A massive cataclysm has struck the universe, and destroyed most everything in its wake. The survivors are now trying to pick up the pieces, and figure out exactly what has befallen them. Gather together, lightsiders!! The darkness has shattered the peace and calm of the galaxy...and they will do anything to stop anyone from finding out exactly what has been done! This is our first sitewide RP plotline. Lightsiders, you are looking for the source of this massive event. Clues must be found, lackeys tracked down, and bits of memory discovered. Darksiders, you guys don't want that to happen....because of the one behind the whole thing is furthering his ultimate goal. Mandalorians, and non-force users, you guys can decide where you stand on this line....do you side with the Jedi, and try to discover the reasons behind the ruined universe, or will you side with the darkness, and protect those secrets. Will the secret of the cataclysmic reaping be kept under wraps? Or will the Jedi and their allies find out the truth? Your RP and writing will decide the outcome!
BATTLE ARENA
Welcome to The Saga Continues. We have a section called the Battle Arena. Here you can use your characters to fight other characters. Hone your skills and see what you are made of. Don't worry, anything that happens here, does not effect your characters in posts, so if your character dies, you can still use them over and over. Have fun and check it out!
The Saga Continues is the product of the mind of ADMIN ADI; all contents are copyright their original owners. All characters belong to their original creators, and may not be used or replicated without permission. All images are copyright their original owners. This skin Operation Mindcrime was made by pharaoh leap of Pixel Perfect and put together by ADMIN KRYSTAL
The Oyu'baat was located on the Outer Rim world of Mandalore, within the capital city of Keldabe. Situated at one end of an ancient paved square, across from Chortav Meshurkaane, the Oyu'baat was a hotel and tapcaf housed within a large, three-story structure that appeared to some as a gathering of smaller buildings that had merged over time. The Oyu'baat was constructed almost entirely of wood and stone, with a sloped, tiled roof, beneath which a massive wooden ridgepole—as wide in diameter as three average Human men—could be seen jutting out on either side from below the building's eaves. A pair of doors stood at the cantina's entrance beneath a large portico. The Oyu'baat's exterior facade was coated with painted plaster that was known to chip and flake with age, and possessed an eclectic assortment of windows with non-perpendicular angles and a general disregard for being level. The Oyu'baat took its name from the Mando'a word oyu'baat, a term which translated to "universe" in Galactic Basic Standard. The name in both languages was written on a sign outside of the tapcaf's entrance. The dual-language sign also warned that strills, six-legged hunting animals native to Mandalore, were not allowed inside, and notified potential customers that the cantina accepted barter as means of payment, in addition to standard credits.
Inside the doors of the tapcaf, a broad but shallow staircase led into the Oyu'baat's main hall, an immense room built primarily from dark-colored wood. Tables for customers to sit at were spread about the hall at intervals, while booths lined the outer walls, each with a sliding wooden screen that could be drawn across the booth's opening for optional added privacy. Two curved bars with long counters and a number of available seats were the centerpiece of the Oyu'baat's main chamber: one was allocated to serving food, while the other offered a variety of beverages. The Oyu'baat kept a large stock of Mandallian Narcolethe, and brewed its own ne'tra gal, a sweet black Mandalorian ale they served to customers in glass mugs. Among its non-alcoholic beverage selection, the Oyu'baat sold a blend of spiced caf for which the cantina was well known even among non-Mandalorians. The tapcaf prepared soups and a number of other food dishes, including a meat and vegetable stew. Mandalorian folk humor insisted that the same stew had been left to simmer for centuries, only with fresh meat and vegetables thrown in daily, and it was said that the Oyu'baat's menu had remained the same since the time of the Mandalorian Wars. During the day, the bar area was bathed in sunlight from the skylights housed in the roof, and behind the bar, the current bounty-hunting list was displayed for Mandalorian patrons who pursued bounty hunter work, as both a holodisplay and with flimsi posters.
At the far end of the main room, opposite to the Oyu'baat's entrance, was a large, open log fire. The fire was surrounded by a wide alcove that could host more than a dozen individuals, and was a particularly popular choice for patrons to gather around. A noisy, automated hot-air unit provided additional heat to rest of the Oyu'baat. The Oyu'baat's interior was clean, yet rustic, decorated with vivid tapestries depicting various events and figures from the Mandalorian culture's long history; many favored shades of deep red in their composition. The ancient cantina's main hall was often noisy, and featured a large holovid viewscreen commonly used to watch sporting events, in addition to boards for playing cu'bikad, a rough Mandalorian table game. Broad galleries overlooked the large main chamber from the Oyu'baat's second and third floors. Part hotel, the Oyu'baat's upper levels had a number of rooms interested parties could rent, for overnight periods or longer, and were reached by a staircase at the rear of the main hall. The stairway also concealed a hidden panel which led to a secret, office-sized space within the Oyu'baat that few knew about. The cantina smelled of the wood fire, yeast from the brewing ale, and the scents of various cooking foods. With the exception of rare special occasions,the Oyu'baat was always open for business.
Hettyc woke in his room over the 'baat, sleep slowly receding from his weary brain. Some great pile of osik had hit the galactic fan, and now everyone seemed to be screaming about it and how they deserved recompense for their losses. He didn't mind the steady stream of work; just the constant bleating that seemed to go with it lately. His next run would be pretty straight forward at least, delivering the 'baat's special blend of spiced caf to various licensed retailers as compensation for the bed and meal last night. This little run would end in a bar on Maanan if he recalled correctly... Eh, details were in his ship's log. First a bath and breakfast...
About half an hour later, Hettyc was finishing a hearty breakfast at the bar in his beskar'gam, buy'ce clipped to his hip. He finished his own mug of spiced caf as he stood and wiped his whiskered snout clean with the provided napkin. Fur was great, but it had a tendency to collect stray bits of food when eating. Tossing the used napkin on his plate, he donned his buy'ce and nodded to the bar tender, indicating that he was starting the supply run as soon he boarded his ship. The cargo had been loaded during the night, his gunner R34Per, had seen to the details.
R34Per was originally R3-4P, an imperial gunner aboard a strike cruiser patrolling the outer rim. Then a pirate raid went terribly wrong... In short the pirates mistimed their attack, and died horribly. Then the virus they had planted in the ships systems finally activated and vented all decks while bathing the ship in lethal doses of radiation for a short time. The now crew-less cruiser drifted on auto-pilot for weeks. Eventually a salvage crew found the ship and Hettyc had been tasked with returning the droids to an Imperial Naval Station for memory wipes and reassignment. One little droid had not been keen on being reassigned within the imperial navy. Hettyc was in need of more crew members, and offered the droid a job. It accepted, and took the name R34Per. That had been eighteen months before the galaxy went to osik, and now R34Per was as much a part of Hettyc's aliit as he was.
Hettyc smiled as he passed through the Oyu'baat's door on his way out, his aliit was one of the few that considered droids as equals. But, aliit Or'dinii was unusual in many regards, and most relished the nuances of the aliit. Hettyc checked his HUD chronometer and set lift off for T+40 minutes, alerting his vod with a few blinks to sync his chronometer with the ship's chronometer.
The famed Oyu'baat - a place the chieftain of Ordo had not been in a number of years. However, today brought him here for a purpose of less than ideal reason. A plague had stricken the Universe. His homeworld had been overrun leaving but a few to rebuild his once great clan. Death and destruction was everywhere and it had come from an enemy he was unable to fight. It had no form. No physical embodiment. It mutated people and warped them. Set them on ceaselessly destructive paths. His citadel had nearly fallen to complete ruin, being torn apart from the inside. Answers were needed and they were needed now.
Reaching over, Cathaoir grabbed the stein, recently topped off with tihaar, and down the fiery liquor, slamming it back down on the table as he replayed the deathly scenes of his home over and over in his head.
Keldabe was a flurry of activity, with pyres burning day and night, and Cabure patrolling the streets. Mandalorians were used to death and hardship, but even here there had been unrest and violence when the chaos allowed for the settling of old feuds. Reyn had received new reports of the breadth of destruction and it cut him to the quick. Around three million mandalorian dead galaxy wide, from the plague itself, and tens of thousands more in the aftermath. The farthest reaches of mandalorian space had not even been spared. It was preternatural, clearly the work of some fell sorcery or mad science beyond any Mandalorian understanding. Fully half of the population of Keldabe and the surrounding country had died, a scant handful of survivors in Sundari. Ordo decimated, Concord Dawn nearly a third. Concordia the same, Basilisk and Shogun, Kalevala, Lehon, Mandallia. The scale was unfathomable.
Still, they would press on. The mando'ade always did. Reyn had sent a call out to the chieftains to meet him at the Oyu'baat to discuss the future. He arrived to see a warrior bearing Ordo emblems awaiting him.
"Su cuy'gar, Ordo."
Reyn took a seat near the fire, that had been prepared for him. The barmaid brought a bottle of narcolethe and a glass, placing it on a table on his left. On his right a rack had been placed, and he leaned his mythosaur axe in a bracket upon it, hanging his and blades from it as well. On his hip he retained his ripper, as no Mandalorian would go entirely unarmed. Reyn took the helm off and placed it on the table next to the bottle, the stern mask looking out, and poured himself a drink, lighting a cigarra as well. He called out to the barmaid in a kindly tone. "Bring more glasses, and another bottle, if you please."
Hettyc arrived after Reyn, having made a few short stops on the way. He'd heard the mand'alors call for aliit'alors and had passed it along to his Or'dinii contacts just in normal lines of communication were being disrupted by the aftershocks of the sorcerous plague. He gave the message the highest priority he could, to help it reach the right ears in time to respond. And he got a response all right... just not the one he expected much less wanted. Since he was closest surviving member of the aliit to manda'yaim... and since most of the Or'dinii Alor'ade had been killed in or shortly after the sorcery had struck. He'd be the aliit's voice for this meeting.
A short but intense data-dump had followed... Through which Hettyc cursed quietly. Or'dinii's unusual luck had held. By numbers, they had fared better than most, possibly all, other aliit. The quirk, was that most of the vode that the aliit did lose; had invariably been some sort of leadership or logistical support for the aliit. Many of the outposts had survived, or been consolidated, but had little way of getting supplies they needed. Communications were holding, for now, but it aliit Or'dinii would be quite busy just trying to re-establish tactile contact between it's worlds and outposts for years to come. Or'dinii had verde, and besbe, to fight with, but no way to get most of those verde to the fight.
A considerable quantity of the aliit's liquid resources were being funneled into getting new ships and crews to run the day to day supply runs until the Aliit could get it's own people trained and equipped to sustain the far flung outposts and worlds. Those worlds closest to Lehon, were able source some aid from the surviving vode there. For now, it was enough. Mostly thanks to the ingenuity that many mando'ade had cultivated in the years of working away from the main body of the galaxy. Still, Or'dinii had a long uphill fight ahead if they were going to avoid extinction all together.
And that's the short version of why Hettyc got to play aliit'alor today. For now it was acting only, but... well. If Reyn didn't kill him on the spot, and Hettyc wasn't really sure he was against that, He had a nagging feeling that this was going to be all too permanent for his liking. This time, both he and R34Per showed up at the Oyu'baat. R34Per had come along, mostly to help him keep the details straight and to record the meeting so that Hettyc could review the important parts later, since the sudden increase in responsibility made him want to drink himself under the floor boards... maybe permanently. He shook that thought from his head, He had work to do. He wouldn't let his aliit down, deliberately, not after everything else they'd found on their plates. His words to the brat on Manaan had been haunting him since he'd been designated acting Alor. Osik, Haran, Chakaare.
Pausing just inside the door, Hettyc removed his helm, and took a deep breath. Mostly to soothe his nerves. Seeing the alore already seated, he made his way over to the table and addressed Reyn directly. He remained standing until invited to take a seat, since he was only an acting alor.
Mand'alor... I regret to inform you, that I am, apparently, the best Aliit Or'dinii can send to this gathering. It would seem this curse has been a greater blight to us than I was aware of on Manaan. I hope I didn't cause you much trouble there?
Cathaoir's buy'ce had been placed to the right of him on the table as the Mand'alor arrived. It's blue, black and gray painting showed signs of wear and use, scarred with various residues he had yet to clean from it since leaving the Citadel on Ordo. His people were all but gone now. His family. His friends. His aliit. Gone. Nearly all of them. He took another large swig from the flagon in from of him, draining what remained of the fiery liquor from within. He'd become the Aliit'alor on Ordo years ago, but lately felt he didn't deserve such recognition anymore. What kind of chieftain was he if he could not protect his own? What kind of leader would not be able to save those he cared for most? He felt weak and pathetic. An utter failure and disgrace, but alas he knew nothing could be done.
Vivid images flashed through his mind, yet he seemingly continued to dwell on but one. In it he stood in the fiery ruins of the citadel where hundreds of Ordo aiit lay limp all around him. Their lifeless bodies a haunting reminder of the catastrophe that had all too suddenly take hold.
Staring at the emptiness of the flagon a moment, he thought back to the horrors of mere weeks prior. The devastation that had gripped his home and taken his kin. His gaze rose to meet the figure of the vessel that was his Mand'alor. He knew the man, but only just. He was Taung, and well respected. Te Goran Mand'alor, he had declared when he took the helm. He was a hulking figure over six feet in height and probably more the 250 pounds of pure muscle.
"Ordo is dead." Cathaoir paused and recollected himself, suppressing the anger toward whatever was responsible for this that billowed up inside him. It knotted his stomach it was so intense. "There are but a handful of us left alive and our home lies in ruins. I've failed my kin and I've failed you." His tone was sour as he struggled to keep the anger hidden away, but how could he not be mad. Something out that had taken away everything he held close to heart. Something of pure malevolence that took no physical form and he could not fight. Something, he assumed, was twisted and corrupted by the dark magic those dishonorable fiends worshiped out there in the galaxy. The Sith. The Jedi. All of them. This Force, they called it. Bullshit! It was sorcery and a means to cheat for the win by way of forsaking all honor.
Reyn was surprised to see the young Hettyc he had met on Manaan sitting in for Or'dinii. "No trouble, it is a tense time for all of us."
Other chiefs filtered in, Eldar, Wren had come in from Krownest. and Kryze from Kalevala. Carid, Beviin, and Vasur followed. Bralor had sent regrets, but no word had come from Vhett. Every warrior there looked bone-weary, and all were given drinks immediately. Ordo was the first to truly speak, and Reyn surveyed the young chief, feeling deeply for his pain. He rose and poured a drink for him with his own hand and passed it over, his eyes showing his compassion and support.
"There is no more you could have done ner'vod. This was an assault no clan could have foreseen nor been prepared for. If there is blame to be had on anyone's part, let it rest upon me. I wear the helm, and I have failed to protect you all, as a chief among chiefs ought." Reyn paced and looked over all those he saw. He felt keenly their pain as his own, and he felt his anger at this attack grow ever more fierce.
"I have made common cause with other powers of the galaxy, in opposition to what we all believe was a direct attack by clearly a formidable foe. We have agreed to share intelligence and strike together when the time comes. To that point, I ask every clan to see to their dead, and rebuild as they may, but stand vigilant. I need protectors to help stabilize our worlds, and hunters to go out into the galaxy and see what can be discovered about this foe. Once we have rooted this foe out, I must ask a further hardship from all of you. When we have found this despoiler of our clans and firesides, I say we summon up the blood, call out to great Kad, and embark upon the war-path." Reyn stopped a moment, draining a shot of narcolethe, and then looked upon them all again. "I CALL THE CLANS TO CRUSADE!"
Ordo was gone? Or'dinii was plentiful still just scattered and disconnected. And Mand'alor calls for a crusade... There was work to be done indeed. Much work for everyone, but the mando'ade would pull through. They have faced many threats before, and will face many more. This... will be a time of glory for the mando'ade, though by necessity this time instead of their own ambition. Hettyc tried to process all the implications... It was just to much. Focus, first we are asked to rebuild. That would have to be his priority until mand'alor sent forth a new request. Or'dinii would rebuild and prepare for the coming crusade. Hopefully leadership of the clan would be finalized soon, and he could pass this great burden to someone more qualified. He could lead a handful of verde in battle, but an entire aliit through this mess? Hettyc did not envy the mand'alor, knowing how much greater this must all weigh upon him.
"Aliit Or'dinii is with you, oya mand'alor."
R34Per was quiet. He was making an audio recording of the entire meeting for the aliit's records. He was excited to be called to crusade; he was made to help big guns shoot things very well after all. And he'd gotten better since he'd left imperial service. Working with Hettyc was often boring, but it helped the aliit so R34Per didn't complain. It also kept him in contact with a wide variety of resources that he had never been allowed to work with freely before. As Hettyc announced Or'dinii's answer to the call, an uncomfortable moment after it had been made, R34Per added his own shrill whistle of excitement. The mando'ade were going to war!
So the Mand'alor had chosen, even after all of this, to take the blame . . . the same blame that Cathaoir deserved in not being able to defend his own people. Perhaps Reyn did know the grand scale upon which his responsibilities, responsibilities he agreed to take on when first laying claim to the helm, were. It didn't matter; Cathaoir was the Aliit'alor of his clan. It's protection and well being was his chiefest of concerns. And he had failed to do either. It had shaken the very fabric of who he believed he was. Of what he believed he was supposed to be. It had filled his soul with so much hatred and rage that his mind focused to but a singular thing. REVENGE!
So when the words broke from Reyn's lips, Cathaoir was all for them. There would be a Crusade at hand and every practitioner of the the honorless power they called the Force would be in his crosshairs. They all deserved to die and they all would die if he had his way. He was singularly convinced the Force was at hand in this genocide of his people - of the Mandalorian people and their way of life - and as such any who sunk so low as to use it were responsible. Any.
His fist clinched once more on the table, his knuckles cracking violently in the process. "Val malyasa'yr canaorada tuur val olaror lo ku'nr. Val malyasa'yr gedetir par a buskayu'agr val malyasa'yr va nigaba. Bal Ni malyasa'yr cuyir a'yaoetr be etie namu'idr."[1] There was an anger behind his words, as was there a commitment to them. He was set in his path and so far as anyone knew, there would be nothing that could be done to hinder his course. Death and destruction was to come and if he had his way, the Force and its dishonorable disciples would be purged from this galaxy once and for all. He would see to it. It was the only thing that seemed to stir within his being now.
He was but a shell of the man he once was.
[1]"They will rue the day they came into the world. They will beg for a mercy they will not receive. And I will be the harbinger of their atonement."
The assembled chiefs voiced their assent, as he knew they would. Vengeance burned hot in the hearts of all the sons and daughters of Mandalore. He nodded at Hettyc with a grave smile, and at the words of Cathaoir he placed his hand on the younger warrior's pauldron and nodded firmly.
"They will, and you shall, ner'vod. We will have victory, or we will have our end, and if it be our end, it shall be such an end as to burn the galaxy with song forever." Reyn looked at all those assembled, pride in his chest. He paced in a semi-circle as he addressed them all. Eyes meeting all as he spoke.
"Eat and rest for now, then we must return to our homes and firesides. Warriors that can be spared to the cabure and beroyase must be, and all must work together to arm and prepare. All people and clans must contribute as much as they can, and once we have settled scores we may once again look to prosperity. If there is any aid that Skirata may give, it is given freely. Thank you all."
Reyn sat back down and took another drink, lighting a cigarra. He would stay for a short time before returning to the north.
Hettyc listened quietly and attentively to his elders. They were far more experienced, which didn't quite equate to wiser, but came pretty close in this culture. He followed his Mand'alor's instructions literally, taking time to think through what he needed to do next. He spent his time listening as he ate, trying to get a better sense of the other clans. Everyone had been hit, none as hard as Ordo, but everyone was feeling the loss. It was perhaps the first time Hettyc had been in the 'baat and felt the atmosphere there was... echoylir, as opposed to the usual shereshoy. It was rather unnerving, but still everyone held a determination, a single stoic resolve to press through. It was a bitter grief that looked to the coming vengeance with eager anticipation.
As beings began to leave and go about their business in town, Hettyc excused himself and did the same. There were pilots to be hired and shuttled out to the various ports and outposts. Some would come with ships, many would not. Or'dinii needed logistical support badly, as did many of the aliite. Hettyc was calling in every favor he could to get pilots and other needed personnel onto the aliit's payroll for the near future. R34Per set himself to restaffing the training centers Or'dinii already had, and getting as many new recruits singed up as possible, while making the passing requirements even stricter, since these vode would be fighting a crusade against a wide variety of foes. Slacking off in classes would not be tolerated, lack of physical and mental discipline would be penalized significantly. Thankfully, most of the aliit was used to having to be in top shape to get through the year's tough scrapes. It just meant this year was going to be particularly brutal.
Things looked bleak for now, but in a few months... Or'dinii should be back on it's feet and ready to swinging. Though it's contribution to the war would be mostly older hulls, refitted and on occasion completely gutted and rebuilt beneath the shell. They'd be a rag tag bunch to be sure, but they'd all pull their weight. Hettyc and R34Per finished their business in town and then left to finish their cargo run, the war wouldn't pay for itself after all.
Cathaoir's hand balled into a tight fist again, and a cruel smile broke the otherwise solemn features that had previously adorned his face. The path of revenge and the words spoken from the lips of his Mand'alor were enough to bring that little bit of joy back to his heart. Where the Mand'alor had spoken of an end the would burn the galaxy in song forever, he was right. In every aspect of.
You see . . . other than the Resol'nare, there was yet another set of words Cathaoir lived by. A kind of proverb in a way, depending on how one took the words. The words had been spoken to him by his previous chieftain and greatest mentor. A man that has raised him after the death of his parents on another crusade when he was but an adolescent, barely old enough to walk or speak.
Cathaoir's head rose and he looked to the Taung that was his Man'alor and spoke. "Mhi cuyir ori'shya shi a adate ra akaan'ade. mhi cuyir a betyer, enar, bal gar liser va kyr'amur enar."[1] he paused a moment and drained the fiery liquor, the Tihaar, that remained in his stein. "Bal ibic enar malyasa'yr athu'neha mies nalku'ne at etie lovik gedetir par buskayu'agr ibac malyasa'yr va cuyir dinuir!"[2] The tone of his voice had shifted greatly, though his anger at what ha happened still filled them. There was a kind of wicked and cruel pleasure behind them now. Something about how he spoke simply screamed that he was on a path that had a singular focus which was revenge and there would be nothing that could be done to stop it.
He stood from the table, grabbing his buy'ce with a hand a holding it limply by his side. With no surviving members left in his clan that he knew of and no home to return to, Mandalore had become his home. His ship was a vehicle to take him from point A to point B, but beyond that, it would serve no further purpose.
[1]"We're more than just a people or an army. We're a culture, an idea, and you can't kill ideas." [2]"And this idea will bring those responsible to their knees pleading for mercy that will not be given!"
Oax stood at the entrance to the Oyu-baat. Removing his helmet, he walked into the establishment and made his way to a booth in a corner near the bar. He tossed the credits he had looted onto the table and requested a stein of Tihaar before setting his buy’ce on the table next to him. As the stein was placed in front of him he looked over toward the large fireplace to see a gathering of Aliit’alor, he could tell by how they carried themselves. It also looked like they were wrapping whatever meeting they were having up, he couldn’t see any crests so he couldn’t identify who they all were. Anyway, he didn’t care much for politics, he was here to forget again that his family and friends were gone, anyone he knew from Aliit’Ordo had been found dead. As far as he knew he was alone, and just wanted to forget it all.
Reyn saw the new arrival walk in, and waved to the bartender as he poured the tihaar for him. My bill. He approached the vod he didn't know, and spoke to him in a kind voice. Keep your money, ner'vod. Drinks are on the helm today. What is your clan?
The voice startled Oax as he drank from his stein. He set the drink down, “I hail from Aliit’Ordo. Not like that name means much anymore, as all ner'ha'yr that I knew of were wiped from the galaxy with this damned plague." He replied, turning his buy’ce to reveal its emblem. He looked up at the voice’s owner but did not recognize who it was right away, "I appreciate the drink.”. Once recognition set it, Oax touched his forehead with two fingers while tilting his head in a sign of respect, then motioning to the spot across from himself, he offered his Mand’alor the chair. “This plague has taken everything from me. And I would like to just forget it all. I would offer you a drink, but you already paid my bill. But, may I ask what brings the Great Mand’alor to my table?” he asked before taking another long drink from his mug.
