Junction A New Dawn | ME and THR Junction of Antar and TBD

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

OBJECTIVE 1 - THE WAY OF PARLEY
Location: The Court of Iron, Sundari, Mandalore
RNR | Aurelian Veruna Annis Riyaré Raigryn Vayd Dominique Vexx Cassian Abrantes Kalantha Auren Vellisar
ME | Aether Verd Runi Kuryida Aselia Verd Ze'bast Verd Kyrida Verd

Sibylla didnt flinch when the Mand'alor spoke her name - - Though her heart quickened at the sound of it. She made sure that her posture remained steady and she seemingly did her best to keep her breathing calm. She had been trained for diplomacy since she first dove into the literature of the grand library at House Abrantes' estate, but even that could not have prepared her for this moment. Not entirely.

Not when the blood of House Abrantes had once soaked into stone during Mandalorian raids.

And now they were presented this. Not just a liason, but a request as an Ambassador in an official capacity. A chance.

Her chest rose with a slow measured breath. The final vote was up to the Queen and the Assembly, but she first had to make her opinion on the matter known.

"Your words honor me, Mand'alor," she said with her subtle Nabooian accent.

"If it pleases Her Majesty the Queen, and is accepted by this body, I would be privileged to serve as ambassador to Mandalore."

She gave another incline her head once more, showing a gesture of respect and mutual recognition.

She felt Cassian's gaze on her still, and she was certain some of her Senator counterparts may either object or agree, but her own eyes remained fixed forward on Aether Verd, on Queen Kalantha. Now it was a matter if the Royal Assembly and the Queen would accept it or not.

 

[Siv Kryze]

.​

O B J E C T I V E 2:​

The moment Runi Kuryida gave her orders, Siv's helmet dipped in a sharp nod—no hesitation, no second-guessing. "Understood."

As the others moved to their positions, Siv fell into step beside Jonah, his stride measured but swift. The Nite Owl visor scanned the terrain ahead, analyzing the drainage channels they'd use for infiltration. "Keep to the left wall," he advised, voice low. "Republic sensors are weakest there. Their Knight's too busy watching the skies to notice shadows underfoot."

When the Basilisk's roar split the air, Siv didn't flinch. He'd expected it—counted on it. The distraction was working. "Good. Let them keep their eyes on the beast while we slip through the cracks."

As they advanced, the HUD in his helmet flickered with movement—Adonis engaging ahead, Runi locking blades with the Jedi commander. Siv's focus didn't waver. His role wasn't glory; it was precision.

Then came the ping— Alina Grayson 's signature cutting through the chaos. Jonah's reaction was immediate, a storm given form. Siv didn't interfere. He knew better than to step between a warrior and his chosen fight.

Instead, he melted deeper into the jungle's shadows, his path winding toward the fortress's underbelly. The Republic thought they'd prepared for Mandalorians.

They hadn't prepared for a Warden.

" Jonah ," he murmured over the private channel. "When you're done playing with the Jedi, the real work starts at the east culvert. Don't keep me waiting."

Then he was gone—a specter in blue and silver, slipping through the enemy's blind spots like a blade through armor seams. The Republic would learn today.

Just not the lesson they expected.

​

 

[Kyric]

"I hope you are able to handle more than one partner then, Jedi." he said. If they weren't aware of the giant cyborg they would be very much so now.

Kyric turned expecting to see another beskar-clad Mandalorian; or maybe that echani fellow he heard stories about in recent weeks. Suffice to say, the kiffar hadn't expected the tower of techno power who marched forward from the brush.

"Oh, chit," Kyric cursed. "Yer freakin' huge."

"I figured I'd get into brawls in my twenties," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Didn't think they'd look like this."

"Janous," he called over his shoulder, voice steady, "push him when he's open. I'll draw the blade. You make it hurt."

The Jedi turned back to Adonis with a manic smile. "You boys are makin' me blush." Kyric slipped his foot back and fell into a lower stance, most of his weight centered on his backfoot. "Y'all normally this gracious?"

"Nice blade," he said, chin dipping toward the sheathed katana. "Not what I expected from a Jedi."

"But then again, I'm not what people expect from a Mandalorian either."

"T'was a gift," Kyric answered.

The instant Adonis launched forward, Kyric detached his sheath from his belt and lifted the full-weight of his weapon to right above hip level. His poncho flared out around him to reveal a lean body packed with muscle. By no means could he match the Heathen Knight in strength—let alone the war machine at Kyric's flank, but the thought of a solid fight propelled the kiffar at Adonis with a broad smile.

Kyric felt the feint before he saw it. Be it a whiff of Adonis' intentions felt through the Force or a pre-cognitive flash of what was to come, Kyric slid to a halt to avoid running into the first strike thrown and he tore his still-sheathed weapon up across his body, where the hit collided with the man's armored forearm to send the elbow strike off-course. But there was only so much the Jedi could do on the retreat. He wouldn't outrun a seasoned fighter like his opponent moving backward; hell, it was physics at that point.

Incapable of maneuvering the long blade away, Kyric gritted his teeth the instant Adonis' hand gripped tight to the kiffar's wrist. He felt himself lifted up and over the Mandalorian. Kyric had the wherewithal to torque his body to the side a split-second before being re-acquainted with the ground the hard way.

Breathing out on impact, Kyric lessoned the brunt of the blow. He quickly rolled to the side and up onto a knee. With Adonis between the kiffar and the cyborg, Kyric flexed all ten fingers and released a powerful wave of telekinetic energy directly into Adonis' core to break the grapple.

Again Kyric felt himself torn from the dirt and sent tumbling through the air. He landed a few meters away from them, his sheath raised in preparation for Janous to close the gap or open fire.

---

Tags: Adonis Angelis IV | Janous Ryss
OOC: Sorry for the delay, gents. Thank you for your patience.

 

[Runi Kuryida]

An agile, cunning warrior this one. The Shaman's helm rotated slightly as Lorn sought to regain his momentum by carrying through evading the brunt of her thrust. Then he angled to use the awkward juxtaposition of her blades against her, to hobble her ability to respond to his counter. Excellent.

Unlike most Mandalorians, Runi did not wear thick layers of beskar over most of her body. War was not what a Shaman aspired toward, but neither did they shun it especially when one became Warmaster. Lorn's strike would not kill her in a single strike had this been real, but it would have had an effect. Which meant in order to remain effective on the field herself, she would need to limit the damage. Time was short and their spacing shorter.

Her clawed hands released both swords simultaneously. The right turned over and jerked back to grab her left gauntlet and trigger the repulsor built into it. Runi directed the pulse in Lorn's direction in an effort to throw him backward. His slash would still manage to graze her side from the speed and precision of the strike.

"I have everything to lose." If Lorn gave her an opportunity, she'd snatch up one of her swords and pivot around to face him fully expecting their exchange to continue. "And have lost it more times than I care to remember. Perhaps this is something we share?"

Lorn Reingard​

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Aurelian's expression barely shifted when the Mand'alor named Sibylla Abrantes. One brow arched as the Iron Warlord made his request, calm and resolute, as if choosing a new blade to be forged. For a moment, Aurelian said nothing. Then he tilted his head, just slightly, toward Dominique, his voice dropping to that low thread of silk-wrapped irony.

"A child diplomat. How very modern of him."

There was no venom in it, just that habitual edge he wore when watching the galaxy twist itself into some new shape without bothering to consult him first. "What does she know of warriors?" he mused. "Her brother hardly is one. They'd be better off with a protocol droid in beskar. At least those can be reprogrammed."

But still... he watched Sibylla. Watched her not flinch, not break, not retreat beneath the weight of the room or the enormity of what had just been handed to her. And he hated the tiny flicker of something that twisted in his chest like a tight-laced secret. Because it wasn't disappointment. It wasn't even envy. It was pride.

Ugh.

She stood there, cool and composed, answering the Mand'alor's request with grace and clarity. She looked the part. More importantly, she had earned it. Not with family name or inherited titles, but by doing the damn work. The draft they'd built together, bickering and bartering every clause like surgeons with scalpels, that draft was now enshrined in the hall of Mandalore.

And the result? An accord. A turning point. A seat at the table that couldn't be overturned by louder voices or flashier robes. He glanced sideways, saw Dominique's smile, an unreadable curve, probably already filing away every new economic angle this moment had unlocked.

"Well," Aurelian muttered, just under his breath, "that ought to keep her busy."

He didn't mean it cruelly. Honestly, he meant it practically. If Sibylla was heading into the beskar-laced arms of Mandalore, maybe he'd get a moment's peace back on Naboo.

Still, he couldn't help the slight lift of his chin, the ease of tension across his shoulders. It wasn't his name on the accord. His hands weren't on the throne. But the fingerprints of his ambition were there, buried in every line of the treaty, every sharp turn of phrasing. His father would approve, hopefully. His constituents would toast. And Aurelian? He could finally start thinking about his exit strategy.

Mandalore was hardly interesting. He turned toward Dominique with a final smirk, letting the tension slip away like a shrug.

"Well, Senator," he said, voice light, "I suppose this is what success smells like. Old stone, scorched metal, and a vague sense that someone else is going to get all the credit."

He gestured vaguely toward the throne. "I'd kill for a drink. But I suppose the Mandalorians would prefer we toast with molten steel."

Let the girl have her embassy. He had other legacies to chase.

Dominique Vexx | Sibylla Abrantes | Aether Verd | Kalantha​

 

[Daniel Washburne]

(Folks on the ground may see or hear this, if outside)
Obj 2

The second volley that the mando sent whistled by in single bolts, three to begin, as the N-1 rocked and dodged with the incoming fire. Plasma ignited the oxygen coming off the starfighter's frame and sparkled lightly as the shields composition reacted to the fire. Reminded him of an odd looking firefly, orange instead of the dim yellow Dan figured the other pilot was just trying to keep the heat on him as the pair barreled downwards towards the incoming wall of green that was the forest floor. Ahead of them zig zags of fire erupted from both the defenders and attackers, creating a colorful lightshow across the monolithic green.

He opened his com to the agreed upon training channel, keying to the mando as the third volley came zinged past and across his shields. Dan rolled to avoid one of them. The other Pilot was good, no doubt about it, keeping pace with Dan as he reacted to the assault. Not an easy task with the lithe Naboo Starfighters. How good though? An itch in his brain wanted to know.

"Sahak chir chee." He said gleefully as the green began to envelope his vision. Malachi Vokat

Daniel's fingers tapped as he prepared himself for the hammer of g force that was about to rock himself and the N-1, an incredibly reckless and wild manuever for what was a training exercise, he cut off his right engine and hit full throttle on his left as he banked upward, turning about to head back up into the expansive sky, reengaging both engines and launching skyward at a breakneck pace. Both his body and the N-1 whined at the effort, ship rocking from Gs as it carened upward. Daniel let out a loud woop as he climbed, preparing to manuever again to attempt to get a bead on his pursuer. His nose bled slightly at the effort, trickling down towards his flight suit from his nose and his organs ached. He wouldn't be trying that a second time this day.

(Rolled 14, in HR discord )

 

[Lorn Reingard]

​

Lorn had put everything into his upward strike, precision and speed all in one motion. He had no time to stop and consider, the Shaman was quicker, dropping her swords and directing a pulse right into the side of Lorn's body. The air wrenched from his lungs as the pulse slammed into his ribs and rolled him off balance, only to recover by his left hand catching the ground.

Flipping his golden blade back to his preferred Shien stance, he eyed her picking up one of her swords. "Perhaps we do," he responded, catching his breath still.

Maybe that was the point of all this, these war games. Pairing unlikely warriors together, to show they are more similar than they thought, that they could fight together if it came down to it. Lorn knew in only the brief contact he had with this Shaman, he had gained an incredible amount of respect for her.

Before she could sink down for the other blade, Lorn sprung to action. His hand flicked out towards her, quick, instinctive, pulling on her torso taut to drag her closer to him. If successful, he would sweep his blade towards her hand in hopes of disarming her completely, hoping for a surrender.

Runi Kuryida​

 

[Dominique Vexx]

Dependency fell both ways, of course. Much as one would try to avoid it, once the free flow of materials and goods commenced their allotment was factored in; and its loss would impact production. It could be weened off, of course, but not without the inconvenience and even pain of doing so. A mutually beneficial and shackling bond forged by necessity. Of course, Dominique expected the difficulty of cutting off the flow of Republic goods would make the Empire severing their own unpalatable. Though it would also disincentivize either attacking the other. It might even ingratiate one to come to the aid of the other in an emergency. Trade wasn't always just trade, as Aether Verd no doubt weighed in considering her offer. But the price was usually worth the boon.

It was surprising to find the man speaking openly of their people being tired of the endless loss of warriors. Not a common occurrence. If anything, most people in the galaxy thought the Mandalorians were mined from the mountains fully clad in beskar -- which is why they refused to barter or trade in beskar. Beskar was people.

Not that Aether's lack of interest in feeding his own to the grind of the galaxy was irrational. What were they getting for all their toil? If anything, it was surprising such a mercantile people hadn't objected sooner. One could say some of them had by their invasions to forcibly claim resources, but Dominique was one of those people that thought others should use their words to articulate their thoughts and emotions; not their fists.

The lilac glasses turned more translucent as Dominique smiled and nodded her head slowly in agreement with the Mand'alor's words regarding trade. Just as she'd expected, of course. Beskar wasn't something they would provide -- though they would gladly accept it. It wasn't their only resource, however, so there was still much they could discuss.

As for beskar being sacred... well, Dominique would strive to avoid anyone making agreements such as 'all beskar will be given to the Mandalorian Empire' because that would be idiotic. How many Mandalorians had perished out in the galaxy? How many Empires had squirreled the ore away? Caches were found all the time. It was an incredibly difficult material to work with, but not impossible. Though Dominique could be persuaded to return some of it should the compensation for returning such hard-won material be significant.

Then the man had a... request. Dominique kept her smile fixed securely in plan despite the surprise of the honor extended to Sibylla Abrantes . Ambassador to Mandalore? Sudden. Though the young woman had her connection to the Economic Development Advisory Board; and it would spare Dominique the need to be away from Denon. And the young woman was intrigued by the offer at that.

Dominique turned her head to regard Aurelian Veruna with a smirk. "Come, now, Senator, it's a large galaxy. I'm certain you'll land on your feet." He was bellyaching quite a bit, but not with half the venom he could if he meant any of it. It was true being an Ambassador could be quite a lofty career move, but Dominique had no interest to be at the Mand'alor's beck and call any time there was a diplomatic row. Denon and the Authority required her attention and was what held her heart. If Sibylla had learned anything, she looked forward to the young woman making the most of the position to advance the Republic's interests -- even if that was merely strengthening their relationship with the Mandalorians.

She leaned in a little closer, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper, "Don't drink the narcolethe, or you might just wish for that molten steel."

Kalantha | Aether Verd | Sibylla Abrantes | Aurelian Veruna
Aselia Verd | Ze'bast Verd | Kyrida Verd | Annis Riyaré | Raigryn Vayd | Cassian Abrantes | Auren Vellisar​

 

[Kalantha]

A NEW DAWN
… a High Republic Story

​

The Queen Emeritus nodded her understanding, empathizing deeply with the plight of Mandalore. While certainly not as storied, Naboo had inarguably suffered a lengthy past of exploitation and deception. The CIS, the GA, even the Sith... Naboo had been passed between the galaxy's superpowers like hand-me-down trousers in a big family. Finally, not only did her homeworld stand on its own two feet again, but at the helm of the Republic as her capital.

It was a euphoria like no other, and one that she'd never wish to withhold from Mandalore.

"If you find the terms agreeable, then I believe our partnership can officially be codified. As for your request," she said, trailing off as her eyes found and met Sibylla's. Kalantha took a few small steps to meet the young woman, stopping when she was at arm's length. She placed a hand on the junior representative's shoulder and gave it a kind squeeze.

"This decision is yours to make, Representative Abrantes. If you wish to represent the Republic in the Iron Court, and should the Mand'alor wish for you to do the same in the Senate," she said, looking to Aether, "then I bless your choice in the highest."

Tags: Aether Verd | Annis Riyaré | Aurelian Veruna | Auren Vellisar | Dominique Vexx | Raigryn Vayd | Sibylla Abrantes​

 

[Alina Grayson]

Objective II

Beneath the jungle canopy, the air was thick with heat and haze. Leaves trembled with the aftershock of Jonah's strike, the clearing alive with the tension of warriors brought face to face. Mud slicked the earth, roots twisted like serpents through the underbrush, and the cry of the distant Basilisk still echoed like the memory of war.

Alina did not retreat.

She met the Mandalorian's falling blade with a brilliant surge of golden light.

Snap-hiss.

The igniting hum of her saber cut through the air as the golden blade swept up and caught his weapon with precision. Light flared as steel clashed against plasma, a ripple of force reverberating outward in a ring through the wet soil.

And Alina stood firm.

Her boots sank slightly into the mud, but her posture didn't falter. Azure eyes looked up into his visor, his unreadable behind the helm, she felt the power he carried not just muscle or tech, but conviction. A warrior's will. She could respect that.

But she would not yield.

"You're destination lies through me, Jonah Verd." her stance changed only slightly focusing less on pushing back against his weapon

And then the Force moved.

With a breath drawn deep, Alina sank into the force's current not just as a conduit, but as a guide. She didn't dominate the flow. She listened to it. Felt the pulse of life in the vines overhead, the pressure in the roots below, the heat of the air. And then she shaped it.

Tide answered her first.

Water surged from the earth in spiraling tendrils mud and moisture pulled from the saturated ground around them, coiling like serpents around Jonah's legs and arms. Not to harm, but to hinder. It sought purchase in the joints of his armor, like grasping hands.

TAG: Jonah + Open

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

Objective II
Tag: Janous Ryss Kyric

The blow from the Force made direct impact. Adonis didn't have a chance to brace.

The Mandalorian was blasted backward, flying through a wall of vines, flipping once before his boots slammed into the ground. He skidded hard, carving a shallow canal through the jungle floor before coming to a stop. Not enough to break anything, but enough to bruise. Definitely enough to sting.

Steam hissed from the vents of his armor as he dropped to one knee, then slowly pushed himself upright. He could taste the blood beneath his helmet, copper and heat pooling in his mouth. Though his systems were still intact, and his bones still working.

He turned his head just slightly, enough to speak over the chaos of the jungle.

"You earned that one," he growled, spitting the blood that lined his teeth into his helmet.

This one wasn't like the Jedi he'd met before, no holier-than-thou sermons or slow, theatrical posturing. No robes fluttering behind him like he walked above the dirt. No, this one had scars he'd earned. This one fought like he meant it.

Adonis respected that.

But he wasn't going to give him the luxury of time.

He hadn't seen Janous move yet, maybe the cyborg was waiting for his moment, maybe he was just enjoying the show. Either way, it meant one thing: more fun for him.

Using the Force to guide his movements, Adonis launched himself forward, closing the gap in a flash. His body dropped low, just like before, shoulder angled to drive into Kyric's ribs. Same charge. Same momentum.

Or so it seemed.

At the last second, he shifted. His leading foot planted hard, his body pivoted, and his rear leg swept out in a tight, snapping arc- aimed low, fast, and brutal- targeting Kyric's knees. It wasn't about power. It was about control. Break the stance, break the rhythm, break the Jedi.

Adonis pressed the advantage. The moment his foot touched back down, he surged upward, driving his elbow in a sharp arc toward Kyric's chin or cheekbone. The movement was tight and brutal, the kind of strike meant to end an exchange before it started.

If the sweep connected, it would stagger him. If it didn't, the elbow might. Either way, Adonis was already in close- inside the Jedi's reach, where blades became burdens and instinct ruled the exchange.

He didn't need to win in one hit.

He just needed to remind this Jedi, Mandos don't back down. Not then. Not now.

 

[Kyrida Verd]

She did not speak when the throne room stirred, nor when gifts were exchanged and words polished for diplomacy echoed from gilded tongues. Kyrida simply watched. She listened and measured the value of each person that presented themselves before her brother.

Only when absolutely necessary did she deem it time to speak. A woman of few words, indeed. What was Aether thinking? Making her an ambassador? Politics? It was nigh unto sacrilege.

She stepped forward, and then reclaimed her calm demeanour.

"I am Kyrida Verd," her voice was low, but it still carried, "Daughter of two paths. Devotee of one."

She offered a faint nod toward the Nabooian delegation. It was not deference, never deference, but she was at least able to recognise their authority.

"If Mandalore still wills it, then I will serve as its voice on Naboo."

She offered nothing that would show her as capable political creature. Instead, her stoicism maintained its steady rhythm.

"May we speak together without deception. And stand together without shame."

Kalantha Aether Verd Sibylla Abrantes Aurelian Veruna Aselia Verd Ze'bast Verd
Annis Riyaré Raigryn Vayd Cassian Abrantes Auren Vellisar​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

OBJECTIVE 1 - THE WAY OF PARLEY
Location: The Court of Iron, Sundari, Mandalore
RNR | Aurelian Veruna Annis Riyaré Raigryn Vayd Dominique Vexx Cassian Abrantes Kalantha Auren Vellisar
ME | Aether Verd Runi Kuryida Aselia Verd Ze'bast Verd Kyrida Verd

The Queen's hand on her shoulder was warm and grounding, but even then Sibylla couldn't help the slight catch of her breath. This was a woman who wasn't that much older than her, but Sibyl looked up to. Up close, without the ceremonial makeup and robes, the Junior Representative was able to see Kalantha in a way she hadn't before.

Just breathe.

For a second, Sibylla had to remind herself to focus on her training, what her Governess, mother and father had taught her. A thousand lessons at the estate, a thousand more in the Assembly. Tutors, trials, debates under pressure and dances laced with politics. This was the summit of all of it. And still, it was no easy thing to say aloud.

Her eyes lifted, meeting Kalantha's gaze with quiet resolve, the pink in her cheeks betraying emotion even her polished words might try to conceal.

"Your Majesty," she began softly, her tone clear but graced with the poised fire of a young woman who had considered every consequence, "I would not take such an honor lightly nor the burden it entails. But I believe that peace, once offered sincerely, deserves both courage and consistency in its caretakers...and if Mandalore will have me, I shall endeavor to be equal to the task."

She inclined her head at last, reverently, no hesitation now.

"I accept, with pride for Naboo, for the Republic and for the future we have chosen to build."

 

[Aether Verd]

M A N D A L O R E​

COURT OF IRON - OBJECTIVE I

The Iron Throne remained still, the warrior seated upon it measured in silence, before the helm inclined with purpose toward the delegation that had come so far to stand within these halls.

“Sibylla Abrantes,” he said, the name carrying through the chamber like a promise, “by the will of your Queen and with the assent of this Court, you are hereby recognized as the Republic’s Ambassador to Mandalore. You will have your place within the Court of Iron, your voice will be heard among ours, and your counsel will be weighed with the respect you have earned this day.”

His helm shifted, the black visor turning to regard the quiet figure who stood at his flank, the edges of her crimson cloak catching the light of the chamber’s braziers.

“In equal measure, it is fitting that Mandalore extend its voice to the Republic in kind. I present to you Kyrida Verd, my sister, blood of my blood, mind of my mind, a warrior tempered by faith and fire. She will serve as Mandalore’s ambassador to the Republic, and in doing so, she will carry the will of Mandalore with her. Should you seek the counsel of Mandalore, you will find it in her.”

His hand settled upon the armrest, the duratsteel creaking softly beneath the weight of his gauntlet, before he spoke again, his voice as steady as the Iron that surrounded them.

“My gratitude extends to you, Queen Kalantha, for your grace in ratifying these accords and for the faith you have placed in this path we now walk together. To you, Sibylla, for rising to meet this moment with the courage it demands, and to the Republic, for gracing Mandalore with your presence and your trust.”

His helm lifted slightly, the words rolling through the hall like the steady rhythm of a war drum.

“You are our honored guests. May you find rest upon Mandalore before you take your leave, and may the warmth of our hearths remind you that you are welcome here, now and in the days to come.”

The Mand’alor paused, his voice shifting with quiet certainty, the Iron in his words now given the weight of something more.

“Correction. You are not simply guests. You are friends of Mandalore.”

And with that, the Court of Iron fell quiet once more, the future waiting as it always had, and the Iron Throne standing firm behind the warrior who would see it through.

Aurelian Veruna Annis Riyaré Raigryn Vayd Dominique Vexx Cassian Abrantes Kalantha Auren Vellisar Aselia Verd Ze'bast Verd Kyrida Verd​

 

[Jonah]

The comm crackled softly in his ear, Siv’s voice threading through the clash of steel and plasma, a reminder of the work yet to be done. Jonah inclined his head almost imperceptibly, a silent agreement rolling through him like a tide. This needed to end, and it needed to end swiftly if he was to give their guests the attention they were due.

Far behind him, the Basilisk’s roar began to fade, its digitized cry retreating into the canopy as Republic firepower tightened around its position. The beast had served its purpose well, but even war machines knew when to slip back into the shadows.

The hiss of her saber against his blade sent sparks flaring in the damp air, light flashing across the mud-slick ground as the two forces met. Behind the visor, Jonah’s teeth bared in a sharp grin, the storm in his chest finding rhythm in the contest of strength before him.

He felt it then, the rise of the Force within her, a gathering of purpose and will that tangled around him in tendrils of mud and water, coiling like the grip of a river that refused to let go. A huff rolled from him, shoulders shifting as he felt the weight of her power testing the edges of his own.

A growl, low and ferocious, rumbled from within the helm, a promise made in the language of predators. The Force answered him, a command as clear as any spoken word, and with a surge of power that cracked through the humid air, a telekinetic repulse exploded outward from his frame.

Mud and water blasted away from him, flinging from his armor in ragged streams. The shockwave rippled through the clearing, a pulse that shook branches loose from the trees and sent leaves spinning across the churned earth. If she did not stand firm, the wave would catch her, sending her back through the treeline, a reminder that the storm did not come to beg permission.

Jonah stepped forward, his blade lifting once more, the jungle alive around him, the hunt far from over.

Tag: Tag: Alina Grayson Lorn Reingard Dreidi Xeraic Voli Cholrass Aiden Porte Kyric Aileni Ifor Xeraic Runi Kuryida Adonis Angelis IV Janous Ryss Maiz Tor'val + Open

 

[Malachi Vokat]

NEW COV
Objective II - Stratosphere​

The channel crackled with the pilot’s voice, the words sharp with that same glee that hummed in Malachi’s bones. The Mandalorian's teeth flashed in a grin behind the visor, the rush of the chase singing through the engines as he keyed his own comm in return.

“Boring you already, Naboo?”

The Fang shuddered with the push of the throttle, its engines answering the call with a hungry roar that bit into the humid stratosphere. Malachi watched with keen eyes as the N-1 flickered upward, cutting the right engine and flaring the left, the ship corkscrewing through the air in a reckless pivot that left a vapor trail across the jungle’s emerald canopy. The maneuver was bold, worthy of respect, and the kind of madness that Malachi could appreciate.

He let the Fang follow the climb, but only for a breath, letting the sensors and his own instincts trace the shift in the Naboo’s position as it launched skyward. The G-forces would be grinding into the pilot’s bones, the blood in his skull a pounding drum as he pulled the sleek ship vertical, and for many, that alone would have been enough to buy space.

Malachi wasn’t many.

With the engines singing, he pulled back, but instead of climbing into the same draft, the Fang broke to the side, cutting through the eddies of heat and vapor in a tight arc that left the climb clear for Daniel’s passage. The Naboo would find the sky, but the Mandalorian was already there, the Fang rising from below at a brutal angle, thrusters burning blue as the targeting reticle screamed red across his HUD.

Malachi could feel it, the weightless pull of the climb merging with the gravity of certainty, the way the Fang felt like an extension of himself as it slipped under the Naboo’s tail, matching the vector with a hair’s breadth of precision. His fingers danced across the controls, locking the simulated training cannons into their tightest convergence, letting the sensors read the shields, the engine flare, the minute shifts of metal under stress.

Then he fired.

Twin bursts lanced out, calibrated to crackle against the Naboo’s shields, no kill but a declaration of dominance, a hunter’s mark laid bare across the expanse of sky that they had claimed together. The Fang did not falter, did not drift, but pressed closer, each adjustment smooth and hungry, as if the starfighter itself was eager for the dance to continue.

“Come on then,” Malachi’s voice rolled through the channel, a low, eager challenge that matched the grin he wore, “show me you have more than one trick left in you.”

The jungle fell away beneath them, a distant sea of green, the sky stretched open before them, and the hunt did not end. It only quickened.

Daniel Washburne​

Spoiler: Roll!

 

[Runi Kuryida]

Runi held her sword out to the side. Not too high. Not too close. Off-center. It was neither guard nor threat against her opponent. It could be brought to defend against an attack, but it reflected the disengagement they shared in that moment. Perhaps she would reach down for her other sword given the opportunity, the stance suggested as the fingers of her free hand opened.

Lorn, being an able Jedi warrior, sought to draw her into his range before she was set. It was a dangerous circumstance for a Mandalorian. Not so much for a Mandalorian Knight, but Lorn got enough sparring with those of gifts. A good deal of the day's exchange was to deal with someone that was not your common partner.

The Shaman started to bring her sword around leading with the hand, which Lorn struck at in an effort to disarm her. Effective. But she pulled her hand back in as she was drawn rapidly across the intervening distance, while she tipped her sword forward to catch his saber with her own blade. "You had a good instructor."

If their swords clashed, Runi wouldn't wait for him to take the next step. She'd move to step into the lock and slide her wooden blade along the lightsaber in an effort to control its position; to shove it aside and expose Lorn Reingard for a follow-up and "lethal" blow.

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Their blades met with a hiss and a crack, not violent, but decisive. Lorn's saber bit against the Force-hardened wood, but Runi's angle was clever, her timing precise. She didn't try to overpower him directly. She redirected. Her blade slid along his, guiding it, not breaking it, but beating it, until his saber arm overextended. Off-balance, off-guard.

And then it was done.

With a final twist, her blade knocked his saber away, sending it skittering across the stone with a muted clatter. Lorn stood in its absence, chest heaving, sweat beading at his temple. Runi's weapon hovered a hand's breadth from his center, well within range. He didn't flinch. He didn't reach for another weapon. He simply raised both hands, palms open.

"I yield," he said, voice quiet but without hesitation. "This time." The words weren't bitter. There was no shame in them. Just clarity. Lorn dipped his head slightly, eyes steady behind the weariness. "You are... exceptional," he said, tone laced with genuine respect. "Not just for your strength, but your restraint. That's harder to wield than any blade."

He glanced to where his saber rested, but didn't move to retrieve it yet. "Thank you. For the challenge. For the clarity."

There was something settling in his chest now, not peace, not exactly. But balance. A rare moment of being seen and tested, and not shattered. Lorn turned slightly, stepping back, letting the war game's rhythm continue without him. The fortress still roared, the battle still danced, but for him... this part was done.

And he was better for it.

Runi Kuryida​

 

[Janous Ryss]

Objective II
Adonis Angelis IV Kyric


Janous's lifeless visor watched the two warriors crash into each other, a heavy blaster casually held but targeting icons flashing in his vision as he aimed behind the Jedi his ally intended to beat into submission.


If he was a coward he'd try to jump away, maneuver out of the blow and flee to reposition, then it'd be an easy shot.


But the Jedi stood his ground. Janous rewarded the lack of cowardice by letting the warriors brawl, a moment of honor between two combatants. Intending to admire and enjoy the show.


But. . He felt nothing.


He could see the adrenaline between them, the pain, the struggle, the joys of combat. To his increasing horror, he shared in none of it.


He loved to watch fights before the accident, but now he realized it. There was just nothing. It was passionless. When he saw the training sessions, he thought it was merely that it wasn't the real thing, sparring was never as enjoyable as real combat. It would surely come back with proper war, and yet he was on the field. His comrade was blasted away by the force, leaving him a clear shot and he felt nothing. He was so stunned it'd have looked like he simply malfunctioned and wasn't responding.


Frozen like a statue, dead on the outside, Inside was nothing but rage.


Disdain mixed with disbelief. How could this be his life? War was all that was left to him, and life seemed to take away his own passions from him!


He was a warrior. This he would not allow.


The blaster dropped from his hands with a thud covering its weight. He willed the combat stimulation to flow, a warning icon flashing "combat damaged not sustained, over use of simult-". He willed the warning away. The cocktail of chemicals flooded his brain as it simulated adrenaline. Everything seemed to feel as it should, the thrill of a life-threatening battle returning.


He stormed forward with heavy footfalls as he charged forward behind Adonis. He went wide round to the left as he performed his own combat maneuver.


He knew it was better to aim with his blaster. He didn't care. He wanted melee and would get it.


Adonis attack would result in only a few outcomes. Their foe would either be stuck and sadly stunned, or he would find a way to block, and then he could enjoy taking a staggering strike against the poor man, either way he intended to get at his side and land the strike unless he was downed, if he was already staggered and vulnerable there be no sport.


Relived to feel alive again, he tried to enjoy the moment with enough restrain to not kill the man.