The Mandalorian Protectors: Honor Lost

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Kyr’am Gota
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The Mandalorian Protectors: Honor Lost

Post by Topgun220 »

OOC: "Wait what, Topgun is back? Topgun is making a new mando thread? What the frell??"
Yes yes my friends, I am insane. But actually there is a purpose for this. As far as timeline is concerned consider this thread up to date with all other current mando threads. I am attempting to ease back into things by giving a little background on the fall of my dear Mandalore into darkness through the eyes of one of his lieutenants that happens to be one of my favorite characters. Anyway, too much OOC here. Please any comments, criticism, ideas, cookies, or coffees are appreciated (Hazelnut with skim milk please). Any fellow mando rpers interested in a tie in somewhere, get in touch, or I will you as I toss ideas around in my head as what exactly im doing with this thing. Sorry for delay!!!! Enjoy!

The clock rang out in the darkened and empty bedroom. The first rays of sunlight pierced through the window facing the bed, marking the dawn. As the rings continued a rhythmic groan of metal straining could also be heard. Inside the small kitchen/living room duo attached to the bedroom could be found the apartment’s sole resident. Pulling himself up and lowering his mass down again in precise, machine like timing. The numerous muscles of his back bulged and constricted with the effort, sweat dripping down his exposed upper body and dropping to the floor below or soaking into his black sweatpants. His face was as rigid and unforgiving as his body, a defined and solid jaw with a long scar running vertically along the right side of his face. It traced its way all the way up just below his right eye, it was healed but still pink, revealing how recent the injury had occurred. His eyes were a dull blue, almost grey, and stared without flinching at the entrance to the apartment. A five o’clock shadow lingered over the lower half of his face and short cropped black hair was soaked with sweat atop his head. No expression was to be found on his face, just a solemn stare.

With the grace of a man light on his feet he dropped to the floor. Straightening to his full height, his frame was visible in its full splendor. At nearly seven feet he towered over the average man his age, the muscular build of his body was not so much lean and defined as it was massive and reminiscent of pure unadulterated power. As he walked back into his bedroom a hand reached out and grabbed the small towel resting on the nearby kitchen counter to wipe the sweat from his brow. He quietly turned off the alarm and threw on a simple black sweatshirt and running shoes before striding out of the room.

Like pistons in a massive ancient combustion machine his legs methodically struck the hard pavement of his street. His gaze never wavered from what was directly before him but with a trained eye and mind he took in all of his surroundings through his peripherals. He noticed the pedestrians going about their daily business eyeing him curiously. Some nodded or awkwardly waved if they recognized him but none attempted to call out for his attention. He made no attempt to react to these acquaintances, his focus was absolute and did not divert. As the yellow sun in the distance rose over the horizon he completed his circuit and had returned to his residence. Entering the ground floor and aggressively climbing the stairs to his apartment he quickly arrived. Within fifteen minutes he was showering.

Stepping out of the shower and into the steam filled bathroom proper he looked into the mirror over the sink, towel clinched around his hip with his left hand. He wiped the mirror and looked at the clear image of his own face before him. There was a pause; time seemed to slow as he looked at his face and into his own eyes. His face turned into a look of disgust for a fraction of a moment before he looked away and turned on the sink. Proceeding to shave away his scruff and complete his daily ritual he exited the room without further incident.

With his black slacks and tight fitting T-shirt on he moved over to the storage closet. His hand hovered over the door control for a moment, knowing what was inside. Then it opened. Those blue-grey eyes resisted the urge at first, eventually finding their way over to the man sized crate standing up in one side of the closet. They rested there, a strange and wholly unfamiliar look crossed the man’s face, almost as if he was longing for something lost some time ago. With a short grunt he shifted his gaze to the other side of the closet where a protective energy absorbing vest with elbow and shin guards rested. The dark grey partial armor was slipped over his clothes, a badge on the left side of the vest read “Cmdr. T. Locklear”. He then grabbed a simple hip holster, complete with a standard blaster pistol, and secured it around his waist and right thigh.

Heading for the door he grabbed a simple black cap from his kitchen counter, the only object in the kitchen within view. He walked for a good fifteen minutes at an impressive pace until he reached his destination. A rather large building with an “R” logo on the front, one of the few large structures in the small city it happened to also reside directly at its center. Walking inside with a clear purpose he nodded to the familiar face of the security guard at the entrance, who returned the gesture. The doors opened into a spacious lobby. A semicircle security station was located in the center of the room and was manned by two more familiar faces. Exchanging nods again he moved past the desk to the turbolifts at the far wall, the only other feature of the lobby being the stairwell door on the right side of the room. Entering the lift the man punched the button to the CEO’s office.

The lift opened moments later. Striding inside the well furnished waiting room towards the secretary’s desk at the far end, undoubtedly many men of his age would find the green eyed woman behind the desk as attractive. With long blonde curls, a petite almost regal face, and a more than pleasing frame. Her bright and wide smile was the first spark of life in what had been another somber morning.

“Mr. Reincard is waiting for you inside Commander.” Her pleasant voice filled the relatively quiet room, resident only to a few other slightly audible computer noises and the occasional shuffle.

“Thank you.” The stern, calculated response came back, offering no pleasantries but without being rude.

The door to the side of the secretary’s desk slid open as he approached, those pleasant green eyes locked intently on him as he moved past. Her gaze was noticed, as she inteded, but it mattered little as it elicited no response from the living statue that she was admiring. With the doors closing behind him the Commander quickly scanned the CEO's office, with a well trained eye sharpened by over a decade of experience he quickly determined all tactically relevant objects and possible scenarios the room had to offer. The room was relatively empty, a single chair set before a massive wooden desk which shone a beautiful dark reddish brown. Behind the desk was a comparatively small man to the commander himself, dressed head to toe in some of the finest attire currently available. The two walls of the room were lined with showcase dressers, large glass containers sat atop them filled with random items, from replica ancient swords to modern day top of the line starliner models.

“Ah Commander it’s so good to see you. Please sit down.” The man’s voice was honey, a false smiled played out on his lips. The Commander was not one to be fooled by such things.

“I would rather stand sir.” The words were abrupt and in no way a suggestion, as he stood at attention with his hands behind his back towering over the smaller seated man.

“As you wish” The business man said, letting his voice drop from happy and inviting to a much more serious tone. “I called you in here because I have a dilemma Commander…” He leaned back into his chair and brought his hands together on his chest. “I know who you are…what you are.” Reincard essentially spit the last part out, his distaste was obvious. There was silence in the room, only the dull drumming of the secretary in the other room could be heard. Locklear’s eyes lingered on the man below him, his smoky blue eyes were unblinking and steadfast. The confidence in the CEO’s crooked smile slowly evaporated as his facial expression changed.

Finally Locklear moved, bringing his right arm slowly forward. The CEO jumped up and yelled aloud in terror, security guards burst into the room from two hidden doors to each side of the desk with their weapons raised. Locklear’s right hand only stopped for a moment as he glanced side to side at the four guards who had entered. Then it continued to the left side of his vest where he detached the badge there and slowly placed it on the desk. His posture returned to that of quiet attention, eyes falling flat on his former employer.

“I resign.” He simply said. Turning around and heading for the exit without even acknowledging the presence of the guards he had once been coworkers with. Reincard, speechless, moved his mouth attempting to force some response out but was left staring at the closing door behind Locklear.

As Locklear moved into the waiting room he found it filled with security guards and the panicked blonde secretary hiding under her desk with tear stained eyes. He looked over to her, their eyes met and he allowed himself to give a look that said “I’m sorry”. The door opened again behind him and he felt the cold steel of a blaster barrel on the back of his neck.

“Togra Locklear, General in the Mandalorian Crusade, renowned supercommando, bounty worth twenty million credits for war time atrocities.” Togra’s eyes left the distraught woman and looked ahead as the voice of Reincard continued behind him. “A mass murderer with a bounty on his head worth twenty mill working under me and I had no idea. You really had me fooled with the false background you provided, not to mention we are pretty far from Mandalorian space.” Togra scanned the men before him. Five poorly trained and lightly armored young human males, with standard blaster pistols as their only defense. The closest one was maybe five feet away, his blaster aimed at Togra, hand clearly trembling. “But you just weren’t far enough I guess. The galaxy happens to keep track of evil scum like you. You Mandalorians and your blood thirst, I had a nephew on one of your ‘conquered’ worlds. After you glassed half the planet I got word he was dead.” The Mandalorian warrior’s eyes closed, images flashed through his mind’s eye.

“Mandalore…there are noncombatants in that city, we can’t just-“

“We can. We will. Victory at all costs. You promised me victory Togra. You said you’d do anything to build the world I envisioned.”

“Not like this Garen…Not like this.”

“Fire the warheads…”


“I said…fire…the warheads.”

He obeyed…Togra’s gut sank as he remembered seeing the blinding lights sprout up on the planet below him. Watching the deaths of millions from orbit was an exquisite thing, he had wished for death then. Feeling as though all honor was lost. It was the final straw in a long list of things a noble man, a man Togra had once greatly admired and called brother, had done to push him away.

“You’re a monster”

‘I’m sorry’ he thought, that feeling of pain and disgust overcoming him again. ‘I wasn’t strong enough to save him from himself. I wasn’t strong enough to stop him from becoming what he is now. I was weak…I’m so sorry.’ Despite his sincere feelings of regret for this man and others like him he knew what had to come next. Togra was still a Mandalorian, maybe a dishonored one, but that still meant something. These poor boys were about to be unfortunate enough to try and stop him.

“Kill him.” Togra’s eyes opened.

Dropping into a crouch he dodged the shot from the guard behind him, the laser sailing over his head and into the chest of the man to Togra’s front. Spinning around he brought a fist so powerful into the man’s gut he was lifted a few inches off the ground. Togra wasted no time in grabbing one of the guard’s arms and throwing him into the waiting room at another guard approaching fast. Then he dove towards the secretary’s desk as chaos erupted and the guards panicked, firing madly at him. Their aim was poor and he was lucky, no shot found its mark as he landed next to the crying woman. With impressive speed for his size he rolled out from behind the desk and ended in a half kneel poised at one of the guards still standing. Before the guard could bring his weapon fully to bear Togra launched forward and crossed the distance of the few feet between them in a flash.

Screaming in terror the guard managed to get a shot off that singed some of the hairs on the Mandalroian’s back, unfortunately too slow to spare himself. Togra’s massive shoulder was driven into his lower ribs, bones broke, the screaming stopped with a grunt, and Togra lifted the man as he kept his legs churning beneath him. Another guard behind the one Togra was now carrying aimed at the pair but hesitated to fire upon his ally. The Mando slammed to a halt and let momentum and a quick thrust, throw the limp body of his latest victim into his hesitant friend. The final guard in the room was on Togra now though, he fired a pair of well aimed shots. Togra side stepped a moment too slow and caught one bolt on his left shoulder. The man was in striking distance however and Togra took the opportunity in a blinding movement. A strong step forward was followed by his right fist crashing into his opponent’s exposed jaw. Spit and blood flew out of the mouth as he staggered back. Togra advanced again, relentless. His left fist found the man’s ribs with a gut wrenching satisfactory crack, it was quickly succeeded by a right elbow that impacted upon his temple. The guard crumpled to the floor, unconscious and bleeding.

Togra glanced back towards the door of the CEO’s office. The secretary was looking, horrified, at him with her hands covering her mouth as tears streamed down her face. Reincard himself was stunned, looking into the room from the safety of his desk through the open door, mouth gaping open. The untouched guards in the other room were quickly moving in and opening fire in poor attempts to bring him down. Ducking to make himself a small target he rolled to the turbolift, the door miraculously still open. As the lift door closed he hugged the wall, lasers flew through the opening. Finally, with the door closed he pressed the button for the second floor, knowing they might be waiting for him on the first. He left behind a scene of pure carnage. The first guard he had struck was lying in a pool of his own vomit and blood, unable to move from the fetal position on the floor. The man he had shot on accident, aiming for Togra, was rolling back and forth clutching the scorched hole on the right side of his chest moaning in pain. Another pair of guards was slumped against the wall, one on top of the other, both unconscious. Togra’s final victim looked the worst by far, jaw completely dislocated he laid on the ground in an awkward ragdoll state completely devoid of consciousness.

Togra breathed heavily, sweat pouring off of him. He had crushed them, as he was built to do, but he had left them alive. He did not want to kill them, they were just kids. They were not warriors… Anger slowly rose inside, his fists were still curled into the deadly weapons he had just brought to bear. His thoughts raced, as a Mandalorian he always had good control over his mind during combat. Since that fateful day however, he had been unable to. The fireballs on the planet haunted him, just like the faces of the innocent people determined ‘political threats’ he had gunned down on newly conquered planets. He wanted to hit something again, he wanted a reprieve. He was about to get one.

The lift doors opened to the second floor. A pair of guards, obviously not expecting him to arrive on their floor, stared at him in complete awe and bewilderment. Togra hesitated, giving them a chance to get out of this in one piece. The guard on the left chose poorly. He reached down for his holstered sidearm. Togra leapt forward, his left hand grabbing the man’s hand as it landed on the pistol’s grip. His right fist crashed into the guard’s face, breaking his nose. Turning on the man’s companion Togra found him sitting on the ground shaking his hands in the air begging for mercy. ‘Smart kid’ Togra thought to himself as he released the collapsing guard who clutched madly at his bleeding face moaning loudly. The warrior turned and examined the hallway before him. Lined on both sides by offices it was a straight shot to the glass wall of the building facing the street. He crouched slightly and exploded forward. His legs moving ferociously he drew his blaster and fired at the glass wall ahead, punching holes and weakening it as he approached. Guards in the offices to his left and right opened up on him as he sprinted down the hall. Lasers flew about him as Togra fast approached his escape.

He crossed his arms before his face and lowered himself into a human battering ram. Striking the glass wall with incredible force it shattered out into the street. As he fell Togra braced himself to roll on impact, and he did. however, his momentum carried him right into a parked speeder. He twisted at the last instant and his left shoulder took the brunt of the blow. He was instantly aware of its dislocation as pain erupted from the site and it went limp. He rose slowly, blood trickling down his face and forearms from broken glass, the hat formerly on his head lost somewhere in the violent process. He struggled to push himself upright using only his right arm but managed to stand none the less. Glancing to his rear just long enough to see guards appearing on the second floor where he had made his exit as well as in the first floor lobby rushing to get outside. Togra was quick to move off the street and into an alleyway, his legs moving despite the mind numbing pain shooting through his body and the ache in his muscles from exhaustion.

It took nearly half an hour to make it back to his apartment, luckily the security force for Reincard Corp was trying to keep it an inside matter and as such the police had not yet showed up on his doorstep. He had given a false address on his job application, the address of some broken down motel he rented for the sole purpose of a cover in a situation like this. He knew it was only a matter of time before his real identity was discovered, though obviously it was not imagined to go down in the manner it had actually occurred.

Crashing through the door to his apartment Togra took a fall face first onto the floor. He dragged himself over to his counter and leaned his back against it. His left shoulder was a mess, dislocated and burned from the earlier blaster shot he had taken. Using his right arm to separate the arm from the shoulder joint he moved his body with a groan of pain to realign the arm. A new wave of pain flooded his body. He fought to keep conscious. His pain ridden moans trailed off as darkness consumed his vision.

The sounds of battle filled the air. Togra looked through his visor at the three before him. A man, his wife, and their son no older than twelve, unarmed, curled into a corner of the smoke filled room hugging each other, crying…

“Repeat last order!” Togra barked into the comm.

“Execute the minister and his family, no witnesses. It is Mandalore's will.” Came the voice.

“There is no honor in this…this is butchery…I am not a butcher of defenseless innocents! I am a Mandalorian elite!” Togra yelled back, fury boiling inside.

“Either you shoot them, or I’ll glass the city. The only troops left in the city are your platoon… Acceptable losses.” Togra’s heart sank. He felt powerless.

“Affirmative. Carrying out orders.” He felt his soul shatter. He raised his rifle at them. He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.

Walking out of the room he rallied his platoon and headed for the evac. The shuttle back was quiet, as most were now a days. Somber, depressing…these men were warriors turned murderers. Honor was gone from the equation. Some reveled in the slaughter, but not in Togra’s platoon. Not his ‘Dragons’. The Dragon platoon was a mix of commando squad leaders and veteran verde, or warriors, as squad members. Most had fought in numerous campaigns but the unit itself was a new development from the imperial campaign. They were honorable men and woman, Togra had picked them because of such. What they had become was…despicable.

Togra took off his helmet and threw it against the dropship’s inner hull with a resounding crack. He slumped back down into a seat as his troops looked over at their commander, knowing his agony was mirrored in their own hearts. The once proud warrior in black and gold, one of the most feared Mandalorian warriors, the former right hand of Mandalore…was broken.

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Kyr’am Gota
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Re: The Mandalorian Protectors: Honor Lost

Post by Topgun220 »

A pleasant view filled his vision, A tall warrior clad in black and gold Beskar’gam stood proud overlooking the city of Kedalbe. Another warrior, slightly shorter, walked up beside him. His blue and gold armor glinted in the setting sun’s rays, the short cape over his shoulder flapping lightly in the breeze.

“Enjoying the view?” Starfall commented as he came to a stop next to the taller man.

“On Fondor, I was not certain I would see this again. It is…nice to have been proven wrong.” Togra answered, continuing to look over the city and its residents. Some areas still showed scars from recent battles but to a Mandalorian, they looked as aesthetically pleasing as water fountains and statues.

“Your Dragons performed excellently Togra, you should be proud as their commander.” Garen went on. Togra shifted uncomfortably and turned to face his comrade.

“I told you I did not want to command.”

“And I think, somewhere along our time together, I told you I was Mandalore.” They chuckled slightly. “Come on now, it worked didn’t it? You are a natural leader. In fact I’m going to promote you to General.” Togra lowered his head and removed his helmet, holding it against his hip as he did so.

“What are you going to do about the hardliners pushing for more territory?” Garen sighed, somewhat annoyed Togra had taken their lighthearted conversation and turned it into a much more serious one.

“I…don’t know my friend. I have to appease them, but I do not want to make us into conquerors. They are certainly persistent in their efforts to return to the old ways.” Togra nodded slowly.

“Be careful, those people are…different than you and I. We hold different perspectives on honor, one through glorious battle, another through slaughter and domination.”

“What would you do Togra?” Garen turned from his friend and leaned against the railing of the platform. Looking out across the city, his messy hair, too long for military regulations, seemed to play in the wind. His gaze went out beyond the structures and people, off into the horizon as if searching for something else…something more.

Togra was not sure how to answer. He never considered himself much of a leader, certainly not one on par with Garen Starfall, chosen successor to the Uniter, avenger of Kedalbe, the fiercest of warriors, Mandalore. “I guess I’d kill them all in single combat.” He finally said matter of factly.

Garen laughed out loud, dropping his serious look and turning back to Togra. “You would be one of the few people I would not have to fight you know.” A long drawn out sigh escaped him, for an instant Togra saw what was happening to him. To the man he admired so much. He was being whittled away to nothing. The constant wars and ruthless politics had left him hurting and worn. Togra placed a hand on his commander’s shoulder, to reassure him he was not alone.

Garen offered a half hearted smile to the larger man, he opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted. A veteran warrior ran out onto the platform and spotted the duo immediately.

“Mandalore!!!” The mechanized voice came forth from the helmet. Togra’s heart leapt into his throat, knowing such urgency was surely not a good sign. “There’s been a bombing by insurgents!.” Garen’s eyes narrowed.

“Where brother?” The trooper hesitated to answer Garen. Togra felt panic rising inside, something was wrong…very wrong.

“Your homestead.” Garen slammed his helmet on and turned around. Jumping from the platform he fired his jetpack to slow his decent to the ground below. Togra, frozen for an instant, recovered and did likewise.

In the frantic few minutes of travel on the speeder bikes the two procured Togra forced all possible scenarios from his head, refusing to feed his anxiety and fears any further. It was not long before they saw the smoke on the horizon though it had felt like an eternity. Togra arrived moments after Garen did. The main house was blown to pieces, debris littering the ground around it. Garen had run to a side building housing grain stores, a trail of blood lead into the structure.

Togra entered the building, he first saw the Garen’s helmet on the ground near the entrance tossed aside as he had entered. Following the trail of blood he found Garen holding his wife in his arms. Tears streamed down the man’s face, his wife held a weak hand to his face which Garen clutched.

“Val don’t leave me… please I need you here.” Garen pleaded. Togra was as still as a statue, grounded in place by imaginary cement. He saw her wound, one shot right to the midsection. It was bad, she was dying. Togra continued to watch in horror, unable to do anything but watch. The sound of a dropship whine incoming began to rise in volume as the medevac approached…all too late.
“Garen…Carissa…”Valery forced the words out between muffled sobs and shallow breaths. “She was inside…I couldn’t….” Garen shook his head, he could not control his tears.

“No no no no not like this, this wasn’t supposed to happen!” He yelled. Valery offered him a smile as she realized her fate was sealed.

“I’m sorry love, you’re going to have to make your own dinner from now on.”

“No! Just hold on a little longer Val! They’re coming, they’ll save you!” But her eyes drifted away from Garen and with a final wispy exhalation her hand fell to the side. “No! NO! NO!” He screamed out, the agony in his voice was gut wrenching. Togra wanted to leave this sight, seeing this horror was worse than any battlefield he had seen. Garen pulled his wife in close and buried her head into his chest and his face into her hair. His sobs grew louder, his heart ache filled the area and the feeling of sorrow was overwhelming. Two medics entered behind Togra and for the first time in several minutes he moved, turning to look at them. They stopped when they saw him, he slowly shook his head. They nodded and left the building. Leaving Togra alone…with a good man…who had just gotten his heart ripped out…

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Kyr’am Gota
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Re: The Mandalorian Protectors: Honor Lost

Post by Topgun220 »

Togra’s eyes fluttered open, still dazed and reeling from resurfaced memories. Pain was his first greeting to consciousness. His left shoulder throbbed and he pushed himself back upright against his counter. Taking a deep breath he took stock of the damage to his body. Forearms were torn up with various cuts from breaking through the glass wall on his exit, possibly a hairline fracture of his right Ulna as well. A single cut ran along the top of his scalp, thankfully not deep and the blood had already clotted. His shoulder was the only real problem. Muscles around the joint were still in spasm and the arm itself felt weak. The blaster wound was cauterized and missed any critical structures.

It wasn’t pretty and it took him a little longer than he liked, but he rose to his feet once more. Making his way through the apartment he found the bathroom and opened the small cupboard behind the mirror. Inside he found his first aid supplies. He administered them quickly, the pain in his shoulder was numbed and he felt the muscles relax somewhat, restoring function at the least. Finishing up on his first aid work he made his way back to the bedroom, to his closet.

Opening the door he stared at the crate for a moment. Death was inside, the attire of a killer. Togra opened the crate. Inside he found his armor, his Beskar’gam, his soul. Donning the black and gold armor he heard a commotion at the street level outside. They had finally located him, he was lucky it had taken this long. After securing his armor he pulled on his two crushgaunts and moved to arm himself. Togra’s armor was his soul, his WESTAR weaponry was his pride. He secured the hip holster to his right thigh, checking the WESTAR-34 pistol painted over a dull black for stealth, satisfied it was armed and in working order he replaced it in his holster. Grabbing next the M5 blaster rifle he allowed himself a small smirk at reuniting with his true self.

The door to his apartment exploded out into the kitchen, laser bolts flew in through the opening randomly. Amateurs, Togra would not waste his time with this fire fight. He turned and jumped through his bedroom window. His armor made sure no injuries were incurred this time around. He fired his jetpack to slow his descent and took in the scene below. Two speeders and one speeder bike were parked out front, all empty with only a single rodian security guard left to defend them. The Rodian looked at the sight of terror before him and raised a blaster with a hand that shook uncontrollably. Togra ignored the guard, his aim would never be close to any of his armor’s weak points. He walked over to the bike and jumped on, securing his rifle to his back. As he revved the engine and braced to speed off a laser flew inches over his head.

Somewhat shocked Togra slowly turned towards the being responsible, the Rodian. The security guard dropped his gun and held his hands up, frozen in fear. Togra pulled out his sidearm and fired several shots into the control panels of the speeders. The powerful bolts rendered the speeders completely useless. Pleased with this Togra holstered his weapon and sped away down the street towards the edge of the city.

The readout of his visor kept pace with the frantic rush of scenery as Togra rocketed through the streets. With almost force aided reactions he took banks and sharp turns with amazing skill, losing little speed in the process. Just as he reached the city limits law enforcement had showed. Two speeders flanked by three bikes were fast approaching his tail, laser canons on the speeders opened up and sent massive bolts towards the fleeing Mandalorian. Near misses exploded into the permacrete of the road as Togra weaved back and forth, dodging debris and spouts of flame. Knowing he was losing ground Togra pulled himself off the main road and onto a plain separating the city limits from a surrounding forest.

Narrowing his focus Togra shot forth at full throttle. The massive trees of the forest would give him cover but would also provide a very real threat. The speeders fell behind and dropped off the chase, knowing their bulky frame stood no chance in the thick forest, the bikes surged forward. The sheer force of the air pressing against Togra felt as if the weight of his past actions were trying to drag him back to suffer judgment. Jerking the controls sharply to the left his bike escaped impact on a large tree as he entered the forest. Lasers began flying overhead and to his sides as his pursuers began pressing their luck.

Togra did not bother to return fire, he simply aimed for the highest concentrated areas of trees and hit the accelerator. A low branch forced him up into the air, from there he slammed the controls to the right as another tree came into view. He was barely fast enough, missing the natural blockade with little room to spare. The explosion a moment later was a good sign one of his tails was not so quick. Unfortunately he did not have time to celebrate as a lucky shot from one of the survivors clipped the back of his speeder and he started losing speed. The controls shook violently under his grip and he fought to keep control and dodge incoming trees. Unable to move quickly enough a low branch caught him in the chest. His massive bulk and speed was more than a match for the branch, it splintered into pieces when it struck him. Togra felt it though, the shock absorbing nature of his armor could not shelter him fully and he was sure a rib had been broken.

Whether he was slightly dazed from the hit, the bike was not responding well enough, or he simply missed it, a tree was coming up far too fast. He had no time, desperately he tugged at the controls. The right side of his bike clipped the tree, the bike started spinning madly. Togra fired his jetpack and detached from the bike just in time as it crashed into another tree and turned into a fireball. Togra hit the ground less than gracefully, rolling to a stop against a tree with a resounding thud. Quickly bringing himself to a half kneel Togra spotted his pursuit. Two bikes remained, the pilots, unaware he had just disembarked, were coming at him full speed.

Togra swung around his rifle, he armed the under barrel rocket launcher and took the first one in a flash. The front of the speeder erupted as the rocket struck it and the pilot was thrown off and into the brush. The second speeder whipped past Togra and banked into a large circle around its target. Togra stood with his back to the tree as lasers struck it and chips of bark flew around him. Stepping out from his cover he aligned his rifle with superb speed and precision, a burst from the M5 leapt forward and caught the side of the speeder as it came around. It spun wildly out of control and crashed into a tree, the pilot was barely able to disembark before impact.

Both pilots were in no condition to stop him so Togra continued into the forest. The whine of a gunship overhead could be heard as he fled the area. Running through the foliage Togra’s mind wandered again, to past events and tragedies.

Garen was saying nothing. He started into the flames of the funeral pyre without wavering. No more tears were seen from the man, neither was his characteristic smile. Togra was quite unsettled by it all, Garen was changing. Since the attack there were no more gatherings with his friends and brothers. Garen’s biological brothers stood by his side, unmoving in their Beskar’gam. Beric, the oldest of the pair, was stern and sensible. He made few rash decisions and often was forced to keep his younger brother in check. But that was not necessary tonight, as Radis stood quietly on the other side of Garen. The usually talkative and boisterous young man was eerily serious and quiet.

The flames danced in the night and Togra watched them move about. He had not spoken to Garen since the attack. The man had retreated into himself and allowed no visitors. Those present at the pyre were also excluded from Garen’s company, Toricha his loyal wookie ally, Jesik Regar admiral of the fleet, Kevin Rasok longtime best friend and comrade, none had seen him although all had tried. Others were present but Togra knew that only these were Garen’s closest and truest friends…and he had pushed them away.

As the flames died down Garen walked over to Togra. The massive deadly warrior braced himself, he was honestly afraid of what might happen next. He was right to be so.
“Togra….I...” Garen paused, looking back at the nearly finished fire. “Never again.” He said as his head hung down. “This will never happen again.” He said again, eyes rising to meet Togra’s. Inside those eyes Togra saw a fire burning hotter and brighter than the pyre ever could, it burned with the fire of a sun full of rage and anger. Those eyes chilled him to the bone.

“Swear to me…” Garen continued, his gaze never wandering from Togra. “That you will do anything to help me.” How could Togra decline? He had no idea what he was even accepting at this point, but did it matter?

“I swear.” Those fateful words left his mouth. Words born of fear and inaction. Words Togra regretted for the rest of his life. Garen nodded and moved away to address the whole of those gathered.

“This!” He pointed at the pyre. “This is what the galaxy is! Tragedy!” His voice boomed into the quiet night, an edge to it Togra had never noticed before.

“But it does not have to be this way! We can change it! Together!” He paced back and forth. “No more shall we sit here and wait! Wait for this to happen to another family! We will be the harbingers of a new world! A better world! None will stand before us!” The crowd cheered and roared. A surprisingly large number of its members wore red mythosaur skulls on their armor, Togra noted, but thought little of it. Some did not cheer and roar. Togra and the Starfall brothers were among them, they exchanged glances, knowing their fates were sealed. Togra looked back at Garen. He seemed to radiate anger, like a flame burning hotter than the actual ones next to him. His fist raised into the black sky, a fist ready to smash into the galaxy itself, a fist of vengeance…
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Kyr’am Gota
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Re: The Mandalorian Protectors: Honor Lost

Post by Topgun220 »

Branches whipped past Togra, slapping against his armor, grasping at his attempt to escape. He struggled, pushing through mental walls of pain and exhaustion, emotional walls of regret and despair, and of course the physical wall of the forest itself. Unable to change direction in time he trampled a small sapling, cracking the defenseless tree in half under his crushing weight. Stumbling slightly he was able to recover in time to hear the gunship overhead approaching him from behind. The screech of its engines was cut off by the loud hum of its guns charging up. Togra dove to the side without hesitation, a series of large laser bolts decimated the area he had just vacated.

The warrior rolled from his stomach on to his back, bringing his M5 WESTAR to bear as he did so. Arming the under slung rocket launcher he sighted the ship overhead. The weapon shrugged back into Togra as the vapor trail shot up to the unsuspecting vessel. The metal bird dipped away a second too late, the rocket struck one of its wings and it spiraled out of control. Togra was halfway to his feet again when lasers started flying just centimeters from his person. Quickly finding the source he spotted dozens of militia heading straight at him, weapons firing.

Apparently his former employer had given up on this being subtly handled and instead opted for using the military to hunt him down. Togra was flattered, but the feeling was lost shortly after a laser struck his breast plates and ricocheted off into the night. The darkness was being beaten back and his true color vision was overwhelmed by the sheer mass of laser bolts filling up the space around him. Togra turned and broke into a sprint, heading for the only defensive position he could locate on the topography map he had downloaded earlier. The well conditioned warrior was able to keep a steady pace ahead of his pursuers despite his exhaustion from hours of trekking through the woods.

Eventually he made his way up a small hill, the slope wasn’t much but it would be enough to give Togra a chance. He wasted no time in using a long burst from his rifle to fell a tree on the crest of the hill, perpendicular to the fast approaching militia forces. Diving behind the downed timber he mentally readied himself for the upcoming confrontation. Although he disliked the notion greatly he knew that nonlethal force was simply not going to be an option. So, with an all too familiar comfort, he fell into his battle state of mind. The kind of mindset only Mandalorian elites possess. Destroy the enemy, leave no doubt as to your superiority.

Rising from the cover of the fallen tree Togra sighted his first target, the pointman of the militia troops on his tail. A burst of precise bolts took the man in the chest before he could hope to mount a defense. One of his comrade, only a few feet behind, lifted his rifle to retaliate. Togra shifted his aim in a flash and squeezed the trigger autonomously, the man toppled, smoke trailing from his corpse. The militia responded in mass. Togra in a semi crouched position rained death down upon them, blue streaks from his WESTAR ripping through their poorly formed lines. They came in droves, Togra couldn’t get a count on their numbers. He focused on moving methodically from one target to another, firing bursts of accurate fire that either eliminated or suppressed threats as they popped up.

The forest was a symphony of explosions and shots in the dark that lit up the night. Kilometers away people could see the flashes and smoke from the battle. The lone Mandalorian warrior was holding back an entire platoon. The sheer ferocity of his fire coupled with his fearless will to stand his ground, defiant to the swirl of laser fire around him, sewed terror into the hearts of the troops approaching him. The black and gold armor shone from reflections of lasers about him, all could see him clearly but none could land any solid hits on the titan of war before them. Occasionally a shot would glance off his breastplate, shoulder pads, or even his helmet. But the seemingly superhuman man shrugged them off and kept his firing rate.

Finally, in desperation to keep his force from breaking, the militia commander issued a charge. Hoping this would overwhelm the single man in a hail of fire from numerous directions at once. Togra noticed the tactic, as many of his adversaries rose and started running at him. He switched his grip on the rifle to his left hand and placed the weapon against his side. Drawing his sidearm with his right hand he went to work on what he surmised as his last stand.

Bolts shot out into the troops storming him, men dropped left and right as Togra let loose with everything he had. His WESTAR weaponry proving its worth. Climbing the hill was costing his opponents dearly. One bolt slammed into his right side, just between the plates of his armor. Togra dropped onto his right knee as pain gripped him, the momentary pause in fire was the gap they had been looking for. Several militia vaulted over the tree a few feet in front of him and the melee was on.

Releasing his hold on his rifle and letting the sling take the weight of it he mentally braced himself. His actions were instantaneous, without mercy, and brutally efficient. Despite his wound Togra’s grip on his pistol held strong and his arm was true. A powerful bolt caught one trooper in the chest and he flew backwards. Togra was shifting his aim when the first soldier caught up to him. A shoulder drove into Togra’s chest, the pistol firing uselessly all too late. Togra was far too massive for this one man to take down and he had braced his stance before impact. Sliding back only a few inches a gasp escaped his lips as he recoiled. Recovering quickly he pushed the man back, gaining valuable separation, and brought a crushing elbow strike into the temple of the soldier.

The next contender was wrapping his arms around his neck, attempting a chokehold to incapacitate the massive warrior. Togra grabbed the wrist of the assailant, his crushgaunts empowered his fist with superhuman strength, cracks resonated from his hand as the bones were splintered and shattered. As screams of agony erupted behind him Togra released his grip and reached out for the next victim of his onslaught. Gripping the throat of an all too shocked militia trooper Togra felt cold steel pierce into his left flank. He aimed his pistol towards the source, never releasing the man in his grasp, and fired. The shot found its mark easy enough in the close quarters and its sheer power ensured retribution.

Togra pulled the man in his grip close and headbutted him. The crack of the Beskar against his skull echoed inside Togra’s own head. Throwing the limp body back into two of his comrades Togra’s hand ripped the knife out of his side and tossed it aside. He stepped forward, the militia troopers hesitating to advance on him shocked. He switched his helmet comm to speaker. The battle cry that boomed forth shook the earth and shattered the resolve of his adversaries.

“COME ON! COME AND KILL ME YOU COWARDS!” He yelled at them, they dragged wounded troopers away as they fled in his wake. “KILL ME!” He screamed at them again. Thoughts had ceased, Togra had fully given over to the battle. His emotions were running rampant.

As the soldiers retreated to the treeline Togra discovered the real reason for their withdrawal. A series of streaks in the sky were fast approaching his position, mortars. Togra dropped to his knees, holstered his pistol and looked up into the night sky. There was no time, he lacked the energy to even make an attempt to evade them. In what was only mere moments Togra felt like an eternity went by as he stared into the black sky above.

The explosions surrounded him, lifting him off the ground and violently sending his body spiralling through the air. More and more explosion ripped through the area, decimating all life nearby. Trees crumbled to the ground and fires sprouted amongst the destruction. Togra felt nothing but mind numbing pain throughout his body as he struggled to rise to his feet. The explosions erupted all around him and soon he was sent flying again.

Darkness engulfed him before he hit the ground again.

Togra stood before his friend...his mandalore and for the first time in his life, was truly afraid. Not because Garen was holding his twin beskads at the ready, ready for blood, but because Togra’s words had failed. It was too little too late.

“Garen this is insane, what are we doing! You’re murdering innocents in droves!”

The pair slowly began to circle one another, Togra’s pistol in his right hand aimed at Garen and a vibroblade in a reverse grip in his left held flat against the pistol grip.

“There are no innocents in war Togra.”

“Are you even hearing what you’re saying? This isn’t you! You are a good man!” Garen snorted at the comment.

“If you’re pleading for your life you’re doing a sheb job of it.” Garen lunged forward, spinning his blades before him. Togra fired, his training and instincts overcoming his misgivings over shooting a friend. Garen had anticipated the shot, aimed for his throat, and side stepped right before the trigger had been pulled.

Togra barely managed to get his armored forearm between the blade counterattack and his own neck. The second blade came with ferocious speed towards his exposed right side. Togra surged forward and rammed a shoulder into Garen just before the blade reached its target. Garen stumbled back but recovered immediately, dropping low and sweeping with his leg Togra was knocked off his feet. The huge man crashed onto his back, cracking the tile underneath him. Togra rolled just in time to dodge the blade coming to finish him. He rolled back onto the embedded blade and knocked it out of Garen’s grip, and sent his armored fist into the faceplate of the surprised Mandalore.

Garen fell backwards and the two men rose slowly from the ground, watching each other like the apex predators they were. “You always were better at fighting than you were at talking.” Garen commented.

“I don’t want to kill you Garen but I won’t let you do this. For the memory of the man you were, I have to stop you.” Garen paced before him, twirling his remaining blade about as he eyed the larger man, analyzing weak points in his defense.

“That’s funny. You. Kill me? We both know I’m the superior fighter.” Togra was all too aware of that. Garen was an incredible warrior, unparalleled in close combat and renowned for his savagery. This man had defeated numerous force powered Xen’Chi in single combat, Togra knew he was outmatched. He steeled his resolve in the knowledge that he may very well be the last hope of stopping Garen before it was too late.

“Don’t make me do this.” Garen stopped his pacing and lowered into a preparatory stance.

“I think I have entertained this exercise long enough.” Garen moved forward again, his zig-zag movements were unpredictable and too fast to track effectively. Togra’s shots were all near misses and as Garen reached him he swung a ferocious elbow at his head. Garen rolled into the strike, grabbing the elbow and using Togra’s own momentum and body weight against him using his body as a fulcrum and threw the man to the ground. Togra hit the ground hard, his pistol spinning away as he grip relented. Togra didn’t have any time to recover, the blade came down and found a gap in his chest piece. It penetrated deep into his right chest and stopped after hitting the armor plates on his back.

Garen knelt down and lifted Togra’s helmet off, tossing it aside. Togra coughed up violently, blood spewing out as pain immobilized him. Garen removed his own helmet and met the stern gaze of his once friend.

“That should shut you up.” He said matter of factly. Togra fought the urge to cough and forced out a response.

“If she saw you now….She would be appalled.” Garen’s face contorted. The words had struck deeper than the blade in Togra’s chest. He made motions to respond but failed. He snapped his helmet back on and rose.

Ripping the blade back out violently he said simply “Die.”

Togra let a groan of pain out as the blade was removed and rolled to the side, watching Garen collect his other beskad and leave the room. Blood pooled under Togra, he struggled for breath, wheezing and choking on blood as he did. He slowly got back up to his knees and then he feet. He felt his strength fading as the blood loss became more and more substantial. He limped over to his pistol and helmet, retrieving both and exiting the room. He used walls for support as he made his way to the hangar bay. Where salvation awaited in the form of a docked Kad class fighter.
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