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Viraen Kyrdol

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About Viraen Kyrdol

  • Birthday 06/14/1995

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  1. One Dark Night

    Viraen didn't know how he'd fallen off from his perch, and he didn't know how long he'd been lying on his back in the middle of the debris. His vision was still blurry, but he was starting to gain some of his movement back, enough to roll onto his stomach and realize that it was there that his body refused to stand up. 'Well, this is going well,' was all the coherent thought he was capable of at the moment. It was at that point that Viraen could have sworn he heard the sound of someone talking, or rather his helmet rather inconsiderately picked up and amplified the sounds of distant conversation. He winced, and groaned at the sudden disturbance. He could have sworn that the damned thing must have been damaged, because he could hear some strange humming sounds too. In fact, his tired mind was telling him that they sounded oddly like the humming of a lightsaber. The very sound seemed to jolt some energy into his badly injured and fatigued body. He almost comically stumbled to his feet. Viraen had to hold onto some of the debris around him to steady himself. What it was, he wasn't sure, but he was grateful for it's presence. He clumsily drew his particle pistol, dropped it and bent to pick it up. He almost fell again when he bent down. Maintaining a firm grip on the weapon, he used the crook of his other arm to support the large handgun's barrel. The action hurt, and induced enough fatigue to make him want to just collapse again. But the humming of lightsabers had triggered a primal instinct in him, the urge to survive. Surviving right now meant not passing out. He didn't want to be passed out in that crater when that fight finished, he couldn't even tell who it was between, and so he had no idea who the potential victor was. What suddenly jarred him is when he heard screaming. Viraen had no idea what to make of that. Viraen didn't know who was screaming or what the haran was going on. Viraen was fighting against the pain in every inch of his body, against the voice in the back of his head that was telling him to lie down again. Viraen didn't want to, not with every fibre of his being. Lying down with force users in the room was a death sentence, especially since he wasn't sure how the dar'jetii was going to react to things. Even so, all of Viraen's resolve couldn't out do biology, and he'd managed to move very little since he came to. He was slowly starting to remember just how less than ideal coming off of stimms felt. In summary, Viraen felt like total and complete shit, and his biomonitor wasn't exactly disputing that. Maybe just a minute to catch his breath wouldn't be so bad...
  2. Swift Reckoning

    Viraen wasn't surprised that she hadn't bought his lie. He didn't buy his lie. Only problem was that this wasn't something that was pertinent to the matter at hand, even if he himself was working with them, the matter wasn't theirs to deal with. Besides, it wasn't something that was going to be sorted with a few words here and there. This was something that he was struggling with for a long time, and something that he'd only acknowledged recently. "It's not something that'll be over and done with in a few minute's conversation, vod, but I appreciate the offer," he said over the shared comms before he considered Tece's comment. 'She likes us already, yeah right, and I'm the head of the Tion shabla Hegemony,' he thought to himself, resisting the urge to scoff. Her comment on disappearing though, he couldn't resist commenting about that, "Don't know how much you know about my clan, but disappearing is our thing." Viraen almost had to bite his tongue to avoid adding how he was sure her Jetii senses would probably be able to find him even if he did. How he hated their ability to do that, even though he knew it took them some effort. Sinha putting away her spear prompted Viraen to put his rifle away. The RT-97C's long barrel was an asset in long ranged engagements, but here it was only going to make maneuvering through tight spaces awkward. Viraen then drew his particle beam pistol with practised ease, a targeting reticule for the weapon popping up on his HUD a moment later. Viraen glanced at R6 as it beeped and whistled, he didn't bother consulting his onboard translation routines, since Tece translated for them. Viraen was more than capable of doing a little poking around himself, but if the droid was going to do it then that was one less thing for him to have to do. Maybe it would end up being useful after all. Of course there was also the chance that the Republic had left powerful counter intrusion routines on the network if it was even up after the beating that this place had taken. If it was still up, and considering standard procedure would be to assume control of a network like this, attempting access could also give their position away. Making sure to look at R6, Viraen waited for Sinha to finish and then added, "Sinha's right, and that's even if the network's still functional after the station's taken a beating like this. If it is, watch for counter intrusion routines, and be discreet. Their standard operating procedure is to assume control of a network like this." Viraen wondered for a moment if he'd given away perhaps a little too much, but then quickly dismissed it. There was no way to tell how he'd come across this knowledge, and for someone in his line of work there was no end to the number of ways in which such a thing was possible. Of course, if some- He stopped that line of thinking there. Who the kriff cares who knew? Certainly not his buir, and he shouldn't kriff around by sweating this sort of thing. They had a job to get done. Viraen responded to Sinha's exhortation with an "Oya" of his own, and by flicking the safety of the particle pistol off. The weapon hummed to life in his hands and the red crosshairs changed to the same cool blue of the rest of his HUD elements. Debug warnings from his sensors complained about overloaded buffers, alerting him to the fact that their sensors were going to be quite useless for the time being. Which was far from comforting. While they weren't exactly bumbling around in the dark, it was going to make getting around this shabla station much more of a problematic task than he and likely his two companions would have preferred. Getting through the station was getting to be such a kriffing chore. Viraen moved through the cramped surroundings with commendable grace for someone as tall and built as he was, even with his rifle barrel proving to be a problem more than once. That didn't mean he did any of that without swearing and cursing the entire time in a variety of languages; from Basic, to Mando'a to Huttese. A few Trando ones made it in there too. The strenuous task of getting through the station was slowly but surely getting to him, and even in the temperature controlled suit, Viraen could feel himself sweating. He could feel the fatigue setting in slowly through his muscles. He wasn't tired yet, but merely the fact that it was setting in was enough to frustrate him even more. Viraen did a decent job of not showing it, but when they came across the one hallway that looked like a scene out of a maintenance chief's nightmare, Viraen snapped. "Shabla fan-kriffing-tastic," he spat, weaving Mando'a and Basic into his words to convey his displeasure. Limited sensor range meant that it took more than a few moments, but eventually after working in concert with Sinha's gear, a way through was found. It wasn't ideal, and Viraen wasn't sure if he wanted to trust it, but it would give him a better idea than what he had right now. He sucked his teeth in thought, 'Well Vir'ika, now's your chance to prove you don't depend on the beskar'gam.' The cables weren't really going to be a problem, unless they started shorting out the electronics, which was possible if they had enough current flowing through them. Of course, because they were sparking like this, and there were so many of them, they were generating enough local interference to make checking that a distinct impossibility. He just had to hope he didn't bump any of them. Sinha had a similar reaction apparently, though a far tamer one in comparison. Viraen took a moment to visualize her plan in his head before he nodded. He followed Sinha, pausing only when she did to tell him to 'avoid the sparky bits'. He laughed, his laugh resembling a dry cough more than a laugh. The cursing continued through this area as well, and increased in frequency as the fatigue continued to set in. Naturally, he kept this to himself. For the most part initially, he managed to stay behind Sinha, but when she managed to wedge herself between a pair of pipes that would have never fitted even a vivisected him through, he turned to try and find his own way through. "I really, really hate this station," he muttered as he barely avoided a pair of thick sparking conduits. Just when he thought he'd found a way through, the smile that had prematurely formed on his face faded when he realized that his 'way through' was a collapsed duct on top of which was a veritable forest of sparking cables. Viraen was lost for words at this point. Instead, he let out a tired sigh and got onto his belly, hugging the ducting for dear life as the cables sparked above him. Slowly pulling himself forward, Viraen found himself cursing not just the Republic, but the station's designers and even those that designed their design software. It was then that his HUD flashed an alert, alerting him to the fact that his comms systems had picked up a communication. "Kad kriffing Ha'rangir's katdape shebs, what now?" he snarled to himself. Noting Sinha's request to halt, he sighed and did just that, assuming she'd picked up the communication too. He checked the comm logs and was treated to a garbled static ridden mess that he could barely make out. He was about to see if he could clean up the signal when he noticed through their shared datalink that Sinha was already doing so, and so didn't. When he heard that Sinha had no success in the matter, Viraen turned his mic back on, "We've got a location in the least, might as well get moving in that direction."
  3. A Helping Hand

    Suuhymu'hbjavrars HQ, Mandalore, an or two hour earlier Viraen was wondering how drunk he'd been to have managed to let something like this slip. He trusted Ikaan like he trusted his own parents, the man was as much an uncle to him as Varan was. He'd yet to lead him astray or steer him in the wrong direction. At no point however, did VIraen intend on making his problems anyone else's problems. So sitting in one of the briefing rooms, Viraen did not expect to be having this conversation with him. "Vir'ika, I think we've known each other a long enough time that you'd know that you can't lie to me," said Ikaan, giving him that disappointed look that Viraen had received a few times when he'd perhaps pushed his luck a little too far and even he knew it. It was the 'I expect better from you' look. "'Elek, but I don't recall hiring you on as a therapist, al'verde," replied Viraen, with perhaps a little more venom than he'd intended. Viraen immediately regretted it. The expression on Ikaan's face changed, belaying how less than thrilled his al'verde was about it as well. He hadn't meant it that way. He was flattered that Ikaan wanted to help, but he didn't think this was something that he could just talk about. He'd tried that, it hadn't really helped that much, only in all fairness he hadn't really tried that hard. He'd talked to the wrong person as well, he'd talked to his uncle. He didn't want to stir up any of the unpleasant memories of what his parents had gone through. He knew how what had happened to him had hit them pretty hard too, let alone what they'd gone through. He should have talked to someone, yes. Who in haran was he going to talk to about it though? After his last encounter with Clan Dreysel's clan leader, he'd considered speaking to her, but Viraen was sure she didn't have time for him. She had enough to deal with without having to deal with a mess like him. Especially not after...well, after the shabla explosion and his kriffing coma. Things got fuzzy, memories plagued him, it made things...complicated. Complicated was a mess waiting to happen. Viraen knew he was a mess. Who in their right mind would want anything to do with that? He'd kriffed up enough lately, kriffed up enough to come to that realization. 'When the armor stops becoming something you wear and becomes something you need to hold your own weight, you know you've kriffed up.' It was Ikaan who'd told him that. That was closer to the truth lately than he was comfortable admitting, but it was what had finally convinced that he wasn't fine. That things wouldn't just go back to normal. Maybe he was wearing that realization on his sleeve more than he was aware. Ikaan saw the expression on his face change, and the one on his face softened. "You need help, Vir'ika. You know it. Your aliit know it. Alor Ca'tran and I had a talk, he wanted me to keep you here until you got the help you needed," said Ikaan, the serious look on his face made Viraen's heart sink. Had he become this much of a problem, that the clan leader was now involving himself? Har'chaak, was he this much of a disappointment? Or was he in this much need of help that even Ca'tran Kyrdol could see it even with all of his responsibilities. Viraen's expression must have changed, because Ikaan immediately addressed it, "Udesii vod, I brought it up with him because I wasn't quite sure who to send you to. He knows just the person, and you've worked with her before, so we're both sure that you'll get along just fine. Clan Dreysel's Alor, Sinha, has agreed to help out on Alor Ca'tran's request. You're going to meet her at the Oyu'baat, and you're going to let her help you. Tayli'bac?" Ikaan's words were firm and stern. Viraen knew that there was no arguing his way out of this one. Part of him recognized the futility of arguing. After all, he was only lying to himself, not anyone else. If he kept that up, no one was going to help him, and then this was only going to get worse. Viraen nodded reluctantly and put his helmet on. "Elek, vod," he said, slowly standing up. "Is there anything else?" "Nayc, vod," said Ikaan, taking a moment to look him over, before he actually spoke. Viraen turned to leave when he heard Ikaan speak again, "K'oyacyi." Viraen knew which meaning he was going for, and so he simply nodded, and made his way out of the building. Keldabe, Mandalore Viraen left his ship on one of the public landing pads at Keldabe. The craft got a few looks, but then again so did he in his armor. There were the obligatory greetings and and the obligatory thinly veiled threats that he'd gotten used to. It was part and parcel of life in a 'controversial' clan like Kyrdol. Turns out people didn't like the clan that took it upon themselves to 'remove' the dar'manda among them, thereby keeping the number of resol'nare violating troublemakers to minimum. Truth be told they were more than a little preemptive sometimes. Some people loved them for that, and some people wanted the head of every member of Clan Kyrdol on a stake for that. There was also a fair number who were completely indifferent on the matter. The above was double for any member of the Wraiths, and his armor marked him unmistakably as just that. He'd gotten into street brawls, bar brawls and even gun fights because of it. This time, thankfully none of the above happened. Which suited Viraen just fine, because he was in no mood to deal with any chaakare any more than barely registering and then promptly ignoring any scowls and death glares he got. His buy'ce made that task disturbingly easy, no thanks to his properly kriffed up psyche of course. If he had to actually look them in their eyes with his own, he was sure he'd have drawn and pulled the trigger at this point. Which would have ended poorly one way or another. That osik on Niruan had reminded him how much further he had to recover, and Viraen had no intention of letting himself get that kriffed up again. The walk from the landing pad to the Oyu'baat was otherwise uneventful, thankfully. Viraen made it through the entrance to the Oyu'baat and then slipped off his helmet, attaching it to his belt. Viraen began looking around for Sinha, and it took him some effort to locate her in the crowd. It wasn't the most packed he'd seen the place, but the Oyu'baat was never really ever empty in the first place. Of course, Viraen found it ironic that he was doing his best to avoid potential conflict on the way here, and here was Sinha Dreysel in a situation that looked like it was going to devolve into a bar fight. Viraen began slowly making his way toward her, but took the opportunity to assess the situation. There was another Mandalorian with her, potentially another clan member, holding onto a little Mirialan girl. The girl had more of an olive skin tone than the usual shade of green he was used to, and interestingly enough didn't have any tattoos. Viraen had no idea what she had to do with this or even if she did, but somehow the way the two women had put themselves between potential harm and her, he gathered she was important to them. As Viraen closed the gap, he managed to catch the last bit of Sinha's exhortation to the man. Viraen now had to slip past the people that had gathered to watch, but that he managed with a commendable degree of competency for someone of his build. He stopped short of the man facing Sinha, and as he got closer he could smell the alcohol on the man. He was drunk, clearly, based on his stance and posture. "Look vod, maybe you should just do what she says, 'lek? No need to get your shebs kicked this early," said Viraen, making sure to stay out of the man's immediate reach.
  4. Swift Reckoning

    Reluctantly, Viraen disengaged the target lock. Clan Kyrdol had never been pro either Jetii nor Dar'jetii, and Viraen trusted neither as far as he could throw them. There was only one surety, which was the fact that the latter tended to pay better than the former. A lot better. Sinha however, had a point, one that Viraen couldn't argue with. Tece wasn't the enemy here, the Republic was, and their vode needed them to work together, not against one another. Tece's not quite hostile, but not quite polite request for introductions prompted him to raise an eyebrow. The words out of Sinha's mouth mirrored his thoughts exactly, and so Viraen didn't bother with saying anything more on the subject. Instead, he waited for Sinha to introduce himself before he added a hasty, "Which would naturally make me Viraen Kyrdol." Viraen followed the conversation between the two with barely concealed disinterest until Sinha had brought up the fact that Tece lacked a sealed helmet, and so communication was going to be difficult. Sinha's plan of relaying conversation through her droid wasn't quite efficient as she'd acknowledged herself, nor was it the stealthiest. It was far from a perfect solution, but it was one that they were just going to have to hope that it worked out. For a moment, he'd considered using dadita. Most helmets had a dadita encoding and decoding routine . That idea however, wasn't going to work. That revolved around Tece knowing dadita, or having a decoding/encoding suite in her droid. Most Mandalorian children would probably remember enough to be able to use dadita to send and receive messages without the aid of their buy'ce. Tece from what he could tell based solely on her outward experience and what precious little he knew about her, clearly didn't have even a semi-traditional upbringing. Sinha brought up what looked to be a blueprint of the station, with their intel overlaid onto it. Much of the displayed map was dark, Viraen noticed. The extremely reduced sensor range was no doubt likely to blame for this. Viraen was not a fan of going in blind. During the years he'd take contracts while part of the Wraiths, Viraen could always rely on data from somewhere. In the absence of data, he usually tried to get some sort of reconnaissance done. There were cases where it wasn't possible, and he'd been forced to go in blind. This...this was one of them. There were far too many unknowns for him to be comfortable, and given the circumstances, Viraen was now certainly on edge. His left calf began pulsing painfully, and memories of the mission he'd undertaken with his parents and uncle to Nar Shaddaa began flickering through his mind. He tried several times to focus his mind in vain. Only a smack to his helmet did the trick. "Sensor feedback," he quickly muttered, lying, badly. Ever since that shabla explosion, his head had been a mess. It wasn't just his head either, he still hadn't fully recovered. If it wasn't for the exoskeleton, he very much doubted that he'd be able to support the full weight of the suit. It wasn't designed to be a crutch, it was designed to take the strain of walking around in beskar alloy for long periods, such as during extended reconnaissance operations. To give that very slight extra edge of strength in hand to hand and in armed close quarters combat. Another smack accomplished the task of focusing him on the discussion at hand. "Sorted," he muttered, lying through his teeth once more. Thankfully, he hadn't missed the real meat of the conversation. Viraen didn't like the idea of room to room fighting. The last time he'd gotten into a protracted close quarters brawl, he was in the med bay for longer than he'd wanted, and had ended up dangerously dosed up on stims prior to that. It was far from a pleasant experience that he didn't want to repeat, ever. The alternative was the access tunnel. If they were ambushed, they could be boxed in with basically no room to move, meaning they'd probably end up fried if enough firepower was applied. This was assuming there was an ambush lying in wait in any case. Assume the worst, plan for the best. In his experience, it was a good way to stay alive. Option A also put a little more distance between them in case 'Tece' proved to be a problem, whereas option B would allow her to slice and dice them pretty easily. It was hard to swing a bevi'ragiir or a beskad in a small hallway, a lightsaber though? Depending on the material the halls were made from? Not nearly as problematic. Option A also presented the highest chance of them getting lost. It boiled down to whether he trusted Tece not to ambush them, and whether he felt like dismissing the possibility of an ambush in a tight hallway. Viraen tossed the options up in his head for several moments before finally giving his opinion, "Splitting up at this point given our comms situation is a bad idea. If the station gets any worse, with sensors as bad as they are, comms will be the next thing to become compromised. As for which route we take, they're both far from ideal choices, but I'll still take a cramped hallway over the potential of room to room clearing, I'm not sure about the two of you."
  5. One Dark Night

    The sounds of explosions didn't seem to stir Viraen to consciousness. He'd bitten off a lot more than he could chew, but in the very least he was still alive. In his mind, Viraen wasn't even on Niruan, has back on Kaas, specifically on approach to a covert Imperial Intelligence landing pad that he was quite unaware of the existence of. Viraen became distinctly aware of the injuries and strain that his body had suffered on Corellia, fighting alongside Cipher 16. There were still blast marks on his armor from where he'd been shot trying to get both himself and Cipher 16 off of the planet. "Maintain your current approach, Mandalorian, the pad should be visible in a moment or two," said the voice that filtered in through the cockpit speakers, belonging no doubt to someone sitting in the command center in the Imperial Intelligence headquarters. Maybe a backup command center, or maybe they had a dedicated control center. Who knew? Cipher 16 probably did, but the Imperial Cipher Agent was silent in the gunner's seat of the GSS-3 Mangler as Viraen brought the gunship in. "Roger that, making landing preparations now, out," said Viraen as he closed the secure link between him and whatever part of Imperial Intelligence he was speaking to. Viraen and the rest of Clank Kyrdol were strong proponents of Mandalorian Independence, but the Imps paid so well that he scarcely ever found himself declining a job offer from them. Sure, there were some in the Imperial military who were supercilious or snooty about working with his kind, but the troops on the ground were more often than not grateful to have a Mandalorian on their side. Cipher 16 was largely indifferent when he'd first met her, or more likely she was probably hiding what she really thought. Spies were like that, or so his buir told him. Viraen sometimes wondered how despite the circumstances his parents had gotten married. Not that he was even considering a romantic relationship with Cipher 16, she was far from his type after all. "You know, that stunt I had to pull on Corellia to save your shebs, you owe me for that," said Viraen, risking a glance at the only other occupant in the ship with him. His job was complete at that point, he'd only been contracted to get her to the CoSec database, not ensure she could complete her task and make sure she could get out of there. He probably would have left, if SIS hadn't gotten involved that was. Ever since what had happened with his mother, Viraen had an axe to grind with those shabuire. It probably didn't help Cipher 16 was a spy too, and he didn't want to see what happened to his mother happen to anyone else. So, what he'd at that point hoped to be a quick strike and fade distraction had turned into a savage back to back firefight with what seemed like half of kriffing CorSec and SIS versus Cipher 16 and himself. Of course, being a Mandalorian, Viraen had taken a lot of the incoming fire. He was more naturally than thankful for the full grade beskar armor, heavy and hard to move in as it was. Cipher 16 only then turned to look at him. He had no idea what she was thinking of, or what she was going to say, or even if she was going to turn and shoot him. After all, taking over the controls from him at that point wouldn't be hard, and at this distance even a beskar helmet wasn't going to compensate for getting shot entirely. Cipher 16 didn't say anything until Viraen could see the landing pad looming ahead of them, "I can't guarantee I'll be around to help, Kyrdol, but if I can I will." Her face was a mask, unreadable. Unreadable to him in any case. "Then we're even. Understood." "Till the next time I save your shebs, 16," he joked, but saw her face remained as stoney as ever. "Or not..." he added, hastily, only to see a smile flicker across her features. It did relieve him to see her smile, and at that point the mirth returned to his face as well. Of course, hidden behind his helmet, she couldn't tell how he reacted. He was sure she was good enough at reading body language to be able to tell though. Their conversation was interrupted by the landing sequence. Viraen set the Mangler down gently on the secret landing pad and once he'd lowered the ship's landing ramp, they turned toward each other to say their farewells. "Good luck out there, Mandalorian, and stay alive. I'd hate to try and hire you again only to find you're dead," she said, giving him a polite nod as she gathered the last of her gear. "Good luck to you, agent. You see SIS again you can tell them I said they can kriff right off. Ret'urcye mhi," he said, before returning his attention to the controls. She smiled, and was out of his ship before he had the inclination to say anything more. Raising the right ramp, Viraen took off and raising the landing gears, he made for the Mandalorian enclaves. The dream was always like this, always started with this. Viraen's heart rate began accelerating. He knew what was coming next. He was powerless to stop what happened next. As powerless to stop it as when it happened. Now he was cursed to constantly relive that day. In his lowest moments, he'd wished that he'd died in that explosion. Unconscious as he was, the fear gripped him with it's icy monstrous hands. It worked it's tendrils into his brain. Viraen was screaming at his dream version to get off that ship. To abandon the shabla thing as fast as was possible. He was stuck on that doomed craft along with his dream self, stuck in his body, powerless to change anything. Viraen watched as he touched down, retrieved his rifle and began to make his way out of the craft. The explosive had been timed, he'd been told that later. No one knew where they'd managed to hide the shabla thing either. Where didn't matter, he didn't care. He'd been robbed of two years of his life because of it. He'd been forced to endure after the shabla explosion. Months of therapy, months of training. Even in this dream state, his entire psyche was cursing what had happened. The first thing that had hit him was the pressure wave. It felt like what it would probably feel like if a Mythosaur had slammed into him. He remembered the pain, relived it every time. The heat from the explosion was next, overloading his temperature regulator, melting his flesh. Of course, nothing had hurt as much as the shrapnel. He'd been told his own ammunition had cooked off. Luckily, he'd been out of grenades or any other ordnance. The fact that he'd expended most of the ammunition in that fire fight with CorSec and SIS had saved his life, ironically. Just as he began to fade in the dream, Viraen woke up screaming. Only, everything still throbbed and hurt as normal. Muscles in his sides spasmed painfully. He'd slept in his armor before, and was used to waking up to his HUD, only this time his medical monitor was warning him about his near heart attack. His vision was still somewhat blurry, and so he only became aware of his surroundings a moment later when his vision cleared ever so slightly. He blinked a few times, not recognizing the carnage wrought, when he caught the glow of something in his vision. With his body not responding to him willing it to move, Viraen just watched.
  6. One Dark Night

    More notifications flickered across his vision, warning of internal hemorrhaging, broken ribs, damaged organs. Viraen squelched them all. The Kolto on it's own wasn't going to heal him completely, he knew he was going to need medical attention. "Thanks for telling me the kriffing obvious," he muttered under his breath. Powered exoskeletons and stim injectors could only carry you so far, every step felt like walking a mile. 'Serves you right for being in a kriffing coma for two years, di'kut,' he thought to himself, cursing his severely diminished physical prowess. He wasn't going to be able to keep this up for much longer, one way or another, he needed to end this. His life form and motion detector told him that two of his targets were moving away from him, and toward something else. That had to mean that they were still searching for the ruug'la dar'jetii. He needed to get the drop on them, another open engagement was absolutely the last thing that he was looking for. Looking to stay as light as was possible, Viraen took his RT-97C and took it off of his back, placing it against one of the book shelves. He'd be back for it later, when he wasn't actively fighting to keep himself from passing out. As he checked for more gear to ditch, Viraen came up with a plan that was nothing short of absolutely dini'la. He wasn't sure if it was because of the stims, the possible concussion, or because he was probably going to pass out any minute now, but at that point, he had a feeling that the plan was probably dini'la enough to work. He still had a pair of 53-R High Yield Thermite Explosive Charges, placed correctly, he'd be able to bring the shabla roof down on them. It was a last resort, but he had a feeling that these people weren't as suicidal as their current actions made them seem. Using his Grav-boots, Viraen began making his way up the side of the wall, his sound dampener and cloaking device provided by his Echo belt were more than enough to keep him hidden, at least for as long as he planned on being where he was. Viraen had enough explosive training to place the charges where they'd be most useful. With a roof like this, a charge of this yield was bound to cause at least a minor collapse if it wasn't placed idiotically. Viraen felt his eyelids flutter, barely able to stay conscious. He was dangerously dosed on stims at this point, any more and he was going to have a lot more to worry about. Jabbing himself in the arm wouldn't work, he was already dosed on painkillers, and sheer force of will didn't quite seem to be working. 'Take it easy on yourself, Vir'ika,' the doctor's words echoing in his mind. He laughed to himself as he realized just what kind of an earful he was going to get if he ever got out of here. Reaching the other best estimate for where the second explosive should go with no small amount of effort, he placed the second explosive down and armed it. A notification on his HUD told him it was synced, and both explosives were ready. Just as he was about to let himself pass, his HUD registered movement and two life signs underneath him. Viraen drew his pistol, and tried to take aim. For whatever reason, he couldn't quite focus enough to draw a bead on whatever was below him. He would probably care or be able to tell if he wasn't in this sort of state at the moment. His left hand reached into one the pouch on his upper right thigh and drew an Anti-Vehicle concussion grenade. Viraen used the last of his energy to arm the grenade, and toss it in the direction of one of the cloak clad shabuire beneath him. A few minutes of shut eye wouldn't be so bad.
  7. One Dark Night

    Performing a combat roll in full armor was not as difficult as it was made out to be, but it helped if you were trained to do so from a very young age. Viraen executed a perfect combat roll and as he came up he let off another shot with his particle beam pistol at the Jedi, who drew and ignited his lightsaber and tried to deflect the bolt after having tossed himself aside the previous time to avoid the bolt. Viraen couldn't help but smirk under his helmet as the bolt detonated explosively and forced the lightsaber out of the Jedi's hand. Angry red blaster bolts from Grukkar's rifle flew over his head, prompting Viraen to raise his left hand and let off a two round burst with both gauntlet mounted ripper pistols. The shots were hastily aimed at center mass, as he was taught to instinctively aim at. Unfortunately, when fighting heavily armored Mandalorians like Grukkar, that was a bad idea. The rounds barely dented the solid beskar plate. "Oh shab," he breathed. Viraen quickly his hands and fired his left hand gauntlet mounted twin suppressed ripper pistols at the Jetii and the particle beam pistol at Grukkar. Viraen's own natural skill combined with the multitude of supplementary systems in his HUD yielded good results, two of the rounds caught the Jedi in the side, scorching his cloak and punching through his chestplate. The particle bolt caught Grukkar in the shoulder, throwing his next salvo off and sending the rounds into one of the book shelves. Viraen's good fortunes came to an end very quickly as Grukkar raised his gauntlet, leveling the mass accelerator weapon mounted on it at him, and then took aim. Viraen let off another shot at him in the hopes it would disrupt his targeting. The bolt caught him in the lower abdomen, causing knocking him back at the last moment. It all happened so quickly, with adrenaline pumping through his veins, he only noticed that his cloak had slipped once more and that he was bleeding from a large hole in his side. Notifications on his HUD told him that the suit was both sealing itself and pumping him full of stimms, as well as administering kolto. The plate however, was clearly damaged, and the round was still inside him. As he regained awareness of his surroundings, he could see that the Jedi had recovered their lightsaber and was charging toward him. Grukkar was aiming a micro-missile at him. Stumbling to his feet, Viraen set the Echo Belt to restart. That would disable the flickering cloak, but would give it time to recalibrate and hopefully restart fully functional. Turning both the particle beam pistol and the left gauntlet mounted twin suppressed ripper pistols at the Jedi, who still clearly had not learned their lesson. The Jedi managed to deftly dodge the first few shots from Viraen's particle beam pistol with serpentine grace, but each attempt cost him. Ripper rounds punched through his lower left leg and left side. The particle beam pistol however, clicked empty. Viraen was about to demonstrate how a Mandalorian was never unarmed. Turning his pistol to the side, he fired a beam from his gauntlet mounted shatter beam projector into Grukkar before raking it across to hit the Jedi. Both his foes were knocked back by the the sheer kinetic energy of the beam. Viraen didn't have time to check if they were alive or not. He dropped the spent cell and slammed a new one home with a satisfying click. Hearing the weapon come to life with a reassuring hum he brought it up and searched for his foes. Not caring about being detected by Grukkar now, given that he could be seen clear as day, he turned on the active mode of his life form scanners. It picked up a very weak signature coming from around one of the book shelves, on the move and very slow. Viraen picked up the pace, stumbling into a jog, he rounded the bend and saw the Jedi coughing up blood, trying to reach for their weapon. Viraen didn't give him that chance, he put a pair of particle beam bolts into his head, explosively detonating his skull. It was then that Viraen realized that his scanner had picked up a contact coming from behind him. He didn't have to turn to see Grukkar standing behind him. Viraen's own HUD warned him of the targeting lock attempt. At this range, even reflec didn't save him from a laser guided rocket. Pulsing his jetpack to get into the air, Viraen only realized how much he'd screwed up when he felt the pressure wave from the resulting explosion hit him. He hit something, hard, he didn't quite know what it was. His vision was blurry, and it took him a moment to realize that it wasn't his HUD that was malfunctioning, it was him. 'How many times are you going to get blown up before you learn to be more careful?' he asked himself. Viraen could see an armored figure walking up to him. Even as his vision took it's time in returning, he could tell that it was Grukkar. The slow purposefulness with which the other Mandalorian advanced up to him, he could tell that his quandary was enjoying the reversal in roles. Viraen didn't have too many options now. He saw his pistol lying a few feet away from him, clearly the force of the explosion was enough to knock it free from his grip even though he had the magnetic lock engaged. He managed to roll onto his side. The weapon was a mere inches away from him. Turning on the magnetic lock, the weapon began to shake. He could almost feel it in his hands before a green armored boot stepped on it. "Oh I'm sorry, were you looking for this?" taunted Grukkar. Viraen blinked at the icon that activated the spring loaded switch for the Kal knife in his gauntlet, and he swung at the larger Mandalorian's legs. Viraen felt the blade in his side the moment that Grukkar's boot impacted with his side. "You know, for one of your kind, I expected more," he spat. "Clan Kyrdol. Hunters of everyone that doesn't fit the resol'nare, and who even looked at the Mand'alor the wrong way." Viraen was on his back again now. Grukkar walked closer, aiming his gauntlet mounted mass accelerator at him. "Any last words, chakaare?" Viraen knew he was out of options now. Well, almost. Grukkar was standing directly above his right shoulder. He was so close, that Viraen didn't need to bother with a targeting solution. Taking a breath, Viraen coughed as the mere action hurt, "Ret', shabuir." Viraen could almost see the confused expression he knew was on Grukkar's face, and with those words out of his mouth, he blinked at the firing control for his right shoulder mounted dart launcher. A single dart caught Grukkar just under his helmet, and detonated. His helmet's visor automatically polarized, unfortunately obscuring his view of what he was sure was a spectacular sight. He lay there for what was easily a minute or two, before he flooded his system with stimms. It was dangerous to flood his system with this many stimms, but there were still two more hostiles in the room. Thankfully, his cloaking device was done rebooting and recalibrating. Once more invisible, Viraen got to his feet with no small amount of difficulty. Scooping up his pistol and reloading his twin gauntlet mounted suppressed Ripper pistols, Viraen went after the two particular life signs in the room whom he knew he had to kill for all this osik to be really over and done with.
  8. One Dark Night

    Tracking people was what Clan Kyrdol did. Of course, they took care of a lot of dangerous contracts, but they also did a lot of dirty work for the other clans. That meant hunting down those that were dar'manda when they could and in this particular case, hunting down an anti-independence trouble maker. Usually, no one gave a shab what it was that you thought and said, as long as you kept it to yourself and didn't go around trying to drum up support for what was left of the anti-independence movement. Which was to say, a few dini'la chaakare laying low to avoid getting their heads removed or blown off. Grukkar Tad was another matter entirely. This shabuir was the former sort of pro-independence shabuir; he was trying to find support for his cause, and word was that he was really not picky about who his allies were. When Viraen had heard that, he was worried that he'd have to track the man to the site of the new coalition. It was because of that, that Ikaan wanted him to take care of this quietly. Grukkar was a hard man to track, he knew how to cover his tracks, and it was for that reason that Viraen had taken this long to catch up to him. The High Tower on Niruan was the last place that he'd expected to be finding himself in. Getting in wasn't hard, in fact he'd an interesting conversation with an Imperial Marksman about his rifle. Unfortunately he'd had to tell the man that he wasn't likely to see a rifle like this in his life, much to the man's dismay. Viraen had to be discreet, and so when he'd come in he'd stowed his armor at the training facility and instead switched to civies to track down Grukkar. Viraen had almost left when he'd seen Grukkar enter toward the end of the day. He'd asked around the few Mandalorians who were around, and had learned the Grukkar had been hanging around some odd company; Jetii. Viraen knew that meant that he just couldn't be up to anything good. Of course, there was the coalition and all that osik, but a Mando who willingly sought out a Jetii? Especially with a man like Grukkar, something was definitely wrong there. So, Viraen had naturally recovered his armor and had been keeping his distance. There were more than a few occasions where he was almost sure that he'd given himself away, not to Grukkar, but to his Jetii pals. They were a tricky bunch, and Viraen was tempted to put a bullet in them and call it a day. That however, would get him in a lot of trouble, and wasn't worth any of it. Viraen had tracked them to the Archives with great difficulty. What startled him was the distinct lack of guards. Viraen had it on good authority that there were plenty of dar'jetii guards in the area, and yet he could neither see any of them nor could any of his passive scanners. Active scanners would have given him away to Grukkar before he could blink if he was half as good as he was proving to be so far. Sticking to the ceiling with his grav boots as he shadowed them, making use of his Echo belt and sound dampener to augment his own natural abilities to avoid detection, Viraen followed them till they got to what he was told was the private study of a Darth Verrin. Now this only perplexed him more. What in haran were they doing at some ruug'la dar'jetii's study? Nothing good. The last thing Mand'alor needed was for some dini'la shabuir like Grukkar to come back wielding some ancient knowledge or some other osik to challenge her for the position. Viraen had no choice here, there was only one way in and he wasn't exactly going to be able to keep them unaware of his presence when the door opened. Just in case they managed to slip away, Viraen replaced four of his electro-stun darts with all the remaining surveillance taggers that he had on his person. He made his way down to the door and slung his rifle, drawing his S-110 Particle Beam Interceptor Pistol with his right hand. Viraen opened the door and immediately dove away from it. He pulsed the room with his armor's life form scanner and motion sensor. Sensor returns told him that there were five life signs in the room. "We're not alone," he heard one of them say, he was willing to be his credits that this was Grukkar. Viraen pulsed the room with his reconfigured bioscan, just a quick basic pulse, enough to tell Grukkar that there was someone with specialist gear in the room but not where they were. Weak returns from three of the figures, meaning that they weren't exactly packing plenty of heat, or they were using advanced sensor dampening. Grukkar on the other hand showed up on the scan as bright as a star. The man was basically a walking weapons platform, a Powertech they called themselves. Shab...this was going to hurt for sure. "Come out shabuir!" threatened Grukkar, swinging around a Czerka Blaster Suppressor equipped Mandalorian Assault Rifle. Viraen could see him clear as day, and could see his three cloaked companions. Force users for sure, but who were what, and he was sure that Grukkar only had two Jetii friends. Suddenly, one of the cloaked figures pointed in his general direction, and Grukkar didn't hesitate to spray in his general direction. A few rounds were absorbed by his side and abdomen plate as well as the shoulder pauldron. Viraen felt that, but at least they weren't tearing through his body. His cloaking field flickered, rendering him visible. Viraen waited for his HUD to lock onto Grukkar before firing off an explosive dart at him, letting off a few shots with his particle beam pistol at the cloaked figures. Grukkar saw what was coming and tried to throw himself aside, but instead was knocked over by the explosion, his armor scorched, but seemed intact to Viraen. "Is that all you have chaakar!?" he bellowed as he stood to his feet. This had turned from a stealth operation into an open firefight. "Har'chaak Vir'ika, what in haran have you gotten yourself into this time?" he muttered to himself.
  9. Swift Reckoning

    'Just Sinha, there's a sure sign you didn't kriff it up,' thought Viraen. He took a good look at his fellow Mando'ad at this moment. She was shorter than he was, lean where he was well built, she was lean. Where his armor was mostly non-reflective matte black, hers was teal, black, and gold, with red, gold, and black patterning. Going by traditional armor colors, justice, vengeance and honoring a parent. Teal was a mix of blue and green, was that both duty and reliability? Safe to say that there was surely a story there, one that he wasn't aware of. As far as he could tell, she wasn't carrying many ranged weapons, whereas his loadout was focused on range. He didn't intend on getting on her bad side, and so he avoided performing any scans on her armor or equipment. Her spear, and her file, told him all he needed to know about her competence. She killed the old Mand'alor, she was more than capable. Her accent too, was interesting, Viraen had learned basic alongside Mando'a. Sinha, well, somehow Viraen doubted that was the case for her. Viraen nodded both in response to her request that they move to a secure comm frequency and that something wasn't quite right here. He wasn't a fan of staying on a relatively unsecured line like the one they were on either in the best of circumstances, but until they had a suit to suit link there was nothing more secure available. Once she was done opening a link to her suit, his HUD made him aware of the link, and after he navigated past the menus and various warnings that told him the 'dangers' of opening a link to another suit, he opened a link to his own suit's systems while accessing hers. He opened a picture in picture view of what she was seeing on the lower right hand corner of his HUD so that he could acclimatize himself to seeing what she was seeing. With the exception of atmospherics data, Viraen ignored the lifesigns for the moment, she was healthy enough to move and that was all that he cared about for the moment. He'd make her health his business if she started showing any signs that concerned him. For now, it was her business and her business alone. Clan Dreysel though, there was a name Viraen had heard before. Only now when he looked at its current clan leader did Viraen realize why. It was a name that was recently part of conversations at Mandalorian Tapcafes. Private bunch. Seemed that both his vode today came from very private clans. Only solid intel on them according to word around the Suuhymu'hbjavrars HQ was that they were Resol'nare adherent as well. In Viraen's, and most of the members of Clan Krydol's book, that made them stand up people. He'd also heard that they weren't the most predictable clan, but given their adherence to the Resol'nare, and their apparent fierce loyalty, that meant that Viraen would trust their Clan Leader almost as much as he was going to trust his own. More than he could say about the other woman, whom he knew next to nothing about. "'Elek, we were, a...Tece Tyr," answered Viraen, her voice over the new secured channel snapping him out of his thoughts. It took him a moment's thought to remember her name. "Nayc, vod, I didn't seen any of our vode here either." He paused for a moment as he remembered the bodies, plenty of aruetii corpses everywhere, none of their own. "Given the number of baar? I would agree with that assessment." Sinha had been spot on, given how quickly things must have gone to haran and back in a handbasket, he doubted that anyone in this section had much time to do anything but die. That however, didn't explain the mostly empty cargo bay, a bay like this should have been full. He hadn't noticed it when he'd come in, but the more time he spent in here, the more it occurred to him. "It didn't say on the brief, but wouldn't a bay like this in a place like this be a lot less...shabla ut'reeyah?" No sooner than the words had come out of his mouth did the passive mode of his motion sensors pick up movement at the entrance to the hangar. On passive mode, it relied on IR sensing, and hence had no chance of penetrating obstacles, but alerted him to potential approaching threats that didn't have obstacles between him and them. He'd seen the woman in the doorway thanks to the 360 degree field of view his helmet HUD afforded him. Her response perplexed him, her attire and equipment put him on edge, but it was her companion that forced him to choke back a laugh. A T7 droid? Kriffing really? In a place like this? Viraen turned around to face the new arrival, his rifle stayed where it was, but from the privacy of his HUD Viraen acquired a targeting solution for the electro-stun dart loaded launcher in his left shoulder. Viraen noticed that the woman had a pair of lightsabers at her waist, and was wearing what looked to Viraen like a variation of Jetii robes over her attire rather than beskar'gam. She was tall, sure, but Viraen knew better than most that when death stared you in the face it didn't matter if you were tall, short, muscled, lean or a shabla forty five galactic standard kilogram weakling. "Even if she is who I think she is, it never pays to be safe rather than sorry," said Viraen over their secure channel. If this was Tece Tyr, as Sinha's words seemed to suggest that's who she thought that this was, then Viraen was not looking forward to this at all. If this 'aruetii' that had recently joined the clan was a former Jetii, then he could see why they were keeping things so hush hush, and damn then for it.
  10. Swift Reckoning

    Mandalore, Suuhymu'hbjavrars HQ Landing Pad, long before deployment "She's a real beauty, isn't she?" asked al'verde Ikaan Kyrdol. The Suuhymu'hbjavrars commander was referring to the Beskad-class Patrol ship painted in the matte black paint scheme of the Suuhymu'hbjavrars. Viraen thought it was a good touch, even if there were those who thought that it might be best if there were less things painted in the favored paint scheme of the Wraiths. A black ship blended in with the void. One that combined that with a low sensor profile? It was every Wraith's wet dream. Viraen however was suspicious. He knew this was his ship, he could tell based on the fact that he was the only other person on the landing pad, and he was the only other Wraith team leader without one. He was also, coincidentally, still missing his team. Given that they weren't on the landing pad with him, Viraen had a bad feeling that he was about to be sent on another solo mission. Kriffing great. "Al'verde, with all due respect, cut to the shabla chase. There's something happening, isn't there? What is it this time, the Republic found a new super weapon that they're decided to unleash on us?" he asked, referring to the Mass Shadow generator used by the Republic before the Cold War. Ikaan turned to face him, looking away from the admittedly very impressive looking craft. There was a datapad in the man's hands. That meant that the intel had just come in, or he wasn't sure that Viraen was going to take the job. Neither possibility exactly enthralled Viraen. The entire thing reeked of an emergency, and those were usually shitshows. "No, but the Republic has attacked a research station being protected by a group of Mando'ade. We received their distress call not long ago. Help's already being scrambled from the other clans, but given the nature of the situation, we decided that we'd send one of our own," said Ikaan, handing the data slate over to him. Viraen examined the details. Independent research outpost in the outer rim. Mandalorians hired on as security. "Meaning because we like killing Republic chakaare and I was particularly good at it before they blew me up?" he asked. He swore he could see Ikaan rolling his eyes underneath his helmet. "And I'm the only Wrath who's sitting on his shebs?" Ikaan remained silent for a whole minute. "Alright, it's because you want me to find out why the Republic decided to hit this station and I'm the only one who's sitting on his shebs." "Viraen, I swear to Kad Ha'rangir that you've somehow become more of a pain in my shebs after the coma," breathed Ikaan. Viraen braced for impact, before Ikaan added, "And, somehow more entertaining. 'Lek vod, we want information, but if you can serve up your usual specialty of plenty of dead Republic shabuire, feel free. Information's a priority, the others can probably handle backing our vode up. That means if you see any of those SIS chaakare, I want them alive and in a position to start talking. I know how you feel about them, vod, but not this time." Viraen reluctantly nodded. He'd killed plenty, what was the harm in leaving one temporarily alive so they could get information out of them? "'Lek, al'verde. I'm your man. I have to ask though, what favors did you pull to get this delivered early?" asked Viraen, turning to face his commanding officer. "Me? Nothing. MandalMotors delivered it on their own, I just knew you'd be out on the pad when it arrived," said Ikaan, and Viraen just knew that his commanding officer had a devious grin on his face. 'Well, this is what you kriffing get for being predictable, di'kut,' he thought to himself, keying in the ramp's unlock code and walking up the ramp as it lowered. Current Time The translation to realspace was bound to happen at any point now. Viraen sat in his ship's pilot seat, reading through the personnel dossiers as he waited for his ship to drop out of hyperspace. First one was Sinha Dreysel. Clan leader of Clan Dreysel. Sinha herself was supposed to be the one that killed the former Mand'alor. Now that was impressive, and Viraen found a pang of jealousy surfacing amongst his thoughts, which he quickly brushed aside. "Looks like you're going to be in the presence of a celebrity, Viraen," he mumbled to himself. Next dossier was about someone named Tece Tyr. Clan Tyr, now there was a group of people you didn't hear about very much, or at all really. Apparently this 'Tece' was some aruetii who joined the clan, preaching about the virtues of force users and she was dini'la enough to think that she was going to get an audience with the Mand'alor. 'A shabla rela (nutcase)...could this get any better?' he thought to himself. Beeping from the ship's computers and flashing warning in his HUD alerted him to the fact that his ship was about drop out of hyperspace. Given that whatever ships had damaged the station were likely to still be in the area, Viraen deactivated the active sensor systems on his ship and activated the sensor dampener and bafflers to decrease his ship's sensor profile. He kept the thruster output low so that his ship was just coasting in toward the damaged section of the station. Viraen kept an eye out for any active distress beacons, IFF signatures or transmissions that his ship's passive sensors might pick up, as well as signs of any active sensor signatures. The plan as detailed to him by Ikaan was to approach the damaged section of the station, dock, and link up with the other Mandalorian reinforcements. As his ship got closer to the station and it showed up on his main display, Viraen let out a low whistle. "Republic really kriffed up this place..." he breathed. Taking hold of the controls once more, Viraen cut the engines completely and replied on maneuvering thrusters alone to maneuver, staying as close to the broken remains of the station as was possible to make detection as hard as was possible. The ship picked up a number of still serviceable docking collars. Moving into position, kept the ship in position before activating the coffer dam to create a link between the station and his ship that didn't involve locking both collars directly to one another, even if there was space to bring his ship that close to the station with all the debris around this particular collar. Shifting his ship to a low power state so that if he needed to get out in a hurry, he wouldn't have to wait for the ship's reactor to come online, Activating the ship's security systems before he left the bridge, he disconnected his HUD from the ship's systems and picked up his RT-97 heavy blaster rifle and made his way to the ventral airlock. Tapping in the code to cycle the ventral airlock, he stepped through and into the temporary link created by the coffer dam. Engaging his mag boots, Viraen made his way across and to the airlock on the station side. Luckily, the security codes for the outer airlocks had been provided, and so Viraen keyed them in after consulting the readout on his HUD. Consulting his demolitions sensors to ensure that the entry wasn't trapped before he stepped through, he kept his RT-97C up and shouldered as he stepped out into the hallway. A quick pulse from his life form scanner and bioscan told him exactly what he knew, that he didn't have to fear getting his shebs shot at in this part of the station. This part being the immediate hallway in front of him, and part of the hallway in front of that. Scanner range was severely restricted in the station, and so even though he was checking every hallway with a quick burst the moment he stepped into it, he was still relying on visual and audio cues. Listening for anything that didn't sound like a dying station. The station was frightfully cold, his temperature regulator activated automatically to prevent him from freezing to death. No doubt because it was breached in several locations. This only added to what made this more damaged part of the station, decidedly eerie. Flickering lighting and twisted floor and wall panelling left little to the imagination about what had happened here. There were bodies too, plenty of them. So far, none of them were wearing beskar'gam. Viraen was silently thankful for that. The silence however, was what was getting to him. His sound dampener meant that even the sound of his mag boots against the damaged deck plating was not audible to him. Viraen was used to not hearing his own footsteps, but in this case, any sound would be more comforting than this uneasy silence. Well, almost any sound. If this was some cheap horror vid, like some of the ones he'd been watching during his recovery period, some horrible and vile creature was bound to leap out and ambush him any moment now. Naturally, that didn't happen. His HUD told him what he already knew, that this place was kriffed up beyond belief. He'd shut down his datalink, preventing his systems from trying to interface with anything that was still partially functioning. Viraen was not someone who normally was uncomfortable in tight spaces, but he was feeling decidedly claustrophobic in these cramped, damaged halls. Viraen ducked and weaved around sparking, angry power cables as if they were carnivorous plants or vicious animals trying to take a bite out of him. All around him, damaged and scorched equipment sparked and screens flickered hopelessly. Viraen ignored what he saw, keeping his mind off what happened here, that was until he saw a section of fallen ventilation ducting amongst other cable housings. For a moment, Viraen considered judicious use of explosives to clear his way through, but damaging the station any further when it was already falling apart like this was not a wise idea. He could see a waypoint marked on his HUD where the cargo bay was estimated to be, indicating his current distance from it. The cargo bay was where he was supposed to RV with the others. It was clear to him that he was going to have to find another way through. It took some backtracking and searching, but Viraen finally found the maintenance accessway hatch. The only problem? The access panel was scorched. He debated prying the panel open and splicing a connection so that he could slice the digital lock, but if the panel was scorched then the electronics were probably fried too. Sighing, he took a step back and raised his right gauntlet at the door, warming up his fusion cutter. Walking over to the door, he turned the device on, and began cutting through. With some effort, he managed to cut through the hatch, allowing him to step through after a quick cursory check for defensive turrets or explosive charges. Thankfully, the maintenance duct was cramped as all haran, but clear enough. Save for the occasional groan of the walls and floor, the flickering of red emergency lighting or the sparking of severed cables the trip was largely uneventful. With the waypoint marker showing the cargo bay to be under him, Viraen continued taking the maintenance accessway till he found a door, presumably to let maintenance out near the cargo bay. Performing a quick check for explosives, weapons and life signs with a pulse from his demolitions scanner and bioscan, he tried the switch for the door. Thankfully, the door opened. Scanner range had been severely limited, according to the debug feed it wasn't averaging only enough to allow him to get a look around the next corner or through the next wall without him having to stick his head in places where it might get shot. One of the benefits of having a three hundred sixty degree field of view was that you didn't have to turn your head to check both sides of a hall. Instead, Viraen pointed his rifle down the right side and his left gauntlet mounted weapons down the left while leaning out into the hall. Scanners said that there was nothing there, but that didn't mean osik at this point. Besides, being paranoid till this juncture on the station had served him well thus far, there was no reason to stop now. If his HUD marker could be trusted, the cargo bay was to the right. Technology broke, people didn't, and no one put a door to the large room of a cargo bay at the short end of a hall on a station. It helped to verify what your armor's computers told you was the truth with what you knew made sense. So far, he hadn't found there to be a discrepancy. Replacing his hand back on the fore end of his rifle, just before where the barrel protruded. He made his way slowly down the hall, before checking the cargo bay standing beside it. Going through the walls was still problematic, but the open space of the cargo bay didn't offer too much interference. Life form scanners picked up one target in the bay, weapon scanners didn't pick up anything significant, low return signature. Well, this was either his ally, someone with insufficient ranged weapons to kill him before he vanished and got out of their reach, or someone with enough sensor dampening that this was going to be a long game of strill and vheviin with constantly changing roles. Viraen quickly stepped into the bay, looking around quickly, and then lowering his weapon when he saw another Mandalorian. A woman, with a large bevii'ragir. If he remembered the dossier, this had to be Sinha Dreysel. Or it could be Tece Tyr, he knew precious little about that woman. Using short ranged helmet to helmet comms on known Mando frequencies, he took his chances, "Aliit Alor Sinha Dreysel I presume? Viraen Kyrdol, sorry for the delay. Had to find another way to get here, and maintenance accessways aren't exactly made for a Mando in full beskar'gam." Once more, he found himself praying to that katdape (miserable) shabuir Kad Ha'rangir, if even existed, that he didn't mistake her for someone else. He was in no mood to piss off another Mando'ade woman, again.
  11. A Glance Into Darkness

    Viraen gave the other Mandalorian a 'kriffing really?' look, from under his helmet, but said nothing more regarding her comment about his observations. It wasn't that however, that reminded him that even though they were both Mando'ade, the civil war had truly divided their people. The days where a Mandalorian could trust one of their own, barring differences between clans, were those days truly dead and gone? He resisted the urge to snort in derision at the very thought. The galaxy had changed. This was the way the rest of the galaxy preferred them, after all, divided and at each other's throats. Viraen depolarized his visor, revealing part of his face. He was not going to take off his helmet, not in a situation like this, that could be exactly the sort of invitation some sniper was waiting for. "Introductions, eh? Right, I'm being a little too forward, aren't I? I haven't even offered to buy you dinner yet. You'll forgive me, two years in a coma have made me a little rusty." He allowed himself a little smirk at his own joke before he actually introduced himself. 'She's definitely going to shoot you for this, Vir'ika,' he thought to himself. "Viraen Kyrdol, ver'alor in the Suuhymu'hbjavrars, making me your infiltration specialist for as long as we'll be working with each other. And I'll tell you what, I'll up my data link first, as a sign of trust," he said. He turned just in time to see the Jetii catch the ration bar that the other Mandalorian had given her, barely inches from the floor. Polarizing his visor, he gave her a bemused look from under his helmet. He hadn't seen a Jetii before who was so...endearingly amusing. Then again, he didn't get to know most Jetii well enough on account of the fact that they usually wanted to arrest him, or take his head off. It could go either way with them, and he'd usually never stuck around long enough to find out which they were feeling inclined towards at that particular point in time. In any case, he listened to what the Jetii told him about what his myriad systems had barely picked up. Viraen was far from happy about the situation. Having to rely on a Jetii? He'd be happier working alone, far happier, but this was the situation. A Mandalorian who didn't quite trust him, and the most overenthusiastic Jetii he'd ever come across. 'Vir'ika, you really know how to get yourself in all sorts of dikut'la situations, don't you?' he asked himself as he considered what the Jedi told him about enemy troop dispositions and other potential hazard and areas of interest. He didn't particularly care for what she said about avoiding killing Republic troops. Following orders? If they were 'just following orders', then there wouldn't be any retributions against those Imperial citizens stuck on the planet. If every spineless shabuir left on this planet could conveniently brush their crimes under the rug of 'following orders', then what justice was left in the galaxy? No, there would have to be retribution, retribution for what they'd done to his people. He knew that he could keep the non-coms out of this, but what these chakaare did to them after that was not his fault, and he'd not have it on his conscience no matter what this Jetii said. Said Jetii then went on to explain the various approaches that now lay before them. "Noise and flashy techniques? Isn't that your order's motto, Jetii?" he sneered. "Really, we don't have too many options. Any diversion, would have to be cover for an infiltration attempt. Boldly walking in, is going to get anyone and everyone involved a free sampling of the Republic's finest marksmanship." He looked over at both the women in front of him and then after pausing in for a moment, he added, "If you ask me, I say we're going to need a pretty crazy mix of all three."
  12. A Glance Into Darkness

    Viraen only got a truly good look at both women now that he was down here, and wasn't just relying on his lifeform and motion scanners to look at them. His first concern was naturally the Jedi, he was almost sure that his fellow Mando'ad wasn't going to shoot him, almost. The problem with this shabla planet was all of the damn interference from the atmospheric conditions. Most of his sensors were now starting to show signs of being affected. Just his brand of luck, barely even an hour before this planet started kriffing around with him again. Viraen knew the risks of performing a short ranged sensor scan in this soup of an atmosphere, but he needed to know what he was dealing with, and at this juncture wasn't sure that either woman was going to give him a remotely accurate answer if he asked them what they were packing. Warnings and errors about failed initialization routines for the reconfigured bioscan because of local conditions scrawled up his HUD. "Work you massive piece of osik," cursed Viraen as he waited for it to give him a reading. He was almost sure the Jetii would be able to tell he was scanning her and was confident he was going to get a snarky response or a lightsaber to the chest any moment now. You could never tell with them. A ping told him that the scan was done. The Jedi, if the scan could be trusted, damn thing sometimes failed to calibrate correctly, was carrying a saberstaff. Actually, it just confirmed what he could see with his own two kriffing eyes. Though if his head injuries were still bad enough at this point that he needed a recalibrated bioscan to tell him that, then he should probably kriffing retire now. The robes were what confused him. It was not the sort of thing he expected a battle hardened Jedi to be wearing. The ones that he was used to seeing on occasion directing Republic troops certainly didn't. Then again, there were many Mandos he knew who didn't quite fit the 'norm' either. He wasn't looking to fight, but he found it hard to believe that a shabla jetii was the one coming to rescue Imperial officers. If the Empire wanted them back, and needed to be subtle, he had no idea why they weren't sending a Cipher Agent. He knew 16 was busy elsewhere, but she can't have been the only one able to respond. Or maybe, like Clan Kyrdol, there was just no one else to send. He found the parallel more than a little amusing. His fellow Mando'ad on the other hand was just about everything that he expected from someone from Clan Sal, or at least Viraen was willing to bet the rest of his savings on that. Then again, he'd done far more di'kutla things in the past. Armed to the teeth, and her armor looking like she'd been to haran and back. His bioscan picked up the weapons in her hands and the one still holstered. Having had plenty of experience with Mandalorian armor, he knew that she probably had plenty of unpowered weapons on her person. If she actually was Clan Sal, then the natural question of why her crossed his mind. Not that he didn't think her capable, but this was best suited to a stealth expert, and surely they had a scout or beroya who knew how to be quiet, and was equipped to do the same. "Well considering the last time I was here, someone tried to blow me up with my own ship..." said Viraen, letting his voice trail off for a moment. "Only chaakar left in our part of Manda'yaim who wasn't doing anything else, so my al'verde 'asked' if I could lend a hand. You know the old saying, burc'ya vaal burk'yc, burc'ya veman." He said nothing more, letting that sink in instead. Most of his fellow Mando'ade didn't have the advantage of being in a kriffing coma when the civil war came around, he'd be just as cautious as she was being if he was in her position. That was when the Jedi decided she was going to mention something utterly vague, express concern that they weren't aligned with the Mand'alor and then proceed to say the best thing he'd heard her say in the short time he'd been in her presence. "Sure as haran don't want to be around when they come looking," he said, nodding in agreement. Cloaking, he followed behind the Jedi, in the event that she was leading them into a trap. You could never be too careful with the Jedi, and he was still getting used to this peace treaty osik. Not entirely osik, actually, it made some sense. Still, it was going to take a lot of getting used to. The entire time he was following her, he made sure to turn on the signal interceptor for a quick moment to check for any sign that the Republic was onto them. Nothing yet, which meant it wasn't yet time for the sentries to check in. Comms were spotty as it is, and the Republic had the more powerful stationary gear. There was a high chance that he might have failed to pick up on any communications, but he couldn't risk keeping the interceptor on any longer. Otherwise, reflec coated gear or not, they'd be able to triangulate his position pretty easily. They were going to have to move quickly to make sure that they got on that ship before that happened. The Jetii had mentioned the shift change, if that was going to happen soon, then they needed to move, double time. He largely ignored most of the Jetii's rambling, having identified the gist of what she was saying without having to listen to every word. In fact, he'd been briefed about the political situation when he'd come out of his coma, and while her perspective on the matter was valuable for understanding the extent she would go to achieve her objective, he didn't need to hang onto every word she said. He caught her eyes looking around, and figured that her jetii senses had picked up something he hadn't. His own sensors were turned off from active to passive, but local atmospherics were kriffing with them like nothing else. Just kriffing perfect, a great way to start off an operation. An active ping was his only option, that and praying to Kad Ha'rangir if the shabuir even existed, that he wouldn't be detected. Not really because he would be detected, but it would be obvious that hostile elements were in the area to even a novice sensor operator or any Republic spec ops types running around. An active ping resolved what looked like a patrol, strong life signs given the interference, so that meant regular infantry not droids. Using the bioscan at this range was both risky and pointless given the fact that the Republic had this place locked down tighter than a Hutt's trophy room and also this damn atmospheric interference. "For those of us that don't have mystical abilities, it looks like there's a patrol ahead according to my best guess. These atmospherics are playing haran with my sensors," he said, assuming that it was the same situation with his fellow Mando'ad as well. "Data's too incomplete to acquire targeting solutions at this range. Speaking off, it'd be great if I could have a basic link to your suit, vod, biosigns and datalink so we can share intel easier." He didn't actually check to see if she was still with them, having just assumed that to be the case.
  13. A Glance Into Darkness

    Dromund Kaas. Now there was a planet that he didn't think he would be coming back to anytime soon. Not since what happened, anyways. There was only one reason that he'd even agree to be here, and that was because his ba'vodu and commanding officers in the Suuhymu'hbjavrars had asked him very nicely. Between trying to convince Mand'alor to make use of them more and being spread thin all over the shabla place, there weren't any Wraiths to spare. So they would have to settle for him, damaged goods, this time. Any kriffing excuse to get back into things was a good one for him. He was tired of sitting around in any case, and any excuse to get away from the med centers and the constant check-ups was good by him. Of course, the galaxy was having a laugh at his expense, as usual. His ship, due for delivery by the time he was supposed to leave for Dromund Kaas had an incident at the shipyard. Some absolute shabuir had somehow managed to 'accidentally' bump a tug into the damn thing and rip off one of the engine gimbals. MandalMotors, being the lovely efficient people that they were, got right to work on it, but being a limited production craft, they had to wait on parts from the factory. Which was just kriffing brilliant. If he didn't know better, he'd say someone was trying to kill him, again. Then again, who wasn't? He'd pissed off every Republic organization on every planet from Ord Mantell to Coruscant. Naturally, he could borrow his buir's ship, or his get a ride from his ba'vodu, but he felt like they'd done enough for him. There was, however, someone who had owed him more than a few favors. She probably wasn't going to like it, but her ship stood the best chance of getting him onto the planet without getting detected. So naturally, he'd decided to ask her. So here he was, stripped to his bodysuit in the cargo bay of Cipher 16's ship, taking out his frustrations on a practise dummy in hand-to-hand combat. It didn't take long for the fatigue to set in, and for his movements to become sloppy and uncoordinated. "I remember you being able to go a lot longer," said the Imperial accented voice from behind him. Still panting from the exertion, and cursing himself for not having recovered his fitness levels pre-injury, he turned around to face the young Chiss woman known as Cipher 16. "And I remember you being less nosy about my affairs, but don't suppose that last stand on Corellia changed that a little, did it?" Viraen saw the look on her face change to one of amusement, and smiling to himself, he walked over to where he'd stashed his gear, and began suiting back up. "I remember thinking that you were going to abandon me, Kyrdol. Technically your contract was up when we got into that mess," replied Cipher 16. Viraen remembered that day quite well. His job had only been to make sure that she got to the CorSec database, he certainly didn't have to stick around when the SIS found them, but he'd seen what the SIS did to people and had no intention about letting that happen to anyone. Let alone a woman he was friendly with. If she felt like she owed him because of that, then so be it. She was very insistent, and turns out he did end up needing her help later. As he finished slipping into light exoskeleton, a cheeky grin spread across his features, "Didn't come here to enjoy the view, did you? Something I need to know I presume?" He paused for a moment and then added, "That or I severely misjudged how things ended on Corellia." Of course, Viraen meant nothing by it. She wasn't his type by a long stretch. He preferred women whose lives were a little less complicated, though he was perfectly aware of the irony in that line of thinking given that his mother is former SIS. She gave him a thin-lipped smile that lacked any mirth whatsoever, and was probably as icy as her homeworld if rumors about where the Chiss came from were anything to go by. Even with his body suit on, he felt absolutely frigid. "Don't flatter yourself, Mandalorian. I came to tell you that it's almost time for you to get off my ship. We're almost through atmo, so hurry up and get geared up." Viraen shrugged, and then nodded. "Don't worry, I'll be out of your hair soon." Cipher 16 shook her head, and then turned, walking out of the cargo bay. Viraen focused on putting on the rest of his armor. Before long, he was slipping his helmet on over his head, the rest of the armor already secured and the power pack activated. Registering his eye movements and connecting with the rest of the armor, his HUD came to life, bringing up various status reports on the armor's subsystems. As he picked up his RT-97C heavy blaster rifle, the rifle's optic system synced up with his HUD, and a reticle was displayed in his view. "Come on, Viraen, best get this osik over with." He joined Cipher 16 on the bridge, an Imperial Army Commando, or someone in their armor was at the controls. He could see the dense jungles of Dromund Kaas on the planet, and the navigational display told him that they were not far off from Kaas city. "There's a clearing coming up ahead, Kyrdol, but it's not close to a vantage point. I assume that's where you want to be. Given what I saw earlier, I can't on good conscience drop you off so far from your objective. So, how do you feel about a HALO jump?" "You? A conscience? That's a good one," laughed Viraen, checking his jetpack's fuel and system readout to answer her second question. "About as good as I feel about heading into Kaas city after what happened. Did they really kriffing crash a ship there?" The question of course, was rhetorical. He'd heard about the incident long before he'd left Mandalore, let alone being able to see a holographic representation of the crashed Limitless on the ship's navigational display. "Five minutes," said Cipher 16, consulting the navigation display. Viraen took his cue and began making his way toward the side access ramp, securing his rifle to his back in preparation for the jump. Cipher 16 followed him out of the bridge, nodding to the pilot to continue on their present course he presumed. There were benefits to having a 360 degree field of view afforded to him by his helmet's pineal eye sensor. "Viraen," she started, watching him as he slowly made his way over to the open side access hatch and extended ramp. He turned ever so slightly, even though he didn't need to. "Be careful. I'd hate to hear you went and died on me after coming this far." He knew she was talking about the attempt on his life. He let out a dark chuckle, "I always am." There was a perceptible pause before he added, "Does this mean you'll tell me your name? Just in case I don't make it?" Cipher 16 didn't say anything, instead she looked at the chrono on her gauntlet's display. "Guess not," he said with a shrug before he activated his cloaking device, ran down the ramp and leapt off of it. Hidden from prying eyes, he fired his jetpack at intermittent intervals to slow his descent at the absolute last possible moment. Anyone watching the skies with powerful optics would potentially notice what looked like bits of contrail far lower than they should be, but Kaas was a strange planet, and something like this could be explained by its particularly odd weather. Guiding himself to a gap in the trees, Viraen fired the jetpack one last time before he landed on solid ground with a grunt. Great. Now he just need to make sure he got a nice look at everything that was going on here. No point in going in blind. Deactivating the cloaking device to conserve suit power, not knowing how long he was going to be here without an extraction, he pulled his rifle off his back and shouldered the weapon. Switching through several vision modes, Viraen began moving through the thick jungle toward the ruins of Kaas city. Luckily, he wasn't alone on this operation. There was another Mandalorian here, Clan Sal if he remembered the shabla briefing right. He knew precious little about his fellow mando'ade, but he had a feeling that he'd run into them sooner or later. Viraen saw a clearing up ahead, and engaging his active camouflage he made his way out of the treeline, cautiously, scanning the area ahead of him for any sign of threats. Satisfied that he was alone up there, he moved through the clearing to the edge of what was a sheer drop. Magnifying his view, he could see the ruins of Kaas city were down there, along with that crashed Republic vessel. Sightlines into the city weren't great, that much he could tell, and the thought of trying to see things from up here didn't quite enthuse him. Of course, he had no shabla choice in the matter now. A quick check with his rangefinder told him he was still about 700 galactic standard meters out. As he was deliberating what part to approach from, his broadband antenna picked up a sudden increase in white noise, and it was coming from the city. That could only really mean one thing; the shabla party had been started without him. "Guess this is my lucky day," he muttered to no one in particular. Leaping off a shabla cliff wasn't exactly what most people would call lucky, but he wasn't most people. "Well, here I kriffing go," he said to himself, before activating his grav-boots and beginning to walk down the sheer cliff face. It paid to conserve fuel for the jetpack, even if that meant he'd probably get there after the initial fighting was over. At least the lifeform scanner indicated that the place wasn't deserted. He'd have hated to have called in a favor to get here for absolutely no kriffing reason. Shab he'd have hated if that happened. By the time Viraen was on the ground, the jamming strength was starting to decrease, and so he started moving at a combat jog. "Oh Viraen, how was your trip to Kaas? Do anything fun? Me? No. I just spent most of my time trying to get to the shabla city before my vod had all the fun. Why do you ask?" he complained, once more to no one but himself, what with his helmet speakers off. He was almost panting from the effort by the time he got to the walls, another ping from the lifeform scanner and bioscan told him that there were two conscious targets nearby, their rough outline being rendered directly onto his HUD. One was very clearly a Mandalorian, based very simply on her body proportions alone, there was no way she wasn't wearing beskar'gam. The other contact wasn't so obvious, but the bodies near both of them were. Republic troops, from the looks of it. The one closest to his fellow mando'ade was very clearly dead. "So they did start the shabla party without me," groaned Viraen as he began moving toward the wall after re-engaging his cloaking device. Once more, to conserve fuel, he decided to prepare to activate the grav-boots when his HUD immediately picked up two signatures coming toward him. Viraen cursed his luck. Of course he'd be the one to run into a patrol. Dropping to one knee, he lay in wait for them to come around into his field of view. It was two guards, in bog standard trooper armor. The coloration was completely at odds with the environment, and based on that alone they should have been shot. He brought up his RT-97C. The weapon was equipped with a Czerka blaster suppressor, and so no one was going to hear the shot. However, it was still a blaster weapon, and he'd need to make sure that he didn't need a second shot. Taking aim, he let the weapon's optic adjust for distance before he steadied his breathing. Inhale. One shot. Second shot. Exhale. Two bolts left his weapon, catching the two troopers in the chest before they could even react. Before he moved any further, Viraen activated his signal interceptor, trying the standard comms frequencies used by the Republic to see if the alarm had been tripped. "Not bad, Viraen, I guess you still have it," he said to himself as he began to climb the wall, cloaking device still active. He got to the top of it with little effort thanks to the grav-boots. Crouching down, he began to look around for anything of interest when he spotted a figure in beskar'gam, standing with both weapons drawn, in front of a Jedi. Viraen knew that there was peace with the Jedi, but instinctively he couldn't quite think of anyone Republic aligned as a friendly target. If he decloaked up on the wall, he was asking every marksman in the area to shoot him. However, if he decloaked down there, and the Jedi turned out to be hostile, he'd be in a bit of trouble. Weighing his choices for a moment, he decided that a little bit of trouble was better than riddled with blaster bolts. What finally swayed his decision was when he saw what the Jedi did next, and heard what she had to say. So she was here for some Imp officers and civvies. Typical, Mandalorians were left to fend for themselves. That was fine, they always looked after their own, that was why he was here after all. Leaping off the wall, the sound dampener in his belt reduced his impact to a barely audible sound before he disengaged the cloaking system. His blaster was shouldered, and aimed in the general direction of said Jedi, though not specifically at them. Shabla peace treaty and all that. "Is this a private party, or are more welcome?" he asked without missing a beat.
  14. Viraen Kyrdol

    Name: Viraen "Nitkatwi (Deadeye)" Kyrdol (Veer-ae-hn Nit-kah-twee Keer-doll) Gender: Male Species: Human (Mandalorian) Rank: Ver'alor in the Suuhymu'hbjavrars (Wraiths), Mercenary. The Suuhymu'hbjavrars are a unit specific to Clan Kyrdol, and the rank holds no significance to other clans. Date of Birth: 3654 BBY (26 years old) Appearance: (Older mark. Abdominal plate, rangefinder and gorget missing) (Taken during an exercise, wearing a light exoskeleton and scanner goggles) Lean, muscular, standing at 6'0" and weighing a total of 200 pounds, Viraen very much looks the part of a Mandalorian infiltration expert. He inherited his mother's dark brown hair which he airs shorn short, and his father's forest green eyes and pale skin. He lost some muscle mass from when he was in a coma, but has been working hard to get it back, though not with any particular success. Like most Mandos, he bears a fair few scars from the years he's spent fighting. His back, shoulders and the back of his thighs bear scars from where shrapnel from the explosion that was supposed to claim his life. His lower right torso bears a particularly vicious scar from a vibroknife wound sustained during training and his left calf has impact scarring from a disruptor that never quite healed right. Viraen has a tattoo of a Mythosaur skull with two crossed beskade behind it, Clan Kyrdol's heraldry, on his left shoulder. On his right is a stylized skull imposed over a crossed beskad and stylized blaster rifle, the insignia of the Suuhymu'hbjavrars. Like most Mandalorians, Viraen wears his armor most of the time and rarely takes it off. On the rare location he needs to case a location and its impossible to do so without switching to civilian attire, he tends to prefer functional cargo slacks, and a bantha leather jacket over a simple t-shirt. In the past, he tended to make use of an armored jacket, but he has yet to replace the loss of his old jacket. He still however wears a concealed holster with an S-110 Particle Beam Interceptor. Possessions: S-110 Particle Beam Interceptor Pistol w/ Electronic Targeting System Czerka Blaster Suppressor equipped RT-97 Heavy Blaster Rifle Beskad w/ black non-reflective paint applied to metal surfaces Argaty'irya'gam w/ Wide-Beam Sonic Stunner and Shatter Beam on Right Gauntlet 2x Ion Grenades 2x Anti-Vehicle Concussion Grenades 2x Smoke Grenades 4x Surveillance Tagger Darts Roll of Flex-5 Detonite Tape 2x 53-R High Yield Thermite Explosive Charges MandalMotors Beskad-class Systems Patrol Craft w/ Living Quarters Module Personality: Viraen has a strong sense of devotion to everything he does and believes in, and is not afraid to speak out about what he believes to be best. However, being raised as Clan Kyrdol and being a strict adherent of the Resol'nare as a result, he will do what's best for his clan and rally to the cause of the Mand'alor even if he believes personally that it is wrong. Viraen is fairly light-hearted, and frequently makes light of his situation and circumstance, his humor tending towards the dry side. Viraen has a front-line soldier's foul mouth, and while he tends to swear more in Mando'a, that has never stopped him from swearing in any other language. He's gregarious in close company and will go out of his way to help those close to him. Viraen has a strong hatred for the Republic, particularly SIS, who he is convinced were the ones responsible for what happened to him. This hatred also stems from what they did to his mother. For someone in the line of work he's in, Viraen has a strong set of principles, and will never endanger non-combatants as far as he can help it. Any non-combatant who makes themselves a threat however has by their own actions removed any compunctions he had in putting a bullet or slug in them. During his time leading a Suuhymu'hbjavrars team, he made sure that he put the lives of his team ahead of his own. Unfortunately, ever since the incident, Viraen has been plagued with nightmares of earlier times in his life, and is naturally more than frustrated at his most certainly diminished physical prowess. Skills, Abilities and Talents: Clan Krydol Style of Mandalorian Martial Arts Trained Swordsman Blaster Pistol and Rifle Training and Experience Marksman Slugthrower Training and Experience SIS Slicing and Interrogation Training Demolitions Training Light Corvette/Gunship/Troop Transport Combat Pilot Basic Starfighter Piloting Competency Basic Battlefield First Aid Trained Infiltrator Mandalorian Survival Training Biography: Viraen was born to Taran and Helena Kyrdol, his father being an elite bounty hunter and his mother being an SIS agent. His father was a prolific bounty hunter and assassin who'd made quite the name for himself in Hutt space. His mother was in the SIS, and was investigating the actions of his father's employers. The two met when his father infiltrated his mother's safe house to eliminate her for the Hutts when he found her watching a monitor that showed an SIS team breaching his safe house. Enraged, Taran was about to kill her when the apartment was swarmed by troops from the Hutt Cartel. When they opened fire on him he realized what had happened. The Hutts had sold him out, and her bosses had sold her out. Begrudgingly, the two were forced to fight out of there together. Taran moved as fast as he could, tried to get back, but he failed to get there in time. The man that he called his mentor was dead, and as were the few people that he could call his friends. Taran went on a spree that night, killing many of his former employers one by one until a certain SIS agent convinced him otherwise. That killing them wouldn't bring those that died, back. With nowhere to go, Taran and his former target left Hutt space, together. They were both betrayed by their employers, and Taran vowed that he'd find the one in SIS responsible. For years, they both tried, to no avail. Though a lot of people wanted to hire the man who was responsible for taking out three Hutts and their bodyguards, and so the two found a lot of work. Eventually the partnership changed from a professional one to a less than professional one and the two got married and settled down on Mandalore. Viraen was raised in what was not exactly a traditional Mandalorian household. His mother was still learning the culture when he was born and his father ended up being the one who taught them both. While he doesn't remember it, his ba'buir weren't exactly warm and welcoming to his mother at first, but from what Viraen can remember about his childhood if he was asked he'd say that they loved her like their own daughter. Viraen took an interest to his parents' line of work before formal training began for Mandalorian children. When he was four, he asked his parents if he could have a 'blasta', leading to his mother trying to teach him the basics of how to handle her backup holdout blaster on one particular evening when his father had been out on contract. When his father returned, he was impressed with both his ad'ika and his riduur, and when Viraen was five he began formal instruction under both parents. By the time his formal training started, Viraen had adopted his mother's quick draw fast shooting pistol handling method and his father's patient but effective shooting style. Blade training with is father followed, with Taran teaching his son the punch dagger fighting style favored by his clan. Like many aruetii parents, Taran also had a strong belief that his children should learn to fly, and soon he had his son training on his D5 Mantis. Even though the Mantis was perhaps not the best ship for Viraen to learn on, his father was a patient teacher, and the young boy caught on to the basics quite well for someone his age. Viraen's talent with a blade was discovered quite by accident. Taran was watching his son play, and when he saw the young boy's unrefined albeit promising skills with a wooden practise blade, he took it upon himself to impart what he knew upon his son. By the time he was eight, his parents began taking him on jobs with them, to both observe them and so he could learn more advanced techniques out in the 'field'. Viraen was thrilled about being able to accompany his parents. This was also the first time that he'd learned about his mother's non-Mandalorian heritage, as when he'd asked both parents if they did the same thing at his age and got a negative answer from his mother and he asked her why, she explained how she wasn't born a Mandalorian. Viraen, who knew nothing outside of Mandalore and life there, learned about his mother's homeworld of Alderaan. She didn't spare many of the details about the infighting between royal houses or anything of that sort. It was that night where Viraen got his first lesson in slicing from his mother, and watched her slice into the sensor net input collation server for a location that his father was trying to infiltrate. What Viraen didn't know at the time that the job was from the Sith Empire, and that they were removing a Republic sympathizer on the planet ahead of their invasion. With the job ending successfully, and proud to hear of his son's progress, Taran let him fly the ship home. Time passed, and Viraen was internalizing his training well. By the time he was ten, Viraen was a crack shot with his father's rifle, could pilot his father's D5 Mantis with more than considerable competency, could handle his mother's holdout blaster well enough, could hold his own against both parents in close quarters combat, against his father in a bout and could slice into all but the better protected systems. Things were going well for Viraen, and for the family. Unfortunately for them, the past has a habit of catching up with you when you try and leave it behind. It was a relatively simple job on Nar Shaddaa, there was a Republic Spec Ops team who'd tracked down a Republic defector, and their employer need this man stay alive till they could get him extracted. What the Empire had left out, was that this man was from Republic SIS himself, and that not only was the Republic Military on his tail, but so was the SIS. This was the first time that Viraen had met his ba'vodu, Varan Kyrdol, ruus'alor of the elite Suuhymu'hbjavrars. Varan made a point of complementing his parents on how well they'd raised him so far. Viraen still remembers what his ba'vodu said, "I've got to had it to you ner vod, you two have raised one fine ad'ika." Once pleasantries were exchanged, the four of them split into teams to work on the job. Taran and Varan had the unenviable job of causing a distraction, leading away and eliminating the Republic Special Forces team, while Viraen was supposed to provide cover for his mother as she got the defector to an Imperial Intelligence extraction team. Taking up an overwatch position with his Czerka Assault Blaster Rifle, he followed his mother and the defecting agent to the Imperial Intelligence team. His mother called it in, and his father and uncle began making their way back to their safehouse, as did he and his mother. On the way back, disaster struck. Viraen had gotten the distinct feeling that they were being watched, and had conveyed this to his mother, who expressed the same but kept her concern hidden from her son. As he moved from one building to the next, the next thing he knew there were a pair of smoke grenades tossed onto the street. Viraen could see shadows moving in the smoke, and instinctively he pulled the trigger. A shout alerted him to the fact that he'd hit one of the assaillants. His mother, taking advantage of his counter-attack, threw herself behind a trash container and began firing back, putting two of them down. The firefight seemed to be going in their favor, that was until Viraen could have sworn he saw something move behind his mother. Only problem was, there was nothing there, or was there? By the time he was able to shout out a warning, a stun blast knocked her down and rendered her combat ineffective. The shimmer that he'd seen resolved itself to be a man in an armored trench coat with a blast vest secured under it. He didn't recognize him, but even at ten, he knew enough to know that he was looking at an intelligence operative of some kind. Viraen didn't stop firing, and tried to stop the man from picking up his mother's immobile body before he could put her between the two of them. He wasn't fast enough. That didn't stop Viraen from firing at the other men who dared show themselves, and he took two more before deciding to pursue the retreating agent. The moment he vaulted over the balcony he was taking cover behind, trying to reach a stack of cargo containers piled high, he felt a sharp pain in his shin. The next thing he knew, he was on the ground, and there was an excruciating pain coming from his leg. Amidst agony induced cries, Viraen tried to contact his father and uncle, only to be met with static. By the time he did get through, they had already honed in on his location. When he heard what happened, his father was enraged. Confused, Viraen demanded to know what was going on as they made their way back to the safe house. That was the first time he heard about what it was that his mother used to do, and he found out just who the people who had her were. As his wounds were tended to, the three of them got to work on what their plan was. Taran and Varan had to call in a lot of favors, and secured a fair bit of specialist equipment, but in the end they had what they were sure was a solid foolproof plan. Viraen was just happy that he got to be a part of this plan. As their second best slicer, it was his job to man the specialist communications equipment, as both Varan and Taran needed to actually be out there. Viraen monitored enemy communications, relaying what he learned to his buir and ba'vodu. When the time came, he engaged the communications jammer, and for a moment he almost felt pity for the SIS. It was after what happened next, that Varan lost all innocence. Seeing his father walk back into the safehouse, armor scorched and dented, with his badly injured and barely conscious mother being carried bridal style in his hands was a lot to take in for the young Viraen. His uncle made sure to keep him occupied while his father patched his wife back up, but Viraen would still never forget what he saw. Ever since, he's had a deep-seated hatred for the SiS. His mother recovered, and when they were en route back to Mandalore, she told him that she was very proud of him. He didn't know the significance of the discussion that his ba'vodu and buir had after they reviewed his helmet footage, but little did he know this was one of the deciding factors in his later selection for the Suuhymu'hbjavrars. When they got back, Viraen began training even harder. Viraen made it a point to find out how he could avoid obscurement like the smoke from the grenades affecting him next time. His father was somewhat surprised when he asked for a target imager, but sourced one for his son with a barely hidden sense of pride. Life seemed to continue as normal after that, as normal as things could be in any case, until he was thirteen. Viraen was selected by clan leadership to join the elite infiltration cadre known as the Suuhymu'hbjavrars (Wraiths). It was his ba'vodu that came to their homestead to inform him regarding his selection. He reminded Viraen about what he'd managed three years ago, and how that was the kind of person who would survive the training process. Helena wasn't quite convinced, but not only was Viraen an adult by Mandalorian standards, he was also determined to take part in the program. The training was brutal, and even fatal for some. Every day they were drilled in the art of infiltration, scouting and assassination. Marksmanship, demolitions, handed to hand and close quarters combat, combat flying, survival techniques, stealth techniques, latest medical techniques in battlefield first aid, basic interrogation and so on. As far as Clan Kyrdol was concerned, those who showed promise would influence the future of the clan, whether they would be seen as not contributing anything to the other clans and the survival of their culture, or whether they would make a mark. It was during one of these close quarters combat training sessions, that Viraen took a rather nasty wound from a vibro knife to the right side of his torso. Viraen, however, survived. He became a lot more sarcastic and dismissive about things, even though he'd managed to impress his trainers. Upon completion, his parents presented him with his first suit of armor, a set of Mandalorian scout gear with an integrated personal stealth field generator. His parents told him just how proud they were of him, and Viraen shadowed them on jobs for another year till he got his first job a year later. A verd'ika in the Suuhymu'hbjavrars, Viraen got assigned to veteran marksman Taihra Kyrdol. The job was simple, simple in theory in any case, get to Ord Mantell and remove a local militia leader. The catch? He was being protected by a Republic Special Ops team. En route, Viraen got to know Taihra well enough, and thanks to her own contacts on the planet they'd managed to get a map with the locations of some of the more important remote outposts on the planet. Imperial Intelligence had provided them with the information on which base their target was stationed at. Only, hitting one of the larger bases was suicide. They'd have to draw their target out. The two of them observed both the base and the outpost for the next few days, and discovered that conveniently their targets carried out inspections of the outposts around his base. There was only one additional problem, and that was the fact that it was in an armed convoy consisting of a single Manka-class walker. Mines weren't easy to come by, and the two had to launch a raid on a outpost outside of their target's operating zone to get some. Unfortunately, this outpost was close to a settlement. The two Mandalorians moved like death itself, with Taihra providing long ranged sniper support and Viraen moving in. In short order, they'd killed everyone in their way. Viraen had secured their prize and was on his way out when he found himself staring at a shocked civilian. It would have been no problem to just walk past the young woman, if she wasn't awkwardly pointing a heavy blaster rifle taken from one of the dead Republic troops at him. Viraen could have very easily used his shoulder mounted dart launchers and put her down, only he didn't have any electro darts loaded. She was a non-combatant, could he just kill her for being at the wrong place at the wrong time? He'd probably killed someone she knew. A father? A brother? A lover? The decision was made for him, however, when her head exploded in front of him. As he made his way back to Taihra, he didn't know whether to confront her about what he felt was unnecessary, or whether to thank her. Taihra could tell that he was troubled about what happened, and explained to him that once a non-combatant picks up a weapon, and you've exhausted all non-lethal options, it was you or them. Viraen wanted to argue, but he knew she was right, and he would adopt her principle as his own. After making their way back, Viraen got to placing the mines while Taihra covered him. The next day, the convoy came by, and the mines detonated with predictably explosive results. With the walker's drive system deactivated, Viraen went to work. Sitting two hundred meters out, he began engaging the Republic troops. When it looked like it was a single assailant, their target was feeling confident enough such that when Viraen pretended to be pinned by enemy fire, he left the protection of the downed walker, making the last bad decision he would ever make in his life. Viraen's actions saw him promoted to alor'uus, and he took on several smaller jobs before his next major job when he was sixteen. With the war raging, Viraen was tasked with supporting a group of Imperial Commandos on a behind the lines operation to sabotage Republic surface to orbit weapon systems. Viraen had managed to infiltrate the facility using stealth, subterfuge, misdirection and the cover of darkness to his advantage. Viraen's precision sniper fire made sure that the Commandos could advance without difficulty. Seeing them encounter stiff resistance around the command centre of the complex, Viraen made his way into the facility and after neutralizing the power, made his way into the command center. The two pronged attack was enough to force the Republic into a bloody last stand, which ended badly for them. Pleased with his work, the Empire had hired him again, and Viraen quickly became a favored operative of theirs. His superiors also were happy with his results, and Viraen through success rate alone received an 'officer's commission', making ver'alor. Mandalorians didn't operate like traditional militaries, and an officer was not usually someone who received special treatment, but someone whose own experiences was such that he could be trusted to order others. For three years, Viraen and his small squad of Mandalorians raised hell for the Republic. They were caught in many small scrapes and near last stands, but the five of them became as close as close could be over the next four years. All of these successes drew the attention of Imperial Intelligence. When he was 21, Viraen began working with one of their Cipher Agents. Cipher 16, a female Chiss agent. The two got along well, and they became fast friends. He spent three years working for Imperial Intelligence, both with and without his squad. Of course, nothing ever stayed hidden long in that line of work, and Viraen and Cipher 16 were eventually discovered by an SIS team. The two, Mandalorian and Chiss, fought back to to back against what seemed to be unending hordes. Viraen saw her back to Kaas, but the moment that he got off the pad at the Mandalorian Enclave, a devastating explosion tore his ship apart. Clan Kyrdol, being firm adherents to the Resol'nare, had sided with those pushing for independence. Helena, convinced that the SIS was responsible, was firmly against siding with the Republic, as was her husband. Those that respected Taran alone trusted him despite their opinion on his riduur. Viraen was in a coma for two years, and for the majority of the Mandalorian civil war, he remained unaware of what happened. At the end of two years, multiple surgeries later, he came out of his coma. Viraen very quickly found that the galaxy he knew didn't exist, and that times had well and truly changed. It took another year and half of training and careful physical therapy for Varan to even retain a measure of his physical abilities. Character Statistics: Strength: B (3)Agility: A (4)Perception: B (3)Endurance: C (2)Willpower: C (2)
  15. Character Face Claims

    Sergeant Michael "Psycho" Sykes, Crysis series - Viraen Kyrdol