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
Reyn saw Cathaoir approach and produce his blaster, cursing the visitor. Oax rightly backed up his chief, and inwardly Reyn swore. Other chiefs turned to watch the ensuing scene. Reyn threw back another shot and turned to lean on the bar, looking at both Cathaoir and Oax with a measured gaze. "Enough. He is no jetii, he is clearly one of their clone slaves, he is no more responsible for that than you are responsible for who your own sire was. If you so dearly wish to fight, then it will be an honorable combat and not a summary execution against one who has offered you no violence." Reyn had another drink and lit another cigarra, then turned to the soldier again. "As for you, aruetii. Hold your head up and stop slinking back like a cur strill. False meekness will net you no points here. I don't know why you've come, but you've already been challenged. Your first lesson then, is on the house. Move the tables!" Reyn bellowed the last to the other patrons of the bar, who immediately complied and began to form a circle from his earlier chair. Reyn would have preferred the chance to speak to this man about his purpose more thoroughly, but the bellicose Ordos had forced the issue. No matter, a good fight was always appreciated, and a bit of sport would surely raise the spirits of this gathering. Reyn beckoned both Cathaoir and FS-525 to follow him into the center of the assembly. He walked to his seat and unhooked from each side of the high chair a long mythosaur axe. He tossed one to Cathaoir and one to FS-525, then sat down, calling for another glass and making himself comfortable, the helm sitting on the arm of the chair next to him. "This will be an honorable combat, no tricks. You are both armored, and so combat will be decided by the first to yield. Fight with courage and there will be honor for all. Begin."
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.
Reyn cocked an eyebrow as Oax answered that he was from Ordo, then returned his salute and smiled at his question. "As I am hosting a gathering here at the moment, it would be quite ill-mannered of me not to greet a new arrival. The plague has taken much from us all, and rest assured that that debt will be repaid." Reyn's face grew serious as he spoke the last, then lightened again as suddenly as it had darkened. "Your chieftain is here, he will be pleased to see one of his clansmen." Reyn turned to Cathaoir and waved him over, calling out to him. "Cathaoir! Already fortune turns toward us, one of your clansmen has come. This is good news."
The escort led our ship till it touched down before breaking off to resume patrol. For the first time since awakening did I feel a notion of fear. I was on the home world of ostensively a warlord, and I stood prepared to meet him in heavy duty but SHINY armor. I was not aware of how he would react. Passing me a cup of tea, my pilot appeared to calm my nerves
:: Drink this master, everything will be fine. Considering the Culture of the mandalorians, I would recommend if you meet Mand’alor, greet him with respect… but do not kowtow to him.::
I nodded and took the drink before I secured my helmet on my armor and departed for the Tavern.
I took a peak around the tavern… trying to find either of the subjects. Thanks to a link between my HUD and the shuttle, I was able to identify who people were. I was relatively sure that I had narrowed it down when a booming voice from the bar sounded
“Vod, Nari na gar buy'ce.1”
The source of the noise was a Besalisk standing behind the bar… while he was miming knocking on a helmet he was wiping down the counter and pouring two drinks. I advanced toward the bar, finally settling down to a stool … finally putting two and two together.
“You don’t speak Mando’a, do you offworlder? Primary rule here is no one hides in their armor. We all show our faces. I would enforce the other rules, but you try to tell a warrior culture not to bring vibroknives to the bar.”
I nodded and removed my helmet, placing it along side. As I gazed around the room I noticed that many of the warriors here were paled skinned bipeds… something the pilot would identify for me… minus seemingly one or two patrons and the Barkeep… I was the only Non-human in the congregated mass. I stroked my cheek Tendrils as the barkeep addressed me again.
“So, what will it be, neoade pel'gam2? Drinks are on the helm.”
“I can’t drink right now… I’m on duty”
“We all have our duties to complete, but right now duty is to enjoy the company of our Vod.” I pulled a data pad and holoemitter
“No, I mean, I am active duty. I am FS-525 of the GAJ. To complete my training, my path has left me here… I need to find a man named the Father who might help me finish my training.”
Not knowing the image of the individual, the father, which I was displaying was in the room. The man boomed with laughter as he waved over an armored individual
“Mand’alor, olaror jaon olar bal urcir Neoade pel'gam. Ibic cuyir Jetii’verd Cabur ta'na a dakajr yirhaou teh tabalhar.3”
1 Brother, Remove your helmet.
2 Crimson Skin
3 Mand’alor , come over here and meet Crimson skin . this be Jedi Soldier the Protectors sent a message about from patrol .
Reyn heard the booming voice of the bartender and looked over at him with a nod, returning his gaze to Oax. "Excuse me ner'vod, I must attend to this. Drink and eat your fill, they will be work to be done soon enough." The big Taung turned away from the table and walked over to the bar, gesturing to the keep for a glass of narcolethe, taking another long draw on his cigarra. He downed the narcolethe in a gulp, and turned his eyes to the soldier in question. He was of a race Reyn had not seen before, and he studied him carefully with his emerald eyes. "Jetii, eh? What brings a jetii soldier to my sector, and to a gathering of my brothers and sisters?" Reyn pulled the cigarra from his lips and exhaled, still studying the newcomer intently.
[/font][/font][/font] Ielyn announced. They were the first words he'd spoken since he'd informed us we were about to enter hyperspace, back in Korriban's orbit.[/ul][/ul]
[/font][/font][/font][/ul][/ul]
The big man was slumped in the pilot's chair, expressionless, picking his teeth with one hand and loosely holding the shuttle's control yoke in the other. Occasionally he would wince and shift, trying and failing to get comfortable in his powered armor, but otherwise he hadn't so much as looked back at the quartet he was transporting. I imagine he'd concluded it was safer that way, and I can't blame him. It's lucrative work I've offered him, but for good reason: chances he would survive to retire were slim.
I, on the other hand, have been scrutinizing the Irrukine since our departure a few hours ago. They were fascinating specimens, to be sure. Canine features, extended abdomens, possessed of an obviously higher muscle density, and oh yes, four-armed. They didn't take kindly to my staring, unfortunately.
It had been a long ride.
Standing as we jolted back to real space, I moved to stand behind Ielyn's chair. Slowly, my eyes widened.
[/font][/font][/font] Ielyn breathed.[/ul][/ul]
[/font][/font][/font][/ul][/ul]
Mandalore's orbit was a graveyard. Where once a mighty war fleet had prowled drifted lifeless husks of durasteel. Some were damaged, spilling their innards out into space around them, fuselage and chunks of the hull dragged behind like mechanical gore. Others were simply dark, engines and shields powered down, gliding like a spectre among the ruins of their kin. But I could sense them. Mindless, raging, throwing themselves against bulkheads and viewports: the infected.
[/font][/font][/font] I said to no one in particular. "I had thought...well, never mind what I thought. Better broadcast on all channels, Ielyn, I think everyone on that control station is dead."[/ul][/ul]
[/font][/font][/font] the mercenary muttered. Heaving a sigh, he activated the comms.[/ul][/ul]
[/b][/font][/font] [/ul][/ul][/quote]A trio of protector manned Fangs did a flyby of the ship, awaiting orders from the surface. Upon receiving landing permissions, they opened comms to the ship with the visiting dignitaries. ;:Permission granted. We will escort you to Kyrimorut, keep your weapons cool, or we will fire. Te Goran will meet with you there.:: The three fighters assumed an escort position around the ship, guiding them toward the far northern latitudes, to the home of Mandalore the Smith.
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 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.
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!"
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."
Days and nights of ferocious despair. Destruction around the galaxy. No explanation. the Colony he had nursed from nothing on Lehon was destroyed in it's entirety, as if it had never been. He had reports from chieftains around the galaxy, some clans had been wiped out, those that were not were reeling on their back feet.
What had happened?
Reyn had even received a call from Manaan, inquiring as to the state of the clans. Reyn was waiting for a ship to be prepared so he could attend the King of the Gaels. Estimates of at least a million Mandalorians dead, out of a galactic population of not more than ten million. Perhaps one tenth of his people gone. Reyn needed answers, needed to know if this was some action of an enemy or some ineffable act of cosmic destruction.
He misliked either possibility. One could not avenge themselves on the Cosmos itself, but likewise an enemy with this level of power was one not to take lightly.
Reyn sat in his darkened hall, the only light from the fireplace behind him, and the cigarra he smoked. He was nursing a glass of narcolethe and the bottle shared the table beside him with the Helm.
He heard Freyyrja growling quietly behind him, saying that a ship had been able to be made ready.
{What are you going to do, Reyn?}
He chuckled at the simple question, a simple question for such an overwhelming event. He drained the glass and stood up, tucking the Helm under his arm. He turned and smiled at his faithful friend.
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.
The crisp scent of the veshok filled the morning air, crisp with the dying of autumn and birthing of winter. A tall warrior stood atop a sturdy rampart made of the same sturdy wood that filled the lovely dark and deep forest around him. He looked out with emerald eyes over the slowly frosting lake, a dragonhide cape and fur mantle covering powerful shoulders. In the distance he could hear the rhythmic bark of a shatual buck, and he smiled contentedly. Snow had begun to fall, a few flakes sticking to his lustrous black and silver hair, and he took a deep breath. Perhaps he would hunt today, as he had not done for too long. Perhaps fish, or merely work the forge, still or brewhouse. Behind him there was a low rumbling growl, the sound of his friend Freyyrja's melodious shyriiwook.
{Welcome back, Mandalore.}
He chuckled lightly, knowing the teasing sound of her voice as she spoke his title rather than his name. She knew it drove him crazy. He turned to see her, taller even than he, auburn furred and holding him out a large steaming mug of shig spiked with tihaar. He took the mug and had a sip against the chill.
Reyn Skirata, Mandalore the Smith, turned once more to look over his home and let a deep sense of contentment fill him.
Tall and broad, and still strong despite his age. Wears traditional mandalorian crusader armor in green and gold. His hair and beard are black, though going to silver with age, and worn braided in the fashion of warriors. He wears a long cape of lagartoz dragon hide, and a fine weapons belt of the same, with electrum fittings.
WEAPONS: Reyn carries a matched kal and beskad in elegantly tooled scabbards on his left hip. Holstered on his right is mandalorian ripper pistol, with an acp array gun holstered along the small of his back. He will often be seen leaning on what appears to be an ornate walking stick and staff of office, but in reality is a traditional weapon known as a mythosaur axe, ancient and precious.
BIOGRAPHY:
(when i have time)
SHIP:
(haven't picked it yet)
ROLE-PLAYS:
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