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
Or so he would have screamed out, had his throat any air. Had he the capacity to take another breath, he might have charged forward into oblivion, fighting to the very last moment against the inevitable. But he was spent.
Blood flooded his mouth from below, and bone protruded through Beskar where his trachea erupted outward, broken. The Sith had taken his life, and yet, he stood, stone dead, in defiance.
His body shuddered as his final moments ebbed out of him, eyes fixated on the glorious pyre he had erected for them both. Were he a more religious man, he might have dedicated this battle to the Destroyer God of Old.
Alas, there was nothing else for Ardasz Verd, son of Ral Beviin, to do but pass on to the Manda. His deeds may have ended, but their memory would be scribed into the annuls of Mandalorian history. Such was their fate.
It was not what he was expecting, but it worked out far better than he could have hoped. The first shot struck the Sith, and Ardasz could tell that the man had changed tactics. His arm moved swiftly, an underhand toss, and his HUD picked up the shift in his opponent's movement. I'll be damned.
The way he moved his arm, the obvious throwing motion-
He felt the strain on his throat, but his opponent hadn't factored for what came next. In the moments that it took for the lightsaber to leave Andor's hand, the ejected tibanna canister had closed the distance between them. The Mandalorian could feel his windpipe closing, his vision was blurring, and he was rattling toward death-
As the explosion ripped through the air, less than a meter from Andor. If he committed full on to Ardasz's demise, he would find himself consumed by the conflaguration.
Ardasz rose slowly to his feet as the Sith gave ground. The deflected bolts intended for his midsection made their mark- straight into Beskar plate. The impact was almost negligible other than a set of dull thuds and a grunt from the Mandalorian as he kept his weapon trained on Andor.
These Forcie types always did the same thing. Send back blasts of energy like it was a gift from God. That was why Mando'ade wore armor. It gave them a more level playing field. He flicked the trigger one last time, sending three more bolts center mass toward Andor-
And in the next moment, he made a more subtle movement. There was a click, his weapon dropped to the ground, and he was moving straight toward his opponent. He relied entirely on his HUD now, watching the blasts arc toward the Sith as he prepared for what came next...
Three meters to cover, and the Sith already had his weapon ready. Ah, well. The first bolt was slapped away, and Ardasz tucked his left leg at the knee. He went sliding as his weight brought him low much faster with Beskar'gam, but it halted his momentum effectively. He came to an abrupt halt with his weapon trained on the Sith Lord, who now seemed to move with certainty since he had protected himself.
The second and third shots went high, over his head now that he was grounded. That was when he felt the pressure. Unseen energies moved upon his ankle, seeking to strain it, to jar it out of place. The Mandalorian brought his weapon to bear at the Sith's face, and flipped to the three round burst setting as he squeezed the trigger. If he wanted his face to stay pretty, he was going to have to choose between that or Ardasz's ankle.
In all of that, the Mandalorian had given up on the prospect of shelter, instead waiting for the Sith Lord to close the gap. He had a different tactic in mind for dealing with this problem.
The extraction had been fluid enough, almost too easy in fact. All of the exchanges went off without a hitch, and he had been able to come all this way without a single security stop. For someone to come calling for the prisoners now, after all of that work, meant problems.
Ardasz hated problems. He bumped the stock of his EE-3 into the back of the man he was leading and spoke. "Quick," he commanded, "find cover. I can't protect you and fight him at the same time."
The loss was negligible to these Sith, but to the Protectors, every able body working the fields was necessary to keep the Mandalorian way of life intact. That was why he raised his weapon as he turned, one single motion, and fired three shots diagonally. Low, middle, high.
As he did, he strafed sideways and away from the man who leapt for cover behind some cargo containers strewn about the Hangar Bay. Ideally, Ardasz could find a few of those for himself- but the Force Adept hadn't ignited his weapon just yet.
One or two of those shots might disorient the Sith Lord.
"Come and take them, chakaar." He didn't need to engage in long winded conversation with the man. He'd let his weapons do all the talking.
The sterile sound of an Imperial Hangar was extremely distinct. The rank and file movements of highly trained, uniform Stormtroopers echoed in such perfect synchrony that the silence between each step could be audibly measured. It was a level of discipline the rest of the Galaxy could only hope to aspire to, and most never came close. That was what set the Mando'ade apart from the rest of the Galaxy, and what brought the Empire calling to Mandalore.
Ardasz stepped out into the hangar Bay with his EE-3 resting comfortably across his lower torso. His finger was not on the trigger, but could find it with less than a moment's notice. He stayed tuned to the prisoner's breathing, listening for even a slight change. His HUD could pick up minutia like that, and he often knew seconds before a threat became a threat. Men were a lot like animals when cornered. All instinct, no brains. Mandos hunted animals from the time they were children.
Escort jobs were just like breathing.
"To the shuttle," he croaked in a mechanical monotone. He stayed behind the man by two paces, and he could automate the shock cuffs with a single blink of his eye. He'd already demonstrated once. "No tricks."
It looked less like an Ag-world and more like a ruin. Ardasz spent much of his youth tilling the fields and harvesting the crops, so he knew all the back roads and far-fields like the back of his hand. Looking at the scorched earth and picking up the high emissions of greenhouse gases in his HUD, he doubted that those times would come again for decades. "Verd, are you seeing this?" a familiar voice croaked across his comm, and he glanced back over his shoulder. "There were reports about mass hysteria coming from the Core. Do you think it's related?"
Behind the T-Visor, Ardasz scowled. They had seen days and countless waves of these infected, even pin-pointed it down to the spaceport where it started, but the madness seemed unending. "I heard it died off quickly," he finally added. "This has been going for days."
A plague-ridden body staggered across the path in front of their vehicle, and Ardasz took the shot. Clean, through the skull. It dropped. "Still not safe to lose your buy'ce, tat," he sneered.
"What's spreading it?" Daro questioned. "Doesn't seem to be a lot of movement between settlements out here."
"That's why we got sent out this way," Ardasz shrugged. "If we can't figure it out, I reckon there's not a good answer. Any word from the Capital?"
"Radio silence," came the bitter reply. "Comms towers are downed in the area. A signal booster might get us something other than static, but I wouldn't hold your breath about finding a site."
"We're two days ride out," Ardasz shouldered his rifle and sat back. "We need to find somewhere to resupply anyway. Fuel's running low."
"There's still the bunker at the rendezvous," Daro suggested. "What are the odds we see smiling faces?"
"If you can see 'em smiling, run 'em over," Verd laughed. "Beskar'gam or nothing at this point."
Ardasz grew up in the Mid-Rim, the son of a middle class farmer. He intended to toil and eventually carry on the family business, but be it chance or fate, the cosmos had other plans for him. When the Republic came through with their first draft during a long and grueling series of wars, he was called up to the infantry and taken from home. He learned various martial skills from the academies and became proficient in combat, but his mind always wandered back home.
Two years of service passed and he was allowed to choose, return to the farm or continue fighting on the fringes of the Republic against tireless enemies. He thought it was time to go back to what he knew; but the old adage rang true. You can never go home.
He found his father's farm burned to ash and the cropland salted. It would take years before the earth there was ever fertile again. In his rage, he questioned all those nearby who survived: what had happened, and who was to blame. Dissatisfied with the answers he got, Ardasz left home for the last time.
Distraught, depressed, and alone, he sought vengeance in a blind rage. He took jobs as a mercenary and a bounty hunter, doing the only work he felt he was fit for. Dirty, violent work that stretched his humanity and shaped him into more mechanical than man. Disassociation slowly tore away strands of his personality, leaving the once bright boy a cold, methodical man.
It was under those circumstances that he met Relt Beviin, a Mandalorian who could see into his onslaught and look past the anger that had possessed him. Beviin took the young warrior under his wing and invited him to come back to Concord Dawn with him where he could work the farm and take on a type of work that did not rend the Spirit.
Moved by an action that Relt could not have understood the significance of, Ardasz accepted the offer and put down his weapons, preferring instead to cultivate the land and bring food to the Mandalorian people the way his own father once did. Relt was happy with Ardasz, and he offered to adopt him as his Son.
Ardasz accepted, and when he did, he adopted the Mandalorian word for "warrior" as his surname. While he could have taken the clan name, his choice was both to honor the heritage he had embraced, and to remember what he had become.
In the time that followed, Ardasz trained extensively to hone his skills should the need to defend Mandalore ever arise.
Beskar'gam- shoulder, chest, back, groin, shins, greaves, buy'ce Bodyglove- armorweave with duraplast inlay. Buy'ce- Advanced HUD with 360° view, scanners, HoloNet antenna, Infrared cycling enabled, integrated Rangefinder, voice command recognition, microexpression recognition, short range communicator, sonic dampeners, and targeting assistance.
Beskad'e, given as a gift by Relt upon completion of his Verd'goten. EE-3 Carbine DG-29 Heavy Blaster Pistol Combat Knife, shoulder sheathed, poisoned with X-1 venom. Scattergun, extra ammunition stored at left hip. Bandolier with various grenades, kitted expressly at the start of a given thread.