Great Mandalorian Rebellion RP (Page 2 of 2)

Years prior...

Granpappa Radd looked lost in thought. He paced back and forth as we sat in his plush office, his rightful domain as CEO  of VeyrdeTech Industries. As plush as you can get for Concord Dawn,  that is. Rubbing his hand through his silvery goatee, he turned to me and Uncle Barve, both seated on a nerf-hide couch awaiting my grandfather's reaction.

"The boy seems geared up for a one man war, Tann'ika. You sure that's what we want?"

Uncle Barve barely bats an eye at the affectation. A full grown warrior in his mid-forties, he wouldn't let anyone but his father, former Cuy'val Dar and veteran of the Clone Wars, get away with calling him Tannor, let alone,"Little Tannor." He shrugs, "The kid wants payback. So do I. We both know you do too, Buir."

Radd’ba'buir nods, then smiles. He walks over and gestures for me to stand and spin slowly for a full inspection. He pats me on the backplate, just between the built-in jump jet nozzles mounted at my shoulder blades, a look of full approval on his face. "How's it feel, Zul?"

I flex and stretch to show that despite the heavy coverage of the armored torso plating, I'm actually pretty comfortable. "It feels good, Ba'buir. Uncle Barve made it like a second skin. Prime calibration skills."

Granpappa Radd smiles and nods. He walks back to the wall behind his desk and reaches for the vault keypad.

Uncle Barve smiles at the compliments. "All pleasantries aside, what now? The trail of Jinn and Xyla's killer's growing colder and cold-"

"No Tannor. Vengeance is best served cold." My grandfather pulls three durasteel cases out of the vault.  One long one, about the length of my armspan and two square- box shaped, the third smaller than the second. He hands me the second box, big enough to fit a human head in. "Open that one first Zul'ika," he smiles.

I do as he says, and inside even with dramatically different colors and symbols, I can still recognize my father's rare buy'ce design: the hybrid ComMando. I feel a lump form in my throat and the heat of falling tears, as I pull the newly gold and black helmet from the box. I feel a sense of awe staring at my father’s helmet, which seems to follow the same detailing patterns and colors of all the Aliit Veyrde buy’ce, the Mandalorian mythosaur skull emblazoned on the T-visor’s faceplate.

"Osik...Radd'buir...I don't know what to..." I stutter, my voice a hoarse metallic whisper.

"Don't say anything, kid...Here." Radd's eyes are wet with tears as well, and I swear I hear a sniffle from Uncle Barve's direction.  I take the smaller box and open it. It's a one of a kind VeyrdeTech Custom Heavy Blaster- The GVPG-MFP01. I recognize the unique lines of the vertically mounted double barrel blaster nozzles housed in the single box frame, as well as the side mounted micro rocket launcher. Xyla Konshi’s favorite colors, stark black and vibrant gold, adorn the surface…a pure work of art.

...Mom's blaster...

I remember as a kid asking why no one else had a blaster like hers. She used to tell me how Uncle Barve gave it to her as a wedding gift, which surprised her because when she and dad had first met, it was because Barve and Jinn Veyrde had been hired by Sheyf Tinte Vos of Kiffu to kill her. She used to be one of their Guardians, and must’ve karked the Sheyf off real bad to warrant hired Mandalorian assassins. My dad, despite Uncle Barve’s warnings, immediately fell in love. They married only a few months later. It seems fitting that it was kept painted black and gold...the colors of Justice and Vengeance.

Granpappa Radd smiles, having wiped his tears, and opens the last box himself. "This one's from us, Zul'ika. We had it commissioned by an old contact at Xamonet Weapon Labs. The plan was to celebrate your first successful mission as an adult warrior of Aliit Veyrde. Now, it's an instrument of Justice."

I smile sadly, accepting the black sheathed vibro sword with reverance.

The words flow from me without much thought, "Red for Honoring them...black for Justice...and gold... for vengeance..."

Last edited by virulent_messiah (Sunday, January 6, 2013 6:51 pm)

Cheln turned to Vren, “As agreed, you can take your bounty and claim your pay.” Cheln turned to look at Naya, “She comes with us back to Mandalore.”

“What?” Naya gasped, “Why do I have to go Mandalore?”

Cheln smiled coldly, “To ensure Vren keeps his side of the deal.”

Naya’s eye twitched slightly, it seemed that Cheln thought she meant more to Vren that he actually realised. She was a virtual stranger to Vren and she gave him a questioning glare.

Vren spoke, “I’m to meet them at Mandalore. Then you can go do as you like.”

“When exactly are we going?” Naya asked as she narrowed her gaze at Vren.

Cheln took her arm in his large hand, “We leave right now.”

-

They were half way to Mandalore before Naya realised she’d made a potentially fatal error. She hadn’t had much choice in the matter of going to Mandalore, however Naya’s blood had almost frozen in her veins as she overheard Cheln mention the need to report to Dun Gorah.

Naya’s hand absently touched her damaged lek in response to the White Wall. She’d barely escaped death at his hands only months before. Her mind wandered back to the image of him standing over her. He had some sort of clawed glove on his hand. He’d grabbed her by the right lekku and twisted the claws into her delicate flesh. Through the pain she’d somehow managed to obtain her hidden pistol and shot him between his thigh and knee plates.

Naya shook her head in attempt to push the memories away. A faint sweat had broken over her skin and her hands were holding the material of her cargo pants so tight that her knuckles were white. She decided to vanish to her quarters before Cheln decided to make that call.

Helena had finalised the last few touches of the “accident” Xenio Trask had fallen victim to and was moving on to the next target. This new one wasn’t a kill job, much to Helena’s disappointment. She was to “influence” an R&D technology scientist at MandalMotors. This one’s name was Harold Rotash. The odd thing was, he’d moved up her list from sixth priority to now first (as she’d already killed the top two).

She also had further instructions from the Deathwatch master to get to MandalMotors immediately. It was only when she arrived at MandalMotors that she understood why. The place was a war zone, at least on the upper levels.

It would be much easier to manipulate a terrorised target when the battle was going on, then when it was over. Now she just had to work out how to get inside. The main entrances would be in lock down due to the attack. Helena took a moment and realised the easiest way in would be from the attack point. The hardest part was not getting attacked by the people up there.

Helena rode her swoop bike to the quietest part of the rooftop and slid off. Down low she made her way through the blaster fire and screaming to the nearest entrance. She was almost to the door when she spotted Dun Gorah’s bloodied visage.

Helena could feel the fear of Gorah’s targets as he slew them with amazing finesse and skill. She watched on with a kind of awe and admiration that only a fellow psychopath could understand. Dun Gorah’s emotions flitted to her momentarily. He was in his element, thrilled at watching his victims die in gruesome horror.

Nehutyc slipped his helmet on, and made his way through the lobby of the makeshift Deathwatch HQ. Quietly pondering what they'd done wit Naya. He wasn't about to chase after Cheln in a rescue attempt, but he was worried.
   He brought his communications online and radioed the ship. Vren had never really cared for human company, so he'd fixed up ome droids to help him around the ship. The only other person aboard was his accountant. Its not like he couldn't keep track of his money. It was just easier when he didn't have to.
   The Nautolan also helped around the ship in other ways too. She was a damned good engineer, and oftentimes served as a mission operator to boot.
   Her smooth voice came in through Vren's buyce. "There you are. Where in the blazes have you been?"
   "I've been busy. Look I got the corellian and I'm on my way with him now. But I kind of got pulled into doin somethin" He paused, unsure how closely he was being monitored. "We'll talk more on the ship"
   "Vren whats going on? Seriously talk to" her voice cut out abruptly as Nehutyc switched his comms off and headed for the cell where the corellian was being held.
   Wastng no time he powered down the protection barrier and tossed the man once again over his shoulder.The marks wil seemed to ave completely died out as he made no attempt to free himself or struggle in the slightest. Vren wondered if the Deathwatch had drugged him. It was an entirely probable option.
    Bounty in tote, Nehutyc headed for a taxi. It took several minutes but he finally hailed one down. Hopping inside he handed the driver a 150 credit chit and stuffed the corellian on the double seat opposite him. "Spaceport" Was the only thing he uttered to the drive and they were off.
   Vren began to think about what he'd do with the money he'd pull in off this character. Scenarios didn't float around in his mind for long before he remembered the deal with the Deathwatch.
   He rolled several ideas around in his mind on how to deal with the situation. He could just compl wih Deathwatch. It was good pay and Vren wouldn't need to constantly look around for jobs. They'd just assign him something and he'd do it.
   There was something about them though, Vren couldn't put his finger on it but there was something aout them that made him feel uneasy. Vren stowed the entire thing away, they'd made it to the spaceport.
   Rather annoyed with his situation, Vren kicked the door open and dragged out his mark. The driver looked as though h wanted to say something, Vren simply turned his head, the T-Visor appearing in the rear view mirror. "H h have a gggood day sir" The driver stuttered.
   Vren jogged off towards the Spaceport through the sea of people. Bumpng into and knocking over anyone not clever enough to move out of the way. Even another Mando, who made a particularly feminine "Oof" as he bumped into him.
   Vren didn't stop to look to see if he knew them or not. As far as Mandalorians were considered, Nehutyc never really stuck around his fellow Mando'ad. He'd always considered himself different from them, a black sheep of sorts.
   He hadn't come from a notable lineage of Mandalorian warriors. His parents hdn't even come from any clan of any sorts. They'd put thier beskar away long before Vren had been born and settled down as farmers like most others on Mandalore. Vren had spent hs childhood farming and chasing vermin off the property with his fathers old hunting blaster. Constantly wishing for more than a famrer's life. When He turned 16 he snuck off with his father's old beskar and hunting blaster.
   He took odd jobs here and there around the agrarian parts of Mandalore, as soon as he was able he took passage to Naboo from the spaceport in Keldabe and never looked back.
   Nehutyc hadn't realised how long he' been in thought. He'd ade it the the port where his ship, "The Crusader" had rested for the past week or two.   

   There by the dock hatch stood Brina, his accountant. "What the hells going on" She said as she made her way across the port floor. "On the ship." Vren replied, brushing past her.
   An hour or so had passed since he'd been on the ship and vren still hadn't explained what had happened. He'd locked himself in the holding area after tossing his mark into a cell.
   Finaly he decided he'd tell her. He made his way over to the door and tapped on the console to unlock the door. But it wouldn't budge. "Brina open the door" He said into the comm rather irritated. It swished upward, and Vren made his way to the ships control room.
   Sure enough Brina was there. Leaning against the wall near the starchart. "Whats going on Vren,  what happened down there?" Her large black eyes boring into him. Vren sighed. "I got into some trouble trying to grab the bounty. Next thing I know Deathwatch is conscripting me" He let out, his head lolling to the side to avoid meeting her gaze. He' messed up, but he wasn't sure why she'd made him feel guilty. Their relationship was never this personal.
   She didn't respond so Vren headed over the starchart and began plotting tthe course for Corellia. "Was she worth it?" Brina asked, her voice giving no indication as to what she felt. Vren couldn't believe it. "H-how did you" Vren stammered. "The only other time you've made this big a mess of thing is when that girl from Naboo got in your way. Just be careful, I make my living off of your career. You cross the line and end up paying for it I might as well start hitting cantinas up for work. Besides, remember what happened to that girl in the end despite all that trouble you went through"
   Vren shook the comment off "Its not like that. I got her into some trouble and I kinda owe it to her to get her out." Brina tried to peer past the black depths of Vren's t-visor but couldn't. "Just be careful whatever you do." She said as she headed out of the room. "Paint job and that last set of modifications on your fighter are done too by the way." She managed before the door slid shut behind her.   
   Vren went to confirm the course to Corellia but couldn't. The feeling in his gut tugged at him to go to Mandalore. He sighed, he'd probably regret it but he punched in coordinates for Concordia. Vren hadn't remained totally disconnected from Mandalorians, just the majority of them. His personal armorer was the only other Mandalorian Vren associated with, and Vren got the feeling he'd need his help.

(Hoping this was where you were heading Mel, although you're last post somewhat suggests otherwise. I'll edit if need be but my opposition to Deathwatch wil adamantly remain)

Last edited by Nehutyc (Monday, November 19, 2012 3:46 pm)

After taking a moment to admire Dun Gorah’s handy work, Helena continued her journey into the depths of MandalMotors. She eventually came upon the office which Harold Rotash worked in. Unfortunately her mark was not in his office.

Helena shifted her focus to the labs in which Rotash tended to work. As she approached she saw one figure deeply engrossed in what he was doing. Again it was not Rotash. Helena ground her teeth in frustration. Yet she approached the lone man, “Hey have you seen Rotash?”

The man lifted his head, peered at her for a moment and then shook his head, “Nope, I think he went home over an hour ago. Had a hot date, or so he told us.”

Helena gave a nod, “Thanks, guess I’ll try again later.” No sooner had she spoken and the man was back to his research.

Helena headed back to the rooftop, perhaps there’d be some poor souls left that she could take out her frustration on.

Last edited by Net-a-Fett (Sunday, December 2, 2012 2:21 am)