Ask Cold Company on Rothana

[Song Wren]

At this point, she and the cold were inseparable. First Krownest, then Scipio, and now Rothana. Yet another planet covered in ice and snow. Song had to wonder if this was fate, and she was simply destined to visit every icy rock in the galaxy until her dying breath. All she needed was to trudge through the snows of Hoth or Rhen Var and she would complete the package.

It wasn’t like she hated the cold. It served her much better than a journey across Jakku, an experience she never wished to endure again. Next to lightsabers, heat was one of her greatest weaknesses, and that day she’d been sweating more than a nun at a cucumber stall. Never again. She’d pick Rothana over that any day.

As for who she was accompanying, that was a different story.

Nox Solus. A wolf and a badger. The last time the two of them had crossed paths, it had been on Bandomeer, where they’d encountered everything from bandits to stray Reeks. They had fought together as equals. Now, he was the Solus’alor and the backbone of the Mand’alor’s crusade. They hadn’t exactly parted on good terms, so when she’d been invited to join him on a diplomatic mission to Rothana, it surprised her. She found it slightly worrying, too.

Nox was not known for his… diplomatic side. Or so she’d heard.

Song cast him a long look as they crossed the bridge into the main shipyard facility, where delegates of Rothana Engineering would be waiting. “I pray you don’t expect me to do all the talking, Nox, while you stand menacingly in the corner,” she told him. “I don’t have enough charisma to last the whole day.” She barely had enough charisma now, to be honest. But as long as the Solus’alor could be more than a living statue, then hopefully, their meeting with these corporate stiffs could end on a good note.

Or with a shoot-out. Whatever worked for him.

@Orbit

 

[Nox Solus]

Nox walked alongside Song as they made their way across the bridge, passersby glancing at their suits of armor in awe. What once people thought a group just regulated to being bounty hunters, the galaxy was still growing accustomed to seeing Mandalorians with their colors proudly displayed, as well as their armament in a unified fashion. The pair had arrived by shuttle and accompanied by fellow Solus warriors but they had been left by the ship.

A correspondence had already been sent to delegates to discuss terms of them falling within Mandalorian ownership and a major producer of their people. Ever since the planet had been neutral and cut off from Kuat, it had suffered over the years and was far gone from the mountain of credits that used to flow because of their production. Even though they were hurting economically from a lack of orders, a Rothanian fleet still protected the planet. The Mandalorians simply didn't have a fleet to combat it at that moment, also pushing Nox to this more... diplomatic approach.

The Solus peered over at Song after her a comment, an unseen smirk playing underneath his helmet, "Funny, my idea was you standing menacingly in the corner." It had been a long time since they saw each other and a lot had changed. From a simple bounty hunter, he was now Solus'alor and leading campaigns. Not only that but he had physically changed as well, his entire right arm metal and his left shin and everything below metal as well.

Despite the playful nature of his words, Song would be able to hear the tiredness in his voice as he was exhausted, it even viewable through his shoulders as it was still just them. When Nox wasn't on the front line, he was coordinating with fellow Alors and Rallymasters. Even though they hadn't left on the best of terms, he knew she was still skilled and he did actually enjoy her company. "Then let's send a prayer to Kad this goes smoothly."

As the two drew closer to the shipyard, Nox would straighten his posture and sway that conveyed authority and power. Before the two reached the delegates, he offered her one more glance before focusing his visor ahead, "It is good to see you alive and well." Even with the tautness to his voice, she could hear the truth.

 

[Song Wren]

“The badger finds the cat menacing. Isn’t that something.” Her lip curved into a slight smile, almost flattered by his remark. Song had been seen as intimidating by most aruetti, as was common for any Mandalorian, but next to her comrades—or her father—she was rarely seen as a serious threat. Which was fine by her. Let them underestimate her. She had more knives on her body than a butcher, and if they ever crossed her, she’d happily give them a taste of steel.

“I’m glad you didn’t die either, Solus,” she added, “though it would seem the last year has not been very kind to you.” The exhaustion laced into his voice was one thing. Nox had been running across the Rim for the last few months, grabbing planets as if the galaxy was some ‘all you can eat buffet,’ so she could understand his weariness. What surprised her was how drastically he’d changed since they last met. Not in height or rank, but by the very obvious fact that he’d lost not one, but two limbs.

Song considered asking him what happened, or how, but she had a distinct feeling it was not a story he’d want to tell. Instead she kept her eyes forward, on the bridge and the snow drifting from gathering clouds. They could share stories another time, perhaps over a drink, once all this nonsense was over.

The delegation was waiting inside a large foyer, on a bare concrete floor and beneath several guttering artificial lights. The place, clearly, had seen better days, and so must have the two representatives who greeted them: an older man and woman dressed in seemingly fine robes and clothing. Keenly aware of the wrinkles at their hems and the faraway look in their eyes, Song could tell their ruined relationship with Kuat had cost them more than just an ally.

“Solus’alor, Rally Master,” said the woman with a slight bow, acknowledging both Mandalorians. “Rothana welcomes you. I hope your journey was well?”

As she let Nox dispense with pleasantries, Song removed her helmet. A loose ponytail fell over her shoulder, her face still as pale as when she’d last shown it, with black eyes framed by black hair. Revealing it was a courtesy for the delegates. And for the Solus, a reminder of her more liberal interpretation of the Way. She might rigidly follow Wren traditions, like honoring her kin and ancestors, but Song was not the particularly religious type.

@Orbit

 

[Nox Solus]

The year had not been kind to him but he couldn't really blame anything but himself. Nox had chosen to place more weight on his shoulders and while that meant more command, it also meant the responsibility as well. There would need to be more done in the future still but he was just taking it one step at a time, despite the price that was quickly stacking upon him. They would speak more but they had business to discuss.

The two groups approached, a respectable distance between them. Compared to each other, two guards flanked the delegates but it couldn't be held against them. Both Nox and Song had enough weaponry on them for six or seven guards combined. Even though it had been some time, he still remembered what her ideals were and it let him be able to stand there without a reaction. He wouldn't offer a glance to her, even though he had accepted this new belief, his gaze only fixated on the lead delegate who appeared in charge.

Nox offered the woman a nod back, the top half of his body bending slightly but that was about it. Ever since Borgo and Shaum, he was getting better with this diplomacy front as he realized it was becoming more necessary the more they want. With their current condition, diplomacy was a viable option instead of war. "And we appreciate her welcome and it was." Song would be able to hear the tiredness from his voice pushed out as he fully became the Solus'alor.

He would then gesture to the building behind them with a simple motion of his hand, "Care to speak inside? I believe we hold a proposition that you'll find quite interesting and lucrative." It would be a simple one as he could see the effects of the planet's cut-off and reassured him about this happening.

 

[Song Wren]

“A proposition? Color me interested,” the woman answered, curiosity laced into her voice, though not a single ounce of it reached her eyes. Song supposed that was just her face, but she caught the man beside her looking equally distracted, his gaze wandering nervously elsewhere. A muscle in her jaw ticked. She had an odd feeling that the day’s negotiations would not go as they intended. “Please, follow me. We have a conference room on the second floor, where we might discuss in privacy.”

Song eyed her as she led them through a winding hall and aboard a lift. The lights flickered uneasily. As an awkward silence settled between them, she found herself staring at the male delegate again, watching as the side of his head beaded with sweat. Their helmeted guards also seemed to clutch their rifles as if they were newborn infants, rarely keeping their eyes off them. She resisted the urge to sigh. Clearly, the delegation were afraid of the Mandalorians. And who wasn’t? Since Lothal, every Rim world was on edge at their expanding presence.

She exchanged a knowing look with Nox, then shrugged.

Fortunately, with a ring of the elevator, the delegates exited and led them to a set of double doors, of which contained a spacious conference room complete with a long table and a dozen cushioned seats. No windows, but fresh air pumped in from the floors, and on the wall sat a lovely mural of snow-capped mountains, reminiscent of those back on Krownest. Nostalgia tugged at her heart. Rothana might be familiar territory, but it was nothing like her homeworld.

Guards took positions in each corner, although Song was hardly worried by their presence. She and Nox could take them apart like paper dolls. As for the delegation, they settled comfortably at the end of the room opposite from them, smoothing the wrinkles of their fine robes. “Solus’alor,” the woman addressed. “This proposition of yours. What does it entail?”

@Orbit

 

[Nox Solus]

It was easy to tell that the delegates had their own reservations about the Mandalorians. Nox could only assume that it most likely related to Sullust but ultimately he knew it was because of the broadcast. While Fenyang had a fire in him that the people needed at the time, he had given the galaxy a bitter taste and aspect of their people that heavily distorted their views and put up roadblocks. It would have to be something he would need to work around but he trusted that Rothana preferred her long-lost prosperity.

They were led to the lift and then onto it. As they went up, Nox couldn't help but notice the guards first, the way they clutched their rifles. It solidified the answer in his own mind and the Solus would catch his sigh as well, the attempted escape of his wish that the broadcast hadn't been sent out. But the past was the past and he knew there would be no way to change it; only the present and the future. The second tidbit he caught was Song blatantly staring at the male delegate as the man appeared ready to piss himself.

Nox would take a step forward, cutting off her line of sight from the man as he glanced down toward her. A simple and subtle shake of his head would be given. Even though earlier he had brought up her appearing menacing for them, tensions were already high and they didn't need to add more fuel to the ebbing fire.

The two Mandalorians would eventually be led into a conference room, the guards still accompanying the delegates as they took the opposite side of the table. Nox looked down at one of the leather seats, spinning it to face him as he stared at it for a few moments. He tapped his knuckle against it, the chair cracking and bouncing slightly back and forth in response. As if that was enough, he left the chair and remained standing as he simply crossed his arms over his chest.

His black visor would bore into the woman for a few moments, the helmet giving her nothing to decipher as he contemplated before speaking, "Rothana Heavy Engineering is renowned through the galaxy for their products. But it is also known unfortunately that you are not what you used to be anymore. You have been cut off from the Core, and almost half of your facilities are no longer in use. Times have not been kind and that is why my proposition is to help you return to former glory and put you back on the map." Borgo Prime's information brokers had proven very useful. The woman had given him nothing really to go off of so he probed from different angles. "My people are in need of our own supplier for vehicles and weapons. I would like you to become one of our main and exclusive producers alongside MandalMotors. You know the stories of my people and wars that we leave in our wake. You also know exactly how profitable it is for companies like yourself." There is no other powerful event that could completely flip an economy, especially one as connected to it as Rothana's.

"In exchange for this, we will help contribute to the production by donating resources while also giving you fair compensation for the ships you produce. You will fall under our protection and we will help you establish another route to the inner regions. Credits will flow once again through your planet as both our people will benefit" Once Nox finished, he simply just stood there and waited. He had no idea how they would receive his proposition. The only notion he understood was the planet was close to being in a dire situation and he offered a life vest to them.

 

[Song Wren]

“The Solus’alor is right,” Song added, doing her best to at least appear like she knew what she was saying. She hadn’t reviewed the badger’s plans for the meeting, and his proposition was the first time she was hearing it. “Neither the Republic nor Kuat will come back to revive your factories, not as they turn their interests elsewhere. Aligning with the Sith or Jedi will only put a massive target on your back, but with us? Mandalorians always protect their own, and we always deliver on our promises.”

She leaned back into her seat, comfortable with their odds. Given the state of each delegate’s clothing and the dismal atmosphere that hung over the facility, she had a feeling they were desperate for help. They needed the Mandalorians as much as the Mandalorians needed them.

And yet, neither delegate seemed eager at their offer.

“It is true our corporation has fallen on hard times, and your proposition, I'll admit, is incredibly tempting. Fair compensation and spare resources. It’s a proposal I cannot possibly ignore.” The woman delegate clasped her hands together, fingers steepled as if in deep thought. The man beside her now was visibly sweating. He fidgeted at his robes, adjusting its many folds, not once speaking a word. Suspicion stuck out to Song like an uprooted tree.

“Under better circumstances, we would be happy to accept,” said the woman, her voice suddenly taking on a sad edge, “but I regret to inform you, Solus’alor, that Rothana Heavy Engineering cannot accept your deal. In fact, it currently cannot accept any proposition you have to offer.” She gave a mechanical frown, retrieving a small item from the folds of her robes. A breathing mask. “It's far too late for that.”

The man fumbled for his own mask, pressing it to his face like it was the only oxygen in the room.

Song shot from her seat like a loosed arrow. The guards around her snapped into action, unholstering their rifles, their helmeted faces turning toward her and Nox’s position. For a split moment, she thought they might attack her. She felt confident in her ability to dodge and take them on, a throwing knife already slipping into her hand, but something else struck her mind. The fresh air that had been pumping through the floors had stopped. The ventilation system had fallen silent.

She reeled, just before gas began to fill the room.

@Orbit

 

[Nox Solus]

Song chimed in, adding a finishing touch to his words and neatly tying their proposition in a nice bow. But as seconds ticked by, Nox could tell something was wrong. The guards had remained tense the entire time, their weapons more at the ready than just for show until it was actually needed.

By the time the woman spoke, admitting his offer was tempting, Nox's hand would already be slowly closing into a fist at that point, the leather crinkling as his emotions started to bubble within. By the time she told him it was too late, Nox would just utter back, the venom in his voice palpable, "Under better circumstances, you would have left this meeting with your head." He had respected their laws and their people as a whole with a conversation of alliance instead of subjugation. This betrayal was a spit in his face and his anger built into an inferno without his control. The Solus'alor stood to his full height, his gaze never leaving the delegate's own until she finally left the room.

The Solus would take a few steps back with Song, scanning the room and the number of guards. He assumed because they weren't firing, they had a very short window for whatever the gas was and it either killed them or knocked them out. Not even taking a moment to decide his next course of action, he would just bark out gruffly in their tongue, "On me!" Nox had one target in mind and she had already left.

Spinning on his heel, he faced toward his right and immediately activated his jetpack. The guards fired upon him but weren't ready for the burst of speed, missing wildly. Nox would fly straight at the closest one to him and wouldn't stop, simply charging through the guard as both of them would go out the window. Instead of letting the guard fall to his death, the Solus held onto his clothing and angled back toward the building.

With the body of the guard as the shield, Nox would crash through the window of the hallway right outside of the meeting room. Two guards had been waiting there and had been expecting if anything, the Mandos would come out from the room, not from the air. By the time glass shattered, they would try to turn their head but would be slammed by the weight of two bodies, a mass of metal and flesh. Both would be thrown into the wall and hit the surface with a loud sickening crunch as multiple bones would shatter and kill them instantly.

Nox would be standing over the heap of guards, the one still in his hand a heap of fractured bones and wrongly contorted limbs. The delegate would be at the end of the hall, able to see Nox standing there and his gaze simply burning into her with an intensity that could be felt beneath the visor. He would toss the crumpled body toward her direction before he activated his white lightsaber with a squeal. The Solus slashed at the controls behind him quickly as well, preventing the security from earlier flanking them.

When he turned back around to face her, he would start to walk down the hallway after her, the heavy thud of his armor with each step echoing.

 

[Song Wren]

Song sucked in a deep breath. She slid on her helmet, tightly sealing her face, but she knew without a rebreather installed, the gas filling the room would eventually creep into her system. She took enormous care to avoid it, but to no avail. Fingers of green mist already clawed at her feet both delegates filed out of the room, the man tracing after the older woman like a dog on a leash. Song should have seen this coming from a mile away. If anything, she had. The man’s sweating and nervous ticks, the woman’s lack of interest. It had been plain as day.

Had she acted on her gut sooner, maybe this would have all been avoided, bit it was too late to imagine how things might have been. Now, she had to act.

As Nox called for her attention, Song whirled. The throwing knife already in her hand sailed toward the closest guard, the metal edge pinning them in the chest. Gunfire erupted through the room. She dove, activating her jetpack just as the Solus did, and followed after the trail of smoke he left in his advance. Blaster bolts chased after them, but they were too fast and the guards too few, and in moments, she was in open air, cold wind lashing at her armor. She adjusted her movement appropriately, angling back to the building where Nox was making his return.

She landed firmly behind him. Like a mirror, she shadowed him and revealed her own blade: the Sword of Wren, her clan’s ancestral sword. Without many guards left to face them down, there was no real need for blasters, not against two measly, unarmed delegates. By the looks of it, the male representative seemed about ready to piss himself, his eyes wide and face visibly pale. But the woman beside him didn’t even look a touch surprised. She just stood by the lift doors, blank-faced.

“Solus’alor,” she said, eerily calm. “I see you are upset.”

“Lady Renata,” the man whispered, pressing at the elevator controls like a madman, more than panicked. “Please, we—”

“Silence, Kaveh. The adults are speaking.” The woman, Renata, turned back to Nox and frowned. “I did tell you that you had come to Rothana too late, Solus’alor. The reason I cannot accept your deal—or any you could possibly have to offer—is because our corporation has already been bought out. Such matters are out of my hands, I’m afraid.” She held her hands together and offered them what might have been the fakest smile Song had ever seen in her life, as if the woman was speaking to angry customers instead of armed Mandalorians.

“However, if you would like to file a complaint, you are more than welcome to do so with my employer,” Renata added, and as if on cue, the elevator behind her rang and the doors slid open.

 

[The Storyteller]

Crumpled bodies. Mangled guards. His delegates, facing down two bloodthirsty Mandalorians. Veslin wasn’t surprised to come upon such a sight when he stepped off the elevator lift. He should have known better than to expect some of the best warriors in the galaxy to succumb to something as cheap as poison gas. He should have prepared a bomb, and while that might have killed his representatives too, so what? It was a small price to pay in exchange for the Solus’alor’s life.

Veslin sighed. “Lady Renata,” he addressed the woman coldly. “May I ask what the Mandalorians are doing out here? I believe I was quite clear that you were to handle them.”

Renata bowed her head. “I did my best, sir. I already expressed to them that they were not welcome on Rothana, but as you can tell, they did not take the news very kindly.”

“You tried to gas us,” the female Mandalorian snapped. In response, Renata shrugged. Veslin restrained the urge to chuckle. This was why he’d hired her—she rarely let her mask of indifference slip, and she took every one of his orders with the cold obedience of a droid. After all, it was thanks to her that he’d managed to rise from the ashes of his exile from the Jedi Order and seize one of the greatest prizes in the Rim: Rothana Heavy Engineering. With him at its head, he could revive the company and restore his honor.

He could become a Dark Jedi to be feared.

Veslin turned to the Solus’alor, black eyes staring at the man through a jackal mask. “You must be Nox,” he crooned. “What a delight it is to finally meet you.”

@Orbit

 

[Nox Solus]

Lady Renata was correct, Nox was fuming about what had transpired. He held his word sacred and when he gave his word to arrive on the planet in peace, he had expected the same. His emotions tended to find ways to flare and at that moment, he was only seeing red. Even as she spoke, his feet wouldn't stop as he took one powerful step after another. All of her words simply bounced off of him as if his entire armor was made out of beskar.

In fact, each word only infuriated him more as she treated the situation like a normal business deal still even after trying to kill them. But when Lady Renata mentioned that he could instead raise a complaint with her employer, Nox would actually come to a halt as the elevator doors beside her would open.

A man stepped forth, one who wore a mask that was shaped in the form of a Jackal. What perfect timing, Nox simply thought, realizing that he really was just dealing with pawns. Immediately, he could sense something was different with the new figure, the way he carried himself and how the woman immediately came to heel upon his arrival.

Veslin spoke with indifference as if this was only a minor setback taking place and one that could be resolved. When he greeted the Solus, actually using his first name, he took a step forward as he withdrew his peacemaker and aimed it at the center of Veslin's torso. "The delights about to be mine soon enough. You have ten seconds to explain yourself." His aim was true and his hand steady as the sights lined right where the heart would be.

Even though Nox could guess the answer to why their death was wanted, in reality, the appearance of this mysterious figure tempered his rage somewhat. He wanted a moment to formulate a plan of some notion as the apparent calmness of Veslin unsettled him somewhat.

 

[Song Wren]

Song did not balk against the stranger’s arrival. Instead she raised her sword in a defensive stance, a hand resting on her holstered blaster just in case they had any tricks up their sleeve. What really surprised her was the lightsaber Nox had revealed. She didn’t recall him ever having one when they first fought together on Bandomeer, else perhaps he’d have done a better job handling those reeks. She briefly wondered how he managed to get ahold of such a weapon, but like his lost limbs, there was little time to share long-winded stories about their past adventures.

Not when they were facing an enemy like this.

She eyed the masked stranger, taking note of his dark robes and lack of armor. It didn’t take long for her to come to a conclusion about him. “Jedi,” she murmured behind Nox, tensing slightly. She’d crossed paths with enough of them to know the way they dressed, acted, and even felt. Only this one was different. He radiated a different kind of aura, not like a Sith, but not quite like a Jedi, either.

Song considered offering to fight him on the Solus’alor’s behalf. She was made for close combat. Fists, knives, swords—she’d trained for years in each field, splitting trees and shattering boulders from the day she could hold more than her own mother’s hand. Perhaps she would fare better against the Jedi than the Solus. Then again, the masked man was clearly focused on Nox, and Nox was focused on him.

She wouldn’t deprive the badger of his meal.

Her gaze turned to Renata and Kaveh as they stepped into the elevator lift and vanished behind its doors. Likely to call up reinforcements. And even if they intended to make a swift retreat, she couldn’t let them escape. The Jedi might be their leader and employer, but his lackeys were sure to have information—or codes—behind the company systems.

“I’ll deal with Renata and the rest of the complex security,” she told Nox, taking several steps back. “Don’t die, Solus.”

Unless he ordered her to stay and assist him against the Jedi, Song would spin on her heels and make a beeline for the broken window they’d originally came in through. With a smooth swipe across her wrist controls, she activated her jetpack and dove into open air once more, hot on Renata’s trail.

 

[The Storyteller]

“That was a mistake,” Veslin said as the female Mandalorian abandoned the Solus’alor’s side, quite literally jumping ship. “I doubt you can face me alone.”

He tilted his head, observing the end of Nox’s blaster with careful indifference. “Oh, forgive me, where are my manners? My name is Veslin, former Jedi Knight and the current owner of Rothana Heavy Engineering.” He placed a hand over his heart and gave a short bow. “I could explain how I managed to seize the corporation, but I’m afraid it involves a lot of complicated deals and agreements a Mandalorian such as yourself won’t be able to understand.”

That was a lie. Like them, Veslin had taken the simplest route in gaining control: he’d murdered half the executive board and forced the other half into compliance. He ruled the corporation by fear and an iron fist. With Renata’s assistance, he would have the crippled factories up and running in no time, creating ships and droids for what would one day serve as his personal army.

“Understand, Solus’alor, that I am not an easy mark.” His dark eyes wandered between Nox’s heavy sidearm and blade. “You may have a Jedi’s lightsaber, but tell me, can you wield it like one?”

With a flicker of movement, a silver lightsaber handle fell into his right hand. One click, and the corridor was bathed in searing blue light. Veslin hadn’t quite gotten the chance to bleed the crystal, but he could wait for when he’d finished dealing with the Mandalorian. Killing the Solus’alor would make a fine start to his new criminal empire, and his helmet would sure make a damned excellent trophy.

If the badger didn’t yet already attack, Veslin would be the first to advance, keeping his blade over his chest to deflect any blaster bolts, eager to see how his saber might fare against the Mandalorian’s.

@Orbit

 

[Nox Solus]

Song uttered out the only possibility that could be true about the mysterious figure. The simple word made his grip tighten around his lightsaber to the point his knuckles would be white underneath. The itch that was the sorcerers was becoming more consistent and no matter how hard he scratched, it always remained.

Both Nox and Veslin's gazes were interlocked and in their own battle. Song recognized this and told him that she would instead go after the delegates and the security. If they wanted the planet, they would need to completely wipe away the stain of the sorcerer's stench. He didn't reply but his silence would be his confirmation that he could handle the Jedi on his own.

Once she departed through the window, Veslin started to give his monologue as Nox would switch the blaster to the stun setting. He squeezed the trigger and fired a blue bolt at center mass, cutting Veslin off from the speech that his audience wasn't exactly receptive to. Before they could close the distance, the Solus would fire out another heavy stun bolt but waited until the Jedi crossed underneath a light, shooting the fixture. Shards of glass would descend a short distance and sprinkle him.

Immediately, Nox would activate his jetpack as he tossed his blaster to the side, the space between them shortened quickly as he committed to a slash once he landed. It would come from Veslin's left and diagonally as the Solus would open the fight.

---​

When Song flew out from the window, a few moments later she would be joined by fellow Solus and Wren that had accompanied them in the shuttle. One of the Solus connected to her comm-line, "We tried to hold our position but we were overrun. We're with you." All of them would fly in formation with her as they tracked and dealt with the rest of the security. With the shuttle taken, this would be the only way forward for all of them.

 

[Song Wren]

Song was shocked by the presence of Mandalorian reinforcements. She’d nearly forgotten all about them in the chaos of the last few minutes, afraid Renata had unleashed a similar gas on them by the landing pad, or with a timed explosive. To find they were alive, especially her own kin, lifted her spirits. She was no longer alone, forced to duke it out against an entire facility on her own. She had true warriors at her side, and like the Rally Master she was appointed to be, she would lead them properly into battle—and to victory.

“Stay alert,” she told them. “Stay strong.”

She banked hard to the left and the others followed. As she circled the main building, her vantage point offered a strategic view of the rest of the complex: supply depots, bare-boned courtyards and steaming factories all knitted together. A sprawling facility ripe for the taking. The only problem was actually taking it. Within moments of flying, Song heard the screech of rusted metal and spun to find one of the ice-covered turrets on the complex perimeter come to life.

She felt her heart nosedive.

“Anti-aircraft!” she called, and the Mandalorians around her dispersed like a flock of startled pigeons. Shots chased them through the sky, and Song did her best to dodge and weave between them in her advance toward the turret.

As she did, soldiers began to emerge into the central courtyard, armed with pulse rifles and semi-automatic blasters. They were hopelessly outgunned. But Song didn’t let fear or panic eat at her mind. They were Mandalorians. Not cannon fodder or unmoving targets. Sure, they might be outnumbered, but they certainly were not outmatched. With a war cry and her sword raised like a lance, she dove at the turret, closing the gap until she was right on top of it, before shoving her blade into its center.

Sparks flew. In one fluid motion, she cut open the turret’s hatch and dropped a thermal detonator inside. Then she leapt, rolling over the ground, as an explosion ripped behind her, shaking the snow off the roof. Song raised her blade again, to the enemy guards now flooding the courtyard, and shouted, “For the Solus’alor!”

 

[The Storyteller]

Veslin hated interruptions. He’d hoped to offer insight to the Solus’alor, to delay what would be his inevitable death, but if he wanted to cut to the chase, then so be it. He would give the Mandalorian the end he desired. He would dash open his throat, bleed the life out of him, and throw his helmet on a spike as a warning to his comrades: Rothana was off-limits. More might come because of it, but that wouldn’t stop the Dark Jedi. By the time news reached Nox’s flimsy clan, Veslin would have built a sizable fleet, enough to rebuff any attacks from any army.

The first shot he took head-on. Instead of wasting his breath dodging, he slashed his lightsaber through the stun bolt, dissipating it. He was, unfortunately, forced to move when he caught Nox’s blaster change aim up to the ceiling. He leapt back, narrowly avoiding the shattered light fixture from cutting into his masked face. The fact he had to retreat, even for a split moment, was infuriating. Veslin refused to be on the back-foot against a man who couldn’t even draw on the Force.

He would not lose to a Mandalorian.

Letting the badger come to him instead, Veslin matched his lightsaber with his own, and the heavy stench of burning plasma filled the air between them. He grinned as adrenaline pumped through him. “Adorable,” he said, then retaliated.

Making sure their blades were locked together before trying, Veslin aimed a wicked kick just below the Mandalorian’s knee. Not any ordinary kick, though. Backed by the Force, his heel would bring on enough weight to shatter whatever armor Nox might have covering that section of his leg. Maybe not enough to pop his kneecap or break bone, but the point was to throw him off balance, to give Veslin a chance to take one hand and punch the Solus directly in the throat—as long as it was open to strike.

@Orbit

 

[Nox Solus]

Nox's blade would be caught by Veslin's but he wouldn't be deterred. These types of fights were rarely ever decided in one move and he had learned his fair amount of lessons to discover that. The pressure was kept against the Jedi's, keeping it occupied as a kick was then tried against him. Instead of giving ground, he stepped in with his opposite leg harshly, using his knee to smack the leg and have it miss his knee cap.

Because of the quick-strike as well, it would leave Veslin in an awkward angle in front of him with his shoulder slightly turned toward him. Instantly, Nox's hand would snap to the Jedi's wrist and have an iron grip on it, preventing it to be able to be used for defense if he latched on.

With the height difference between the two, Nox towered over his opponent and would harshly snap his head down on Veslin's a moment after the hand had been seized. Whatever the Jackal's mask was made out of, it wouldn't be comparable to the beskar that was the Solus' helmet. The force behind it would be able to shatter the Jedi's nose if it struck fully as well as push the man back to give them space once more.

As the two faced each other once more, Nox would give a nod to the hopefully shattered mask, "Cute."

---​

The crusaders accompanying Song would capitalize on her first strike, soaring in through the air to meet the guards flooding out. Instead of dropping into melee, a bombardment was unleashed as wrist-rockets and jetpack rockets rained down on the massing security. Explosions rocked the ground, geysers of dirt and debris shooting into the air as men were either sent back from the force or simply blown to pieces. They would all shout in unison after, "For the Solus'alor!"

Half of the crusaders would take to the ground and found cover quickly to lay down suppressive fire. Others remained in the air, taking the height advantage as they would pour bolts down before changing position. Through the chaos, Song would be able to spot the two delegates from the meeting before quickly exiting the building where the guards came from. Lady Renata was in the lead, guiding the fellow delegate as they quickly saw the battle and started to run while everyone was occupied.

 

[Song Wren]

The ground violently shook as the battle raged on. Explosions tore across the courtyard, billowing smoke, and Song found it hard to distinguish ash from snow. She ran through the haze regardless, a gold blur in the fighting, and cut through soldiers and mechanical guards like she was reaping a spring harvest. She leveled shoulders, broke ankles, and severed hands that came too close in her reach. Blood and black oil spattered her helmet and covered her blade, but she didn’t stop.

Not until she spotted them. The delegates.

She was luck to spot Renata between the mess of bodies, as well as the other shareholder, Kaveh, dragging behind her. Whereas he looked panicked and terrified, the woman still wore that unimpressed expression, as if what was happening before her eyes was nothing more than a little roughhousing. Song’s jaw tensed. She honed in on their path of escape, fueled with every intention to kill Renata for her betrayal.

Kaveh gasped once he spotted her descending on them. Still, Renata appeared utterly calm, even as she cut them off from the large doors into the separate building—a hangar, by the looks of it. Cold wind sliced through the air as she strode closer toward the woman. Before any more blood could be spilled, Song would have to extract whatever information she could out of them, and force a surrender.

“You may as well give up now, Renata,” she demanded. “You might have ships or soldiers on standby, but we’re Mandalorians. Do you really think they will stop us? Do you think working under a fallen, forsaken Jedi will stop the Solus’alor?” She pointed her blade at the woman’s neck. “Spare us all the trouble and bloodshed and order your troops to stand down. Make this easy for me, give us what information we need, and I will consider not burying you in the ice where you stand.”

Kaveh shuddered. “Wait, please, we can—”

“Be silent, fool,” Renata ordered, and the man, once again, obeyed. She turned her attention to Song, the first gleam of anger in her eyes. “I will not be intimidated by the likes of you, Mandalorian. We will do no such thing, because you are the one who will lose today.” She raised a clutched hand, revealing what looked like a switch. With a swipe of her thumb, she activated whatever it was linked to, and briefly Song flinched, thinking it another gas bomb.

It was so much worse than that.

The hangar doors behind her groaned open, and from inside, a Scorpenek annihilator droid emerged.

 

[The Storyteller]

Veslin was furious. The exchange had become less of a fight and more like a brawl—graceless, a tangle of fists and unpredictable kicks. He was surprised by the Mandalorian’s quick reaction time, his unbelievable reflexes, as if he really was drawing on the Force to predict his movements. But that couldn’t be true. The man was only human. A weakling in a shell of armor who believed himself a leader. There was no way he could possibly stand a chance against a Dark Jedi like him.

Except he did, and he did far more than stand.

Veslin reeled as Nox smashed his armored head into his own. His vision blurred and he felt his brain rattle in his skull. Pain blossomed over his face, just before he swiftly backpedaled, escaping from the Solus’alor’s iron grip, and he distanced himself by a couple meters. He gritted his teeth, feeling the fracture in his disguise. Nox had struck him, and he had struck him harder than any thrown fist.

The mask fell from Veslin’s face, revealing a man with yellowed eyes framed by locks of dark hair, gray running through them like silver streams. He was gaunt, clearly having not eaten much in the last several months since his exile from the Jedi Order, the Dark Side slowly eating at him piece by piece. Had he been in his prime, perhaps he might have dodged or tanked the hit unscathed. Instead, the head-butt had broken his nose, forcing it at an unnatural tilt, and blood gushed down his mouth.

Shocked, he reached a hand to the injury, and at seeing the red on his fingers, shuddered with fury. His eyes flashed at the Mandalorian. “You dare…” His words trailed away as he tried to steel his anger. “You are going to regret that, badger.”

Without another word, Veslin attacked. He struck out at him in a sideways slash, aimed for his thighs. As he did, he called on the Force, the pain in his nose fueling his rage and anger, driving him forward. His blood boiled, but he didn’t lose focus. However the Mandalorian might retaliate, he would be ready for, and he wouldn’t be caught off guard again. He couldn’t be, else everything he’d built in the last month would have been for nothing.

@Orbit

 

[Nox Solus]

Once the mask fell, Nox realized why Veslin wore it. The man almost didn't appear human, the gauntness to his face unnatural because it was. Even in that brief moment, the Solus couldn't help but realize he was staring into the true nature of all the sorcerers. They were monsters who just wore a guise, whatever they touched just becoming infected like them. In their eyes, everything else in the galaxy was simply beneath them.

The Solus couldn't help but feel himself become enraged with the Jedi just speaking, as if by right that to strike him was unthinkable. There was no retort back from Nox as at that point, he just wanted to kill the man and rip his throat out.

Thankfully, the Jedi launched himself at Nox shortly after his threat and despite the speed, he remained in control and waited for his opportunity. With a twirl of his lightsaber, he brought it down and swung it in the path of a J to interrupt Veslin's, binding their lightsabers together for a brief moment. At the same time, he would step forward and turn his body sideways a little, his armored pauldron smacking into his opponent's chest.

Instead of stopping there, however, Nox hooked out his thumb of the hand that was holding his lightsaber as he swung his left arm forward. With the digit extended, he pressed the button on his gauntlet as it passed, flames roaring and spewing forth without any hesitation. Nox would bring his left arm in and close to his chest to aim the cone of flames right at Veslin's chest and envelop him. He would hold it there until the entire capsule ran out, hoping that the Jedi felt his skin charr, his blood boil, and his nerve ends become frayed. It was exactly what his people had felt when they had been massacred and he made sure to return the favor.

Once the fuel capsule ejected, whatever was left of the Jedi, either burned or not, Nox would take a step back as he pulled back his lightsaber too. Immediately after, he lifted his right arm and activated his repulsor, the weapon whirring a brief moment before it shot out a concussive blast. The power behind the blast would shatter the windows beside the two, mixing in shards with the tail end of flames that had yet to be extinguished. It would all turn into a culmination that would smack right into Veslin if he wasn't prepared.

No matter the result, Nox would remain where he was, his lightsaber returned to a defensive position in case of a counter. His gaze burned where Veslin last was, the flames reflecting in his black visor.

@Song