(PVP Sim) Mater Talohn & Pvt, Atratinus. (vs. Mandalorians)

[Damien Nightblade]

The Jedi Master stood silently as he awaited his partner. The beauty of the planet surrounding him was of a unique nature. The crystalin formations that made up the various cities of Christophis were gleaming, solar light glistening through them as rays of illumination found their way through the various asteroid belts that orbited the planet. The outer rim was a rough patch of space, this planet, literally a diamond in the rough stood out above all others. The only one in its system that could support life, how tragic that it was to be subjected to the horrors of war in mere moments.
He knew that the mission at hand would be a taxing one. It had been some time since he had been forced to resort to his lightsaber.
Since returning from his previous campaigns through the unknown regions, the hilt of the ancient Jedi weapons rested peacefully at his side, moving and walking with him submissive in its place, though always installing its presence upon the Jedis hip, as a reminder of what was to come, and that it too would pass.
The galaxy around him however was slowly but certainly spiraling out of control, war had plagued the Jedi and Galactic Alliance yet again, though he had not yet found himself at the tip of the spear. A matter of time, he knew before he would once again lower the mask that removed from him all sense of self, evolving him into a faceless weapon of the force. This exercise was to ensure he was nothing but prepaired.

 

[MoreThanSane]

Private Aelianus Atratinus walked slowly across Chrystophsis' remarkably realistic ground. Try as he might, Aelianus couldn't find an issue with the combat simulator. Everything looked, smelled, and even felt real. I wonder if getting shot will feel realistic too.

He adjusted his gun belt, moving his SE-12 blaster pistol into a more comfortable position. He ran through his inventory, making certain that the simulator was portraying everything correctly. Satisfied, he slung his G43 submachine gun's strap around his shoulder and continued walking.

He caught sight of the Jedi Master he was paired with. Dairx Talohn. Aelianus knew very little about the man, other than that he hadn't been particularly active in the war thus far. He stepped up to the man, nodding politely. "Master Talohn, Private Aelianus Atratinus reporting."

 

[Vencu]

A flock of avian creatures perched on a large, crystal archway nearby suddenly took flight, scattering in every direction in a frantic bid to escape some terror that had yet to be seen or heard. Few people on the crowded pedestrian walks that ran parallel to the street had noticed the odd behavior. Those that did looked on curiously for only a moment before continuing on their way. Then came a sound unlike any they had ever heard before. It gave them all pause. It reverberated through the crystalline structures all around them and had they been living beings and not mere representations of Rodians, Humans, and Kerkoidens, they could have felt it in their very bones. The high pitched sound and subtle vibration increased in intensity until it seemed the crystalline walls around them would shatter and fall all around them. Then came the thunderous claps of what could only be a thousand starships breaking the sound barrier as they plummeted from orbit. Like the flock of avian creatures, the civilians scattered at once. There were shouts of dismay as the first of the dropships came into sight, some directly above them. They were like fiery locusts streaking down from the heavens. Punishment, perhaps, from some vengeful god. There were screams as young children, adults, and the elderly were trampled beneath the feet of their neighbors.

Had it been more than a simulation, the pain and fear felt through the Force would have been numbing even to the most resilient of Jedi Masters. To any other Force user, it would have been blinding. No such thing could be felt in a simulation, not through the Force, but it could be seen and heard. The programmers had spared nothing. They had painted a vivid picture of a scene not so different from the realities of war.

As the dropships drew nearer, the hum of their repulsors kicking into overdrive was almost deafening... but nothing, not the screams, not the repulsors, were loud enough to drown out the rhythmic thump of automatic grenade launchers and the steady womp, womp, womp of heavy repeaters. The dropships and their gunship escorts rained death and destruction on the fleeing populace with no regard for age, species, or gender. Finally, on this obscure world, the struggle for equality had been won. Now the streets ran crimson and the sky was alight with blinding fire and thick with black, noxious smoke. Chaleydonia, the Crystal City, was under siege.

----------

Not fifty meters away from the Jedi Master and his soldier companion, a dropship had come to rest, crushing a speeder with relative ease and firing a volley of smoke grenades in every direction less than a second later. Little could be seen through the thick haze, but when a loud thud sounded, it was a clear sign that the Mandalorians had dropped ramp and would soon be upon them.

 

[Damien Nightblade]

The force reacted differently here. He could only bare witness to the destruction unfolding around him as the Mandalorian starships began to rain hell on the planet around them. Civillians scattered and fleed, retreating back into their crystaline shelters seeking any sort of shelter or comfort amidst the chaos. The Jedi Master had an affinity with the force that he felt was different then that of most. Though in a simulation room, the force was hollow. It was not the living breathing entity that bound togther the endless fabric of life into the beautiful tapestry that he had grown familliar with. Nor was it the might hand in which he became a faceless weapon of light, an eternal flame. Here it was merely a representation of power, of numbers and digits being mathematically blanced against the digitally precieved attributes of the world around him. He could feel it, though it had no feeling.
the Galactic Alliance soldier with whom he had been allied with for the simulation had arrived and had been standing beside him for a few moments now, though he had yet to find nessicary time to react to his words of greeting. He had expected a single Mandalorian, perhaps a squad, though what had arrived on the planet to face him was not Mandalorian alone, they had brought with them the very essence of war.

The Jedi Master's actions were of instinct not thought. In each of the warriors hands, his weapons ignited with a furious hiss. Roaring to life eager to yet again defend the Alliance from any threat that stood against it. Blades of sapphire and violet sprung forth from their hilts without hesitation, each pulsating and ebbing furiously with pure energy that was the essence of all Jedi weaponry.
The two rotated within his palms and took their rightful positions.
Smoke filled the air and lungs of all who inhabited the area, the Jedi who had been trained to endure such battlefield distractions emptied himself of all thought and feeling, allowing the force to do the rest. Though it, masked chestnut eyes gazed intently upon the dropship whose ramp lowered and forced itself into pathway beneath them almost entrenching itself to provide stability for the Mandalorian fire squad that was inevitable to appear.

The now faceless Jedi nodded his head in affirmation and acceptance of what was to come, the events about to unfold before them would test them, push their limits. They were designed to. The Jedi Master had tasted battle before, but it had been some time. He was lax in his combat abilities and had to rely on instinct to carry him through the preliminary moments of the battle. No matter he thought, knowing it was a matter of time before he was once again back on point with his abilities and combat maneuvers. The Private beside him could not help but notice his gesture and hopefully was tactically sound enough for them to see this through to fruition. Though alongside any member of the Galactic Alliance he trusted fully in his partners abilities.
He did not need to speak in order relay his message to his companion, the battle had begun, formalities were over.
The Jedi made his move. Being the close range combatant that he was he sprang forward, attempting to close the distance between himself and the impending Mandalorian threat, whom he knew to be excellent at repelling Jedi. This particular group, would not be fortunate enough to fit the Jedi besting reputation of their fellow Mandalorian brothers.

 

[MoreThanSane]

Aelianus had just finished his greeting when the hysteria broke loose. Civilians ran every which way, some screaming, other shouting, and still other sobbing. He once again marveled at the complexity of the scenario. The terror visible on each and every being's simulated face was so accurate as to make him momentarily doubt that he was in a simulation at all.

As the dropships screamed through the air above the city, Aelianus activated his G43's optics system, zooming in for a better look at the Mandalorian vessels. While one portion of his mind calculated trajectories and pieced together flight patterns the other analyzed armaments and scanned for likely structural weaknesses.

A dropship flew down between the buildings, landing roughly fifty meters in front of Aelianus' position. There was a thump, and smoke grenades flew out around the ship in a near-perfect circle. Master Talohn's lightsabers hissed to life, shedding a faint glow on the city floor. Aelianus glanced around, searching for cover. There were two speeders on the right side of the street and a speeder truck to his left, all vacant. Slowly, he began walking toward the truck.

A thud reached his ears, barely audible over the scream of repulsorlifts and cannons being discharged in other parts of the city. Boarding ramp, most likely, he thought.

Aelianus was nearly to the truck when he noticed Talohn spring into action. The Jedi sped toward the dropship at breakneck speed, his twin lightsabers a blur behind him. Aelianus counted three seconds, then opened up with his G43. The weapon sprayed slugs down the street, past Master Talohn and toward where he hoped the Mandalorians were coming down their dropship's ramp.

 

[Vencu]

"Contact front, spread out!"

The smokescreen was thick, but concealment could never replace hard cover. The second and third warriors down the ramp crumpled to the ground, jagged holes punched through their heavy durasteel armor like they had been nothing but folded sheets of flimsi. Their blood joined that of the bodies that littered the street. Their companions didn't hesitate. They pushed forward, returning fire as they sought cover among the rubble and the battle damaged speeders that littered the street and pedestrian walkways.

"I've got eyes on two confirmed hostiles, the rest are fleeing civvies."

"Kriffing hells... Jedi, front. Moving straight this way. Fast. Tagging him on your HUD, Boss."

"Second target, forty-six meters. Slugthrower. Full-auto... Tagged."

"Copy that. I see him now."

"Dav, Rico, suppressive fire. Saval, Gorst, advance and eliminate the shooter. The Jedi is mine."

"Got 'em, moving up... I've got eyes on... engaging."

Dav and Rico slid behind an upturned speeder, their heads-up displays highlighting the targets identified as Jedi and Shooter, even through the smokescreen. Infrared and active target tracking made visibility near perfect, even under the most austere conditions. Rico lowered into a crouch and leveled his repeater without hesitation, depressing the trigger and loosing a burst of blue-green plasma bolts toward Shooter's position. At his side, Dav followed suit, firing a number of rounds from his Verpine shatter gun. He didn't bother aiming for what little of Shooter was exposed. The high velocity Verp rounds had excellent penetration. A few of the rounds were bound to punch straight through the thin metal shell of the speeder that Shooter was using for cover and out the other end. Even if they didn't hit their intended target, they were sure to send Shooter running for a position that offered better protection. If he did make a run for it, Saval and Gorst could pick him off in the open. Those two were already closing in slowly but surely, keeping to the smoke and to the cover that the debris in the street provided.

A scant dozen meters from the dropship, Boss had dropped his rifle to the ground and started forward at a dead sprint, aiming to meet the fast approaching Jedi head-on. Jedi were arrogant. They rarely faced opponents who they considered their equals in combat. They were used to being feared, even if they didn't realize it. They were used to their opponents giving them a wide berth or avoiding them outright. AI or not, Boss was programmed to think and act like a Mandalorian would based on the GA's past encounters with the real Mandalorians and detailed mission recordings that had been collected over the past hundred years or more. The Jedi was already out of his element. He had lost his crutch. Just like his soldier companion, he was running blind. Soon, he would be fighting blind, too.

"Dav, now! Switch targets!" Dav was already peering down the scope of the Verp when he heard the order over the squad comlink. He already knew what Boss had in mind before the other warrior had even finished. Rotating in position, he aimed straight ahead of Boss and fired twice. The weapon made little more than a hiss as it discharged. Boss had already peeled away less than a millisecond before Dav had fired, lunging to the far right and then back to the left. He was moving to attack the Jedi from the side and his timing couldn't have been better. The two Verp projectiles wouldn't hit the Jedi. Dav had deliberately aimed high, but it would certainly set off his danger sense and send him diving for cover. The incoming projectiles might not be real, but this simulation was projected into the minds of the users. To their minds, it would be. If he didn't dive for cover, the Jedi might try to block the projectiles and as fast as they were traveling, it wouldn't be apparent that Dav had aimed high until the last second. Either way, they had the Jedi right where they wanted him.

And then Boss was on him, beskad in one hand, slashing downward toward the Jedi's left shoulder with all the simulated strength he could muster.

 

[Damien Nightblade]

The Mandalorian's and ignited the battlefield with a hell fire of blaster blots and smoke grenades, in an attempt to slow the Jedi's counterattack, However the quick thinking of the Galactic Alliance pilot aided their cause greatly as he rolled into cover and began unleashing suppressing fire to cover Darix's attack run.

The Mandalorian attacker known as Boss was upon the Jedi Master with a pace and timing that even he considered impressive. The simulation program seeking to really test the limits of the Jedi and his Soldier companion. Boss, positioned himself at Darix's left side and brought downward an overhead strike with his beskad intending to end the Jedi right then and there.
two verp shots rang out almost in unison as the blots seared through the air aimed at the Darix's head, timed perfectly in concert with the Mandalorian's attack, a clever tactic indeed.
Darix dropped low. His left foot extending backwards in response, allowing him a pivot point. the force alerting him of the impending danger of the blaster bolts, as they passed just above where the crown of his skull had been only fractions of a second earlier. Raising his sapphire blade upwards to meet the beskad with his left hand, he leveraged from his low position to meet the strength of the Mandalorian's attack as pivoted clockwise off of his left foot. The violet lightsaber within his right hand rotated in a purple blur to a reversed grip position as he fed his rotation hoping to take the Mandalorian by surprise with a quickly orchestrated swipe at the midsection.

He had hoped that Boss would have enough of his momentum dedicated to his attack that once he neared the end of his rotation and broke the parry he would be carried forward, the Jedi's blade catching him in the back as he was forced off balance.

 

[MoreThanSane]

Aelianus sucked in a surprised breath of air as two projectiles penetrated the speeder truck and whizzed passed his midsection. He searched his memory as he let off another burst from his G43, ignoring the bolts of plasma slapping into the truck's bed right in front of him. Within half a second, he had identified the weapon, calculating a seventy-three percent chance that he was correct regarding its make. Verpine shatter gun, he thought. Shatter guns were used frequently by Mandalorians, and they were among the few efficient kinetic-projectile weapons in the galaxy.

Slowly, steadily, he began edging toward the front of the speeder truck. He emptied his magazine, slugs spraying toward the two Mandalorians behind the upturned speeder, then let the G43 hang by its strap while he grabbed his heavy blaster pistol and continued firing, alternating between the two Mandos in the open and their brethren behind the speeder. Finally he reached the front of the truck. It was his hope that the repulsorlift engine located there would block--or at the very least slow--the shatter gun rounds until he could find more suitable cover.

Grunting, Aelianus dropped to his knees, beginning to reload his weapons and waiting for the fire to resume. He wasn't sure if any of his shots had connected. He had been more focused on keeping the Mandalorians from filling him full of holes rather than eliminating them.

 

[Vencu]

Jedi and their lightsabers.

Unseen, his opponent's violet bladed lightsaber slashed across Boss' midsection, hissing as it made contact with his armor plates. It left behind little more than a lengthy scorch mark. Programming dictated that Boss grin, even though his helmet was locked firmly in place, concealing such facial expressions from sight. The Jedi were used to carving through flesh like flimsi. They never needed to put much power behind their swings or slashes, not like a traditional swordsman did. The slash at his midsection felt as though it was little more than the slap of a hand. Not that it really mattered anyway: the properties of Boss' armor were programmed to mimic that of beskar, the rare and nearly indestructible Mandalorian iron. Even if the Jedi had swung with all his might, the glowing blade would have been stopped short.

Without hesitation, Boss bore down on the beskad with both hands, putting all his weight into driving his opponent's sapphire blade downward. In the same motion, he jerked his right knee upward, intent on stabbing the Jedi with a spiked knee-guard. The Jedi was already crouched low and he would no doubt be kept that way with all the weight Boss was putting behind the beskad. For the moment, the beskad ceased to be a weapon and became a tool to hamper his opponent's ability to react to Boss' rapidly approaching knee-jab.

A good forty or so meters behind where Boss and the Jedi fought, Saval and Gorst had managed to advance unseen and unmolested. Already, they were moving to flank Shooter on the far right, coming in from an angle where the scattered debris would conceal their approach and provide them with cover if needed. Dav and Rico continued to alternate fires, one firing while the other reloaded. It was continuous by design, keeping Shooter pinned behind the speeder truck.

"Lift fire, lift fire."

"Lifting fire..." Dav and Rico adjusted their aim, then continued to fire, this time just above the speeder where Shooter was hidden.

Saval and Gorst advanced, weapons raised. Just past a pile of rubble, they spotted movement. Shooter.

"Eyes on Shooter... shift fire, shift fire..." Saval and Gorst moved to skirt around the mountain of rubble, eyes still locked on where they had last spotted movement just ten meters away. They had to be right on top of him now.

"Shifting fire... Get 'em, boys." Dav and Rico shifted their aim to the far left, still firing to keep Shooter thinking he was pinned, but at the same time ensuring none of their rounds would hit Saval or Gorst as they moved in for the kill.

 

[Damien Nightblade]

Darix was a Jedi who's experience in combat had taken him to the furthest reaches of the galaxy, operating as a splinter cell for the New Jedi Order in the depths of the unknown regions of space. The downside being that he relied on his stealth and agility to carry him through such endeavors, in this particular position the Jedi found himself lacking both.

The violet blade had hit its mark however did little more than engrave the armor with a clean slash across his opponents midsection. A satisfying strike, though not pleasing enough of a result. As Boss bore down heavily with his beskad, Darix fought to keep from loosing his footing. The Mandalorian overpowered him, there was no contesting this. Talohn had but moments to formulate his next attack, still a bit in disarray he would have liked to call upon the force to expel him from his current position, allowing the situation to reset itself and once again begin on a neutral ground, however the spiked knee of the Mandalorian crashed into his abdominal armor with an unexpected force.

The armor he wore was not traditional battle armor, it was lighter, and allowed for enhanced maneuverability rather than a build that would normally be used to absorb damage. The Knee punched into the Jedi's armor crushing a portion of it inwards against his abdomen, knocking the air from his lungs.

Violet lashed out as he reversed his previous attack motion. Swinging backwards attempting to scythe his opponent with the starving burn his lightsaber. Boss could distance himself and discard his attack in order to evade. Giving him a chance to capitalize. Though the limits of Mandalorian's armor had not been thoroughly tested and the strike may be one well endured.
Regardless of the result, the Jedi Master should be able to physically negotiate the space he needed to regroup.
If not he was in for a whole new set of problems.

Elsewhere on the battlefield he noticed his Soldier companion taking cover behind a rapidly decaying speeder.
So far the Galactic Alliance team seemed to have been losing the advantage in this simulation, though it would take more than suppressive fire and a knee to the gut to break the resolve of these two warriors who took this battlefield in defense of their Alliance. It was because of this they would not falter. The weight upon which was baring dawn upon the two would mean nothing if without a cause to stand for, a people to protect.

 

[MoreThanSane]

The battlefield was deafening.

Explosions roared in the distance. Fighters and larger dropships screeched by overhead, some damaged and trailing fire, others spitting out volleys and volleys of molten death. But none of these sounds compared to that of the plasma ripping through the air just centimeters above the speeder truck behind which Aelianus hid. His weapons were loaded, his muscles were tense, and his mind was prepared to kill whatever he could point his weapon at.

But that was the problem. The simulation was too intelligent to allow him to simply exchange fire with the Mandalorians. No, they were behaving just as seasoned members of that warrior culture would. And so Aelianus knew that he wouldn't have the opportunity to sit this battle out behind cover, picking them off one by one. They were utilizing suppressive fire with extreme efficiency, and Aelianus was no fool. They outnumbered him at least four to one. The conventional soldier would simply sit back and riddle his cover with holes, hoping that he'd get hit by something.

The Mandalorians, unfortunately, were not conventional soldiers. These were intelligent men, schooled in the art of war. The simulation had captured that essence. With that knowledge came a realization: they were coming for him.

And sitting would only get him killed.

He scooted over toward the driver's door and opened it. Inside sat a lifeless human body, slumped over the controls. Aelianus almost gagged. The odor dispelled any doubts he had as to the authenticity of the simulation. Crouching, he reached up and moved the body off the controls. His plan was simple. The Mandalorians had telegraphed their intentions through the use of exclusively suppressive fire. That told Aelianus he had to act. But there was a side effect of sorts that came with the Mandalorian's tactic; the only blaster bolts and projectiles of any sort that had pierced the truck had been directed toward its rear. Since his move toward the more dense forward section, the Mandalorians had been directing their fire just above the speeder's top. With any luck at all, the repusorlifts wouldn't be damaged and the vehicle would still be functional.

Aelianus knew the Mandalorians had to be getting close. His heart pumping ever faster, he pressed the repulsorlift activator. The truck stayed silent, then hummed to life a moment later. Pleased with the results, Aelianus grabbed the dead human's leg and poised it over the accelerator. Turning the controls so as to cause the vehicle to turn toward the upturned speeder once it began moving, he grabbed onto the truck's side and then let go of the man's leg.

With a jolt the truck shot off, pulling him back toward the rear and pressing him up against its outer plating. The door slammed shut as it began on its arcing path toward the upturned speeder. Aelianus turned his head as he once again got a grip on his G43, other hand still wrapped tightly around a lip on the truck's side.

He had been right. There were two Mandalorians on the other side of the truck, not ten meters away. They were obviously surprised. He smiled, lifting his G43 and firing from the hip. Slugs sprayed out of its tip, hurtling toward the armored figures. He was nearly sure they would connect, but was unable to see the results as the truck continued its turn, taking them out of his line of sight.

The vehicle was coming up on the upturned speeder now, still accelerating and on a direct collision course with the side where Aelianus had last seen the other two Mandalorians. He pointed his G43 at the opposite end, hoping they would run around the damaged speeder that way and give him an opportunity to pick them off. He counted the seconds, knowing he had very few before he would have to let go of the speeder truck so as not to be killed in the inevitable collision.

 

[Vencu]

Boss recoiled as the violet blade reversed direction abruptly, instantly releasing one hand from the hilt of his beskad as he lunged backward to avoid the swipe. Surely even beskar had its limits and Boss' programming told him he didn't want to test them right now, especially not at close range where the Jedi could continue slashing with near-impunity. He wasn't about to give up now, though, and as he transitioned to a more stable fighting stance, he brought up both his gauntlets to press his hard won advantage. Leveled at the Jedi, both released a torrent of liquid-fire that reached out like living, breathing organisms, creating two distinct cones of blue flame five meters long and one meter in diameter. But Boss didn't stop there.

As soon as the cones of fire extended to their full length, a blink of his eye instantly choked the line feeding fuel to the flame projectors... and then Boss was already lunging forward before the fire and wisps of black smoke had a chance to clear, flames licking hungrily at the blue and gold paint that covered his armor plates. The beskad was still held one-handed, slicing through the acrid smoke as it was guided in a downward arc, straight toward the Jedi's neck. That was just a ruse, of course. Boss shifted his weight with practiced efficiency and balance at the last moment. His left fist, armored knuckles forward and vibroblade extended, were already mid-punch and closing fast. With any luck, the Jedi would focus on one attack over the other, but if the vibroblade hit home, it was sure to hit at the shoulder or upper bicep. There was no doubt it would make short work of any light armor or clothing in the way and then pierce deep into flesh.

-----

Saval and Gorst skirted the last meter around the rubble pile at a dead sprint, then dropped to the ground as slugthrower rounds whizzed past them and hit the rubble pile where they had been a moment before. Before they could get a shot in, the speeder had disappeared into the lingering smokescreen. Gorst was quick to warn his companions over their squad comlink, "In the speeder, coming your way!"

Dav and Rico reacted in unison as only men who had trained together most of their lives would, their jetpacks rocketing them up and backward. Rico was the first to fire and even before he had extended his right gauntlet fully, it flared, launching a single rocket toward the oncoming vehicle. Dav was quick to follow, unleashing a blinding tempest of blaster fire as he switched his repeater to full auto and sprayed the the vehicle and the surrounding area with bolts of blue-green plasma... and then Rico's jetpack sputtered once, sending sparks and thick, rolling smoke from its exhaust vents. Its thrusters reactivated briefly, then shut off. Rico plummeted to the street below, slamming into the duracrete with a loud, sickening crack. He didn't move to get up. Dav knew jetpacks and that had been no malfunction. Rico had to have taken a hit in mid-flight.

 

[Damien Nightblade]

The Mandalorian's brief moment of recoil was all that Darix needed to regain his ground. He lashed out with his purple blade forcing the Mandalorian to give ground and footing as the pressure he bore down upon the Jedi Master ceased abruptly. Darix took this fraction of a second to slide himself out from beneath the locked weapons of the two combatants and reset his tactical foothold.
The Jedi Master took note of the Mandalorian's lack of faith in his armor during that particular encounter and stored it within the depths of his mind to be called upon later during the battle, should a similar situation present itself.
Though in the moments Darix took to recalculate his opponent used to retaliate. Bringing level his flame projectors the Mandalorian in command unleashed a hell storm of fire in Darix direction. Knowing that his Jedi robes were all but a memory at this point he accepted the fine fabric as a casualty of war, as his split second decision making could only hope to preserve one of them, he naturally assumed it best that his body be the one to endure the encounter most unscathed.
The force propelled him upwards as he twisted in the air to right himself behind the Mandalorian.
His robes burning away to ashes taking some of his uncovered flesh with it as they faded into the wind of the crystal planet. Burns pained him between plated armor although he could not allow himself a moment to react accordingly.
As his feet made contact with the crystalline walk way that had become the stage for their grim display of chaotic choreography, The Jedi struck as the Mandalorian swiped death dealing blows where the nimble guardian of the light had once been.

Violet and Sapphire thirsted to taste more beskarian armor, in their pursuit to feed upon Mandalorian flesh as he embraced the Ventress form he had perfected over the years. His swordplay becoming more than a series of precision strikes and feints, but a hurricane of pure energy raging toward the Mandalorian warlord, a physical manifestation of all that was good in the force, at the eye of the storm.
He focused his attacks on elementary bait and strike maneuvers leading attention with one blade while using the other for a fluid follow up motion hoping to catch the Mandalorian off step.

 

[MoreThanSane]

Aelianus knew that he was in the last second that he could afford to stay clutched to the side of the speeder truck. Time seemed to slow as more and more adrenaline pumped through him. The young man's senses took in everything. The scream of the repulsorlifts as they propelled the truck on its doomed course. The cry of repeater rounds tearing into the speeder's front end and scorching the crystalline ground. The flashing of those bolts as they flew past Aelianus close enough to singe skin and hair.

He calculated that--taking into account the spread of repeater fire, the Mandalorian's previous displays of marksmanship, and the turbulence of jetpack flight--he had roughly three-quarters of a second before a bolt of superheated plasma would catch him and end the simulation. Releasing his grip on the truck, Aelianus raised his leg and kicked with all his strength. He rocketed away from the vehicle, almost completely horizontal. He was still facing the soaring Mandalorians, though, and watched as one launched a rocket toward the incoming truck.

Aelianus jerked his G43 up and loosed a volley of slugs. Just as his finger released the trigger, he smacked hard into the ground. The shock ran up his shoulder, flinging his head down and wrenching his neck painfully. He brought his hands up to protect his neck and head from any further damage as he continued in a vicious roll down the crystal road. His weapons dug into his back and side with each rotation, pushing air from his laboring lungs.

As soon as he felt his tumble begin slowing significantly, Aelianus splayed out his arms and legs, stabilizing himself and turning his mad roll into a much less painful slide. Dizzy, he tried to focus his vision toward where he'd last seen the Mandalorians. He could see one blurry figure still hovering, continuing to spray blaster bolts toward the speeder, but the other was nowhere to be found.

And then Aelianus saw the rocket. It impacted the speeder a mere seven meters away, igniting the repulsorlift fuel lines and detonating in an ear-splitting boom. The following shock wave lifted him bodily and threw him another three meters in the opposite direction. The battered soldier landed near a meter-high pile of rubble. Every section of his body was consumed with pain, aching. He could see shrapnel littering the ground all around him, with more slamming down from above.

Ignoring his protesting body, he dragged himself behind the mound of rubble. It was irregularly shaped, he saw; a sort of half-semicircle, with another, smaller pile close by and to his left, in the direction from which he and the speeder had come.

He leaned up against the broken pieces of duracrete and metal, searching his body for damage. As long as that detonation had affected the Mandalorians as it had him, he should half enough time for a reasonably thorough examination. He ran his hands over his abdomen. Besides bruises and a few shallow cuts and scratches, it seemed intact. He checked his left leg, finding the same, and then had to bite his tongue to prevent himself crying out in pain as he gripped his right thigh.

He moved his jacket where it had been covering the limb. A fist-sized piece of shrapnel had punched through his armor, gouging deep into the muscle. Clenching his teeth, Aelianus gripped it with a gloved hand. Taking a deep breath, he pulled. A moan escaped him as the object was removed. He removed a tourniquet from a belt pouch and strapped it on, hoping to prevent significant blood loss.

Breathing heavily and grunting, Aelianus heaved himself up to his knees, getting himself into a more defensible position. With any luck at all he would be able to see the Mandalorians coming long before they reached him.

 

[Vencu]

Boss allowed the momentum gained from his failed attack to propel him forward as the edges of the vibrant, glowing blades slashed harmlessly against his back armor plate... and then he spun around suddenly, half-jumping, half-lunging as the ancient beskad fell to the ground with a sharp metallic clap. His arms went wide as he flew forward, intent on tackling the Jedi to the ground, lightsabers and all. It wasn't a conventional tactic, but that's exactly why his programming told him there was a high probability it could work. The abrupt change in direction and the open charge that would normally have been suicidal if not for his beskar gave him an element of surprise and would likely confuse his opponent. It was that surprise and confusion that would buy Boss the few precious seconds he needed to wrap his arms around the Jedi and force the man to the crystalline roadway.


-----


Saval and Gorst moved after the speeder at a full sprint, weaving back and forth to avoid the rubble in their path. Had one of them provided covering fire as the other sprinted ahead, they could have mitigated the risk, but it would have been slow going. Moving as they were now, there was no chance he could get an easy shot should he look back and decide to fire on them.

They had already spotted Shooter latched to the rear of the speeder as he loosed a number of short bursts toward Dav and Rico, who had ignited their jetpacks and flown backward as they fired their own weapons in retaliation. Rico had launched a single missile at the oncoming vehicle. That's when Shooter released his grip. The speeder he had been riding went up in a fiery ball of fire and smoke a second later, flinging shrapnel in every direction.


Saval and Gorst dropped in unison, immediately transitioning into a prone fighting position. Shooter fired again just before he hit the ground, but he was falling too fast and at an awkward angle. His shots went wide, missing Dav by several meters. Not a second later, the shock wave caused by the explosion sent Shooter flying into a mound of rubble. He was a short distance away from where he had fallen initially, but now he had cover. Somewhere hovering in the distance, Dav stopped firing. That was their cue. Both Saval and Gorst primed one high-explosive incendiary grenade each and tossed them toward the mound of rubble. "Cheers, mate!"

 

[Damien Nightblade]

The Mandalorian's sudden turn and strike tactic was one that the Jedi, although the premier swordsman within his order had not been accustomed to dealing with. Though it was the ability to adapt and react to unforeseen circumstances that earned him his position and the right to continue living many times over.
The simulated sound of the beskad hitting the crystal walkway beneath them was enough to know that save for another potential burst of flames, he was only in danger of being forced to the ground beneath the might of the Mandalorian warlord.
Violet and Sapphire waged war on the space between them, his whirlwind of slashes and calculated strikes unrelenting as Boss's leap towards the Jedi could only carry him through a maelstrom of pure sapphire and violet energy. The Battlemaster, having learned from his previous encounters that striking at the armor was of little use, was focused on slicing through the unarmored portions of Boss's armor. More appropriately the arms and neck, where the armor plating was spared to allow the Mandalorian to move in an effective fashion.

Experience and training allowed Darix a foresight of sorts. Should his strikes hit their mark, he saw clearly Mandalorian limbs severing from their host and falling lifelessly to the ground. The air already spoiled with the smell of fire and burning durasteel, scorched beskar, and verpine rounds, would be pungent with cauterized Mandalorian flesh as well.
The alternative however, saw the Jedi Master crashed into with the full force of a Mandalorian warlord geared with the weight and density of beskar to augment his force. Forcing Darix to the ground in a pile beneath him. Either situation called for yet another series of followup actions and reactions. Regardless of weather or not the dice rolled in his favor, Darix was prepared for either.

 

[MoreThanSane]

Aelianus poked his head over the wall of rubble just in time to see the two prone Mandalorians release grenades. He cursed--a pleasure he rarely allowed himself. Immediately, the former professor analyzed the explosives' relative trajectories. One, he predicted, would impact the opposite face of the pile of rubble, detonating with little to no danger to him. The other, however, was quite expertly thrown and would hit the ground right next to his left knee, no doubt bringing an end to his participation in the simulation.

Inadmissible, he decided. Dropping back into a squat and mustering all his strength, he sprang to his left. His leg seemed to cry out in agony, but it functioned well enough. He rolled over the edge of the rubble to his left and slid to the ground, now with at least eight hundred kilos of duracrete and various other materials between him and the two Mandalorians.

The first grenade hit the pile with a dull clank and exploded a split second afterward, sending fire and rubble into the air. It was followed almost immediately by another detonation. Dust, dirt, and smoke blew all over, creating a smokescreen comparable to that emitted by a genuine smoke grenade.

Aelianus immediately took advantage of the temporary decrease in visibility. Crouched, he moved as fast as his injured leg would allow just right of where he'd last seen the two soldiers, hoping to flank them. Though not completely sure, he knew it was a possibility that the Mandalorians' helmet optics would allow them to see through the diversionary screen, so he kept himself low, behind rubble wherever possible. He couldn't be sure with the ringing in his ears caused by the detonations, but he thought he heard rounds rip through the air behind him. It could have been that the two warriors had seen him, or they may have simply been spraying the area with fire just in case he was still alive. Regardless, Aelianus knew there was only one logical option: move.

He dove behind the burned-out hulk of what it looked like was once an expensive convertible-top speeder. Coughing the remnants of the smoke out of his lungs, he ignored the sensation of hot blood pouring down his leg and swung the barrel of his G43 over the speeder's edge. Now out of the smoke and dust, which was rapidly dissipating off to his left, Aelianus scanned the area around him, finger poised on his weapon's trigger.

He noticed first the glow of his Jedi ally's twin lightsabers roughly twenty meters out. He was engaged with what looked to be a rather insane Mandalorian charging head-first toward him. Unfortunately, the two were too close together for Aelianus to assist. Deciding this in the most infinitesimal of moments, he continued swinging his weapon around, hoping to catch sight of another of his three remaining opponents.

 

[Vencu]

Boss continued his charge as the violet and sapphire blades lashed out, one at his neck and the other a joint, just opposite his left elbow. In those precious seconds, even with so little space between the two men, the blades met their mark for the briefest of moments. The acrid stench of burning paint and the sizzle of sweat and blood drenched armor was nearly overwhelming. Had he not been programmed to notice, Boss would have been surprised that he picked it up in the midst of the battle.

His gorget, a thick collar-piece of forged beskar, stopped the violet blade short and after a moment, it slid harmlessly past, leaving a lengthy scorch line as it burned away the paint. To a Mandalorian, a mark like that was little more than a souvenir; a reminder of what could have been a quick end had they failed to invest time and credits into their armor or maintain it to standard.

The quick slash of the sapphire blade had been more successful, but again, it was beskar that prevented any significant damage to the wearer. The Jedi forms were quick and powerful, but also predictable. Long before Mandalorian armorsmiths learned how to forge armor, they learned what areas needed the most protection. For some, those lessons had cost a limb or caused a limp, but the art had long been perfected through thousands of years worth of firsthand experiences.

The glowing blade met the thick mesh of Boss' bodysuit first, making short work of the material. Then it met the thin, heat and blast resistant undersuit beneath. Flesh began to boil as the blade ate at the undersuit. Had it not been for the bands that extended from the elbow armor and wrapped around his forearm and bicep, the blade would have passed straight through and on to bone. Boss knew pain like an old friend, or so his programming told him. Instead of recoiling at the sudden injury, Boss slammed his helmeted head forward in what was affectionately referred to as the Keldabe Kiss, sometimes a simple tap of helmets to acknowledge a loved one without removing helmets, other times a powerful headbutt. Boss' attack wasn't a tap and it wasn't just powerful, it was violent. All the pain and anger he felt, simulated or not, went in to the attack as they hit the ground.


-----


Even with his injury, Shooter had mustered the strength needed to escape the brunt of the grenade attack, but his reliance on the smokescreen could have costly consequences. Saval and Gorst saw the man jump from cover and quickly disappear behind the scattered rubble, but there was no mistaking his heat signature as he darted between the piles of debris and crashed speeders. Flaming debris and wreckage gave off their own heat signatures, but his was like a bright torch and none of the others moved as he did. Splitting up, Saval moved to face Shooter head-on while Gorst sprinted forward to trail just behind the man. The risk of a crossfire was certain, but to a trained Mandalorian, it was just another tactic to throw an enemy off-balance. Weapons raised, the two seasoned warriors closed in on their prey from opposite directions, ready to corner Shooter and put him down once and for all.

 

[Damien Nightblade]

Unyielding Mandalorian crashed into a heap upon the Jedi, his blades yet again tasting the Mandalorian's armor, and this time even penetrating a joint section. The Jedi knew his precision had aided him in the successful landing of a blow however his small victory was short lived, as the bodysuit beneath took the brunt of the weapons energetic bite.
The moments faded into a singular action as he found himself on the ground beneath the larger opponent, staring upwards and into the eye slits of his helmet connecting solidly at close range with the bones of his own human skull.
The force allowed his bones to remain intact, softening the blow however it contact resulted in what could be delicately described as the worst headache he'd experienced in years. Blood spilled out of the newly formed gash that formed along the Darix's hairline and trickled seamlessly down his face.
The force now his only physical hope of removing himself from the encounter he reached outwards, careful not to dip too deeply into his reserves and recalled the dropped hilt of violet into his right hand, pressed open end of the hilt against the Mandalorian and ignited it.
Although it was a moment to be seen through to completion, merely to analyze the results of his actions he did not have the time, nor the comfort within his current situation to allow the Mandalorian any more time atop him.
He felt the weapons power surge within his hand as it ignited to its full length, though the actual penetrative powers even at this point were incalculable to him.
He grunted his left hand pressed firmly against the Mandalorian torso and expelled an overwhelming amount of force energy throwing the larger man off of him and back towards the two shooters he allied himself with.

The literal weight lifted from his chest he allowed himself only a moments pause to recover his breath and get his bearings before forcing himself to his feet. By now Boss should have hit the ground, maybe even recovered. He couldn't afford to take the chance.
Behind him now, having placed himself between the two combatants his companion Aelianus took cover behind what was once a speeder of substantial value, before the Mandalorian fire squad had turned it into scrap, that is. He had spent the majority of the battle exchanging shots with the two Mandalorian riflemen, he himself had spent his time engaged with the brains and brawn of their operation. However neither one of them had gained any substantial headway. Deciding it best that they present a united front against them, he bounded for the same cover. Trusting his partner to provide the necessary amount of cover fire.

 

[MoreThanSane]

Aelianus sighted in through the G43's optics, its thermal system allowing him to quickly find the two Mandalorians' heat signatures amidst the flames and rubble. One of them was following the trail he'd taken to his current position, while the other had split and was coming around some scattered mounds on the speeder hulk's opposite side.

He looked around. There was no cover close enough and at such an angle that he would be able to shield himself from the Mandalorian who was coming up behind him, not with his injured leg. He was about to spin around and simply wait for the soldier's arrival when he noticed Talohn go down with the Mandalorian leader on top of him. Almost instantly the armored figure was shot backwards into the air, the Jedi Master already to his feet and bounding toward Aelianus' position by the time he'd hit the ground.

Several assessments flashed through Aelianus' mind. The soldier on his trail would be in a position to assault him from mere meter's away in under four seconds. His companion would be rounding his own pile of rubble in three seconds, putting him in line to open fire on Master Talohn or Aelianus himself. Master Talohn, on the other hand, wouldn't make his position for at least five seconds given his current rate of travel, more if he was forced to engage the Mandalorian coming up on his flank. And the Mandalorian leader was now raising himself from the ground, undoubtedly prepared to discharge one of his various weapons in their direction.

Aelianus knew that, at this point, thought had no place in combat, only skill and instinct.

He aimed his weapon at the Mandalorian leader and squeezed off eight well-aimed rounds. He wasn't sure whether the shots would penetrate the other's heavy armor, but they would at the very least slow him down or throw him off balance. Satisfied, he shifted his aim to where the other Mandalorian would be coming around the rubble pile within range of the Jedi Master and prepared to loose several more shots in his direction. Aelianus allowed himself a small smile. When the man showed himself he would be met with a withering hail of slugs, some of which would most probably manage to blow through his armor.

The Private was painfully aware of the fact that his actions left him open to attack by the Mandalorian coming up behind him. He remained objective enough, however, to know that the Jedi Master was the Galactic Alliance's most valuable asset in this simulation, and knew that protecting him should be the primary goal. He could only hope that Talohn managed to return the favor, and defend him from the last Mando, as he wasn't interested in suffering even a simulated death.