Fate of the Clans [MANDO ONLY]

[Raif]

Jon Viggo stood behind and a little to the left of Apollo. As the Alor's aide-de-camp, that was his rightful position. He stood straight, seemingly at ease, but beneath his armor and helmet he was coiled like a spring. Tensions were reaching a breaking point, and with all of the hate-filled rhetoric being thrown around it would not take much for things to spiral dangerously out of control. In fact, Viggo was surprised things didn't turn into a bloodbath when that fool had taken a shot at Titus.

It took all of his self-control not to add his voice to the fray. What was wrong with these people? How could they maintain their blind stance that Corden and Apollo were some sort of blood-thirsty glory hounds, even after all that had happened?

Corden had done everything in his power to work with the previous Mand'alors and ruling councils, in an effort to prevent things from reaching their inevitable breaking point. Had they listened to him? No, and of course that was their right. But not only had they not listened to him; they hadn't done A THING. They sat by and allowed themselves to be gently pushed out of their home system.

And that one wanted to speak about herding? They had all been herded, right out of the Mandalore system, and no one in power made a peep.

Except for Corden of course. Even then, he tried to settle things the honorable way, only to have his challenge disregarded. Perhaps if this had been a democracy like the GA, Corden and Apollo would have sat meekly by and followed their leaders, despite disagreeing with them. But they were Mandalorians! So they did what they believed needed to be done.

Jon shook his head slightly in disgust. It was all well and good to say these words in his mind, but the minute he spoke them out loud some Loyalist fool would shout over him without even taking a moment to think about what he said. So for now he would continue to stand quietly but at the ready, scanning the crowd and making sure Apollo came to no harm. To many of the warriors around him, Viggo would be viewed derisively as an up-jumped Lieutenant, barely tested in battle and not worthy. But Apollo knew what Jon Viggo was capable of, and so the young warrior stood silently, awaiting any command that may come from his Alor.

 

[Django]

Titus chuckled after the blaster bolt fired whizzed by his shoulder. He eyed the man who had made the shot. "Friends, this is a meeting for politics. Not for battle. Please, if you wish to fight me honorably allow me to health first." After giving a slight chuckle, he turned to Corden with an odd expression of complete seriousness, and spoke softly so only he and Lucius could hear what Titus was saying. "You are a merely a boy Corden, I have grown far older than you in the past months than you have in your entire life. I have a wealth of knowledge on a lot of crap you probably have never heard off. I am stronger than you think, I can do a lot with this little crane. And I know that you are not the answer to our problems. When you realize that, I will have some sort of respect for you."

Speaking loudly again so everyone could hear him Titus continued to speak, "A duel is not needed to solve our problems. Enough Mandalorians have died, either it be by Cordens hand or Lucius'... enough is enough."

Having said his peace, Titus gave a little nod to Lucius and slowly made his way off of the platform. He worked his way towards the person who had shot towards him. His was already tired from all this moving around, he was glad he had his cane with him- soon he would need to start exercising again regularly to gain his strength back. Finally reaching the person he saw that he was a Zabrak mix-blood. He looked on as the Zabrak and Cabur were staring each other down, and he walked in the middle of them.

"I am Titus Skirata. I am a Mandalorian. You are a Mandalorian, no? We should not be fighting brother, for it simply angers the Gods. None of us want that. Now it is time for you put such acts away, leave if you don't think you can do it but stay if you think you can control your temper- I would love for you to passively participate in this meeting." Titus talked to him respectfully and braced for a punch to the face. He knew it was probably coming, and no matter how best he tried he would probably tumble down. He legs were barely strong enough to hold him up while he was simply standing.

 

[Tokuhara]

Drrel looks Tidus in the eyes, his reptile-like pupils focused on Tidus' pupils.

"You aren't worth licking the s&@^ off my boots, dog. Don't try and talk to me like we are friends. I watched many of my brothers, those who adopted me from birth, die at the hands of those who embraced your ideals. We may be of the same family, but we are not brothers. Brothers don't kill each other because one has a small pecker and can't stand that the other tells him the honest truth. You're a coward who cannot understand that the old ways are the right way, so turn from your pointless crusade and tell the others to surrender."

Drrel clenches his fist as a small knife pops out from beneath the plate. He doesn't blink as he relaxes his hand, retracting the knife.

"If you have anything else useful to say, I say you say it before I lose my temper again, Loyalist pig."

 

[Horizon]

Anger​

That single word was all that could explain what Saren felt in the confines of his mind. Time felt like it had slowed down considerably as he placed one hand after another on the shoulder's of his brethren, shoving them to the floor as he covered more and more distance between him and Titus.

Titus.

Now the second word that he could not push out. He survived the battle of Fenris and should not have done so, it was almost impossible. His forces were practically annihilated and he should've been buried in the snow, but he had survived. There was no greater insult to the work and brothers that he had lost by seeing and knowing his presence.

Sweat rolled down his temples as Saren's boy begin to practically rack itself while the adrenaline pumped through his veins. His heart thumped with the noise of a group of horses stampeding through the wilderness, pushing him onward to this fateful moment where the Loyalist would forever know his name.

Reaching behind his back, Saren's hand carefully floated inches away from his verpine shatter rifle as it practically ejected itself from his holster, landing right in his hand as he pulled it over his shoulder due to his magnetic gloves. Yet he barreled on through the crowds, rushing through everyone like a raging ox.

There he was.

His visor painted a nice, red silhouette around Titus' frame to distinguish him perfectly even if he was above most of the crowd,. It clocked his distance in the top right section of his helm right before he uttered the word ignition, which then activated his jetpack, pulling him from the ground and sending him into the air for a couple of seconds. He was now well above anyone else in the room and Titus was now a dead man.

There it was again...

Time.

He clicked back the trigger on his rifle, releasing a monstrous roar as he picked up his feet to carry his momentum. Flames escaped the barrel as ammunition was sent flying through the air at an unimaginable rate, using magnetic acceleration to do in their target. Saren couldn't see underneath that cloak of his, but whatever form of armor he had beneath there would prove to be useless. The kinetic energy from his rifle would destroy him from the inside, breaking multiple bones and inflicting many areas with internal bleeding. Titus' corpse would be a mangled mess within and so would his fellow brother that he had taken a moment to speak to. Yet, he found no remorse.

 

[Matty]

Drrel looks Tidus in the eyes, his reptile-like pupils focused on Tidus' pupils.

"You aren't worth licking the s&@^ off my boots, dog. Don't try and talk to me like we are friends. I watched many of my brothers, those who adopted me from birth, die at the hands of those who embraced your ideals. We may be of the same family, but we are not brothers. Brothers don't kill each other because one has a small pecker and can't stand that the other tells him the honest truth. You're a coward who cannot understand that the old ways are the right way, so turn from your pointless crusade and tell the others to surrender."

Drrel clenches his fist as a small knife pops out from beneath the plate. He doesn't blink as he relaxes his hand, retracting the knife.

"If you have anything else useful to say, I say you say it before I lose my temper again, Loyalist pig."

"Enough!" Duraan shouted through gritted teeth "As your Traat'ab Al'verde I order you to stand down NOW!"

Duraan's fists clenched as he screamed at Drrel. He looked at the Zabrak in disgust. He withheld the emotion to spit at the ground between the two Mandalorians. This fighting had gone on long enough. Duraan knew he would never know what Titus and Drrel had gone through, but enough is enough. This whole meeting was to establish peace, not another conflict because two immature children could not control their emotions. Duraan exhaled slightly as he forced himself to calm down. Duraan gave a small nod to Titus. He had to acknowledge that the Mandalorian tried to repair the shattered relationship between Loyalist and Separatist. He should have just waited a bit longer. The wounds from Fenris and the other battles were as fresh as ever. This meeting itself only helped to poke and prod the already festering relationship.

"Titus" Duraan said through still clenched teeth "Go back to your clan vod"

Duraan turned away from the Mandalorian and started to lead Drrel away from the fray. The Zabrak's reputation was impressive as his will to fight. Nearly every Separatist had heard of the exploits of the Zabrak before him. He didn't approve of his affiliation to the Death Watch, but it took one hard core son of a gun to be accepted within their ranks. Drrel had proved time and time again to be both a powerful asset and a loyal solider. He had earned his reputation from battle after battle. With every drop of blood split, the Zabrak proved just how loyal to Corden's cause he was. Acting like this, was going against everything Corden and the Separatists stood for. The main goal was to unite all Mandalorians under one banner, no matter how different they may be.

 

[Tokuhara]

Drrel turns to leave, walking away, back to his new clan.

"Durran. You have the biggest, hairiest pair of brass ones I've ever seen. You have my respect, brother."

Caring not of petty revenge or proving his worth, he replaces his helm, resealing it quickly. He had exposed himself long enough for his taste.

 

[Raif]

"GUN!!"

The words were out of Jon's mouth even before he had fully realized it. He had been scanning the crowd and saw a Mando he didn't recognize pushing his way through, and thanks to his 'other' senses knew the man intended murder.

Viggo threw himself forward, using his body to shield Apollo, as the other murderous Mando launched himself into the air via his jetpack. As Jon's armored body crashed into his Alor, forcing them both to the ground, Viggo - or rather Royston Spektor, the man truly beneath the armor - reached out with the Force and wrenched the stabilizers on the Mando's jetpack. That, combined with a less-than-gentle push with the Force, would send the other Mando spiraling out of control, looking for all intents and purposes like an ill-timed jet pack malfunction.

Additionally, being busy protecting his Alor, Viggo would make no outward gestures tying him to the 'intervention.' Even if, for some strange reason, anyone there believed it was something other than a malfunction, there would be nothing to tie it back to Jon/Royston.

"Secure that man! Now, dammit!" Jon barked orders to nearby Clan Ordo gaurds as he continued to lie on the ground on top of his VIP.

 

[Tokuhara]

As the gunman's jetpack malfunctions, Drrel, with a single movement, draws, aims, and precisely fires his Westar-34 blaster into the attacker's thigh, a wound that at the very least would cripple the target, should it hit.

 

[Orphen]

Alarann sidestepped and blocked the blows with his armour and the shield on his back. Slanting forward as his near indestructible shield barely scolded from his weapons, the kinetic force was soaked by his linked armour. Barely enough to flinch him..

No,

Let them fight...

Alarann spoke lowly. The fosh was oveborn by people, his singsteel blades were covered in blood not long ago, his Mandalorian iron shield and his power armour were still plastered with burnmarks. He looked to Lucius, a man he had an increadibly amount of respect for. Titus, another person whose words struck true to alarann.

To me, who fought and prepared the defenses of the Mountain base on Fenris... We would have won, we would have fought in the coridoors, our traps causing bottlenecks which would have run people into manned heavy turret fire. Cloaked assassins planned to assassinate squad commanders and plunge units into chaos. My blades would have hew'd through armour, man or woman alike. But Jenna wolf's cowardice cannot be ignored. Though Neither can your Treason, which stands to all Mandalorians.

Each and every member of the Seperatists, should i have my way, should be charged for treason, for each of them that killed a fellow mandalorian, or lead revolution. High treason. Should I ever see Jenna Wolf, I would accuse the same crime. The Honor of the Mandalorians is dead, i can forsee no redemption. I was denied my war... I was denied my honerable battle, but i retreated fighting. We assaulted your peaks. Fought you fairly, you did not fight me like cowards, you fought me as equals. Yet you call us cowards, and dogs... Then you fought as cowards and dogs that day, for we were as one in combat. We bought out the best in each other.

Alarann's conviction was shattered, he had no one to believe in, no-one to trust in. He could not, and would not trust Corden as MAndalore. And Should Lucius fail, he would challenge, and live, and challenge, and live, again, and again, and again. Until he either killed Corden, or died in the process. But for such an effort, he would never allow himself to become Mandalore. He'd reject it. Then challenge the next one, again, and again. Until the same result. Using the ancient rite of 'anyone' can challenge, as a means to fight. He was a broken warrior. He knew not where to go, where to turn to. Lucius was the closest person he could look to and rely on. He was a true mandalorian, one who had lead from the front lines, had the faith and trust of his men, fought to the end. Win or loose. Mandalorians accepted and revelled in battle.

There was no meaning, in victory, no meaning in defeat to a true mandalorian. These were tha values instated in Alarann from a young age in a mando family. His father was a near legendary soldier, who never rose through the ranks out of choice. Having trained and tempered his early skills, and now assuming his armour, name and legacy. Even his father would have been disappointed in what was happening now.

I refuse an Arch Traitor as Mandalore, myself, and my squad will not follow you. But I say this not as a loyalist. I would say the same to Jenna, should that... creature be here. Do not take my judgement against soley you seperatists. But you pulled away from the Mandalorians, and caused war. Killed your brothers, sisters, and fellows. Who you swore a blood oath to in becoming Mando'a. Does such an oath mean NOTHING to you? Is your hate, and bloodlust so extreeme that we must cave in on ourselves. Yes, perhaps we needed a shism. But such is the right of challenge. If you must kill, kill the leaders responsible. You made a war, from a feud between a few. That is a fact, we are a hydra, remove the infected head, so that the body may recover, as two more heads will grow to replace it. I will hear no other name uttered of Corden other than Traitor. For i will speak no other name... And if someone wishes to challenge me on it. I will meet them, in honerable challenge. My blades have met so much mando blood. A little more now. makes no difference. ​

 

[Tokuhara]

"Alarann, do us all a favor and hold your tongue, or I shall cut it from your mouth. I know of you, just as you probably know of me."

Drrel approaches the Mandalorian, holstering his blaster pistol with a fanciful twirl. Out of respect for this brash Brother, he removes his helm once again. He stands toe to toe with him, their eyes locked.

"If it weren't for a call of peace, I'd beat the ever-loving s*@$ out of you. However, Another loyalist dog who's bark is worse than his bite. I hasten to recall this, but wasn't it the Loyalists who burned a settlement on Shogun, killing several bystanders? I was there, you pig. I watched people who raised me be murdered at the hands of some sad Loyalist lap-dog who didn't have the guts to attack in a fair fight."

Drrel now turns to the crowd of his brothers and sisters.

"Is this what we want? A bunch of cowardly worms who cannot uphold the ethics passed down since Mand'alor the First? Loyalists wish to throw it all away, claiming that honor is unfit for this harsh time. However, Honor is above all else on the battlefield, not victory. I would rather die with honor than live as a yellow-bellied back-stabbing coward who slaughters women and children in the night."

He turns back to Alarann.

"You are just another lap-dog. Your blood is unworthy to stain my blade. Begone."

 

[Mars]

Stop posting in this goddamn thread!

 

[Django]

[OOC: Please wait for Mars and I post before continuing.]

 

[Mars]

Things had hit the fan. Peace was a nice idea, but one that would not solve anything here. Saren had sealed the fate of the loyalists regardless of how things would have progressed otherwise. Unfortunate as it may be, it was time for action. Viggo, or Roy, acted with remarkable speed, working exactly as Apollo needed him to. On a closed channel, before he had even hit the floor, he spoke out to his clan and the Chiss Ciryc.

"Clan Ordo, execute Reaper protocol"

To most, this cryptic message would mean nothing. To the elite shock troopers of Clan Ordo, this was a drastic measure.

Having a significant size advantage over most of the other Seperatist clans, Ordo was on guard for the sensitive meeting today and kept tabs on where the Loyalists groups were. As such, they acted swiftly under Apollo's orders to violently and simultaneously eliminate these groups. Blaster fire would ring out at the same time as the clan operated in sync with Apollo's own attack.

A Loyalist named Alarann thought it wise to raise his voice even after the attack, another claiming they'd challenge Corden after all this. Well, he too would have to be eliminated. Apollo's shoulder pods popped open, revealing a pair of racks holding six miniature missiles loaded with standard, non-scary normally explosive payloads. They were incredibly accurate and fast moving, capable of closing the gap between himself and the target in the blink of an eye. Two missiles fired out, one from each shoulder, and would impact on either side of him, hopefully causing quite a bit of damage and sending the poor man into shock.

Essentially, he had no true chance to escape.

Between that and the other actions of his clan, a quick and vicious blow would be dealt to the Loyalists. While Corden had attempted peace, it was clear that no matter what, the Loyalists children would continue to complain. For this, they would die. It was time to move the Mandalorians into glory and to do so they'd have to leave the inept behind.

Good try, Loyalists.

 

[Tokuhara]

OOC: I should just commit suicide because of this? You suck bro.

 

[Apollyon]

Blaster fire erupted from the crowd, before A'den could react clan Ordo opened fire on the crowd. "Apollo are you MAD? Did we bring our brothers and sisters here to slaughter them? Is THIS what we have been reduced to? If so...you disgrace your ancestors and our ways...you will burn us to the ground. Clan Fett...this congregation is over...we will be leaving, returning home, and continuing our job...farming. Vencu, Apollo destroys your hopes...kill the fool who attempts to kill you...not everyone...blindly. Your supplies will arrive on time...hail Manda'lor the Preserver...hail the smokes of peace!" A'den said disappointed in the Mandalorians actions, and hating Apollo for his brazen haughtiness.

 

[Orphen]

Alarann scanned in on the threat almost instantly. Missiles... As soon as they locked in he charged for the Leader, the cervoes in his armour acting with increadible speed before he had even fired. In the time he had opened the conduit, aimed, and fired. Alarann was no longer in place. No, he couldn't escape the ten meter blast radius. But with the mix of both his increadibly movement. His shield at his back. And others his running put carelessly in the way. When all hell broke loose, Alarann and his squad returned fire quickly, and brutally. Alarann himself was not here alone. Though the Ordo men had ground as they began this elimination. Heavy repeating blasters would rip back at their opponents. Thier own armour holding just long enough to resist some of the initial wave of attack...

Alarann charged Corden's men The explosion wasn't enough to down him, not even close. He drew his blade and shield and began cutting his way to his opponent. Smiling like the devil he dived and rolled headfirst at knee height behind a group of Ordo. Extending the full hilt of his nagamaki like weapon he would swing. The whistling mastercraft of the songsteel blade with the spin would rip at their tendonds. The men of his squad would most likely fall quickly. But this was a vast hallway. And they had more than enough allies here to make a stand. Combat stimulants were now already being injected into Alarann for feats of increadible X.

But rearing himself around, he made headway into the ranks of the fett. To hell with it.

Theyd have to draw their fire on them

 

[Raif]

"Clan Ordo, execute Reaper protocol"

Eliminate hostiles, protect allies. Drastic orders, but with the way things had progressed Roy/Jon really wasn't surprised. Leaping back to his feet with lightning speed, the Sith in Mando armor used his HUD to access the controls for the chambers' hatchways. As the aide-de-camp of the Alor he could remotely access the controls, and he used this remote access to seal everyone inside; there would be no easy escape for their enemies today.

As Apollo turned to attack a nearby enemy, Jon/Roy was able to glean from his mind who his target would be in order to assist his attack: the outspoken one, Alarann.

Sorry, bud.

Gathering the Force, Roy/Jon reached out and rooted Alarann to the decking, holding him there so Apollo's missiles would make easy work of him. Then, gathering himself for a moment, Jon/Roy sent out a powerful Force wave towards the largest groups of loyalist Mandos, hoping to knock them off of their feet and make them easy pickings for the Ordo guards springing into action all around him.

 

[Orphen]

Alarann rooted, fell.

His shield turned and held high!

BOOM WOOSH!!!!

His armour fell apart as he tucked and rolled.

He was knocked out, and slammed against a wall behind everyone, critical condition. But his shield had miraculously survived, he'd lost an arm which sealed from the heat. And his left leg was mangled beyond repair. Though his helmet and chestplate were still well intact.. Though captain america would be proud.

 

[Apollyon]

"Junn, get the Fosh! Cassy,cover our exit in case they open fire on us! Everyone else double time, we have work to do!" A'den ordered, he would save Alarann, he respected the Fosh as a warrior and a Mandalorian. The Fosh had saved A'den on the moon about Eshan, this was the least he could do.

 

[Demiurge]

Kyr'orar did not join the audience congregation of his fellow brethren in the summit meeting for peace. It was not his place. For all his devotion and loyalty to the Mandalorian path, he could only find true comfort away from the crowds and masses. He was a watcher, a listener. Always had been, and always would be. But things change, times change. And for the Mandalorians, this was a true on a constant ever-fluxing scale. Since before the war began between the galactic superpowers, the Mandalorian clans had been in a constant state of upheaval, unrest. Throughout the clans, debate raged and schisms tore their peoples in two, loyalists and separatists. As much as division conflicted with his core beliefs, Kyr'orar could do nothing but side with the separatist movement, the movement to restore honor and respect among their people.

Observing in from within the HUD and camera uplink systems within his obsidian Mando armor, Kyr'orar watched and listened to the unfolding events, as the tensions broke down, and as a summit of unity and fate turned to madness and chaos. For better or worse, his place was with his people in times of conflict, either as a preventor or as a harbinger. Racing down the halls, Kyr'orar split his HUD from displaying the ever-growing unstable notions with the visibility of his environment. He would not miss a moment of whatever were befalling his people, especially before he himself were to get there, but he could not obviously ignore looking where he was going. Racing down the corridors, Kyr'orar reached the hangar bay hallway as he prepared to sharply turn a corner, the assassin froze in his steps, picking up on the faint rhythmic patterns. Steps, running. Someone was leaving the conference.

Kyr'orar felt his fists tighten until his knuckles cracked beneath his armor platings. This was possibly the most important moment in their people's generation, the critical moment that would either decide unity or civil war. And a brother, a fellow Mandalorian in this time of crisis, was running away. Leaving his own people behind to save his skin, rather than find a way, some way - any way - to stand with his people and attempt to rectify the situation how he could. It was so disgusting it made him want to vomit. Initializing his sound dampening unit, Kyr'orar stood against the wall in perfect silence, by the doorway as he listened to the running feet coming closer... and closer... and closer, until finally, with split-second reactions, Kyr'orar lashed out his hand with bullet speed as he delivered a sharp precision chop at the other Mandalorian's lower neck as he would pass through into the hangar.

"Vode An," he whispered through his helmet.

What the coward running away would do from then on, which was most likely leaving on his ship, was not Kyr'orar's concern any longer. As far as he was concerned, that individual was no longer even a Mandalorian. Instead, Kyr'orar would have continued on, making his way toward his people.