Faction Ashes in the Undercity [ME]

[Rynna]

It didn't take much to get the Taris undercity riled up, riots had been commonplace since the Planeshift. The Mand'alor of Iron had brought salvation, but that salvation never seemed to stretch deep enough to relieve the strain on those who lived beneath an iron boot. The perfect recipe for chaos.

There had been whispers for weeks, echoing in dark alleys, sermons shouted from cracked stone steps by people bearing the symbol of the Diarchy, all preaching the same thing: Mand'alor the Iron's rule was illegitimate. No one had asked them if they wanted to take the Caburian Creed, and they were ready to answer.

When the first blaster bolts lit the dark, they weren't aimed at gangs. They were aimed at the patrols. Bolstered by smuggled arms and false promises, desperate factions of the undercity rose, and chaos followed.

Now, fires painted the skyline red. Security forces, caught flat-footed, fought tooth and nail to hold the barricades while riot after riot began to spill up into the levels above. Every corner was a battlefield: gangs settling old debts, looters breaking into stores, innocents caught in the crossfire.

**

Glass crunched underfoot as she pressed against the corner of a building. Rynna peered around, making sure the coast was clear. Bright green eyes peered out from beneath a hood, her nose and mouth covered by a grubby scarf, a makeshift mask against the clouds of smoke.

Cackling and hoots of joy made her retreat into the shadows as a group broke out from another alley, dragging someone by their hair. Rynna gritted her teeth and pressed her back against the wall, tearing her eyes away and breathing deep. She wasn't a stranger to violence, but this was low, even for the undercity.

She stayed perfectly still, not wanting to draw attention to herself, trying to ignore the desperate pleas. The blaster bolt made her jump, and she felt icy fear creep up from her stomach. This wasn't just a riot; this was a bloodletting.

After a few beats, they moved on, their laughter echoing around them. Rynna waited until all she could hear was the distant sound of blaster fire before she slid out from the shadows again, skirting along the street's edge. She didn't spare a glance towards the dead body; she'd seen enough in her time, and survival didn't give space for emotion.
​

 

[Ryzen Vord]

Ryzen sat rigid in her seat, body completely still (her hunter’s discipline demanding nothing less), yet mind light-years away and racing. This would be her first deployment. Oh, she’d long been blooded, and had grown up slaying all manner of beast, but this would be her first time hunting a true monster. The Diarchy had gone too far, twisting the people of Taris with their lies to the point where they could do nothing more than strike out like cornered beasts. It was sickening; this kind of proxy warfare made the hackles of every true Mandalorian rise in outrage. Worse, the cowardly tactics favored by the Diarchy had already cost the life of a Mandalorian child. It was not a crime that could go unanswered. While the general forces of the Great Heathen Army would be working to quell the rioting populace, Ryzen’s branch, the Nite Owls, would be cutting off the head of the venomous snake. Those who had incited the riots would not be allowed to leave the world they set ablaze.

Ryzen was… nervous, to say the least. Taris was a world that had been built up and shattered so many times that the landscape was barely recognizable as something natural. It was a far cry from the remote jungles, tundras, mountains, and plains she had spent the last five years scouring in the name of her brother’s dream. This was a place stained and changed by some of the worst atrocities to ever hit the galaxy. She was scared, honestly, that her skills wouldn’t be enough.

Basic Training in the Mandalorian Armed Forces differed greatly from that of other factions of the Galaxy. Upon enlistment, every Mando had at least a decade of training under their belt. A firm foundation as a Warrior was expected, not something that needed to be taught. Therefore, the skills learned in Basic tended towards becoming familiar with the standard procedures and specific equipment used by each branch’s speciality. It also emphasized the importance of communication, chain of command, and working as a team with your Unit. Ryzen had learned well the ways of the Nite Owls, memorizing their codes and signals and what each asked of her. She also brushed up on her jet-pack maneuvers. Despite her relative isolation, she was well used to following orders: her brother and his doomed personal crusade had demanded no less. Even still, despite her obvious competence, Ryzen still felt the cool coil of nervousness tightening in her gut. What if she failed? What if she caused more damage by her actions than had already been done?

It took everything Ryzen had not to draw her knife, indulge in the familiar idle habit of flipping it in the air and catching it. No matter how soothing the motions may have been to her, now was neither the time nor the place. Even still, gloved hand gripped the lit tight. Ryzen was startled from her inner musings by the harsh tones of the ship’s intercom. 10 minutes until they entered the upper limits of Taris’ atmosphere. In other words: go time. With a deep, calming breath, Ryzen rose to her feet and prepared to receive her orders.

 

[Jonah]

Jonah seethed. Incensed. The chaos engulfing Taris was his failure made flesh, an insult born of his blind spot. The Nite Owls existed for one singular purpose: to keep the Mand’alor informed of all things. They were to rule the shadows so that his brother could rule the light. And so, failing to spot the Diarchy’s venom before it slithered into the undercity, failing to cut off its head before the riots began, failing to spare Taris from being troubled once again...every failure rested upon his shoulders. His younger sibling would not flay him for it, for graciousness was woven into Aether’s very nature. But that did not change the truth of the matter. The world was burning, and it was Jonah’s duty to set things right.

The Warmaster stood within the hold of the Kom’rk, garbed in midnight black beskar’gam, every inch of his frame ready for war. His helm swept the cabin, visor catching each of his warriors in turn, wordless communion before he spoke.

“Rebellion is not a word that lives in our Empire.” Jonah growled, voice carrying like steel dragged across stone. “Honor drives us forward, but we are warriors first. And those who dared to light the Mand’alor’s peace aflame will be burnt themselves. Our target is a cell of Diarchy dogs, holed up in the Undercity. It was their venom that poisoned the people, their sermons that birthed these riots. Tonight, their words end, and so do their lives.”

He struck his chest with a gauntleted fist, the sound echoing across the hold.

“Once we’ve cut off this snake’s head, we turn to aid the Great Heathen Army. Every riot, every fire, every street painted with chaos? We will help bring it back to order. We are moments from the drop point. Do not mistake the familiar streets beneath us for safety. Hostiles are hostiles, even in our own backyard.”

The Kom’rk descended, slicing through the night, skimming ruined towers and shattered causeways until the blackness of the city’s underbelly swallowed them whole. When the vessel steadied, the sounds of blaster fire cracked against its hull, a reminder that the enemy was ready and waiting.

Jonah’s voice rose above the noise. “They know we are coming. Good. Let them wait for death.” His gauntlet struck the panel set into the wall, and the deck split beneath them with a metallic roar.

The first to fall was the Warmaster himself. He dropped like an obsidian blade loosed from its sheath, only for his jetpack to thunder to life and catch him mid-descent. He wove between streaking blaster fire as if born to it, a predator carving through chaos. Below, the target of his wrath revealed itself in the flickering glow of fire and muzzle flash. Fitting, that the Diarchy’s venom would be spewed from a pulpit, for the rats had chosen a church as their den.

And fitting still, that this night it would become their tomb.

Tag: Ryzen Vord + Rynna (Nearby)

 

[Siv Kryze]

.​

O B J E C T I V E: KEEP THE ORDER​

​

Siv remembered when this street was quiet. When his boots first hit the permacrete hours ago, the smoke was just beginning to rise, and the crowd was only a restless sea of faces. No blasters yet—just shouting, fists shaking, voices spitting hate for a creed they claimed was forced upon them.

Siv had stood at the center of the checkpoint then, helmet locked, rifle lowered but ready. His voice carried through the modulator, cold and even: "Clear the streets. Go home. This ends without blood.”

They didn't listen.

Now, the barricades burned. What had been a tense standoffhad rotted into open war. The same faces that spat words were now screaming war cries, charging with stolen blasters and jagg ed pipes. Siv was back-to-back with his squad, his beskad wet, his rifle glowing hot from the firestorm he'd unleashed

He'd come to keep the peace. He was staying to hold the line.

"No more warnings," he growled into the comm as another wave crashed toward them, flames painting their helmets in orange. "Push them back. Keep this sector contained."

The mob surged again, but Mandalorians didn't break. Not here. Not today. Siv squeezed the trigger and waded into the chaos, iron to the bone.

Tag: Jonah Ryzen Vord Rynna​

 

[Perseus]

|| Objective - Keep the Peace ||
|| Equipment - Armor | Rifle | Blaster | Polearm | Knives | RIDDS ||
|| Tags - Siv Kryze [Nearby] | Jonah | Ryzen Vord | Rynna ||​

The call came out. No more mercy for the Rioters. They were sympathetic to the Diarchy. A faction of liars and thieves. Brigands and Bastards. They would be put down like the dogs they were. As they sent blasterfire at us, I took cover behind a barricade. Keeping my head down as the bolts flew past. Once there was enough of a drop in frequency, I popped up. Bringing my rifle to bear, The sights setting on a target that was running across the distance trying to bring this into a closer conflict. The Ripper Rifle erupted in its rounds. Sending a host of them into his center mass. Ripping through whatever kind of lighter armor he had smuggled in before it tore him to shreds.

The rifle seemed to move on its own. Sights moving just a hair over to another rioter who held up a pistol. Firing the weapon. Its blaster bolt flying just barely past me with a miss shot. When my ripper returned in kindness. Watching it fly through his arm and torso. The arm falling to the ground with the multiple rounds also causing his body to get kicked back from the force of the rounds impacting him. As another drew closer to me, I didn't want to cause cross fire as they were drawing way too close to the barricade. Wrist thrown out from holding the forward stock of the rifle to erupt in flames. Searing him in flames as the projector howled like a creature of the night. With his pained screams yelling out to be quenched.

Wordlessly, I vaulted over the barricade. Rushing forward into a crouch. Two blaster bolts slammed into my frame. The armor doing its job of protecting me. Impacts hindering me slightly with my aim before I found the culprit. Yet another rioter who leveled a blaster at me. Ripper aimed close enough to send hate in her direction. The loud snaps of the rifle echoed in my ears as the weapon once more brought death to Diarchy separatists.

I turned my head just in time as a battle cry came out. One who had thought that moving around to the side was a good idea. My attention drawn too heavily to the front as he collapsed upon me. Rifle fell from my grasp. Hands coming up to stop the vibro shiv from entering my neck. Fist pushing his leg off of me. Shrimping my body up to the side and leg performing a Scissor sweep. I moved on top of him. Hand grabbing his wrist, squeezing to have him drop the shiv as I drew my own knife. Plunging it down into his neckline and yanking it to the side. My strength ripped out a chunk from his neck and let him bleed there unable to speak or barely breathe.

My head turned over to the rifle and picked it up quickly before bringing the barrel to his chest and pulling the trigger.

Blood exploded from his chest and onto my armor as I looked at the others who were closing distance. Once more a wrist opened up the flame projector to keep them back of me. Giving me enough time to bring my rifle up, and open fire.

Each death meant nothing to me. The only feeling I had was the recoil in my shoulder, and the slight pressure of my finger on the trigger.

 

[Rynna]

The fighting was growing louder, spilling into even the most deserted of streets as troop transports rumbled overhead, dropping Mandalorians in the centre of fights, scattering the rebels as they pulled back to more defensible positions, regrouping and pushing back into the fray. It was all Rynna could do to keep from getting sucked into the centre of it, keeping to the edge as best she could, ducking into previously looted shopfronts and snagging what she could.

She came out of the ransacked jewellery shop, stuffing a fistful of silver chains into the satchel at her side, surprised at her luck. Granted, the truly precious gems and priceless items had long been gone, but a silver chain could secure her a hot meal and a comfy bed for a night or two if she bartered hard enough. The growl of a troop transport drew her eyes up. She watched it circle above, and a dozen heavily armoured Mandalorians were jumping from it. The duracrete cracked beneath their feet, their presence enraging the rebels at the end of the street as they surged forward. bolt ricocheted off the Mandalorians like they were raindrops.

Rynna was frozen in place, caught in fear and awe before a thoom drew her eyes back to the rebels. Perched atop a small rubble pile, a head and shoulders above the rest with yellow eyes, a Diarchy preacher lowered the rocket launcher from his shoulder. The transport spun, smoke and fire trailing from it as the rest of its passengers bailed. Rynna watched it all, her feet not responding to the screaming in her mind that she needed to run, her green eyes tracking it across the sky as it clipped the building she was standing beside.

As dust and rubble began to rain down, movement returned to her feet, a small scream escaping her lips. Huge chunks of duracrete rained down around her. The street became a haze of dust and smoke, lit by the screaming bolts of blaster fire. Heavy boots ran past her. She was in the midst of the Mandalorian lines now; she needed to get out. Panic was beginning to settle in her chest, squeezing tight. If they caught her, she would be killed as a looter. She had to find her way out.

Perseus Siv Kryze Ryzen Vord Jonah (nearby)

 

[Evangel]

Evangel liked to travel. There was always a job for a Mandalorian in the galaxy. More importantly, those jobs brought her in contact with the sort of people she loved to fight. The kind that scratch the itch that whispered in the dark places of her mind. So the conflict between the Diarchy and Mandalorian Empire didn't mean much more to her than any other faction fighting another in the galaxy. If it weren't for the allure of encountering one of their Sith-trained operatives -- if any existed as they sought to convince the galaxy their origins had no particular meaning for the desire for unity -- even this squabble wouldn't be of interest. But there were Preachers present and perhaps they might provide insight in whether she would find... satisfaction fighting their kin.

Unlike those interested in containing the riot, however, Evangel had sought alternative means of joining the festivities. Batons held in her hands, she took a step forward and shoved off into the air. Gravity did the rest, as Jonah would attest. Her descent was for the center of the mass of undulating flesh; not its edges where blaster fire sought to discourage their progress. She wasn't there for containment. She was there for the hunt.

A gut-wrenching sensation rippled through those beneath the falling Mandalorian warrior. They turned their eyes upward just soon enough to throw themselves out of her way. A metallic clang followed a knee as it struck the ground.

Slowly the black helmet carved with golden glyphs rose to regard the staggered rioters. Those closest had been buffeted by others, and they in turn by more of their kind, as they stopped to stare and gather their wits. Further out, the unwashed masses continued to surge forward. Those not aware didn't bother to discover why there was an impediment to their forward momentum; they took the path of least resistant to their doom at the ends of the blasters ahead.

Evangel slowly rose to her feet as the circle imploded toward the intruder. Right baton blocked a club. Left baton struck their knee cap. Duck under the pipe from behind. Pivot and bring the baton up against the under side a chin. Twist and lean to let a spear sail by her shoulder. Lock the arm with both batons and flip over it with her foot slammed into the face of another nameless, faceless cretin.

These were not the sort she thirsted to hunt, but they took the edge off. If only she could find one of these so-called Preachers...

A flare caused her helm to snap down the roar and up to the tops of buildings. A rocket had been launched. Evangel noted the coordinates even as the throng about her piled on in an effort to bury her. Could that have been one of their leaders? She had to check it out. But, first, she needed to survive.

That sense of dread returned, and those buried deepest atop the Mandalorian felt her body no long bend beneath the weight. That was all the warning those without the Force got before the pile was flung up into the air. A black figure leaped from the center of the explosion; their black boot slammed down atop a nearby shoulder for more elevation as the fiery wreck of a transport -- which her assailants hadn't noticed -- drew nearer. In the bat of an eye, Evangel disappeared.

As debris rained down and cries of horror and panic set in, the black and gold Mandalorian reappeared at the edge of the street to take shelter from the destruction. With a grunt, Evangel rocketed upward toward the rooftops.

By the time she got up there, however, the perch where the launcher had been was vacant. Evangel was prepared to track them down regardless, but she caught sight of another with similar intentions nearby.

They, in turn, caught sight of her with the jetpack keeping her afloat.

With a fiery explosion the rocket meant for another ship began to erupt with the tube directed at Evangel herself.

Wrong move. If they'd done that earlier they would have had a chance.

A bell's clang rang out when one of the batons slammed against the side of the projectile. It spun eradically off course, tumbling end over end, until it exploded in the street below. So much for trying not to kill, but they'd brought out the demon within so everything that followed was their fault.

Ruined baton cast aside, Evangel surged forward and planted a hand in the man's face. Feet plucked off the roof, he was summarily thrown back-first onto the deck to make him compliant. Concussion applied, she grabbed him by the collar and dipped over the edge of the roof to drop him off with the Mandalorians below. She'd save the questions for later. At that moment, there were people to hunt; lofty aspirations and desires were a distant second.

Perhaps it was the Force sensitivity. Perhaps it was bad luck. Whatever it was, however, Evangel's helm turned in a direction and suddenly she'd thrown herself through the crowd. It didn't matter if she nearly knocked even vod over from her passing. Nothing mattered. Except what did. And what mattered was whatever she set her eyes on -- in that moment that was Rynna .

A black glove clamped down on the fleeing looter with a golden visor that towered over her. "You."

Jonah | Perseus | Rynna | Ryzen Vord | Siv Kryze​

 

[Ferris Skirata]

T A R I S​

Undercity- Barricade
Six months. That was how long it had been since Ferris last walked these grounds. It wasn't long enough to turn him into a hardened fighter, but it was long enough to change him. He wasn't a street rat anymore- not just. Clan Skirata had seen to that. They hadn't excused him for carrying their bloodline; if anything, it pushed him harder. He had trained like every other foundling, and now he carried a rifle across his back. That was more than he'd ever had before.

But the undercity still smelled the same. Smoke and ash, gauze and antiseptic. The Alliance and the Mandalorians had worked to mend what Harrow broke, but six months wasn't enough to stitch the wound. Every step felt like the day it happened, only now the screams came from fresh throats, and the blaster fire cut down new faces. The riots had turned neighbors into enemies, and the sight of it made his blood burn.

Ferris wasn't one to kill if it wasn't necessary. He'd already taken his first life, and the act didn't scare him anymore, it just felt hollow. He wanted to outthink his enemies, not mow them down. He wanted to build solutions, not pile bodies. But the Diarchy wasn't leaving much room for ideas. So Ferris made his own plan: find survivors. Neither side would fault him for that.

He ducked into an alley, boots crunching glass, trying to put distance between himself and the fighting. That was when he froze. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a figure, small, quick, about his age. A girl, and she wasn't alone. Another Mandalorian towered over her, black beskar carved with golden glyphs, hand clamped down on her arm. Ferris didn't need his HUD to tell him the warrior radiated danger.

Instinct drove him back against the wall, heart pounding. He wasn't about to jump in front of that. But he also wasn't about to let her die, not if he could help it. Carefully, Ferris lowered his rifle into his hands, tucking it close but keeping it quiet. His visor tracked the pair as he pressed against the shadows, following at a distance.

He'd learned enough to know when not to fight. But he wasn't letting the girl out of his sight.

Rynna Evangel Perseus Ryzen Vord Jonah Siv Kryze

​

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Objective: Survive
Nearby: Whoever wants to be

Another swig from the bottle of cheap Whyren's Reserve helped clear Adelle's thoughts, braced with her back against whatever furniture the bar could spare to stack against the door as a makeshift barricade. Many of the patrons sat tensed behind overturned tables, booths, and the bar itself, those with weapons holding them tensely. Adelle had had to pawn off her DL-44 a while back and missed its absence keenly. Her lightsaber sat securely against her back on a magplate, but that wasn't exactly something she wanted to advertise, not in Mando space. The few Mandos she'd come across in her lifetime weren't the biggest fans.

The rioters that had been in the bar had been killed or thrown out when poodoo hit the fan. The bodies had been dragged to a corner out of the way, blood staining the floor. Blasterfire and screams made the absolute silence inside the bar so much quieter in the contrast. So far, no one had tried to enter the bar--yet. But with the violence getting more and more chaotic--she had to tune it out, there was enough blood in her nightmares--it was only a matter of time before some roving gang got it in their heads to loot this place.

Those unarmed had taken refuge behind the solid counter of the bar. The armed patrons numbered about seven, not including her and the two other brave or stupid souls that had chosen to hold the front barricade: A wookiee with greying fur--hair?--and a grizzled looking Togruta. Adelle drank from the bottle again and passed it into the outstretched hand of the Togruta. One of the armed patrons guns wavered in the air, the barrel moving all over the place with his nerves: he looked young--couldn't have been older than a fresh-faced adult.

"Hey kid," Adelle called. "Point that thing over our heads."

The young man scowled and swallowed at the same time--his fear was palpable--but he righted his aim and stared at the door with wide eyes. Adelle closed her eyes as the Togruta passed the bottle over her to the Wookiee.

"You're awfully calm, lady," he said.

Adelle shrugged and took the bottle from the Wookiee. "Yeah, well, you see a couple wars, you--"

She felt the wave of violence surge towards the bar. The door hissed open and a torrent of blasterfire streamed over their heads at whoever thought it would be a good idea to come in through the front door. Whoever tried also thought better of it because Adelle heard the glass of a window break--transparisteel was too expensive for this part of Taris--before it did. Adelle leapt from her spot and caught the frag grenade--why was it always a grenade?--before it touched the floor and immediately threw it back out the way it came. She threw an arm over her head as the blast broke the rest of the window, sending shards flying into the bar. Well there went a couple hours of her life later; she'd have to heal those lacerations as soon as she could if she wanted to avoid infection. And then recover from the healing.

Over the roar of blasterfire now coming into and going out of the bar, the Togruta grinned like he was enjoying this. The wookiee readied his bowcaster and growled something that ended in a trill.

"He says nice catch!" the Togruta said as she belly-crawled back into cover.

"Thanks," Adelle said wryly. "I love playing hot tuber with live grenades."

"Dunno why you're here if you don't got a weapon," the Togruta said, popping up to take a couple potshots at the rioters outside. "Should be behind the bar!"

"Just wait 'til they get inside," Adelle said. A quick glance told her they'd lost two of their gunners. She couldn't see how many armed rioters were outside and the Force was non-specific with how many actual combatants there were, chaotic as it was outside. It'd only be a matter of time, seeing how many bolts were coming in against how many were being shot out.

"More of a close quarters gal," she muttered, keeping tabs on the currents in the Force. She kept a hand on the matte black hilt on the back of her belt, more to reassure herself than draw it. Force, it'd been a while since she'd had a dance partner in combat. She just hoped she could keep up.

 

[Rynna]

An iron grip seized her arm, halting her momentum with a painful tug that drew a yelp from her. Fear rose like bile in her stomach. Green eyes snapped up to the golden visor, then ran rapidly down her captor's arm, seeking a weak point as she struggled, contemplating drawing her vibroblade. It would be utterly useless, so she clamped a hand on her satchel instead, to keep things from spilling from it.

"Let me go!" she shouted, eyes darting around them at the carnage. She twisted her arm in the vice grip, knowing in her heart there was no escape. Rynna did not have the strength, and she knew it. "I didn't do anything!"

Blasterfire ripped past them, and Rynna wished not for the first time tonight that she had stayed in the lower levels, that she had stayed away from the fighting, that she didn't need to loot to survive. She felt the worn metal of the pendant beneath her clothes, and an idea struck her.

"Rala ni slanar!"

Her mando'a was crude, rusty at best, but maybe it would save her life.

Evangel Ferris Skirata

 

[Evangel]

Evangel looked down at the young woman. And she was young, not merely short in stature. Her struggle only caused the grip to tighten. Physical resistance never went over well with a Mandalorian. Often those that fought back had weapons on them. Beskar might protect against a lot of things, but that didn't mean anyone enjoyed being shot at. Or stabbed. Their armor wasn't impervious after all.

The blaster fire was bothersome, of course. Where had these rioters even gotten hold of such weaponry? The local garrison should do more to settle these people down before they hurt themselves. More than they already had. To say nothing about crushing the Diarchy people present egging this on.

Then the woman shouted in Mando'a. Evangel wasn't entirely sure what shouting it in another language was meant to do, however. Rynna had the misfortune of encountering a less sympathetic figure.

"Why were you with the rioters?" Evangel tilted her helmet slightly to call attention to the satchel clutched tight.

A slight ping of a weak shot that struck her back caused the Mandalorian woman to turn her head aside. Fools. Maybe she should let this little one go and get back to punching fools in the face until they complied with the lawfully issued order to put down their weapons. Not very Mandalorian of her, but it felt good.

"Come with me." Evangel would try to direct the youth over toward the side of the street to minimize stray bolts in their direction. "Where were you headed?"

Rynna | Ferris Skirata​

 

[Jonah]

Smoke boiled around him as the jetpack cut and he touched down in the street, visor full of firelight and muzzle flash. The church’s broken spire rose ahead like a finger that pointed at the source of the poison, and the riot pressed in on every side with rockets still slamming the sky after the transport fell burning across the block. His helm fed him quick tags and callouts. Siv held the barricade to the west and kept the sector from spilling apart. Perseus carved lanes through the crowd and kept the push from folding. The Nite Owls were on station with Ryzen in their ranks and waited for the word to move on the den.

He saw Evangel drop a man from a roof and drag another shape out of the smoke, a preacher at her boots and a small looter pinned in her grip. The girl choked out rough Mando’a and clung to a satchel like it was air. Farther off, a bar bled light into the street where a mixed pack tried to hold a door against the rush. The comms carried stray chatter about a woman inside who was catching grenades and throwing them back, which told him there were still civilians who wanted to live and deserved a lane out.

“Ryzen with me,” he said, visor cutting her way as the jetpack carried him closer to the church. “This is where we test your blade, so keep sharp and match my step.” His gauntlet flicked to comms, voice carrying steady through the channel. “Siv, report your wall and tell me if you can hold it. Evangel, sound off with your position and confirm you still have the preacher. We cut the sermon at its source once I have your marks.”

He lifted and drifted forward through the storm of bolts, the hiss of fire scorching past their armor as the street filled with the crack of rifles and shouted curses. Shots sparked against the wall beside Ryzen, forcing her to break formation and return fire before slipping back into step. Jonah’s gauntlet marked the church doors with a burst from his wrist, the flare casting their target in harsh light as the Owls tightened their line against the press. “This city breathes when we take the head. Rockets stop when the hands that fire them are gone.”

Tag: Evangel , Rynna , Ferris Skirata , Ryzen Vord , Adelle Bastiel , Siv Kryze

 

[Ferris Skirata]

T A R I S​

Undercity- Barricade
Call it stupidity, call it arrogance, call it teen angst, whatever you wanted, Ferris couldn't watch anymore. The young Mandalorian rose from his hidden position, HUD flashing with pings as blaster bolts sizzled past his head. His body shook despite himself, every breath catching as he realized death was close enough to taste. These were the streets he had run from only months ago, streets that had once been home and now looked eager to bury him. For the first time, he wasn't just imagining danger. He was staring it in the visor, and it stared right back.

But Mandalorians didn't train wimps, and Skiratas didn't raise cowards. That thought pushed him forward when instinct begged him to stay put. He knew the girl's safety mattered more than his own fear, more than the mess of pride and self-doubt boiling in his chest. His hand tightened around the rifle stock, steadying him, but instead of bringing it to bear he eased it to his side. Charging in with violence would only end one way, and he wasn't stupid enough to pretend otherwise. He would stand, but he would do it on his terms.

Step by step he left the safety of the shadows, deliberately moving where the older Mandalorian would see him coming. Better to make himself a target than risk being mistaken for one. His voice rang out across the din, shaky but sure, carried more by stubbornness than confidence. "Why are you hurting her?" The words trembled, but he didn't swallow them. He forced them out.

"She speaks our tongue. Do you believe her to be with the Diarchy?" His throat was dry, every word dragged past the fear that threatened to choke him, but he got them out anyway. He shoved down what was left of the shaking, let it twist into that familiar reckless spark instead. Ferris wasn't sure what would come next, but he knew one thing, he couldn't stand by and do nothing.

Rynna Evangel Perseus Ryzen Vord Jonah Siv Kryze

​

 

[Rynna]

The tightening grip made her tug harder, letting go of her satchel to try and peel the iron-clad fingers from her arm, fear evident in her eyes. She wanted to be anywhere but here.

"Why were you with the rioters?"

"What?" She stopped wriggling for a moment, the question clearly confusing her. How could she possibly think she was with the rioters when she had been running for her life? Before she could fathom a response, the golden visor spoke again, tugging her out of the firing line and to the side. It was a little better at least.

"Where were you headed?"

Defiance shone in Rynna's eyes now, the same glint she got when she had been busted in the past by authorities. She didn't like bullies, and she damn well wasn't going to appease one, even if it meant she'd get out of this situation faster. "Somewhere that isn't here," she replied sarcastically. Movement to the side of them caught her eye as another Mandalorian appeared.

Chit.

His questions were directed at the one holding her, but even Rynna could hear the tremble in his voice. She used his appearance as a distraction, tugging the vibroknife from her bag and jabbing it for the crease inside her captor's elbow where the armour was softer.

Evangel Ferris Skirata Perseus Jonah Ryzen Vord Siv Kryze

 

[Evangel]

Evangel paused for a moment and drew the young one to a stop not quite the side of the street yet. "The Preacher has been placed into custody," she replied to Jonah marking the location of the soldiers that held this area. "I will personally interview the preacher after questioning another suspect." If that was what Jonah wanted. Evangel didn't mind 'interviewing' enemies.

Before a prolonged conversation could occur, however, another voice shakily called out from the side after Rynna 's sarcastic non-response. She'd seen Ferris Skirata drawing nearer with a grave look on their face, but until that moment there'd been nothing to respond toward. How ever he might act, she was prepared to respond.

Well, not how ever he might act as it would turn out. Hurting her? Evangel's visor stared at him in silence as he continued. So many of these warriors did not know what true harm -- what agony -- felt like. Some of them were soft beyond measure in her estimation, but she was not responsible for them.

"She fled through our line. She is either a rioter," Evangel turned to look at the waif in her hand, "or a loot--" Her words cut off as her arm snapped back toward her body. The street urchin had a vibroblade! "Halt! Drop your weapon," the Mandalorian hissed prepared to do more than simply grab Rynna now, but mindful of what both her and this 'concerned citizen' Ferris might do next.

Jonah | Rynna | Ferris Skirata
Ryzen Vord | Adelle Bastiel | Siv Kryze​

 

[Ferris Skirata]

T A R I S​

Undercity– Barricade
Well, that had turned south faster than he could have imagined. What had he done? This wasn't what Ferris had wanted to happen. He hadn't stepped out from cover to start a fight or to pour fuel on the fire, but to stop it from burning someone else alive. And now here he was, watching a street kid pull a blade on a Mandalorian, and knowing exactly how that usually ended. His heart sank into his stomach. You didn't pull a knife on someone in beskar'gam unless you wanted to die. Ferris knew that, everyone on Taris knew that. But she was desperate, and desperate people didn't care about rules.

He couldn't bring himself to raise his rifle. He wasn't going to be the one to cut her down, even if that might have been the "cleaner" solution. But whatever the older warrior chose to do, that would be justified. Ferris knew the Empire didn't take such insults lightly, and he wasn't naïve enough to believe his words carried the same weight as hers. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, bracing for the scream that would follow, or the pleading that always came before the end. Instead, he heard something else: the sharp bark of a command. Halt.

His eyes snapped open. That meant there was still a chance.

"Stop! We won't hurt you!" The words spilled out before he could think, cracking through the chaos around them. He realized, almost too late, that the only way she might believe him was if he showed her. Slowly, he reached up and pulled off his helmet. His blonde hair fell loose across his brow as he held it at his side, trying to show her he was just a boy, not some faceless soldier come to drag her off. "I promise," he said, more firmly this time. "I'm from Taris too. I lived less than a ten-minute walk from here."

He looked between them, the girl clutching her blade, and the armored giant whose patience was wearing thin. The gulf between the two felt impossibly wide, but Ferris had to try and bridge it.

"She won't hurt you," he said again, this time turning toward Evangel, his voice steadier. "Not if you just tell us what's going on." The blasterfire rattled in the distance, the air thick with smoke and panic, but he held his ground. Whatever chaos swallowed the streets, he wasn't going to let another kid get lost in it.

TAG: Rynna Evangel Jonah Siv Kryze Adelle Bastiel Ryzen Vord

 

[Rynna]

The sudden release of her arm sent her careening backwards, her back connecting with the duracrete seconds before her head did with a sharp snap that saw stars explode across her vision. The vibroblade slipped from her grip, spinning away from her, and a different kind of panic took her. That was her father's blade. The newcomer shouted something as Rynna rolled to her front, shaking her head and looking for where it had gone, momentarily forgetting the number one rule for survival.

Never leave your back exposed.

I'm from Taris too.

That made her look back around, green eyes taking in a mop of blonde hair, before snapping back to the golden visor and then to where her blade had skittered away to and back again. Her head throbbed. She shuflled back, wanting some distance between her and that emotionless slit of gold staring down at her. "I'm not a rioter or a looter," she winced. "Okay, I might be a looter, but I didn't break anything! Just picked through what others had left behind. I'm from the lower levels. Skip an opportunity like this and you don't eat."

Her eyes shifted again; she was certain she could see it, the hilt protruding from a crevice between two chunks of duracrete. The real question was, could she get it? She was fast, always had been, but the throb spreading across the back of her skull and the iron-clad queen that was less than a foot away made her think twice about her odds of success.

"Preachers have been here for weeks," she wrinkled her nose before an idea sprang to mind. "I know where their weapon stash is."

Evangel Ferris Skirata

 

[Evangel]

The young man gave a cry in the hopes of sparring Rynna reprisal. Evangel didn't look directly at him, but she made sure not to lose track of where he was standing or if he drew a weapon. To think the young woman had nearly stabbed her. This was the problem with being patient, tolerant, and 'acceptable.'

Worse, the young intruder even took off his helmet while Rynna barely managed to keep her feet from her collision with the wall. "A riot is in progress," she hissed for Ferris Skirata 's benefit. A Mandalorian could remove their helmet, but not in the midst of battle! Even if Rynna weren't hostile -- and that vibroblade said otherwise -- there were plenty around that were. Not to mention the stray blaster bolts. "Put your helmet back on."

In that moment, however, Rynna seemed to be absent one vibroblade and a touch frantic for it. Evangel slowly curled and relaxed the fingers of her hand in preparation for a physical altercation. Not that an unarmed teenager should pose a serious risk, but a warrior made no assumptions.

"I'm sure that's what the other looters thought when they broke the window or blew down the door," Evangel replied with what some might find surprising calm. Under the circumstances some might expect a zealot going on about law, order, and justice. Despite the lack of sympathy for the waif, Evangel did feel it would be a waste to simply throw her in a cell or for her to end up back on the streets yet again. Far as the Mandalorian knew, the young woman hadn't committed any violent crimes -- ignoring the attempt to stab her moments ago.

Before Evangel made an offer, Rynna put something on the table in her favor. Even more reason to do more than let her slip away into the shadows again, surrounded by the filth and dredges of society. "If you show me where, there is a place for you. Somewhere you can carve your own way forward. If you have the courage for it." Yes, it was deliberately antagonistic. If Rynna had only been putting on airs and was a weak willed sop then there'd be no point offering her the chance to become a true Mandalorian.

 

[Ferris Skirata]

T A R I S​

Undercity– Barricade
Ferris froze at the sharp command. He hadn't expected Evangel's attention to cut toward him quite so fast, and the sting of her words left his ears burning hotter than the blasterfire crackling through the streets. He knew better. He'd been told a dozen times in training never to lift your helmet in a fight. But the moment hadn't felt like training, it had felt like survival, and not just his own. He wanted Rynna to see his face, to see someone who wasn't another faceless visor telling her what to do or dragging her into custody. He wanted her to know there was a way forward, that the Mandalorians weren't just iron and fire. Now he was standing in the middle of it, bare-headed, and feeling very much like a fool.

The next shot cracked too close for comfort, sizzling past and chipping the wall near his shoulder. Instinct kicked in, and Ferris dipped low, ducking into the cover of a broken duracrete ledge. He cursed under his breath, then snapped the helmet back onto his head with a hiss of seals. He wasn't going to risk being cut down like an amateur, not when lives were already spilling onto the streets. His hands stayed clear of the rifle, palms open, showing he wasn't here to pick a fight with either of them.

"She's not wrong," he said, his voice now muffled but steadier through the vocoder. "Half the lower levels live off scraps and whatever they can pry loose. You think they chose that life? You think she chose to be here, with a blade in her hand, instead of food?" His visor swept from the girl clutching her skull to the golden helm that hadn't softened once. He felt small under that gaze, the weight of judgment pressing down, but he swallowed hard and pushed the words out anyway.

"I've seen those levels. I grew up in them. If she says she knows where the preachers are hiding weapons, then that's worth more than hauling her in like she's nothing." His throat tightened, but he pressed on, angling himself so that both of them had to see him, had to hear him.

Finally, he shifted back toward Rynna, his tone quieter but urgent. "Take the offer, don't make this your last chance. Show us where the stash is, and prove you're not just another scav. We'll make sure you're heard." His words were bold, a little desperate, but there was a stubborn spark behind them. He was only fifteen, still wet behind the ears, but he wasn't about to let another kid be written off as useless while he stood there and did nothing.

TAG: Evangel Rynna

​

​

 

[Rynna]

Rynna inched a little closer to her vibroblade as the boy made her case. A wave of mistrust rolled over her. Why was he helping her? Bigger kids didn't help without it costing something in return. Though in the grand scheme of things, if she wound up survivng this she'd happily pay whatever it cost.
Moving slowly while they discussed things she got closer to the hilt of the blade. Her hand was reaching for it whe the deal was offered and she pulled away from it sharply , hoping neither of them noticed.
"So, you want me to take you deeper into the undercity shoe you the weapon stash which is guarded and in return, you'll kidnap me and take me where, exactly?"
Evangel Ferris Skirata