mand'alor
Haat, Ijaa, Haa'it Te Koor Gra'tua cuun Sa kyr'am nau tracyn kad kote, darasuum kote!
(My Brothers and Sisters A Mandalorian never forgets I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal Who is watching your back? Your brothers Your Sisters And Mandalore Truth, Honor, Vision A Pact Our vengeance forged like the saber in the fires of death Glory, eternal glory!)
Then they looked to each other and smiled as they added their voices to the throng "For Manda'lor! For Manda'lor!"
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{ Lasky }
Tal's Half-Vampy Slave: Complete With Buckled Boots
233 posts
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"The Force shall free me..."
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last online Apr 22, 2015 20:31:42 GMT -5
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Apr 16, 2010 18:56:00 GMT -5
Post by { Lasky } on Apr 16, 2010 18:56:00 GMT -5
Character: Tor Otani Location: Conorantion Ceremony (Concord Dawn)
WHAM!
Tor blinked. Something had just happened - he wasn't sure what, but his body had stiffened and he was teetering off to one side, forcing him to make little hopping motions so as to regain his balance. Recognizing the coal-grey and blood-red beskar'gam that had just moved up beside him, Tor turned and gave an amused snort. "Copaani mirshmure'cye, vod?" he joked. He completed his greeting to Cirith with the universally recognized Mandalorian handshake, grasping him at the elbow. Tor pulled off his buy'ce. "Didn't expect to see you here ner'vod. Figured you'd be out and about - chasin' people down and then draggin' em off across the galaxy by their pinky toe." He grinned, waiting for the man's response.
"Hey-" he called out as something flew past his ear. He turned so as to scrutinize the crowd behind him, a bewildered frown etched onto his face. "Was that a jumafruit?"
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last online Jan 14, 2020 17:37:19 GMT -5
Master
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Apr 20, 2010 15:04:59 GMT -5
Post by Jace on Apr 20, 2010 15:04:59 GMT -5
There seemed to be a great deal of noise as Bane had headed off the stage. He turned back to take a look, and saw a familiar figure at the podium. General Joranus. The general must have only just arrived recently, for he had not seen the man since they had returned from Shogun. It seemed that from his words, he was in support of Bane as the new Mandalore. Bane held a certain respect for the man, as he was once the leader of the militia on Concord Dawn. It was reassuring to know that they would be working together to achieve the same goal once more.
The noise wasn't the most intriguing of things at the moment though, for a group of rather serious looking Mandalorians were approaching him. One stood a good deal taller than the others, seemingly the leader of the bunch. Bane didn't recognize them, but he could tell they meant business. As they approached, he noted the condition of their armor, and new they had been in many battles. It begged the question of who these vode actually were. They held themselves much like those of Special Operations, but they were not, atleast not at the moment.
It was hard to tell if they intended to have a talk with Bane, or were going to try to attempt to kill him. Either way, he didn't make much of a move, instead he merely turned to face them. Many in the crowd moved out of their way, rather smartly if he was honest. If they intimidated soldiers here, they were someone that Bane wanted fighting alongside him. He wasn't certain, but he assumed he was going to have to somehow convince them in the very near future.
"Fine speech, Mand'alor. Certainly better than the last I heard." spoke the rather large man.
"Words are not my forte, but it is clear that some must be spoken now. That being said, how can I help you, vod?" said Bane in response to the man.
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Iota
You wouldn't like me without my coffee *hulk face*
805 posts
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last online Feb 4, 2012 7:43:30 GMT -5
Guardian
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Apr 20, 2010 15:22:04 GMT -5
Post by Iota on Apr 20, 2010 15:22:04 GMT -5
As Joranus was leaving the podium, he had not noticed the fruit that was making a bee line express towards him. Quite a few of the soldiers had seen it and were unsure as to what to do, it was as if they all "gulped" at the same time, for no one dare try to humiliate such a high ranking Mandalorian, for attacking the High General was almost just as bad as attacking Mandalore himself.
Fortinately, for the Mandalorian who did threw the fruit, the aim wasn't perfect, it literally missed Joranus's left shoulder by 2 centimetres as he was leaving the podium, the fruit landed a few feet infront of the General, who looked at it for a second or two before taking a few steps back to the podium.
"Seems we have a comedian in the crowd, blatently not a Mandalorian.. the Kriffing Di'Kut missed!" Joranus laughed softly before finally leaving the podium and the stage, en route towards Bane.
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last online Jun 4, 2023 4:58:38 GMT -5
Master
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Apr 21, 2010 3:08:56 GMT -5
Post by Talau the Ever-Lurking on Apr 21, 2010 3:08:56 GMT -5
Italia couldn’t help but roll those green eyes of hers at the “speech” this “General Joranus Kahn’tall, of clan Kahn’taal” made. Oh how she was liking this man less and less with each word. Something about him just grated on her nerves…maybe it was the overly shiny armor. Clean armor was one thing, but to buff it up so that it acted like a mirror? That was just unnecessary…and WHAT was with the guards? That really irked her. She also didn’t rightly care if he’d been the leader of the militia here on Dawn…she’d not seen the man in action and, despite what she thought of Bane’s lack of speech skills, she’d seen him in action and so she could forgive him for the lack. This man’s words were well and good, but they didn’t hold water far as she was concerned. Yeah yeah…show me, don’ tell me…an’ you can watch all ya want I don’ give a whomp rat’s arse. I don’ take orders from you. The internal dialogue cut short when she spotted the barabel lizard eying the general like a tasty meal.
Well ain’t that interesting…might like these new folk after all...so long as they don’t do anythin’ stupid.
Pulling her helmet away from the scope, she watched the Barabel acquire…something…from one of his cohorts and head off into the crowd. Clever eyes flicked between her current target, Bane, the general, and the area where the barabel had vanished off to. It was about that time that one of the women turned, looked back toward the stage, then went hurtling forward into the crowd. Those eyes widened slightly as she saw one arm rise up in the crowd and launch forward, chucking something directly at the General.
It was….a fruit?!
Unfortunately the sudden impact of the woman colliding with him, as well as the way he’d had to throw the thing, made it fly crooked and just barely miss the man it was intended for. Nevertheless, that laser dot aimed at Raynes bobbed around on his armor and helmet as Lia shook with suppressed laughter, only to end up laughing outright. It was just so stupid how such a little thing like watching a giant lizard throwing a fruit at a mandalorian general before being tackled by a woman at the end of Bane’s ceremony could make her laugh so hard!....the realization of that stupidity only made her laugh harder, tears rolling down her face as she did.
Manda help me…Sol, if you can see this I hope you’re laughin’ just as hard as I am at these fools.
That thought sobered her up considerably and she sighed quietly. Finally she focused again, only giving a mild snicker at the General’s retort.
Oh shut it…the lizard did pretty good considerin’ he was tackled…
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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
Guardian
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Apr 21, 2010 4:16:01 GMT -5
Post by Regnier on Apr 21, 2010 4:16:01 GMT -5
"You're insane..."
"Sorry...couldn't help it- HELL, woman, you didn't have to hit me that hard..."
Anda hauled the lizard to his feet, just as Joranus' voice came back across the crowd.
"...the Kriffing Di'Kut missed!"
Mkohar froze. Anda cocked an eyebrow as she wiped a tear from her cheek. "I did? Wait-"
"How? Five decades, I've never seen you miss a throw..."
The Barabel stared blankly at Anda for several seconds. "I...don't rightly know. I had a clean shot...you must've hit me sooner than I'd though...damn...too bad...that would've made my day. Say...you have any more-"
"No."
"Aw, come on...it's your fault I missed!" Mkohar muttered in indignation, prodding the large woman in the chest firmly.
"Hell no. You're going to get yourself killed at this rate, and I am not going to be your accomplice."
"...fine."
Dejectedly, Mkohar skulked out and away from the crowd, arms crossed against his chestplate, muttering to himself. He needed to find some poor, defenseless mammal to torture.
-----
For all intents and purposes, Raynes ignored Joranus and the rest of the crowd entirely, as did Sasha and Vera, focusing on the new Mandalore. Mesh'la had long since wandered off back towards their ship, unable to cope with the crowd for very long without breaking down, and her pride wouldn't let her do such a thing in public, especially around the other Verda.
Snapping his knuckles against his breastplate in an almost...vicious manner, Raynes began. "My name is Raynes, of the Clan Kohul. Perhaps you have heard of me, perhaps not; it matters little to me either way. I have been a warrior, a vanguard of our people since before the Crusade that crippled us. I have served among some of the best that our people have to offer most of my life, and led them for half a century across the far reaches of this galaxy, waging wars in places most have never heard from. Te Verda be Tal bal Prudii we are known as, formed many decades ago."
Pausing briefly, Raynes tilted his head slightly to one side. He did not need eyes in the back of his head, nor any of the famed Jedi powers of perception to know someone was aiming at him. He knew what it felt like all too well. Bringing his hands up to the underside of his helmet, he released the locks with his thumbs and pulled it off, moving it to his side. Beneath the helm lay the aged face of a warrior who has seen far too many battles across far to many years...the face of a man driven by anger, a man searching for death. Turning his head to the side, his mouth quirked in a half-smile, as if somehow acknowledging the marksman drawing a bead on him. Returning his attention to Bane, Sasha took her turn to notice.
Catching Raynes' look, she focused on him for a second, quickly spotting the small dotting flickering about the back of his armor unsteadily before settling again. Wordlessly, she stepped behind the juggernaut. Then looked up. Sasha was by no means short, but Raynes still had a foot on her, and the dot was still just above her head. Grabbing a chair from nearby that someone was just about to sit on, the grey-clad demo-tech plated it firmly behind Raynes and stood on it, facing the estimated direction of the shooter. Honestly, she was still only equal to Raynes, but that was enough. Folding her arms across her chest, she glowered into the distance through her T-visor, at a spot that was actually about a hundred feet to Italia's left, but her point was obvious enough. She owed the man everything, everything, and would have gladly taken a slug for him two decades ago, a few months after meeting him. Truth be told, part of her stance was almost daring whoever was on the other end of the sight to take the shot. A part of her wanted it.
"But all of this is relatively unimportant. We are old, our time has come and gone. Hate fills my veins like fire. I seek only the deaths of the foes of our people, to be pitted against those that would oppose us, to kill until I myself am brought down in a hail of fire. Take us, Mand'alor, unleash us upon your enemies until either there are none left to crush or we have all died glorious deaths surrounded by the corpses of those that killed us. We...are yours to command, 'till death itself takes us."
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Cirith An'Gol
"You got something for me? or are you just another slack jawed arruetti admiring my armor"-Cirith
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last online May 31, 2020 19:14:38 GMT -5
Knight
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Apr 23, 2010 18:46:07 GMT -5
Post by Cirith An'Gol on Apr 23, 2010 18:46:07 GMT -5
Cirith grinned at the mention of a Jumafruit being tossed at the pompous general. He caught sight of the airborne fruit just as it reached it's peak and fell toward it's unsuspecting target. A commotion erupted somewhere ahead of them and Cirith stood on a large rock nearby to see what was going on. Suddenly a woman stood up, pulling up a Barabel a second later. Cirith laughed aloud and shook his head. It was all a game. He laughed a second time as the general came back to the podium and mocked the Barabel's attempt "Seems we have a comedian in the crowd, blatently not a Mandalorian.. the Kriffing Di'Kut missed!"
Cirith shook his head and hopped off the rock, a rare smile on his face. "Tor, Arwyn, I've been doing some thinking. I could be useful in an army, I'm thinking Special Ops division. I haven't really done anything in my life except hurt people, both innocent and guilty. I've been thinking on this for awhile and I'm going to apply to the army, I want to be involved in something bigger than myself and if I do get accepted, I want you to take the Sabre Arwyn. Even if I don't get accepted into the military, I want you to take buir's ship. You deserve it, you did spend more time with dad after all and...he would've wanted you to have it." Cirith stuck a small chip into his younger sister's hand, the access codes to the ship's security systems as well as the ignition codes, as she stared at him completely dumbfounded.
"Ciri'ka...I dunno what to say..." Arwyn said looking at her hand and the chip within with a mixture of wonderment and joy.
"Just say you'll take care of her and that'll be enough for me vod'ika" Cirith said feeling as if a heavy burden had been finally lifted from his shoulders. Arwyn was too overwhelmed with emotion to say anything in words, tears welled up in her eyes and she hugged Cirith tightly. The tight embrace caught Cirith off guard but, he finally managed to hug his little sister back as tears welled up in his own eyes. They were Mandalorian, this was true but, even Mandalorians had emotions other than rage. These were tears of joy after all, the two siblings having come to finally understand one another and for once Cirith wasn't ashamed to cry.
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Mara
nothing worth anything ever goes down easy
9,275 posts
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the one and only
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last online May 2, 2022 22:30:17 GMT -5
Master
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Apr 23, 2010 18:54:58 GMT -5
Post by Mara on Apr 23, 2010 18:54:58 GMT -5
[...from Flirting with Disaster]
For the second time in just as many days Ambria found herself attired in her full set of armor, including helmet, painted in a yellowish orange of amber and given to her by her father after passing her verd'goten back on the planet of Mandalore. But today it was for an entirely different reason than the previous day. True, it was another celebration, but instead of celebrating the life of a fallen leader, they were celebrating the instating of a new Mandalore. She couldn't believe the cogs of Mandalorian politics had spun so efficiently and quickly, but then again they were still at war and needed one being to unite themselves under to continue the fight. The less they were without their figurehead, the better.
Another surprise for the lieutenant in the special operations division was the being himself, the one to become the new Mandalore. Not that she didn't believe that the general, former general, was worthy; Ambria's surprise came from what little time she had spent serving under the man during different missions. She hadn't thought him to be one that would step back from the fight and lead from afar as Mandalore would need to do. Of course, she hadn't really spent much time with Bane Haseful other than in battle situations, didn't really know him personally. Perhaps he had always aspired to become the new Mandalore and none of them in spec ops had known it.
Despite these fleeting hesitations of Bane's motivations for accepting the position, Ambria did know that he would do well in the role. And she would be proud to serve him and call him Mandalore, just as she did with his predecessor. Having been one of the few to actually see him in action, the woman knew what this man was capable of, and knew that he would be an effective leader. Perhaps not as eloquent as Solus'ad, but sometimes words were unnecessary in a time of war. Hour-long speeches and soliloquies were not what they needed. There was more than one way to skin a nerf, just as there was more than one way to inspire a nation. She had nothing against Solus'ad, but she also thought a change of perspective and personality would be good for their people. This could be the turning point they needed to shove back the Republic dogs once and for all.
During this time other high-ranking Mandalorians had been making speeches, not unlike that of which their former leader might have made, and Ambria wasn't completely sad that she had tuned them out, thinking of the future ahead, her eyes focused inwardly. But when Bane himself made for the center of the stage, she brought herself back to the present, a click of her tongue focusing the displays inside her helmet so she could hear whatever he had to say crystal-clear. Ambria had a feeling it would be short, and she didn't want to miss a word.
Though it was not lengthy as the dark-skinned human had guessed ahead of time, it was full of everything that needed to be said. Somehow he had managed to convey all his thoughts as succinctly as possible. What would have taken someone else 30 or more minutes to say, it had taken Bane only a couple. This only helped to reinforce Ambria's thoughts that the elders and other leaders had not be wrong to suggest this man as their new Mandalore. At the end of everything, she heartily joined in on the raucous cheers coming from the crowd that had gathered to watch the ceremony. A new age had begun, and she was proud to be part of it.
With the new Mandalore on his way, the crowd began to disperse, and Ambria began to move off as well. She hadn't seen anyone else she knew at the ceremony, none of her fellow spec op soldiers, but she didn't worry. Most of the Mandalorians that had come for the funeral the day before had stayed for the appointment of their new leader. And the area in front of the stage was packed with armor-clad beings. Now the only thing on her mind was to get back to base after paying her wishes to Bane, perhaps get in some training time. And then she would worry about who their new CO would be, when the next mission would be and where it would take them.
Ambria noticed a group of about half a dozen armored warriors moving towards Bane as he tried to make his exit with the other leaders from the stage area, but didn't give it much thought. She, too, would want to congratulate him, but she would wait until the crowd had thinned out. And so Ambria slowly walked, scanning around her idly, her subconscious looking for familiar faces. Not from her squad but her family from Mandalore. Still, she recognized no armor or faces.
A commotion, though, caused her to look behind her where a shuttle had landed and from which a group of Mandalorians was debarking from. She thought it odd; whoever it was was being very rude in coming late to the Mandalorian's induction ceremony, especially by being so pompous about his own entrance. Behind her visor her eyes narrowed, wanting to keep watch of these fellows and see what they were up to. As a Mandalorian, she would give her life to protect her own, especially her leader, and if these new arrivals were here to protest against Bane's promotion... Manda help them, because she wouldn't.
Most of the figures stayed by the shuttle, but the one dressed the most regally continued on across the field, forcing those around him to part to let him through. Ambria recognized the trappings of a general, but she didn't recognize the face attached to the armor. She almost had to laugh, then, when the man got up to the stage and began yelling, not against Bane but for him. The gall of this man, even a Mandalorian general, was just... hilarious. But seeing there was no immediate danger from this general, she relaxed some and continued on slow move towards Bane, for the most part ignoring the man who had hopped on stage, not bothering to listen to his speech. The ceremony was over; she had nothing more to pay attention to.
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{ Lasky }
Tal's Half-Vampy Slave: Complete With Buckled Boots
233 posts
0 likes
"The Force shall free me..."
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last online Apr 22, 2015 20:31:42 GMT -5
Padawan
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Apr 24, 2010 13:12:18 GMT -5
Post by { Lasky } on Apr 24, 2010 13:12:18 GMT -5
Character: Tor Otani Location: Coronation Ceremony (Concord Dawn)
Tor gave a small wave of greeting as he caught sight of Cirith's younger sister Arwyn making her way towards them. She gave him a curt nod in reply before turning her attention back to her brother. Seeing the spark of mischief in her eye, Tor thought it best to give the siblings some room. He did so just in time to evade the rough-housing, but by then something else had caught the sniper's eye.
A small group (small in number not in size, he noted) was making their way towards Mand'alor with keen intent. The intensity of the collective broil of emotions he sensed from them was alarming, sending a shock down his spine and adrenaline through his veins. Tor felt a familiar numbness encompass him as the sinking feeling intensified in correlation to the beings' nearing proximity to Bane. Replacing his helm, the newly awakened Orar'ika set off into the crowd with the unshakable focus of a highly-trained assassin. He moved with purpose and percision, seamlessly blending into the crowd of soldiers and mercenaries as he stalked his quarry.
By this time, the majority of the Mandalorians present were going their seperate ways, blatantly ignoring the man who had taken the stage after the newly appointed Mand'alor's departure. Skirting the fringes of the crowd, Orar'ika flanked the armored figures approaching Mand'alor and waited for an opening, much like a vornskyr eyeing its prey from the shadows.
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last online Jan 14, 2020 17:37:19 GMT -5
Master
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May 10, 2010 14:48:02 GMT -5
Post by Jace on May 10, 2010 14:48:02 GMT -5
"My name is Raynes, of the Clan Kohul. Perhaps you have heard of me, perhaps not; it matters little to me either way. I have been a warrior, a vanguard of our people since before the Crusade that crippled us. I have served among some of the best that our people have to offer most of my life, and led them for half a century across the far reaches of this galaxy, waging wars in places most have never heard from. Te Verda be Tal bal Prudii we are known as, formed many decades ago."
Indeed, Bane had heard of them, if only a little. There were others like him, though maybe not as distinguished, nor as forceful. Bane couldn't help but respect the man as he continued to speak. As he removed his helmet he could see that Raynes had seen many battles, more so than himself. This was a man that he could use, a man with extensive battle experience. Their group probably had more battle experience than half of his spec ops unit combined. Thus it came as a great surprised when Raynes continued to say
"But all of this is relatively unimportant. We are old, our time has come and gone. Hate fills my veins like fire. I seek only the deaths of the foes of our people, to be pitted against those that would oppose us, to kill until I myself am brought down in a hail of fire. Take us, Mand'alor, unleash us upon your enemies until either there are none left to crush or we have all died glorious deaths surrounded by the corpses of those that killed us. We...are yours to command, 'till death itself takes us."
They were the exact words that Bane had been hoping the man would say. He let out a mental sigh of relief, as he had possibly avoided what could have been quite a battle. Suffice to say, Bane was more than satisfied with this outcome. Indeed, he had just gained an battalions worth of fighting capability and experience. Oh and it wouldn't just be a good deal for him either, quite the contrary. He would give them missions, invasions, and all the blood and gore they could handle. The crusade had just begun, blood had been promised, and it would be spilled.
"It is an honor, vod. Enjoy what you can of the festivities and report to HQ at 0600 tomorrow. Then we can discuss how best we can use you and your men."
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{ Lasky }
Tal's Half-Vampy Slave: Complete With Buckled Boots
233 posts
0 likes
"The Force shall free me..."
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last online Apr 22, 2015 20:31:42 GMT -5
Padawan
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May 17, 2010 14:28:04 GMT -5
Post by { Lasky } on May 17, 2010 14:28:04 GMT -5
Character: Tor Otani Loc: Coronation Ceremony (Concord Dawn)
Orar'ika waited with endless patience, observing the setting with senses both nat-ural and synthetic. He noted the arrival of a laser-sight. It glided over the back of the helm on the armored behemoth that was conversing with Mand'alor - a sniper lining up a shot. Orar'ika ignored the inborn desire to duck and head for cover. Doing so would only draw the sniper's eye. He knew how marksmen operated, he was one of them. And for the time being, he could only assume the person behind the laser-sight's weapon of origin was protecting Bane. Any other scenario was unlikely.
Orar'ika put a palm to the side of his buy'ce, mirroring many of his fellow Manda-lorians who were conversing over their helms' internal comms system. His scanners picked up every word of the conversation between Bane and the behemoth, and he now had a decent shot of the sniper, thanks to the 360 degree zoom-sight feature Tor'ika had personally manufactured and installed. Losing interest in the proceeding events, Orar'ika closed his eyes, slipping into the shadows of his own mind. Tor looked up. The sniper's bead was gone, Mand'alor was unharmed, and the An'Gol siblings would probably be searching for him.
He took in every detail of emotion emanating from the fearsome group that he could, wondering what sort of Mando'ade lay beneath their armor. Their leader spoke as if they were at the end of their rope. Now they were looking for one last engagement, one last triumph, to die like the heroes they were. Tor wondered if the time would ever come when he yearned for death.
It was hard to imagine.
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Cirith An'Gol
"You got something for me? or are you just another slack jawed arruetti admiring my armor"-Cirith
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last online May 31, 2020 19:14:38 GMT -5
Knight
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May 17, 2010 23:31:07 GMT -5
Post by Cirith An'Gol on May 17, 2010 23:31:07 GMT -5
Arwyn felt her brother tense a split second before she felt his head move ever so slightly to look somewhere behind her. "Vod'ika, what's wrong?" Arwyn said releasong her older brother from her embrase and turning to look to where Cirith's gaze had fallen. Cirith spared his sister a quick glance that said he wasn't quite sure "It's Tor, he's changed personalities" he said in a cautiously low voice. He'd known for some time that Tor had two different personalities. Tor, the dominant personality, and Orar'ika, the battle hardened personality that he'd gotten from when another friend of his had been kidnapped. That was before Cirith had met Tor though, before the Otani's had moved to Dxun.
When Tor changed to Orar'ika, not even the all powerful mystical Force could help Cirith in a fight. Orar'ika was pure predatory instinct, reflexes and willpower built up into a wall of armor that could resist physical attacks from the Force as if they were little more than a small concusion of air. Cirith had a greater respect for Tor since Nar Shaddaa and a healthy respectful fear of Orar'ika. There weren't many that he knew of that could resist the offensive attacks from the Force so easily and that knowledge baffled him. It also made him a little more cautious around Tor when Orar'ika took over.
Cirith moved away slowly, following his friend at a discreet pace. His gaze shifted to a group of Mandalorians that looked as if they had busness with the new Mandalor, and it was anyone's guess whether it was friendly or not so. Cirith moved through the seperating crowds as he followed Tor, Arwyn close behind. He caught the majority of the conversation and eased up a little, that was until he spotted the laser sight that was aimed on one of the big Mando's. Cirith discreetly donned his helmet and commed Arwyn "Vod someone has a laser sight aimed at one of our brethren near Mandalor. Be careful sis and let's hope they're not aiming for our new leader." "Gotcha Vod" Arwyn said a second later as she too donned her helmet slowly. Together they both made their way forward to Mandalor and the men with him. They want a glorious death. Maybe they'll get just that today if we can't get to the sniper in time. Manda help me, why does osik like this happen where ever I go? Cirith thought as the men concluded their busness and Mandalor accepted their request to be put into the heavier fighting.
Cirith noticed Arwyn taking up position behind him and turning to stare straight at the sniper, who appeared to be taking cover from a cliff near by. He smiled as she simply waved to the sniper as if he or she was of no concern and promptly turned back to face Cirith, Tor and the men addressing Mandalor. After the men had concluded their busness and begun to walk away Cirith stepped up to his new Mandalor, sizing up the man before speaking. He was done in a second, the man obviously have fought in several battles if the state of his armor was anything to judge by "Excuse me, Mandalor, my name's Cirith An'Gol. I was wondering if you could use me in your army. There's a war on and I'm wanting to do my part" Cirith said calmly taking off his helmet and bowing slightly as he adressed the new leader of the Mandalorians.
Arwyn snorted in amusement put him in front of someone important and he gets all proper. Oiy, what a bunch of osik she thought as she turned slightly to make sure the sniper didn't get any bright ideas.
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Latus
May the Quartz be with you.
850 posts
0 likes
Ain't got time for this. (?°?°??? ???
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last online Jun 27, 2014 19:37:36 GMT -5
Guardian
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May 24, 2010 22:12:43 GMT -5
Post by Latus on May 24, 2010 22:12:43 GMT -5
(Sorry I'm late.)
"Ner Vode Mando'ad draar digu blah blah blah blah..."
Itani heard little more. For his part, he didn't need to. All these political speeches were the same sucking up to the people in one way or the other. It was a way to gain support and, by the way the assassin saw it, there was no one more deserving. Politics and politicians were both equally dangerous but maybe Bane brought hope. Though in a way he only considered himself a mandalorian in name only there was something that endeared the new Mandalore to him that only the special ops team knew. He had stood next to Bane in battle, had seen his skill, had witnessed his dedication that everyone made it out alive if it was possible.
To Itani there was no one more deserving.
And so there he stood, amongst the crowd all in their armored glory. Itani was comfortable in only a tunic and trousers despite being jostled around a bit. Or so they think. He chuckled in the back of his head as Bane finished and moved off. Itani wasn't helpless by any means; he had his mind. Well... maybe not his mind in the strictest sense but no one had to know that. Beneath his tunic and only visible at a certain times was his black and red skin tight suit, his assassin's gear and, only a motion away, was something possibly even more deadly; thin neurotoxin laced daggers...
His favorite weapon.
Bane's departure brought him even deeper into the throng of the crowd as he gingerly stepped from one opening to another. Unseen, unhindered. The chanting made it even easier as arms were raised and he slipped unnoticed in and out. He had decided to stay on for just a little longer to aid the coronation... add his talents to the defense of one he bore a real respect for. His was not the only talent in the area... Italia, his sister, was somewhere out of sight acting as his counterpart; ranged intervention. As the second speaker began, Itani found a point that was visible and tried to catch Bane's eye with a nod. If there was anyone who knew his skill it was Bane... or Italia.
The second man's speech was getting pompous and he let out a sigh. A shift in movement caught his eye from several yards over. A non-human mando was doing something Itani could only identify as suspicious and he moved toward it. Flicking a wrist foreword a dagger slipped into his palm. There would be no hesitation if this... lizard were to threaten Bane in earnest. A moment later Itani saw the projectile and paused, standing in an opening and grinning like a mad man. A fruit... wish I'd thought of that. As it was let fly Itani couldn't help but find the best vantage only partially noticing the woman tackle the thrower. It was turning into a fine day after all.
Except the fruit missed.
It was all Itani could do to keep from laughing. The response of the general who was targeted wouldn't let him repress a guffaw. A comedian in the crowd? Heh, maybe more than one. The noise left his mouth and instantly he had slipped into the next open spot before anyone could look. Quickly he put a finger to his ear. He had the special ops frequency on and whispered into it as he weaved in and out.
And you ask me why I do it... I just wish I would have thought that up myself.
Italia was the intended receiver but everyone would enjoy the brevity he was known to show. As he continued to weave he passed small pockets of chatter, all concerned with this and that. The third took the podium and began speaking but Itani took little notice. Another flowery speech, more undeserved self importance, and though Bane did respond as a commander ought to, with duty. Itani couldn't help but cringe. Slowly the crowd began to disperse, many unwilling to leave before the final word was spoken.
Politics... hmph.
He continued to stealth about the group yet ever so slowly. His eyes were sharp as razors as he scanned the faces over and over again. Some were familiar, he gave Ambria a complementary goosing before slipping away, while others he only watched in silence. Touching his headpiece once more he muttered into it.
Two trandoshans walk into a cantina...
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