Private Crimson Moon

[Meya Liefi]

Tag: Jonyna Si
GEAR: EMP Grenade, Frag Grenade x2, SE-14r Light Repeating Blaster Pistol,
Dual-Phase lightsaber x 2

Spoiler: Mortyra's Armour

Primarily black, built around armourweave that preserves mobility while providing additional protection under the main armour. The design is her own, though brought to life and refined through the work of various armourers over the years as it was repeatedly altered and upgraded to suit her changing needs. Each alteration maintains the same purpose: avoiding excessive weight and favouring freedom of movement over the restrictions of heavier battlefield armour.

It includes a sealed beskar helmet with a pure-black finish, originally taken from the first Mandalorian she overcame and later redesigned to suit her own purposes. Among its modifications is an integrated HUD capable of cycling through low-light and thermal vision modes. The helmet contains filtration systems to protect against smoke, airborne contaminants, and various toxins, alongside a voice changer/modulator that distorts her speech.

Chest plates made from beskar protect her most vital areas, while lightweight duraplast plating covers the remaining sections of her torso.

The most carefully protected sections are her hands, wrists, and forearms, where segmented beskar plates are attached over her gloves. The plating is designed as articulated reinforcement rather than heavy gauntlets, overlapping like protective scales to preserve flexibility and fine control.

A black cloak is commonly worn over the armour.

​

The night belonged to the red moon.

It hung impossibly large above the horizon, staining the scattered clouds in deep crimson as though the sky itself had begun to bleed. Every surface under it reflected that same dull scarlet hue. Black stone became burgundy. Dust shimmered like powdered rust. Even the polished hulls of the Twin Sun's transports scattered across the landing field seemed to drink in the moonlight.

Cargo ramps groaned under the weight of hundreds of boots. Voices barked orders across the landing field, occasionally drowned out by the deep mechanical whine of repulsorlifts hauling crates. The air carried the mingled scents of scorched fuel, hot metal, and fine mineral dust, with the sour tang of too many frightened bodies lingering around the unloading ramps.

Lines of slaves shuffled down from the transports under the watchful eyes of armed guards. Some slaves stared blankly at the ground. Other slaves glanced about with the desperate hope of finding a weakness.

Meya’s boots struck the landing platform unhurriedly. The plates of her matte-black armour shifted softly with each step. Her cloak drifted behind her, stirred by a warm wind carrying dust.

Several of her men kept pace around her without speaking.

The closest was a broad-shouldered Nikto whose scarred hands never strayed far from the blaster carbine hanging across his chest. Years spent in the cartel had replaced nervousness with habit; his eyes moved constantly instead, sweeping the valley, loading crews, and approaching speeders with practised efficiency.

On Meya's opposite side walked a lean human wearing worn combat leathers under a long coat embroidered with the Twin Suns insignia. A thin scar split one eyebrow, disappearing into closely cropped dark hair, while a datapad rested comfortably in one hand as he quietly updated manifests and whispered the occasional instruction into a concealed comlink.

Several more followed behind. Veterans. Mercenaries. Enforcers.

The spaceport itself sprawled across the barren valley like a wound carved into the planet. Floodlights painted long paths along it. Farther out, jagged rock formations clawed toward the sky, dotted by blinking navigation beacons and the occasional streak of a shuttle crossing beneath the crimson moon.

 

[Jonyna Si]

TAGS: Meya Liefi​

She'd been tracking it for weeks.

The shifting power of a crime cartel that was moving closer and closer to the mid-rim and wild space. Rebel intellegence had clued her into it months ago, but it was only now she took a personal hand in keeping track of it.

Now they'd entered the space that she called home. Her oldest home, before things got complicated. Before she started trying to pretend to be a perfect jedi. Those days were gone, and she was back to what she always did. What she always felt was her purpose.

Rebellion.

Sitting on one of those jagged rock formations, she watched as the ship unloaded.

Through the scope of her rifle, she designated targets to the droid brain in her comm. An old brain, one of a battle droid. Her eternal companion.

<Target locked. Fire when ready, Stardust.>

Jonyna let out a low sigh. She could blow whatever this sith lord was away, but there was no chance that wouldn't cause a power vaccuum.

She needed to close the distance.

The blood red moon kept her movements low. She knew better. She knew what she needed to do.

The Force answered her call. A simple request.

A fog rolled in, thick and overbearing, causing the valley to be stained as if it was bleeding.

And somewhere in that fog, a hunter stalked.

 

[Meya Liefi]

Tag: Jonyna Si
GEAR: EMP Grenade, Frag Grenade x2, SE-14r Light Repeating Blaster Pistol,
Dual-Phase lightsaber x 2

Spoiler: Mortyra's Armour

Primarily black, built around armourweave that preserves mobility while providing additional protection under the main armour. The design is her own, though brought to life and refined through the work of various armourers over the years as it was repeatedly altered and upgraded to suit her changing needs. Each alteration maintains the same purpose: avoiding excessive weight and favouring freedom of movement over the restrictions of heavier battlefield armour.

It includes a sealed beskar helmet with a pure-black finish, originally taken from the first Mandalorian she overcame and later redesigned to suit her own purposes. Among its modifications is an integrated HUD capable of cycling through low-light and thermal vision modes. The helmet contains filtration systems to protect against smoke, airborne contaminants, and various toxins, alongside a voice changer/modulator that distorts her speech.

Chest plates made from beskar protect her most vital areas, while lightweight duraplast plating covers the remaining sections of her torso.

The most carefully protected sections are her hands, wrists, and forearms, where segmented beskar plates are attached over her gloves. The plating is designed as articulated reinforcement rather than heavy gauntlets, overlapping like protective scales to preserve flexibility and fine control.

A black cloak is commonly worn over the armour.

Pale tendrils rolled silently between the landing platforms and cargo haulers, spilling over the uneven ground before thickening into a dense curtain that swallowed floodlights and softened hard edges into indistinct silhouettes.

The valley's warm air should have dispersed mist like this. Instead, the mist gathered. Thickened. Held together despite the gentle currents drifting through the valley.

Whether the phenomenon was natural, mechanical, or something woven through the Force remained unknown, but the result was immediately obvious. Visibility was deteriorating by the second. That could very well offer a window for an escape attempt by a slave, or for thieves to close in if the fog was unnatural.

Around her, the landing field reacted in predictable ways. Conversations faltered. Loading crews instinctively slowed their work. Guards shifted their grips upon blasters.

Meya closed her eyes. The physical world receded as another unfolded around her, one she had spent years refining through relentless experimentation. The Force became her vision.

The valley returned, not in colour or reflected light, but in currents and presence. Every living being became a distinct existence within an ocean of energy. Bodies occupied space not because light revealed them, but because life itself pressed against the Force surrounding them. Cargo containers stood as absences around which those currents flowed. Machinery hummed as quiet distortions. The transports rested like immense islands interrupting an invisible tide.

"Thermal optics," she said evenly, her voice carrying little volume yet reaching those nearest through sheer authority. "Those equipped. Switch now."

Helmet displays flickered as several of her men obeyed immediately.

Not every man moved. Unlike standing armies, the Twin Suns did not issue perfectly standardised equipment to thousands of soldiers fresh from identical factories. Much of the men's armour had been purchased, stolen, modified, repaired, or inherited over years of expansion. Some helmets possessed advanced multi spectrum optics. Others were little more than reinforced durasteel with integrated communications. Some wore no helmets at all and were left almost blind in the mist, forced to rely on those who could still see.

Those with thermal capability swept their heads slowly through the growing mist, but even that advantage had limits.

Dense fog was made of countless suspended droplets of water, and those droplets absorbed and scattered infrared radiation just as effectively as they obscured visible light. Warm bodies still glowed, but their signatures softened rapidly with distance, bleeding into diffuse patches rather than crisp outlines.

One of the men walking beside Meya barely hesitated before acting upon the rest.

"Close ranks!" he barked through a comlink, already raising a hand toward nearby enforcers. "Double the perimeter around the slaves. Nobody breaks formation. Eyes moving."

The loose escort surrounding the slave columns contracted into overlapping lines, bodies repositioning until frightened prisoners found themselves closely enclosed by armed men on every side. Property first.

 

[Jonyna Si]

TAGS: Meya Liefi ​

The Hunter couldn't deal with them all at once.

She needed to sew disarray. She needed to break them up.

As she pushed in, she used the skill Valery had taught her. Force Stealth. Keeping her presence in the force hidden, she moved through the fog like a snake in the grass. Wordlessly, she contacted rebel command.

She needed back up.

But for now, she needed to cut the head off the hydra.

Silently, she rolled a grenade through the fog. A trick of the force, she kept the air around it from vibrating.

A moment later, it erupted. A explosion rang through the guard formation, just far enough from the prisoners and just small enough it wouldn't hurt them too much.

The fog moved with her. Thickened with her. She pushed forward, before suddenly bursting out of the thick of it.

And took the commander's head off, right in front of the sith lord. Plasma cutting through armor as Jonyna locked eyes with Meya.