Nobody's Fools, Attn: The Fool Fighters

Double Whammy

~~

Fiona breathed deep. The air of a filtered environment was nothing compared to the thick, sticky air of her original home. She had never been back here since she left, but it still felt like home. The jungle was her environment-she knew its ins and outs, its ebbs and flows, ever whispers of its call, every breath of its life. When she was in a deciduous forest, it felt wrong somehow. The life was still there, but it wasn't as abundant. It wasn't as...free.

When she was in a jungle, she was in her element, but could she say the same or her fellow Cultists? While she knew them all, she still had her doubts that they would hold in the rough-and-tumble battle style of the Mandalorians. Mando'a hit hard and left little room for error. Of course, if they pulled this off, they would fulfill their true purpose: furthering the Cult's goals. Nothing else mattered in their life, now that they were servants of Lady Nia.

Or...so they had said as they bowed the knee for this mission. Strike a blow against their enemies. Murder innocents. Frame the Mandalorians. Rob the bank. Get out. It was simple, but the fear that dripped Fiona's heart at the mere thought of what all could go wrong only quickened her blood and brought a fire to her eyes. It was insane, it was stupid, and it was the ultimate way of getting back at her former vode.

Fiona loved it.

Lady Nia had accompanied them on this mission, in order to see it through to its completion. Fiona noddded to her and turned to the rest of the group. "You all know your roles." She said, eyes shifting from person to person. The ship they were coming out of was a stolen freighter, rigged with explosives. The Mandalorians obviously knew they were there, so they would have to get going, and fast. She communicated as much to the assembled team. "If they capture you," she finished, "you will die a slow death of torture. If you fail, you will be hunted down like dogs." She said coolly.

The plan was for Lady Nia, Artemis, Mako Solstice, and Fiona to take out the communications dish and the armory, and the rest to take and hold the hangar bays, killing any opposition. She knew the entire compound by heart, and, with the scans obtained from orbit, she had an updated map for each one of them to follow on their datapads. The group was to sneak over the wall, cut the dish's data cords, and then use the Mandalorian's own munitions to blow up the armory. At that signal, the rest would take and hold the hangar bay while the quartet disabled or appropriated turrets and vehicles.

A sound, if slightly insane plan.

Blue lightning, fueled by the anticipation of battle, cracked between her fingers as she pulled the mask tighter around her face. She wore her electromesh armor, all black, and a hood to hide her luscious hair. A shimmersilk mask was pulled over her face, and combined with the hood, it left only her eyes showing. The outfit tightly wrapped around her thin, but powerful body, giving her the maximum range of movement. A heavy cloak shrouded her, hovering inches above the ground.

She turned her head towards Nia. "Lady Nia, we wait for your command." She said. Her voice was respectful, but it spoke of impatience. Even now, the Mandalorians would be wondering what was up. She communicated a silent command to her apprentice to follow her.

This plan was insanity manifest. It was dangerous and risky. One did not simply attack a Mandalorian compound. Prescience told Nia'ana that she, and the Cult of Sadow, stood at a radiating crack in the fabric of space and time. She stood at the cusp of decision and her actions would be critical in establishing the pattern that would lead to greatness. The cracks in the shattered surface of reality stemmed from this moment, and calling upon the ancient arts imparted upon her by her master, Nia'ana delved into the prophetic vision of what may be. Two distinct paths resolved from the clutter of indecision that littered such a delving.

Taking both paths within her mind, she found herself walking amongst the dead. She did not inter her own mortality within this viewing, but simply saw it as recognition of the toll. Through the clarity of meditation, Nia'ana labeled the paths spiraling from the impact as action and inaction. Inaction appeared safer, and was so for the immediate future. However, as Nia'ana delved her prescience into the murky depths, the dead gathered in masses. Inaction was a false safety, a lulling into a false sense of security.

The path of action, on the other hand, was bloodied from the first step. Nia'ana felt the tingle of anticipation at the letting of blood. This possible future was carved from hardship and sacrifice. It was a dangerous path and the further Nia'ana travelled, the narrower it became. Soon she was walking a razor's edge to her goal. Just what this goal was, Nia'ana could see. She tried to focus the shards of possible realities and arrange them in some form that she could make meaning of, but at this distance from the shatter point, the fragile construct of reality was little more than glittering slivers.

While the details of the event were shrouded and indistinguishable from the sparking miasma of possibility, she could still manage to gleam an overall sensation from the prescient memory. She held onto the path of action and compared it to the path of inaction. It did not take Nia'ana long to discern which to choose.

Fiona had not been pleased after explaining her proposal to Nia'ana and having to wait for her decision. She saw impulsiveness and an urge for violence in the woman that Nia'ana recognized in herself. However, Nia'ana could not oblige every fanciful idea that was laid at her feet. While, as a member of the Triumvir, she had been included in the decisions that guided the Cult, being the sole icon of leadership brought tasks to Nia'ana that she had not anticipated. True leadership was tedious and fraught with dull decision. Though not as tedious as some of the decisions that came before her, Nia'ana had to give it proper consideration.

That was what the Cult of Sadow to this moment. This was why she was here.

The Dark Lady of the Sith looked to her family arranged around her as Fiona told them what they would expect. She took in each of them in turn in a casual glance and frowned at how little she knew of them. These sentients were supposed to be her family, but she had had precious little contact with them. She felt unexpected sadness at this and knew it had to change; the rigors of leadership kept her isolated and alone.

Nia'ana's eyes lingered on the newcomer with the bow, Fiona's new apprentice. That girl had potential, that much was obvious, but whether or not she could cut it in the Cult of Sadow was another matter. Nia'ana had seen far better than her broken. She decided to reserve judgment until the girl had a chance to prove herself. She imagined today was as good as any and shifted her gaze to Byron. It had been a while since she had given him the task of documenting her library. She made a note to check with him in private and get an update.

In searching their faces, the presence of those that were missing seemed even more poignant. Her Izu was gone. That still stung. For the moment she just stared at some point at the bulkhead opposite and thought how much Izu should have been at her side. She always felt more confident with the Tiss'shar at her back, but that was in the past now. Even Hush's absence was noted and longed for. They had their differences and things had not been the same between them since she ascended to power, but his silent presence used to bring her comfort and she wished that it would again.

She knew the basics of those that surrounded her. Of a few she had a few morsels of choice information. However, the majority were largely unknown. To them she was little more than a stranger that they had to appease. Nia'ana had tried to keep abreast of their progress, their strengths, and most importantly, their weaknesses, but the rigors of leadership pulled her mind in many different directions. There was so much to keep track of now.

"Lady Nia, we wait for your command."

While she had been listening to what Fiona had said, her name drew the blood red eyes with their dirty yellow irises to the newly minted champion. Nia'ana noted the impatience in the tone and knew how much the deference rankled the former Mandalorian. Kneeling wasn't a trait that the Mandalorian's were known for. Slowly, after waiting for what she determined to be an appropriate time, she nodded. There was little doubt that this operation would go ahead, but Nia'ana felt the need to reinforce the fact that she was in charge. It was petty, but Nia'ana was not above being petty.
"Lead the way," she commanded with another nod, this time towards the rear of the vessel and the jungle stretching beyond.

Byron was not certain whether he approved or disapproved of this plan. The unadulterated violence it promised was not of the sort he particularly enjoyed, a far cry from the subtle machinations and political manoeuvring he usually found himself involved in. But there was a certain necessity for action at times, particularly in this situation. The Cult was impotent, ineffective, and failing to live up to the glory of its past. They had been dealt defeat after defeat; any victory gained was small in comparison to what they had lost in previous engagements.

The Cult deserved a victory now, but not a trifling victory to act as a soothing balm to their still stinging wounds. No, they needed a real victory, a success that would not benefit a single individual, but the whole. This would only be the first step, a well-deserved chance for revenge on those who had fallen on them when the Jedi had provided a chance. Byron approved not for the sake of personal revenge, but for the sake of the Cult morale as a whole, a chance for them to show their mettle as a functioning team rather than a group of rabble howling ineffectually at those who thumbed their noses at the Cult and lashing out in the manner the insane and mental handicapped had a habit of doing.

If they failed this due to failure in the individuals involved, rather than the combat prowess of the Mandalorians, Byron would seriously consider murdering the culprits himself. If he was still alive to find out about it, that is. The main issue with those who chose to become Cultists were their incessant need to look out for themselves, keeping the concerns of the Cult as a whole secondary. The mess with Rekyth Xambosa and the former Triumvir on Coruscant had been nothing but an exercise in arrogance, which had led to their worst loss yet. The thought of the secrets of Korriban at the hands of Jedi made his skin crawl, the muscles around his unseeing eye to twitch in frustration.

This would be the proving ground. The next step, the outright criminal act of robbing a bank, would improve their economic situation, if a very brutish method of doing so. But everything had a purpose. By implicating the Mandalorians they could hope to at least gain some pittance of favour among the Confederation.

But that would come later, first they would eradicate this enclave of Mandalorians, Fiona Athiachos’ own before she had left them for a higher purpose, he knew. The first stage of attack would be Fiona herself, Lady Nia’ana, and any other martially superior Cultist who wished to join them. They were considering the situation tactically, communications first, then Byron and whomever else deemed to join him would move to block off the most obvious escape route, the hangars. If it went off as planned, they would manage with little losses, cutting the Mandalorians off from any help beyond the Mandalorian presence on Dxun.

The Mandalorians knew they were there, so they would have to move fast. Their arrogance would no doubt have them believing they could deal with this themselves, after all, they were an entire enclave of warriors trained from youth.

Byron turned his head to survey the gathered Cultists, having decided against his headcloth for now, merely shrouding himself in the illusion of two blind eyes rather than the one. His Force vision showed the nuances of the Force auras, seeing them throb in time with anticipation and mood. All or nothing, as they said.

He was ready to move as soon as the comm. relay task force did, but would not strike until communications was down and no one would be alerted that the Cult were behind this attack.

Lannis found himself unquestionably intrigued. Much of his time with the cult had been spent in training, poring over musty tomes, and discussing the intricacies of the force with Byron. While the sort of severe training handed down by the cult implicated its own unique hazards, this was the first mission he'd embarked on where he felt his life could truly be in danger.

It was...exhilarating.

By all rights, he should be afraid. He should be ready to turn tail and run. His every instinct should be howling at him to get out, to escape. Lannis was incredibly skilled with a vibroblade- one of the best swordsmen he knew- but these were Mandalorians. They were known throughout the galaxy for their combat prowess, for their sheer unflappability. Bad enough to fight them on the field, but here...they had the home team advantage.

There was a lot riding on this mission- Lannis could feel the tension in the air, could sense that he and his fellows stood at the edge of a great precipice. Their actions here- their success or failure- would determine whether they vaulted to the other side, or simply careened to their death. At the very least, he should feel somewhat anxious.

Instead, he simply felt...calm. Right. True, the brutality he was about to engage in was not akin to the sort of methods he was want to use- he'd had men for that when running Hyperion- but just the same, to be out of the library and training halls, to actually be accomplishing something beyond accruing more credits...He'd never known what he was missing; locked away in the ivory tower he'd constructed with his fortune.

He glanced towards Byron, meeting his gaze as he surveyed the other cultists, and favored him with a brief nod. The retired information broker was, he was sure, bristling slightly at the lack of subtlety in their plan of attack- but as always, he remained reserved, a reflection of his exceptional discipline. It was something Lannis had always respected about the man- but then, he respected anyone who he considered to be at least his equal.

Focusing his gaze on the floor, he once again walked himself through his ritual- the same sort of preparatory mental checklist he'd make back on Coruscant before stepping into a boardroom, or closing an important contract.

This, however, was a checklist of an entirely different sort. He checked, double checked, and triple checked his equipment. He scanned the jungle, looking for paths of attack, paths of escape, and the likely location of any ambushes. He considered every possible outcome of the mission- including betrayal from within.

He had no illusions about his fellow cultists, or himself- power was their ultimate goal, and every day was as another turn in a faux game of chess. While it was highly unlikely he'd find himself with a lightsaber through the back; he'd not survived a childhood in Coruscant's Undercity by being reckless.

More likely than not, their leader had thought things through beforehand. More likely than not, it was clear to all what sort of price betrayal might carry at such a critical juncture. More likely than not...His eyes flitted briefly to the Twi'lek as she gave the order to her strike team to move forward.

He'd not spoken much to Nia'ana during his time in the Cult, but he'd observed. She was powerful, that much was clear. Powerful, and feared- but then, the two often seemed to go hand in hand. In addition, she was charismatic, and not entirely unattractive. Respectful of her subordinates, as well- a seemingly rare quality among cultists. Still, there was a certain edge to her, a deep, cold steel- she wasn't one he'd willingly cross.

Not yet, at any rate.

He watched the strike team leave, and leaned against a nearby wall, losing himself in thought as he waited for the order to attack.

Dawn was breaking on Dxun as the Cultists gathered outside the ship. The jungle immediately swallowed them, and Artemis felt at ease in its embrace. She wasn’t consciously familiar with the planet, but she was sure that her tenure of service would have brought her to it before. Her first actions after losing her memory had been surviving the jungles of Onderon for two weeks. Those moments had been some of the most intense and freeing moments of her life. With only her instincts to guide her, Artemis had to trust her feelings or die. Clearly, she had prevailed.

There was something about jungles that Artemis inherently respected. It was the only place she knew where there was no trivial information. Every sound, every rustle of leaves, every beam of light was calculated by those who inhabited the foliage. One could be walking peacefully over fallen trees, their only worry losing their footing, and the next moment find themselves in the mouth of a predator.

Artemis regarded the trees in front of her. The jungle was waking up, the calls of wildlife beginning to populate the air, dappled sunlight lighting their path. Somewhere along that path was the Mandalorian compound they sought.

It was a bold plan, and Artemis was mostly along for the ride. The air was tense, as if there was a lot riding on the plan. The tension could have been from the danger involved, but it seemed to Artemis that the Cult desperately needed this plan to succeed. She wasn't aware of all of their history, but she knew that the Cult was recovering, and that this would be an important step in regaining their grip on the galaxy.

Artemis was deeply aware that this was her first real test. She would either prove herself to the Cultists who had gathered, or she wouldn’t. She would not toss her life away frivolously just to impress the people around her. She truthfully didn’t care what they thought of her, the business ahead of them didn’t have time for showmanship.

Mandalorians were not to be underestimated, and while she was comfortable with her armaments, she knew that those around her had things at their disposal she didn’t understand. Artemis would have to shoot true today, hitting the weaker joints of the armor to the soft flesh beneath. While her arrows were strong and so was her arm, she doubted they could pierce the metal unless at close range. She looked around at those congregated. She didn’t know any of them well, but she could see the intensity, calculation and coldness in their eyes. Most either regarded her for a brief moment to size her up or ignored her completely, believing her trivial.

These were titans among her.

She stayed close enough to Fiona to indicate a pairing, but put some distance between them, as if to translate to the group that she could handle herself without her Master’s handholding. It was petty, but she believed if she couldn’t convince them she was strong enough to go alone, she would be left behind.

The legends around her filled the void between the trees with their egos. And yet, all the bravado was not unfounded. She turned when she felt Lady Nia’ana’s eyes upon her. She stared into those eyes, trying to read them, but the attempt proved fruitless. After a time, the Twi’lek looked away, coming to whatever decision she chose to and turned her scrutiny elsewhere. Artemis watched her for a few more moments, trying to comprehend what the woman might have at her disposal. She doubted she could even begin to imagine it.

"You all know your roles. If they capture you, you will die a slow death of torture. If you fail, you will be hunted down like dogs."

Artemis was on the strike team. She was pleased that she wouldn’t be staying back to sit on her hands and guard the ship, but knew that the strike team would be experiencing the most danger. She was familiar with both stealth and blatant combat, having experience in both areas, and she would be in her element today. Her Electromesh armor clung to her body, Shadowsuit covering it, offering additional concealment that would probably be lifesaving today.

She would allow Fiona, Mako Solstice and Lady Nia’ana to draw the most fire, given that the trio would be the most vicious among them, and she would pick out targets from a distance. If a pitched battle developed, Artemis was capable of defending herself, especially after some of the martial training Fiona had provided.

"Lady Nia, we wait for your command."

Artemis watched Fiona and the Dark Mistress. She could hear the impatience in Fiona’s voice, along with the thinly veiled annoyance at having to seek permission to continue, but the respect she had for the Twi’lek was evident. If nothing else, Fiona respected the woman’s abilities, and those abilities demanded that respect. Lady Nia’ana was testing that respect, letting the silence that followed to linger and reiterate that she truly was in charge.

”Lead the way.”

Artemis exhaled slowly, her hands moving to the dismantled pieces of her bow and assembling it quickly. She held it lightly in her hands, an arrow nocked loosely, her eyes instinctively scanning the jungle and her ears craning at every noise suspiciously. She would have to trust those instincts today, and trust that her faith in the legends around her was not unfounded.

Impatience, calm, a slew of mixed emotions, intrigue and excitement, calm, indifference...

All these from the various party members around, as well as himself, Sorius Drell felt. Though it was more a perceived calm from Lady Nia'ana rather than a sure feeling. It would not do for the self-proclaimed Dark Lady to allow her emotions to seep through the Force so that others could simply pick up on them. No, a true leader needed to display an air of authority over their subordinates, and their own mind. Sorius was no stranger to that concept, and while Lady Nia'ana reminded him so much of so many slave owners he had known, he did respect her.

Fiona was the easiest to read for the Champion. Impatience rippled in the Force from the ex-Mandalorian as she awaited the command to proceed from Lady Nia'ana. This had been, from what the Chev understood, Fiona's idea. Even if the Sorcerer had been unable to read the woman's surface emotions - as was the case with the Dark Lady - he could have guessed at her current state from the sparks of blue lightning dancing between her fingertips. It was the one known as Byron that had Sorius the most intrigued, however.

The man stood calm, and yet it was as if he was radiating a massive amount of various emotions. Perhaps it was a Force technique designed to confuse anyone trying to read his surface thoughts? It really was of little matter, however, since the man stood patiently. Sorius was impressed at his amount of control compared with Fiona. But then, anyone might seem calm compared to her.

A corner of the Chev's battered lips curved slightly in a humorless smirk. If they all died here, it would be on the ex-Mandalorian's head. Her eagerness to do battle was admirable, but the lack of self-control she currently displayed proved her naïveté. She would be the first to cause this mission to take a bloody turn, if anyone.

Their newest recruit Sorius did not know anything about. However, he trusted the Lady's judgment on bringing the fledgling along with them. If she deemed him fit for this operation then who was he to question her? What Sorius read off the man was much easier to gather than from his more skilled counterparts, however, and the Champion let his smirk fall. This one seemed almost giddy at the coming mission and it bothered the Chev for some reason. He would have to keep an eye on that one as the most senior member of the team headed to the hangars.

Yet, even as he thought this, he watched the younger man pull in on himself and start to center. Perhaps he would not have to worry so much after all.

Next his attention fell upon Fiona's new apprentice. She was excited, yet exuded an air of calm. Quite the contrast between her and her Master, Sorius mused. It was his hope that the Cult lost some of its more... overeager (for lack of a better word) members. Though he also did not want them to become complacent.

His own sources were about the galaxy gathering up whatever information they felt pertinent to share with their own Master. Of course, Sorius did not employ Force users for such menial tasks. Instead he worked through a long line of contacts who, in turn, had their own contacts. Perhaps one could call them spies, but none were in any position of authority or power. They simply made it their business to know what was going on in the galaxy. Something that the Chev was actually thankful for, though none were entirely indispensible.

"You all know your roles."

Indeed, they all should. Sorius was to accompany the team serving to assault and hold the hangars. Though he would have liked to join the initial strike team, he knew that it was pointless. His martial skill was lacking compared to some of the others, and most of his offensive Force powers required a large portion of his concentration. Lightning was his most potent attack, and with his mastery of the Soresu lightsaber form, he likely could hold off an attack near indefinitely. However, these were Mandalorians... Not some random grunts from a standard police or military force.

Every single one of these men and women were trained from an early age in the art of survival and warfare. Though the Chev was no stranger to the former, he was not exactly built for the latter. He could hold his own for a time, but superior numbers and training would likely be his downfall if the Cultists could not work together as a cohesive unit.

"Lead the way."

That was the cue. Lady Nia'ana and the strike team would set off, leaving the rest to guard the ship until the signal was given for them to take the hangars. While not the most glorious of positions, it would be the one that would likely have them survive the longest.

Fiona's emotions were apparent as the Twi'lek made her wait. She hated when Lady Nia'ana did that. It was most frustrating. Her impatience for the reason of getting out of the open turned into impatience to get an answer from Lady Nia in an instant, and her lips pursed slightly. She was not, however, impatient to begin combat.

While she had received better training than most in the compound due to her mother's skills, the hundred Mandalorians in that base were all extraordinary combatants. It would not do to face them in direct combat. She could take one, two, or even three at a time, but she knew that the sheer number of them would overwhelm her eventually.

There was also the matter of Artemis. While she had no doubt of her apprentice's fighting ability, she was worried that she would be a liability to her and Lady Nia. Fiona could not take care of the both of them-not all of the time. That bow would be the biggest liability. She had seen her accuracy first-hand, but against accurate, heavy repeating blasters rifles, it would be next to useless. In short, Artemis was not going to perform as well as the others in this mission. Without the Force, she was crippled-and a chain was only as strong as its weakest link.

"Lead the way."

Fiona's heartbeat quickened. She gripped the force and shut down her fear with an iron clamp. She also worked her impatience, eagerness and left the burning desire for revenge. She fanned the flames of that, and it gave her strength, each heartbeat pumping fire into her veins and the Force granting her clarity of thought.

She wasn't ready. But she would go forward anyway.

It was a turning point in the Cult, this mission. If they failed, the members-except Nia-of the mission would all be forced into exile, if they didn't die trying to succeed. There would be no glory for failure-only death and a life ran on borrowed time.

But, the real glory and honor rested in victory. It was going to be bloody, and hard, but if they managed to pull it off, the morale boost itself would be worth whatever price they paid for it. The Cult had been beaten and was now limping in the wake of both the eviction form Korriban and the Purge. They needed this victory-desperately-and Fiona was going to do everything she could to get it for them.

Even murder her former family. It was a small price to pay for her new family.

She turned to her apprentice, drawing her verpine shatter pistol. Flipping it around in her hand, she handed it to Artemis handle first. An unspoken threat conveyed through eye contact told Artemis that she would be punished if Fiona did not get her pistol back. Extra ammo accompanied it after Artemis accepted it.

The Champion nodded in response to Nia and turned, starting her trek at a light jog. Electromesh armor move fluidly with her body, and her weapons, tied down, did not move. She drew her Deece, however, and held it in front of her, ready to fire. The Athiachos clan had undoubtedly noticed their ship landing and would send a patrol soon, and Fiona told the members of the team as much. Fiona had the ship rigged with explosives to keep possible survivors from leaving, but it was set to go off when someone accessed the navicomputer without Fiona's voiceprint codes.

They were immediately North of the compound, and the armory and communications dish were towards the north of the place. Fiona had her grappling hook to help the three of them over the wall. Not that she and Nia needed it-one good Force jump would get them clear over it, as it was only twenty feet high. But Artemis would.

As the trio made their way through the jungle, Fiona scanned the place for the Mandalorian patrol.

((Does she spot anyone? Do they spot the group?))

In Dxun's springtime, the jungle is teeming with life, the plethora of animal minds producing a raw maelstrom in the Force that reads like comforting static to the sensitive. In the physical world, it becomes immediately clear how Dxun is a dangerous proving ground to all beings, even the Cultists.

The hoots and howls of animals come to them from the distance, along with the occasional roar of a predator. The terrain is difficult, thick tree roots making the ground uneven, low hanging vines and other foliage making it hard to see further than a few feet. It's all very wet as well, the humidity seeping beneath clothes and armor to rest against the skin.

The strike team moves forward into the darkness of the foliage, leaving behind the sunlight produced by their landing the ship in the middle of the jungle. The static envelops them, and to the team left behind on the ship, their auras become fuzzy, as if the distance is greater than it really is.

They move slowly, maneuvering around trees and cutting a path, but it seems that they will remain unmolested. By sentients, anyway.

Half an hour passes, and two life signs become apparent to the strike team, large and lumbering. Ahead, the Cultists can see that there is a large clearing of trampled growth, and contained within are these two lifesigns along with a dozen smaller ones. There is an air of aggression and competition around the area, very tangible in the primitive minds.

On drawing closer, the Cultists spy two hulking zakkeg, the lizards' scaled hides glistening in the dim sunlight. They appear to be a mated pair, brooding over a half built nest. On the other edge of the clearing, they catch a glimpse of black fur and lithe bodies. Fiona knows that maalraas stay near the tank-like lizards for a vicarious form of protection and scavenging off of unfinished kills.

The animals are unaware of the Cultists, but soon after the sentients approach the clearing, a palpable silence falls over the jungle. Past the whining of a thick breeze, they pick out the distinct thrum of hover modules passing straight overhead. That may be the patrol they were looking out for, heading straight for the landing zone. One of the zakkeg, the male, throws back his head and roars at the passing patrol, startling the jungle back to life and a shot goes off in answer, slicing through the foliage and leaving a smoking pit in the ground near the zakkeg's head.

The male startles and rears, the ground shaking as he backs up on unstable legs and then several branches are knocked loose over head when he lands, falling down on the hidden strike team. It's obvious that the animals are on edge, it being both mating and hunting season. Their swelling numbers are a clear danger to the Mandos, who struggle to keep the wildlife under control around their compound.

Back with the ship, the secondary team also notices the lack of noise and get a read on the incoming hover boat. The warbling thrum of the hover nodes gets louder as it approaches and soon enough, a shadow falls over the clearing they've made through the canopy. There are voices, shouting in Mando'a, and then a ladder unravels from the lip of the boat and two armored beings descend, their boots pounding heavily on the top of the ship. One, an unhelmeted woman, walks the length of the ship to peer through the cockpit while the other covers her back.

[Post Deadline: October 23rd. Ensure that you post before this date or your character will be NPC'd and you will not recieve the mission reward, unless you have an LoA or an arragement is agreed upon between the players. Should nobody post, the mission will be stalled for another two weeks before being archived.]

The air was humid and hot; a completely different kind of heat than she had known on Korriban or Molovar. She could already feel herself beginning to perspire and adjusted her neckline. The background noise, like the remnant radiation bloom from a dying sun, stained her mind's eye and dirtied a window to the world. She wished it possible to wipe the window clean and see clearly again, but that would have been impossible. Exploring outside of her own body, Nia'ana felt the presence of preditorial minds, primitive and powerful, keen and watchful, ever-present of their surroundings and the prey that wondered the jungles of Dxun. It was with a certain degree of irony that Nia'ana found herself lumped into that category.

Moving further into the inhospitable jungle, Nia'ana readied the light repeating blaster. It wasn't an elegant weapon but it would serve well. The roots and overgrown ferns that littered the decomposing topsoil made their progress tedious. She found herself becoming frustrated with the pace and the care required to not twist an ankle amongst the roots. Eventually the signatures of those left behind became obscured in the background noise. Nia'ana's mood darkened as traitorous thoughts crept into her mind. She had to trust the secondary team would follow through on their part of the mission and not leave them to die.

The wildlife they encountered did not worry Nia'ana as much as it should have. She viewed the zakkeg as an obstacle in their path more than a threat. Such a view was foolish as even the Mandalorian's respected the power and danger the zakkeg's represented, but Nia'ana had never the honor to hunt a zakkeg. What did concern Nia'ana, however, was the warbling thrum of repulsor jets that passed overhead. Falling into a crouch, she nestled amongst the roots and stared up through the mottled green canopy that shaded them. Although she couldn't see much, the distinctive shape of a ship was registered. Narrowing her eyes, she shot a look to Fiona, seeking conformation of the vessel's origin.

The craft seemed to be making a beeline in the direction of their approach. Nia'ana's jaw tightened. The Mandalorian's were moving faster than she had anticipated. She had to push the fates of those they left behind from her mind. The jungle between them and their ship would prove too much of an obstacle to her getting back in time, not that Nia'ana was about to rush back. She had to trust in her family's abilities to deal with the unforeseen. If they couldn't, then they deserved to die.

The shot came out of nowhere and instincts had Nia'ana crouching lower to the ground. For a split second, she thought the Mando's had discovered their location, but the roar of the zakkeg spoke to the contrary. The canopy shook as the zakkeg thrashing brought down branches, some of which crashed down on their position. Nia'ana crawled out from beneath her cover bridged in fallen debris with a scowl. She turned a baleful eye upon the zakkeg, still croaking at the sky.

[Pushing the due date back another two weeks after the 8th, due to player arrangements. C'mon, guys! Post so you can kill some Mandos!]

The loathsome zakkeg were regarded again and Nia’ana lamented the time it would take to work around the beasts. The jungle was hell to move through and this was taking too long. Apprehension spiked her adrenals which in turn caused a surge in the cocktail of accelerants that coursed through her veins. Decisions had to be made quickly and Nia’ana knew all eyes were upon her. Now that the Cult was hers, everyone was watching, judging, waiting. Waiting for what, Nia’ana deigned to suspect, but she knew not all her family viewed her with benevolence.

Her head thrummed and the jungle around her came alive, a blur of sound and color that assaulted the senses. Her skin was sticky with sweat and mottled with dirt. All she could hear was the chirping of insects and the annoyed rumblings of the zakkeg. Nia’ana paused and turned, viewing the beasts in a new light. A grin split her lips and she considered the idea that had formed dubiously. Fiona was the only of their group that had any true experience around the tusked creatures and Nia’ana brought the other Cultist up to speed. Her confidence was a good degree higher with Fiona’s agreement and the grin, now feral and full of bloody promise, grew.

Turning the full measure of her mind upon the instinctive beasts, Nia’ana decided how best to confront them. Stepping out into the clearing would have been foolish. The zakkeg would not have respected her power. No, she needed something else, something primal, something ingrained so deeply that their response would be automatic. With a pleased sound, Nia’ana knew what she had to do and began immediately. They had delayed enough.

The smell of smoke rose behind them, and someway in the distance tendrils of smoke caressed the darkening sky. The zakkeg became spooked and Nia’ana could feel the anxiousness that had crept amongst the pack like a disease. It wasn’t enough. The Dark Lady of the Sith took gleeful pleasure in furthering the ruse. The sky darkened further, a boiling cloudbank, black and chocking, obscured the sky. Embers flitted through the jungle and drifted from the cloud cover, dancing on invisible currents. The air, which up until this point had been uncomfortably warm and humid, became hot and dry as if opening a kiln and facing the superheated air the churned from the door.

Finally a glow peaked on the horizon, blazing orange and travelling through the clouds. It surrounded the zakkeg on all but one front. The fire that rippled through their minds gave the large and imposing beasts a single option for retreat, a solitary avenue in which to run. Nia'ana smirked as the agitation and fear reached a crescendo in their instinctual brains. The zakkeg's terror would lead them to stampede into the Mandalorian base and gouge a pathway for the carnage that was to follow.

((What happens next? Do the zakkeg stampede as she wants?))