Alfhedil — Roleplayer Guild

Introducing a plot-line with this post, in the form of The Mandalorian Renaissance a team of mercs based out of a Hammerhead class cruiser of the same name, and doing shenanigans of the highest order. Their basic order of business is the standard run of the mill merc stuff, but with a bit of a catch. Since they tend to be a bit more loose on who they go after, there's usually a bit more room for pocket change to be made during missions. Essentially, they get paid a little more for doing things in unusual ways. Things like making your bounty attempt to recreate Exogorth mating calls. Addressing your target as the opposite gender, and hitting on them. Completing a mission wearing only a mankini and helmet. Wildcard still hates that last one in particular.

Basically, the group is there as a way to involve just characters, and get some mercenary type things going to have a bit of a non-serious plot going alongside the more serious type things.

The Mandalorian Renaissance

Welcome to the war!
Welcome to the war!
A martyr's challenge!

Chainsaw brutality!
Tornado strength!

The vessel screamed out of hyperspace at full ahead, her engines powering the mass of durasteel and firepower into and through the feeble picket set up around the asteroid, smashing a droid fighter across the Hammerhead cruiser's prow. As soon as she had cleared hyperspace, the main cannons opened up on the defenders, turbolaser skewering through those who were too slow to move their vessels out of her way, and scattering the fleet. The batteries on the sides of the vessel opened up next, the hangar bays revealing artillery guns mounted into the rear of the bays and laying waste to the heavier ships as she passed them by. Bloody ruin was left in the wake as the vessel kept pace, pushing through the wreckage and docking at the station. Script was emblazoned across the hull of the vessel, denoting victorious space battles and marking where it had been struck by return fire, but to those who hastily manned the defenses, only one of these markings drew their eyes.

The Mandalorian Renaissance. That name had become known throughout the sector as belonging to the Mandalorian and Clone mercenary group known almost as much for their bloody efficiency as their tendency to take upon any job that pays enough. "ALRIGHT YOU BITCHES." The words were bellowed across the station via the proximity holonet, the background noise of heavy music playing behind the speaker. "Y'all got to the count of ten to get the fuck away from your posts and lay your weapons to the ground! This here is an official collection on behalf of the Galactic Bounty Offices. GET MOVING YOU TOSSERS."

For a good three seconds the defenders debated whether or not they should actually submit, but that was all it took for the crew of the Renaissance. The boarding clamps fired, opening outward to reveal eight heavily armed Mandalorians in Katarn Commando armor, all of them distinctly marked with traditional tattoos upon their armor. Barely a second passed before both parties opened fire, blaster-fire filling the space between the cruiser and the station as the mercenaries pushed forward. "MC-55, push west." The feminine voice smoothly spoke over the internal voxnet for the squad, directing them as to the best route possible and watching carefully.

"MC-28, Duck and cover, you got anti-vehicle fire coming up." Sure enough, just as she pointed it out, a rocket screamed over the head of MC-28, the exhaust cooking off some of the green pain on his shoulder-pads. "Thanks Cass." He called back, before muting her channel briefly and pushing to take out the position. Back in the ship, just as he had expected, Cassandra Orkhota slammed her fist upon the panel and screamed into the mic, berating him ceaselessly even as she knew he had muted her. "Hey Cass, you know he's muted you right?" MC-37, Archon spoke over the rotary cannon humming in his grip, putting down fire to cover MC-55 and MC-28 as they moved into cover beside the doors.

"I bloody well know that you tosser!" Her shrill voice came over the net causing him to wince slightly even as the team chuckled over her irritation. "And you too! Stay fecking professional! Either use the code-names or the damned numbers you were given!" An explosion rocked the exterior of the station as the doors blew inwards from the charges set, and the eight of them pushed into the station proper. Blaster fire riddled the doors and filled the halls as the team split to either side, watching the cannons of the Renaissance turn to fire a succession of turbolaser bolts down the hallway. Once the smoke had cleared, the team moved in and began clearing rooms one by one.

"You know MA-13," MC-55, Templar said with a chuckle as he pulled his knife free from a defender who had decided to get a little closer than he wanted. "Maybe we would all take your commands a little more seriously if you wore pants when you were on command." The whole team had a laugh as inside the ship, Cassandra looked down to her bare thighs with a deepening blush and screamed back into the vox "That's not your concern!" A moment of silence filled the vox as the team continued their operations before she softly mumbled into the mic "Besides, I work better this way..."

If the defenders had not known to fear the Mandalorians before, surely they had reason to now, as the eight mercenaries took them down laughing hysterically to the commander only they could hear. With the end of the operation in sight as they rounded the corner towards the command center of the station, the mercenaries broke out into an old Mandalorian crusade song, their voices lifted in good spirits as they broke the morale of the defenders and busted down the doors to last defense. There the Sullustan commander cowered behind a heavy chair, gesturing at the hired help who laid down their weapons rather than continue fighting. "Oi. Bitch. Turn around and face me." The words came out over the station's internal speakers into the command room itself, complimenting the image of Cassandra on the main view screen.

"Ah, *ahem*. Ma'am, zoom on your face. You're showing him a bit more than you'd like." Archon said quietly, the team stifling a laugh as they watched her look down and quickly redirect the camera away from her panties and back up to her face. The sullustan, of course, was still cowering even with the delay, but was "encouraged" to turn around and face her.

"Please! Spare me!" He begged, quite unconvincingly mind you, but the effort was still there.

Cassandra had a chuckle, motioning towards Templar to cuff him to the command throne. "Now, listen here gill-face. We got orders to sink this hunk of shit into the void, and you with it. Our client has no love for you, or your kind really-"

"They're a bit of a racist fuck." Archon chimed in, to which the team nodded along and the Sullustan's face drained of color

"Yeah, that they are. But, that's not the point. What we can do, however, is offer up an alternative solution."

"Yes! Anything! I'll do whatever you want!" The sullustan was really laying it on now, shaking in the throne as he saw a way out.

"Oh cool. Alright, I'll leave it to the squad and with luck, I'll see you in the cell-block to negotiate your terms." The vox shut off as she blew a kiss through the screen, leaving only static, a cowering Sullustan and eight well-armed Mandalorians.

"Well, here's the deal." Archon said simply, pulling up a crate and sitting upon it with his rifle in his lap. "Now, you see, me and Wildcard have a bit of a bet going. What I'm going to need you to do, is give me your best impression of an Exogorth mating call."

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