Rebel, Rebel, Attn: Erisi

[Wes Loran]

The planet of Abraxin was a swamp world, known for the common encounters with marsh haunts and their Abrax cognac. Wes had encountered both of those elements, and he had to say fighting a marsh haunt was more refreshing than a glass of Abrax cognac, but the alcoholic beverage was good, that he could give them. If he went through the same ordeal now as he had in his younger years, he’d feel inclined to switch the order of the two. He wasn’t as young as he used to be and even with his training he was less of a fighter than he was in his younger years. Age was the natural decay of a human, there was no helping that part of his biology.

He shifted lightly on the bench he sat on in the largest park right in the centre of the Abraxin capital. Its name had eluded him, a failing on his part, but the name had been something impossibly warbled, he didn’t think he could pronounce it even if he knew it. The heavy cloak he wore with the hood draped over his head was uncomfortably warm, but it sufficiently kept his identity secret if anyone who’d seen the wanted posters wandered by. The mechanical mask he was wearing also helped in that matter, just in case. His cover was that of a monk from a local monastic order, and yes, the fellows who arranged this over at Intelligence had probably got their little laugh out of it. The monastic order was against any form for violence and worldly pleasures, which Wes deduced anyone would have to be insane to join or form in the first place.

The cover was perfect for this particular mission, no one would expect an anti-violence monk to break into a stronghold and assassinate a planetary leader. His only worry was how it would all coincide with his companion, who was hopefully arriving soon. He’d requested the presence of a Mandalorian for this mission, anyone who volunteered could come, but he did underline the fact that he just needed one. This wasn’t a mission for a whole team of rowdy Mandalorians. He’d also said that anyone who was coming would have to dress inconspicuously, as to not draw attention to themselves. He had an extra cloak for whoever was arriving, so they could sneak into the government compound both.

The monk outfits were their easiest way in, as a few monks from the order would be going into the stronghold at the outskirts of the city for a religious ceremony with their target. Apparently they were all into this sort of stuff. The whole plan was very touch and go, for while the monks never gave a number of their arriving Brothers, security could choose to be difficult. If any suspicion was going on, Wes would abort the way in with the monks, and he’d go find the back door.

He’d already been on the planet for a few days, mingling with the local life and making his appearance familiar to the monks. Classic old espionage was always the thing, even with all the technological marvels that was used. It’d stayed relatively the same through the ages.

The mask itched, but he refrained from indulging in a good scratch, the monks were amazingly uptight. All he had to do now was wait for his Mandalorian friend to show up, and they could start this mission, whoever came, they would know his location at least, even if the robes would probably confuse someone. He was fairly sure he could recognise them as well, Mandalorians tended to have a particular look to them.

[Erisi Rahl]

A Mando'ad who was forced to leave both their beskar'gam and heavy besbe'trayce behind tended to be as irritable as a rabid cannock. Erisi had a greater tolerance for such imposed requirements, given her training as a scout. There were times when being fully outfitted for battle could be detrimental when stalking prey or observing a target. Still, she did not enjoy the current circumstances, which was the main reason why she was here in the first place. Cabur Mand'alor would not ask one of her vode to undertake any risks or handicaps that she wasn't willing to take upon herself.

In addition, Er'ika found herself curious as to why the Alliance had requested Mando assistance on a mission such as this. The fact that the message had been sent by the Director of Intelligence himself interested her as well. As she had never met the man face to face, the warrior woman could not guess just what he wanted or expected from her people. Therefore, it had seemed only proper that she discover same for herself. The Mand'alor wanted to know what sort of people their narudar were.

Something felt somewhat... odd about this planet. Erisi could not find the words to explain this feeling. The clammy humidity in the air was slightly uncomfortable, but was not the true cause of the disturbance. It was as though she could see something just out of the corner of her eye, but every time she turned to look there was nothing there. She knew her senses were not lying to her, but she couldn't understand what any of them were saying.

The dark-skinned woman set aside this idle train of thought as she approached the landscaped park where she would meet this Loran. In compliance with the outline of the Alliance's missive, Erisi had attired herself in worn workboots, olive green cargo pants and a black tank top, all overlaid with a large, loose coat of dark gray. Her mane of curly hair was pulled back out of her face in a loose ponytail. Walking along the stone pathways through manicured lawns, hands in her pockets, she looked very much the part of a 'free trader' somewhat down on her luck.

The Mand'alor was thankful for the coat in particular, as it allowed her to bring her smaller weapons along for the ride. Security on Abraxin was not particularly impressive, so the Mando'ad had encountered no troubles in leaving the spaceport. Espionage mission or not, there was no way any upstanding member of her people could go to any potential confrontation unarmed. The Tsad did not hold near the kind of sway over the Mando'ade required to make them change their ways.

With a casual stride, Erisi walked through the park towards the location of her contact. The narudar had been quite specific in where and when she should make herself known to the Aruetii'alor. A small spark of amusement flickered in her dark eyes as she caught sight of the hunched over figure in a voluminous robe. She found it interesting attire, considering the monastic order such garments belonged to were non-violent in nature. Violence was very much the order of the day, after all.

Her steps slowed as she arrived at the bench, acting as though she were simply feeling weary and wished to rest for a time. That in itself was also laughable, as it was difficult to tire a woman with cybernetically enhanced endurance. Lowering herself onto the gray stone seat besides him, she risked a glance over at what she could see of the man's profile. "Nice getup," she murmured in accentless Basic to her incognito companion.


(( Mando'ad - Mandalorian (noun)
beskar'gam - Mandalorian armor
besbe'trayce - weapons
Cabur Mand'alor - Mandalore the Protector
vode - brothers/sisters
narudar - allies of circumstance, "my enemy's enemy"
Tsad - Alliance
Aruetii'alor - Leader of outsiders; commonly used for leaders of the Alliance ))

[Wes Loran]

Wes sat still, sitting in what others probably saw as meditation or praying, or whatever the monastic order on this planet tended to do when they sat on benches in the park. This was very much a waiting game, but if they timed it correctly the wait would only last until his fellow ally turned up, which would be soon, judging by the time of day at the moment. He realised that maybe Mandalorians wouldn’t be accustomed to waiting, but it had been a job to volunteer for, he did believe he’d outlined the sort of mission it was supposed to be. Games such as this rarely went as expected, though, so a fight could turn into a long wait while an expected wait could turn into a fight. His long years within this field had taught him that with live beings involved in a rather hectic chess puzzle, you couldn’t analyse it like the boffins in Intelligence liked to do.

He looked around, trying to keep his head as bowed as he could without compromising his view. The mask, while great for hiding his most prominent features, did attract a fair amount of attention. As it only covered the lower part of his face, the upper part of it looked very much human. He wasn’t too worried though, many various beings, near human and nonhuman, used masks to be able to survive in some atmospheres that would be normal for others. It wouldn’t be investigated very closely, not unless Wes did something overly suspicious.

Catching a glimpse of someone approaching, his eyes went over the woman, analysing her movements, his eyes taking in her manner as she walked. Some say that you could discover someone’s background just by looking at how they moved when in motion; to Wes this was most often true. When he saw the Mandalorian approach him as she went along the walkways of the park, he gleaned as much information about her person as he could.

Identifying her as a Mandalorian was easy enough, he’d learnt enough about the Mandalorians to know about their culture and their ways, when he saw her, it was close to what he imagined a Mandalorian’s body language would read. He probably had an easier time at it than he would’ve normally had, as she was missing the ever present armour. Those bulky things always muffled the body language some. He’d been very intrigued by the Mandalorians overall, a small part of him identified with them. Their way was probably one of the smartest thing he’d seen in a long time, they didn’t go about ways like others did, they had honour, something he liked to believe the Alliance had as well. Not in such a manner as the Mandalorians, but still honour.

Watching as she slowed, putting on a suitable front to explain why she was stopping where she was, Wes mentally expressed his approval at her actions. She was trying to hide her true nature as well as she could, taking the situation seriously rather than barge all over the place. He had to admit, this wasn’t exactly a Mandalorian he’d envisioned. They all sounded so incredibly loud.

"Nice getup,"

He grinned, an expression that wouldn’t be seen unless she looked at his eyes. Glancing down, he resisted the urge to look directly at her, as was customary when one was in conversation. “You can thank my subordinates for the wonderful irony.” The fact that he was speaking at all was hidden by the mask, but he murmured the words as well to make sure no one accidentally heard anything.

“Follow me,” he instructed, and with those whispered words, he stood and made his way down the park path in the same direction the Mandalorian had been walking in before she stopped to pause with him. He ambled along, trying not to look like he was in anything close to a hurry. He’d never seen any of the monks do anything but amble, honestly. He found their pace positively infuriating.

Leaving the park behind, he wasn’t aware of how far behind the Mandalorian was, but he trusted that she could keep up with his rather snail like pace. As he crossed a market space, a group of monks passed before him, and they all greeted him in the manner that was customary for them. Wes responded in kind, careful to keep it proper. Screwing up now wouldn’t exactly be fun.

Quickly he tracked down an out of the way alley, and slipped in unnoticed. He stepped further into it, hiding from the crowds outside it as he did so. When he was positive no one looking in would see him, he threw off the heavy hood and pulled the mask off his face, giving a small breath of relief at finally being able to breathe air through his mouth rather than the damned mask.

He gave a slight nod to the Mandalorian, throwing a lopsided grin on his face. “Wes Loran, but you probably already knew that.” He smirked. “Nice of you to come, wasn’t sure if anyone would volunteer, the job being what it is.”

[Erisi Rahl]

The Aruetii'alor called Wes Loran had a mask obscuring most of his face beneath the concealing drape of the robe's hood. Therefore, there was little she could tell for certain about the man she knew lay within the folds of cloth. His eyes were visible at the least, a few shades lighter than her own. From the way his fair skin crinkled up at the corners of them, the Mand'alor would guess her unorthodox method of greeting had caused him to smile. Good; the last thing she wanted was to deal with as a 'partner in crime' today a self-important besom who couldn't tolerate a joke at his expense. Especially since she wasn't allowed to put him out of her misery by killing him.

"You can thank my subordinates for the wonderful irony."

Yes, she was sure that had been a smile now. His voice was hushed, but the humor it contained could still could be made out by an attentive ear. Erisi found his comment somewhat strange. Was he saying those who ranked beneath him ordered him around? She understood aruetiise constructed their hierarchies of authority much differently than the Mando'ade did, but the higher being directly ruled by the lower made no sense in any system of command. Or perhaps he meant his subordinates had played some sort of joke upon him? If so, the standards of what was funny in the Tsad at large orbited a star far from her own.

"Follow me."

The Mand'alor gave no physical sign she'd understood his request, such as a nod. The whole point of their surreptitious meeting was to make contact without giving potential observers any sign the two of them were communicating. This Loran was fortunate she'd been trained to serve as a scout and hunter. Espionage wasn't Er'ika's strongest suit, but she knew well enough to not flub things up on such minor details. The Mando'ade did not often participate in such cloak-and-dagger situations, unless they were on a merc job for an aruetii which required it.

After a few seconds, she slid another glance in the direction the Aruetii'alor had gone. She spotted him not all that far away, shuffling along at a frustratingly slow pace. Settling herself back on the bench in preparation for a long wait, she maintained a lock on Loran and kept him within the range of her peripheral vision. Erisi didn't want to risk losing track of one robed figure upon hundreds wandering around the capital.

Admittedly, she hadn't seen any true monks who possessed broad shoulders like her Tsad contact. A non-violent lifestyle often lent itself to creating thin, sickly body frames. The woman warrior could never understand such a choice on the part of any sentient beings. Not seeking out battle, she could almost comprehend, so long as one was willing to fight when necessary. Forsaking your responsibility to defend yourself and your aliit was one of the greatest sins Erisi could imagine. In truth, she considered such sentients to be truly dini'la.

Once she believed an adequate amount of space had stretched between them, the dark-skinned Mando'ad rose fluidly to a stand and began to follow her contact at a casual stroll. Loran was also fortunate she had been trained as a sniper. She was far from the most patient sentient in the galaxy, but she understood the need to allow time to pass while awaiting the proper time to strike. These circumstances were not ones she favored, but she bore them without complaint. When Erisi spied the man she was stalking duck into an alleyway, she mentally counted the seconds before she could join him there.

"Wes Loran, but you probably already knew that. Nice of you to come, wasn’t sure if anyone would volunteer, the job being what it is."

Erisi permitted herself several moments to evaluate the appearance of the man before her. She was surprised to find he was built like a warrior; honestly, she'd envisioned some stringy, shifty figure when she'd heard the title 'Director of Intelligence'. The Mando'ad was accustomed to those kind of weaselly-looking sentients being the sort to sneak around and obtain information through deception. Perhaps this mission would not be an exercise in frustration after all. "This is not the way we prefer to do things as a rule," Er'ika admitted in a dry tone. "All the same, we fulfill our obligations."

The Mand'alor did not bother to hide the thorough examination she was giving the one called Loran. She expected him to give her much the same treatment, particularly after what she was about to say next. "I am Cabur Mand'alor. As that is as much of a mouthful as 'Director of Intelligence', you may call me Erisi." She was uncertain as to whether the Tsad had even been aware of the change in leadership of the Mando'ade, and so she looked forward to observing Loran's response.

(( besom - ill-mannered lout, unhygienic person, someone with no manners (in Mandalorian terms)
dini'la - insane

All other terms are defined in previous posts. ))

[Wes Loran]

Wes watched with a certain degree of amusement as she took in his appearance. Her action was understandable; he’d given her the same treatment when she’d walked up to him in the park. He’d take a fair guess that most Mandalorians had a costum to size up whomever they were working with or against; it was the easiest way to deduce what sort of fight it would end up as. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to fight the woman, knowing how the Mandalorians went about things, he was sure he’d end up on the ground one way or another.

"All the same, we fulfill our obligations."

He let out a small chuckle. “You shouldn’t have felt an obligation; it was merely a small request. I wasn’t expecting anyone to take the bait, but I didn’t see the harm in trying.” He gave her a more obvious once-over than he’d done in the park, easily picking up what she was currently feeling through her body language. If he would dare a guess, he’d say she was slightly apprehensive to how such a mission would end up. He knew Mandalorians liked straight fights rather than smoke and mirrors. “Pleasantly surprised that you did show up.” He resisted the urge to wink; something told him it wouldn’t be a particularly good idea.

”As that is as much of a mouthful as 'Director of Intelligence', you may call me Erisi."

His eyebrows shot up in an expression of mild surprise. Out of all outcomes for this encounter, this wasn’t exactly what he’d been expecting. “Another surprise for today, I wasn’t expecting the Mand’alor herself to tag along,” he said with mild humour lacing his tone. He’d heard about the switch in leadership, apparently the Mandalorians had endured hectic times since their strike on Bespin. It couldn’t be helped; leadership changed frequently and was dependent on the situations. “It suits my purposes, at least. I’ve been interested to know how Mandalorians handle situations that aren’t strictly combat related.”

He busied himself with conjuring up a second set of robes, handing them over to Erisi as he started outlining the plan. “These robes are our way in. A group of monks are entering the compound for some religious ritual, security wont be paying too much attention to them, as they’re supposed to be against violence. Once we’re in, we’ll leave the group and track down our target.”

He reached into the knapsack he was carrying around, pulling out a datapad as he glanced at the contents. “It sounds simple and boring, but there’s no guarantee that it’ll go as smoothly as the plan.” He gave her the datapad, which had an image of the city’s layout on the screen. He pointed out several locations. “The monks will be gathering here, this is where we’ll join them, and we’ll have to follow at their pace until they reach the compound. During the whole walk we might risk getting discovered if anyone suspects we’re not who we appear to be.”

He tapped a button on the datapad, and the rough layout of the compound popped up. “Once we’re in it’s very touch and go, we don’t have much information about how security is on the inside, this is where the real trouble starts.”

Throwing a glance to the mouth of the alleyway, he noted that it would be best if they moved. “Got it? The monks will be gathering soon.”

[Erisi Rahl]

"Pleasantly surprised that you did show up."

The Mand'alor inclined her dark-haired head slightly in acknowledgment of his statement. On the one hand, she thought it strange that the Tsad would make a request for assistance that they did not expect the Mando'ade to fulfill if they could. Her people did not take alliances with others frivolously--one of the reasons why such alliances were exceedingly rare in the first place. On the other hand, she could take the one called Loran's statement as a vague sort of compliment. His words indicated he was not somehow disappointed with the Mando'ad who'd answered his call. If he'd been so thoughtless as to indicate same, Erisi might well have left then and there, as the Mand'alor would take this as a grave insult.

"Another surprise for today, I wasn’t expecting the Mand’alor herself to tag along."

Black brows winged upwards over brown eyes in an expression of mild incredulousness. "I do not tag along," Erisi informed him in a firm tone. There was no anger in her voice or demeanor, fortunately for the Aruetii'alor. More likely she had intended her words as a warning rather than a threat. She would not tolerate being treated as secondary or lesser by anyone. Not only was there Mando pride to consider, but the man before her held no more power than she did with his own people. If anything, she held more, being the ultimate power of authority on her world.

"It suits my purposes, at least. I’ve been interested to know how Mandalorians handle situations that aren’t strictly combat related."

In direct contrast to his earlier speech, this line drew her dark sense of humor to the fore. "We do have lives beyond the battlefield," she reminded her counterpart, eyes narrowing in amusement. For Loran's sake, she hoped he did not truly consider the Mando'ade to be so two-dimensional as that. Too often were her people dismissed as mere barbarians by ignorant aruetiise. "And skills beyond killing. Some of us even know how to speak in complete sentences."

As the Aruetii'alor began to go over the details of their mission, the woman warrior set all other concerns aside in order to digest the information thoroughly. In truth, Mando'ade dealt with all situations in the same way: thoroughly and without hesitation. Nothing was left to chance, and a wise Mando'ad always had a backup plan. This was especially true in Erisi's case, as it was ever her way to anticipate the worst in any given situation. Some might call her a pessimist; she called herself prepared. Not to mention alive, while many of her past critics had long since gone on to the Manda.

"Got it? The monks will be gathering soon."

The robes Loran offered here were given a look of extreme distaste, but she did not quail at donning them. If it would better facilitate the slaying of her enemy (or her enemy's enemy's enemy, in this case), she would go onto the field of battle naked if she had to. To be fair, she was nearly as deadly unarmed as she was armed, at least at close range. "I understand," she confirmed curtly, completing the last few adjustments to her camouflage.

(( Manda - the oversoul, the afterlife, the Mandalorian equivalent of heaven

All other words are defined in previous posts. ))

[Wes Loran]

"I do not tag along,"

Wes gave her nothing more than an amused look, clearly finding her reacting to that ridiculous. “I’d take things less literally, if I were you.” His words carried a slight warning with it as well, clearly indicating that if she planned on kicking up a stink just because she got irked at a few simple words, he wouldn’t hesitate to neutralise her as a threat to his cover. If he’d manage was a whole different story, but Wes still had a few tricks up his sleeve.

While he knew it wouldn’t be trouble between the Alliance and the Mandalorians when they started working together, if a simple statement of ‘tag along’ got a reaction out of the Mand’alor, he didn’t want to think about what would happen if the Alliance troops got too used to Mandalorians hanging around. While they were as well disciplined as any other military faction, they weren’t always dead serious, which was probably an aspect which had kept them going for so long in their weakened state. Anyone signing up for the Alliance was effectively signing on to their own deaths, looking at the world with a cocky lopsided grin helped keep the morale up.

Mandalorian pride be damned, Wes doubted anyone in the Alliance was about to change their ways just to adjust to the new allies, and he doubted the Mandalorians would do it either. They were different groups and they’d have to learn to realise when to take things seriously and when to take a joke. He was sure some Alliance soldiers would find Mandalorian jokes downright morbid.

”Some of us even know how to speak in complete sentences."

He narrowed his eyes slightly as he regarded her with an amused smirk. “Not exactly what I meant. I was merely alluding to how Mandalorians are known for meeting things head on. I know you have your specialised forces, but this is different from a strike team hitting critical points. I would think assassination wouldn’t be considered honourable in the Mandalorian lifestyle.” He spread his hands out before him. “But as I’m not Mandalorian, I wouldn’t know.”

"I understand,"

“Good,” he said, getting back to business as he put the mask back in place and brought his hood over his features. He gestured that she should follow him closely this time, rather than at a distance. Two monks walking together wouldn’t be odd at all.

Leaving the alley, he made his way down the streets he knew would lead him to the gathering point. He knew the roads around rather well, another result of being around for a preliminary investigation. It aided them in taking the quickest way to their destination, but still when they arrived the monks were gathering, getting ready to head off. Wes easily attached himself to the group, throwing a suspicious gaze around. He wasn’t sure if anyone had picked up on his presence on Abraxin, but it could very well be.

[Erisi Rahl]

"I’d take things less literally, if I were you."

As much as Erisi did not like the flippant tone the Aruetii'alor had taken with her, Loran did gain a modicum of respect in her eyes for not backing down. She could not tolerate any sentient who would not or could not defend their position, regardless of whether words or weapons were involved. At the same time, it was apparent the Corellian did not wish to start a needless fight right now. This was also something the Mand'alor could appreciate; personal conflicts should always wait until after a battle to be resolved. "Merely making a point," she retorted, yielding no more ground to him than he had to her, yet obviously no more willing than he to pick a petty fit over the issue.

"Not exactly what I meant."

Perhaps not, but Er'ika was not ready to give her Tsad counterpart the benefit of the doubt. She was excruciatingly aware of how most of the galaxy's inhabitants viewed her people. The Corellia-centered rebellion might have been willing to parlay with the Mando'ade, but that did not mean they did not hold the same prejudices as the rest of the aruetiise. Trust was a thing the Mando'ade rarely offered to outsiders, and only time and shared experiences would produce same between their two peoples.

"I would think assassination wouldn’t be considered honourable in the Mandalorian lifestyle. But as I’m not Mandalorian, I wouldn’t know."

The dark-haired woman canted her head to one side, examining the Aruetii'alor's expression closely. She was uncertain as to whether Loran's statement was meant as a swipe at her kind, or was simply an admission of his own ignorance. Erisi was proficient enough at reading people much of the time, but this man was quite adept at keeping his intentions under wraps. His affable exterior could not be all there was of him, or he would not have survived as long as he had. "If I considered this task dishonorable, I would not be here." Really, that seemed an easy enough conclusion to draw, even for an aruetii. "Those who choose to lend aid to our enemies become our enemies. As the gi'e are dishonorable, so are their willing puppets. Killing them is a service to the galaxy at large."

"Good."

There was nothing left to be said at this point. Cabur Mand'alor drew the dull-colored hood down low over her face and followed her Tsad counterpart out of the alley. His hand gestures were readily understood, and so she followed the one called Loran close at his back. To find herself watching the back of a narudar was a darkly amusing situation for Erisi. It was a very much a first for the Mando'ad. While she could be a 'team player' when called for, never before had she cooperated with aruetiise to get a job done.

The slow, shuffling pace the Aruetii'alor set was maddening. It was the way prey walked, not predators such as herself. Restraining her natural ground-eating stride was an ongoing source of frustration. Nonetheless, Erisi grit her teeth and bore the indignity. Whenever she felt her patience ready to give way, she reminded herself that this humiliating display would give her the opportunity to strike down an ally of the gi'e. Er'ika was willing to forsake her personal pride in the short term to accomplish such a goal.

New to the position of Mand'alor as she was, Erisi was not so foolish as to think this war would be won by frontal assaults alone. The grasping, greedy tentacles of the Confederation needed to be cut, so there would be no obstacles remaining by the time the combined Tsad/Mando forces moved to stab at the corrupt heart of the beast. Disrupting supply lines was a crucial strategy in winning any long conflict. So the former Ori'ramikad would suffer now to protect her people, as she always had done.

Several agonizing minutes later, the pair of false monks joined a congregation of true exemplars. The Mando'ad was careful to never meet the eyes of any real monks as she kept watch over their positions. No one would be able to mistake the dark fire burning in her gaze for anything other than what it was. Sticking close to the one called Loran, the whole drably-attired group crawled towards the government compound where the target resided.

(( gi'e - fish (plural); Mandalorian slang for Confederates

All other words defined in previous posts. ))

[Wes Loran]

Wes hid his underlying annoyance as the monks shuffled around. They were an infuriating bunch, he would know, having spent a few days in their presence. This was his work, so he could easily endure such discomfort; he wasn’t so sure about Erisi, however. She showed sure signs of not liking the situation she’d been put in, only enough so that one who knew how to could pick up the subtle signals. Wes was sure she wouldn’t give the game away unless someone got too curious about her, he’d have to trust her to be able to keep herself concealed for long enough. Once they were inside, they could discard of the outfits.

Bringing an unknown variable into his mission was one thing he’d decided he wouldn’t like, but he’d seen it necessary to send the signal to the Mandalorians that the Alliance was willing to let the Mandalorians take part in their business. What the Alliance did concerned the Mandalorians to a certain extent, if they supported each other in other ways than just supporting each other in battles then the alliance they had would turn into something more symbiotic than what they had at the moment. The two factions were still keeping their distance, which is why Wes knew they had to merge more when it came to business. He would have to suggest to Aella to elect a Mandalorian representative to the High Command council, so that the Mandalorians could have an overview of how the Alliance did business.

His musings were cut short when the group seemed to give a slow lurch and go forward, if the pace they were going at could be called going forward at all. The group wandered slowly through the streets, people seemingly paying no heed to the monks shuffling along. Some stood and watched, but with little interest. They continued on, finally reaching the borders of the city after what seemed like an endless walk with that infuriating slow pace.

The compound was now in sight, now Wes just had to count on their disguises working as they were supposed to do.

((Did they pass the security checkpoint into the compound?))

[Maris Kala'myr]

((In the midst of the robed figures, Erisi and Wes go unnoticed and are allowed passage into the central courtyard of the compound.))

[Erisi Rahl]

The thought of putting all these herd animals pretending at being sentient out of their misery became an increasingly tempting one. Not that Erisi would do so even if she were alone on this trek. She was no demagolka. An abundance of aggressive tendencies did not mean a lack of honor. The Mand'alor had always made it a point to not strike out at non-combatants, regardless of whether they were almost asking for it by their pathetic nature alone. There wasn't any glory to be had in killing those who could not--or would not--fight back. Mando'ade were an enthusiastically violent people, but those with sense saw no reason to kill for merely the sake of killing. They were warriors, not exterminators.

As the group of monks plodded along, directly conflicting instincts battled within Er'ika for supremacy. Her training as a scout demanded she maintain a perfect situational awareness of the environment about her at all times. On the other side of the credcard, her common sense informed her looking about too often would make her stand out amidst the crowd. The laandur religious minions appeared to direct their gazes either towards the ground or straight ahead of them, no where else. The last thing the two infiltrators needed was to be discovered this early on. No doubt the Aruetii'alor would never let her forget it if the Mando'ad were to be the one that gave them away.

Fighting to hold her facial expression as blank as possible, Erisi turned to her other senses to keep her up to date as to what her surroundings were like. The soft sounds of armor plates shifting against eachother let her count how many guards were present within the courtyard. So far, they were all keeping relatively still, with none of them approaching the gaggle of robed figures as they passed into the compound. This was a good sign to be sure, but one of momentary value all the same. The one called Loran had explained he possessed little concrete information on what security was like inside the building. The watch could be lessened or tripled from what was outdoors for all they knew.

There was no help for it; the two would-be assassins were on the best path they knew towards their target. As the passel of monks drifted deeper within the cold stone and duracrete of the building, Erisi counted the meters until the corridor they wanted to take came into view. Her impatience with this whole scenario pleaded with her to rush ahead, but once more her common sense stepped in and struck the wayward impulse down. A verd could not survive for long if they let every passing thought and idea sway them into action.

The first step to disengaging from the pack of weaklings was to wait for the monks to shuffle almost completely pass the corridor in question before moving out of cadence with them. Upon ensuring she and the Aruetii'alor were at the very rear of the pack of weaklings, Cabur Mand'alor stepped as softly as she could behind the concealing corner of the hall. Her ears caught only the faintest sound that the Tsad's Director of Intelligence was behind her, and internally she gave him due credit for his skill at stealth.

At a gradual pace that hopefully would not give any observers undue alarm, Erisi increased the distance between herself and the intersection they had just departed. Fortunately for the two of them, there were no guards stationed immediately at the mouth of the hall, but the Mando'ad knew that may change later on. Still, she could not help but look forward to reaching the point where they would be hidden sufficiently to remove these smothering garments at last.

(( Do Erisi and Wes find a good hiding place to duck into and get rid of the sissy robes they're wearing? Do any guards happen by or take note of them at any point during the process? ))

(( demagolka - someone who commits atrocties, a real-life monster, a war criminal
laandur - delicate, fragile; sometimes used as an insult to mean weak and/or pathetic
verd - soldier, warrior

All other words defined in previous posts. ))

[Maris Kala'myr]

((The pair turns down a corridor and leave the safety of the monks behind. After briskly trying a few doors, they discover one that isn't locked. Taking their chances, they slip in. They enter a small office with a glass table towards the centre of the room with a terminal access point upon it. There are a few chairs opposite the table and a few potted plants. There is a single door towards the back of the room, partially hidden behind a particularly large plant. The room contains little else. Luckily the windows are blinded, but if they were to peak out, they would see the courtyard they just passed through.

Soon they hear the familiar clank of plate; two men approach, discussing the previous night's conquests at the local brothel. They sound to be nothing more than a security patrol, checking the condition of rooms, ensuring doors are locked, and their assets are secure. No doubt they will find the door is unlocked and investigate.))

[Wes Loran]

Wes and Erisi’s entrance into the compound went unnoticed as they mingled with the shuffling monks. They continued their act as they passed through the open air courtyard and past the collected guards. Wes discreetly counted their numbers, eyeing their body language as he did so. As of yet they had no reason to be suspicious, and they weren’t. Their attitudes were the common one when it came to guards who were doing their duty but not entirely occupied with the large gaggle of monks plodding past. While this was a fault, one couldn’t blame them. The gathering the monastic order held in the compound frequently had obviously lulled them into a false sense of security when they were entering.

As they wandered deeper into the heart of the complex, he brought up the buildings layout in his mind, mentally noting that their exit was coming up. He saw the Mandalorian was having the same thought processes as he, and so they slowed their pace enough so that they were at the back of the procession. When the group was nearly past the corridor they had in their sights, they both slipped out of the group, Erisi slightly ahead of him as she was closest to the corridor in question. The movement of the two went unheard by the monks up front, Wes was impressed with the Mand’alor’s ability to keep her movements silenced.

Their pace increased to something acceptable rather than the dawdling manner of the monks, but they made care in not doing any movements that would cause alarm to anyone who watched them in passing. After getting this far, it would be rather disappointing to be discovered by a random minion who just happened to see them pass by.

Trying a door, Wes was lucky enough to find it open and he gestured that Erisi enter before him. He threw a suspicious glance up and down the hall before entering himself. The moment the door slid to a close, he pulled off the heavy robes, revealing the dark attire he wore beneath. It was casual enough so that he could get away with wandering out in public in it, but it suited sneaking around very well.

A quick glance around the room told him they’d entered a small office. The first thing Wes noticed however was the single door towards the back of the room, partially hidden behind a particularly large plant. A glass table was situated towards the centre of the room with a terminal access point on it. There were a few chairs opposite the table and some potted plants scattered around. The windows were blinded, and while Wes had no intention on checking out what was on the outside of them, he judged that the view would be the same courtyard they’d gone through when they’d entered the facility.

He crossed the room as he heard the familiar sounds of guards approaching, and he quickly hid the robes behind the large plant partly concealing their only other exit out of the room. The office itself had no suitable places to conceal themselves, so the door was their last chance before they had to physically take down the guards who could potentially risk their surprise attack.

((Is the door open? If not, is Wes’ Gyrda keypad quick enough to get the door open before the guards come upon them?))

[Maris Kala'myr]

((Wes tries the door controls and they chirp a downhearted 2-note melody and the door remains locked. Pressing the Gydra keypad against the control panel, the device quickly begins negotiation protocols. The seconds pass agonizingly slow as the guards approach. The door sounds a cheerful 2-note melody and silently recedes into the wall not a moment too soon. Seconds after the sneaky pair slide into the adjacent room, the inner door closes whilst the outer one opens. A pair of guards clad in light armour and sporting blaster carbines stand in the doorway. They barely give the room a once over before locking the door and continuing on their patrol.

Wes and Erisi find themselves in another office. The décor is much like the first although the size makes the room that much more Spartan. No doubt a supervisor would sit behind the desk towards the back wall whilst his secretary sits in the other room and keeps some order to his schedule.))

[Erisi Rahl]

Erisi managed to bite down on her sense of impatience as Aliit'alor Loran worked on releasing the inner door lock. This was an area of expertise where she was at a total loss. That sort of thing was for gotabore, not verde. Were she in charge here, she would have elected to try to cut the door open, or perhaps engage the lightly armored guards in personal combat. Surely she would have prevailed in such a battle with ease, but the Mand'alor acknowledged this would likely draw unwanted attention to the pair of infiltrators. Pity that.

As soon as the Corellian made the portal open, Er'ika was following him into the next room quite close on his heels. The concept of personal space was not something she found important in this circumstance. She'd gladly make her Tsad counterpart uncomfortable in exchange for their not being discovered by compound security. Not to mention that it would reflect poorly on the Aliit'alor in her eyes if he made a fuss over her close proximity. Cabur Mand'alor had little patience for overly sensitive sentients.

Once the metal barrier closed behind them, the Mando'ad took up a station against it, listening for whatever sounds would penetrate the flimsy door panel. While she could not hear the soft hiss of the outer door opening, the sound of armored figures entering the room did carry to her ears. Muffled conversation came next, the words of which were too distorted for Er'ika to comprehend. From the tone, she was able to draw the conclusion that they were not suspicious or irate, a good sign for them. Within a minute's time they had exited the room. Erisi counted out thirty seconds in her head, making sure the silence remained the same beyond the door.

Turning back to face the one called Loran, the dark-haired woman cocked her head a fraction to one side in consideration. "If I remember the layout correctly, we should exit through the outer office and head west from here." Without waiting for confirmation--since Erisi was completely secure in the accuracy of her recollections--the Mand'alor was activating the door the Tsad'alor had just sliced and stepping through.

With careful strides, Er'ika made her way back to the entrance portal into the outer office. The verd returned to her previous position of sentinel, pressing her ear to the door and her fingers to the wall. Another minute was silently counted out in her brain as she waited for any sounds or vibrations that would indicate anyone was passing by. Once she had confirmed the absence of any observers in the hallway, she released the locking mechanism the guards had reset minutes before and exited the room.

While there were no observers to avoid or aru'se to slay in their path as of yet, that did not mean there would not be such around the next bend. As she stealthily crept down the west corridor, Erisi sunk her hands into the voluminous pockets of her long jacket. Her fingers closed around the grips of her paired WESTAR-34 blaster pistols. She was sure Loran would prefer she did not use them as of yet, but it never hurt to be prepared. Retlini remained as ever one of her personal watchwords.

(( Do Erisi and Wes successfully make their way down the hallway towards their target's personal chambers without incident? If they discover any guards or other persons along the way, are they able to successfully conceal their presence from them? What does the security setup around the target area look like? ))


(( gotabore - engineers, technicians
aru'se - enemies
Retlini - "just in case" (colloquial)

All other words defined in previous posts. ))