Trial by Fire, a Verd'goten Story

[Cassel]

Fire and blood.

The planet was choked by it. Destructive fingers clawed at the great ecumenopolis, the centre of myriad civilizations. Pain and terror ruled the day here, the day that the Imperium had come. The Sith were paving their bloody path yet again, and the entire planet felt it, few more so than Rav Markal.

Soaked through with war was Coruscant, an emotion that was already deeply engraved into the planet itself. She (the planet) had seen many wars, most fought by the two largest factions in the galaxy: the Sith and the Jedi. This sacking was not the first the Imperium had attempted, nor would it likely be the last. Coruscant knew the Dark Side as well as the Light, and it knew her.

The young Mandalorian stood up. She was armoured in duraplast plating and a black armourweave jumpsuit, with an intimidating Mandalorian helmet topping it off. Her colours were as per usual: deep navy blue plating with red stripes. A heavy blaster pistol hung at her side, magseal emitters in her gloves. Simple armament, but more than enough for a Mando.

The towering skyscrapers around her were blessedly untouched by the fighting: it simply had not reached them yet. The Coruscanti were huddled in their homes, praying that the dreaded (or at least that's what the media told them) Imperial Stormtroopers would not reach them. Pathetic.

Her target was still eluding her. A whelp of a boy, hardly a fit target for someone of her skills, but her parents insisted. Rav needed a verd'goten, and what better time to stage it than in one of the century's largest conflicts? Though he likely could not suspect that he was being hunted by one such as herself, he was definitely fleeing; from the war more than anything, Rav thought. She already labelled him as a craven, though most Jedi were cowards by virtue alone. She could sense him, even if he could not feel her in his panic. He was not nearby, but she had a direction, and with a direction came purpose.

She set off at a brisk pace, keeping to the shadows, avoiding the looters and other scum whose darker sides the conquest had awoken.

(OOC Thread)

 

[Livgardist]

Gutterson crouched behind a wall, his R5 rifle hanging across his chest as he took a glance at the ground before him, thick with grey concrete dust from the many ruins around. He had been paid by the Galactic Alliance, or rather, what was left of it, to track down and bring back a deserter, a Jedi padawan who had abandoned his post in the face of danger, and fled into the pandemonium in the city, where he had disappeared. Gutterson rarely did bounty hunting jobs, but there was always an exception. Because he despised deserters, and the paycheck was great since the target was a Jedi, he had accepted the job.

The tracks in front of him were of feet clad in the soft boots that Jedi so often liked to use. A light body of a young man, weighed down by neither heavy weapons nor equipment. There could be little doubt that this was the padawan. Gutterson stood up, took out the right direction, and began to move again, raising his rifle to his shoulder as he did. Every time he passed a ruined building, he let the barrel of the weapon quickly sweep it to make sure there was nobody hiding and waiting to take a shot at him. Every time he moved past a possible sniper's nest, he let the R5's barrel move up and line its sights with it until he had moved past. And of course, basic MOUT skills as he had been taught by his Mandalorian instructor many years ago, he moved in zigzag tracks from cover to cover. Whenever he moved, wherever he was, if he got shot at he wanted some form of cover nearby that he could throw himself behind.

He stopped and crouched when he reached what had once been a tall wall, and had now been reduced to a sad excuse for a waist-level annoyance. Rioters and looters ran past in the distance, but he ignored them. Listening, and looking around, he took a moment to check for tracks again on the ground, an easy job at times, though not so much at the moment, when he was soon to cross tarmac. The padawan clearly was inexperienced, however, and had done little to nothing to hide the tracks he was making as he moved through Coruscant. A couple of fibers from a beige Jedi robe on the sharp edges of the rocks was enough to tell the veteran mercenary he was still on the right track.

He moved over the wall remnant, his legs slightly bent and his weapon raised as he approached a large, multiple floor ruin nearby. Somebody shouted something at him in an alien language, and tried to throw something at him. It was a looter. Gutterson turned his weapon on the man and fired twice. He fell to the ground, and moments later, Gutterson had walked right past him up to an empty doorway. A footprint in the dirt on the ground in front of the doorway told him he was right. This would be where the Jedi padawan had sought shelter.

Gutterson peeked inside, but saw nobody. He stepped in, and let his weapon sweep the room quickly.

Satisfied it was empty, he crouched in a corner where he could oversee the door to another room, as well as the metal stairs leading up to the second floor. Both were unknown factors and dangerous spots. He pulled forth the tube connected to a camelbak hidden in his armor, sucked a couple of mouthfuls of water from it. It cleared his head, and his mind sharpened.

Let's get to work, he thought to himself.

 

[Cassel]

Rav Markal turned onto a street that was the nearest to her target. She saw a soldier in Mandalorian armour moving amongst the rubble, and paused to watch him move. He expertly navigated the street, brilliantly staying near to cover at all times. A looter stupidly threw an object at him, but he dispatched him quickly. Impressive, the young Mandalorian thought. He approached a doorway and entered, the same doorway that led to the location of Rav's Padawan. She paused for a brief moment, and then followed. On light feet she approached the doorway. The Mando meditated for a moment on her surroundings, standing a few scant feet from the entrance to the building.
A young soldier, searching for the selfsame target as me. Likely Alliance. Dangerous, definitely. The Jedi, a few floors above. Scared. A looter. Markal drew her pistol with her right hand and spun around as a crackling nimbus of purple energy surrounded her left. A human rioter in anarchist clothing was running at her with a vibrosword held at his side. Rav let him near, and when he slashed sideways at her savagely, her left hand whipped up to catch the blade. The magnetic seal that surrounded her hand let her grasp it with impunity. Uncultured di'kut, Rav thought, wrenching the sword out of his grasp and throwing it to the side. She let him run away, and turned back to the building.
He's drinking water in a corner, she observed absurdly. Gently, she eased the door open, pistol held at the ready.

 

[T.J]

The Coruscant skyline was beautiful, all the zipping lines of traffic crisscrossing through a jungle of glistening buildings against a setting sun. At least, that's what the tattered travel brochure Delmon flipped through showed. Looking up from the flimsi towards the actual skyline, the story was far different. Gone was the hustle and bustle of what daily life on a city wide planet must have been, instead replaced with the drone of battle that reverberated through the permacrete like the drums of war. Such things fell on deaf ears however, as Delmon had more important things to deal with.

The populace's hasty retreat had left much to explore. Even with the scores of looters that filled the now empty buildings and businesses finding all sorts of interesting trinkets had been a quite leisurely venture. It wasn't like any of the thieves and criminals even stood a chance against the Mandalorian, after putting down a few bold ones the rest had given Delmon a wide birth. They were after two entirely different things anyway. While the looters seemed only interested in lining their pockets, Delmon was far more intrigued the more mundane. The sights and sounds of the urbanized planet even with being watered down by the battle that raged was a far cry from his jungle home, and since he had already completed his primary objective; he saw no harm in seeing the sights.

Letting the scrap of flimsi catch in the wind after thoroughly looking it over, he watched it flutter away briefly before looking down towards the cityscape below. As he scanned the scene below him, a sight caught his eye. A looter was running quite frantically, like a prey animal fleeing from a chasing predator. While that wasn't quite that interesting to see as the looters seemed to prey on each other as much as anything else, it was the way the man was running. He was unarmed, and had a frantic look that seemed all too familiar.

Gathering his gear from his makeshift perch, Delmon descended down to the level the fleeing man was on. Tracking him down wasn't hard, he hadn't made any attempt to mask his trail. Before he could even react Delmon was upon him, falling from above and pinning the looter to the dust covered ground with one of his blades. With a shriek of terror the man flailed under the Mandalorian, to which Delmon responded by applying just enough pressure with his blade to get the point across that he meant business. The looter retorted with a yelp and muttered something about his luck of seeing two in the same hour before attempting to swing a pipe at the Mandalorian.

He had no choice but to end the looter, no sense in letting him ruin someone elses day after all. His words intrigued the Mandalorian however. As he cleaned his blade he thought on the subject, had the man seen another Mandalorian? It would explain his panicked demeanor at the very least. The possibility intrigued him, he hadn't seen another Mandalorian since his original deployment. Seeing a friendly face was sure to keep his moral up, being so far from home and so isolated was taking a tole on Delmon.

Sheathing his blade, he began backtracking the now dead looters tracks back to their origin, intent on seeing who had set the frantic man on his course in the first place.

 

[Livgardist]

Gutterson frowned. Staying in one position for too long could get you killed. Especially on a planet full of Imperial soldiers. He wanted the job finished and over with as soon as possible, his target bagged and tagged for the Alliance to pick up. Standing up, he raised the blaster, and began to move up the stairs. It was a wooden stairway. He grimaced as it creeked slightly under his weight. There was no helping it. If the padawan was close, he would now know that someone was coming for him.

When he reached the top of the stairs, Gutterson let the barrel of his blaster sweep every corner of the room, making sure it was clear. A dead body lay on the concrete floor, wearing an Imperial uniorm. The weapon was gone, however. Probably a sniper... Gutterson stepped over the body, and up to the side of a doorway leading into the next room. It was quiet. A quick peek around the corner told him it was empty. He executed the same routine once again - stepping into the room, and letting the barrel of the blaster sweep it from the left corner all the way to the right, and then forward again and towards the doorway leading further into the building.

He crouched once again in the corner, closing his eyes, and stilling his breath, listening carefully.

A slight noise, maybe the shifting of feet, could be heard. It was difficult to tell where, however. It could be ahead of him. It could be behind him. It could even be above him. He decided to press on and secure the entire floor before moving to the next one.

 

[Cassel]

The soldier stood up. Markal halted her opening of the door, waiting to see what he would do. He moved to the stairs and began taking them, presumably to search for the Padawan. The young Mandalorian therefore burst into the room when he was halfway up, brought her pistol to bear, and had it aiming at the man's head, all within a heartbeat.

 

[T.J]

It amazed Delmon how many different tracks littered the rubble covered ground, so many different paths diverging here and there it seemed almost staggering. Almost. What Delmon had going for him more than anything was his tracking abilities. Such a skill was absolutely required during his upbringing, anything less would have spelled certain death for anyone who even attempted to call Dxun home. The scenery and targets might have changed, but the principle was still very much the same.

Through all the panicked steps that littered the ground, on set stood out from the rest. They had little indication of panic about them, each footfall having come down even with an almost quiet determination. They even went in the near opposite direction of his most recent quarry. Taking to the ruined buildings that lay all around like giant corpses, Delmon continued to track; this time however following the new set of prints. He would stay up off the ground however, choosing instead to skirt across it via the destroyed buildings. He didn't want to accidentally run into whomever he was tracking after all.

Crouching atop some sort of damaged street lighting device, Delmon again checked the set of tracks he had been following. Using the range finder in his helmet to follow them without having to go down to ground level it was then that Delmon found what he was looking for.

The looter had actually spoken the truth prior to his demise. From his vantage point Delmon was able to make out the small figure adorned with the all too familiar t-visor. They looked young, maybe even too young to be out in open battle alone. He could also tell that the young Mandalorian was in fact a female, based on her posture and body proportions. He surmised that the young woman was probably on her Verd'goten, although he wasn't entirely sure. She sat crouched right outside a rather ruined door leading into one of the less damaged buildings, her posture was rigid and she had a sidearm drawn. It was clear to Delmon she was watching someone or something and was on the verge of striking.

Just as he was about to drop down from his perch the female Mandalorian struck, quickly entering the building with her sidearm drawn with a speed that surprised Delmon. Silently he dropped to the ground below, drawing his own sidearm before making his way towards the building in question.

 

[Livgardist]

The moment he heard noise behind and below him, Gutterson threw himself instinctively up the stairs, and to the ground, crawling quick like a snake up to a cover made up by an old desk. The noise had come from the stairs, and so he quickly spun around, and assumed a lying down firing position, blaster at the ready and aimed at said stairs. Hearing footsteps, his left hand fumbled with his combat gear until it found a fragmentation grenade. Pulling it from the belt, he yanked the pin out with his teeth, and tossed it down the stairs. As he did, he pressed his right ear to the shoulder, putting his left hand over his left ear, to cover both in anticipation of the detonation that would follow. This way his finger still remained on the trigger.

Moments later, the entire building seemed to shake with the violent pressure wave of the compact energy released as the frag grenade exploded below. The sound was so loud, even with his ears covered up tight, Gutterson heard a slight ringing noise for a few moments before his ears recuperated. He was quick on his feet. It was a dicisive moment for Gutterson. He was caught in an unpleasant situation. As a solo operator, he was caught between two fires. On one side he had unknown terrain, where at the very least a Jedi padawan was lying in wait. And on the other, an unknown number of hostiles. Had he been working with a team, it would not have been a problem. But he wasn't, and it was. Jeeves was still at the spaceport doing repairs to the ship.

He was alone, and had to improvise.

Unknown number of aggressors, or padawan. Unknown number of aggressors, or padawan...

"Always act on the bigger threat when in doubt." His Mandalorian instructor had once told him this.

He began to move down the stairs, blaster raised and ready with the finger on the trigger. The stairs were rickety, filled with holes from grenade shrapnel, and for a moment he was afraid the stairs would cave in under his weight. The room itself was smoke-filled, the carpet and walls charred, and in several locations, large sharp pieces of steel shrapnel had stuck into the concrete wall, making shuriken-like protrusions, a dangerous hazard should things come to a fistfight.

 

[Cassel]

The man scrambled up the stairs in a fashion that seemed to Markal as fantastically silly. Permitting the soldier his antics, she remained at the foot of the stairs. The spooked man threw a concussion grenade, so Rav simply threw her blaster to the side, sheathed her hands in magseals, and picked up the grenade two-handed. It burst within her magseal bubble, shattering the shield and rendering her batteries depleted.

 

[T.J]

As he neared the structure Delmon crouched low, his predatory upbringing kicking in as he drew closer and closer. His approach would have gone unheard as each step he made that took him closer was carefully placed to avoid any kind of noise. Peering through one of the many broken windows Delmon caught a glimpse of the young girl he had been seeking catch a primed grenade in her hands.

Now to Delmon it seemed as if the girl was a goner, but no one in their right mind would willingly catch a primed explosive unless they had some sort of plan. Even so, Delmon hunkered down for the blast just in case, when only a fraction of the blast filled his ears, he sated his curiosity by peeking again to see the young girl in nearly the same position but with a purple aura fading from her hands. He wasn't entirely sure what the girl had used, but whatever it was had saved her life.

Suddenly the sound of footsteps from above drew Delmon's sight away from the girl. The individual who had let loose the grenade was still on the floor above, and appeared to be descending to see if his explosive weapon had struck true. Ducking back behind his cover, he would wait to see how the two interacted. The girl's helmet was undeniably Mandalorian, but merely wearing the armor did not grant such a title. He would see if she was worth the trouble.

 

[Livgardist]

Somehow his enemy had survived the grenade, Gutterson realized as he moved down the stairs to take up the fight, her hands covered in some kind of purple energy. It amazed him whatever contraption she had hidden behind had been able to absorb the entire explosive force of a high explosive fragmentation grenade, let alone the shrapnel, but he wasted no time wrecking his brain about it. He recognized her armor as that of a Mandalorian, a woman in all probability, though that did not mean she was any less dangerous. Finger on the trigger, his R5 raised and aligned with his right eye, he watched her in silence through the iron sights of the weapon, while his brain began to consider the situation.

It was clear he was not the only one there to find the padawan. The fact that she was a Mandalorian didn't intimidate the veteran mercenary, whp had dealt with Mandalorians many times in the past, both as allies and as enemies - but the fact that Mandalorians were after the padawan as well, meant that suddenly, the effort required to complete the job suddenly outweighed the reward offered to bring in the deserter. However, he never liked abandoning contracts after accepting them either unless he had no other choice - and he wasn't going to break that cardinal rule this time either. The dilemma put him in a bad mood, and his eyes narrowed as he spoke suddenly in fluent Mandalorian, with an edge of irritation to his tone, not lowering his blaster for even a moment as he did:

"The more hunters, the worse the hunt. This one is my prey. Walk away, Mandalorian."