Junction Echoes of the Gravesong - Undeath comes to the Diarchy (DIA & ME junction of Brath Qella/Ancora

[Maldor Sancetti]

Objective 2
Near the (Ex) Space Elevator
________________________________________
​

Maldor felt like he'd trudged miles through dunes in a desert by the time he'd drained the last of life from his security escort.

Not only had he overextended his abilities in slowing down the falling elevator car, but the Dark Healing he'd engaged in was terrifically exhausting in its own right. Even as he forced himself out of the crumpled and broken-open elevator car, he was amazed that he had the strength to do so much as find his feet.

But then he was amazed for a new reason.

And not a good one.

Fire and smoke swept the city. He caught sight of a giant winged reptile. He saw part of the space elevator being mysteriously suspended before its full length of over a hundred kilometers could fully crush the landscape. In the distance, undead hordes advanced. Some of them seemed to be armed, and perhaps even knew how to use what they were carrying. Defenders were opening fire. Reinforcements were being dropped off by- Oh, look- Trigonus manufactured armored speeders.

A scream drew his attention to the sky. Multiple starfighter-scale vehicles were swooping over the city. Twin Ion engines made a distinctive cry. Munitions exploded. Laser Cannons raked the ground.

The city was in Hell, and all the Angels and all the Demons were gathered here to fight for it.

He took a moment, marveling at the impossible chaos, and struggled to catch his breath.


Sahan Dragr Gath Aether Verd Ze'bast Verd Drego Ruus Diarch Reign Diarch Rellik Ze'bast Verd Red Mobius Vytal Noctura Rokul Manti Wyrvhor Adonis Angelis IV Merion Oreno Kandosii Ka'rta Zara Saga Ryu Jung Kassandra Beskar'ad Laphisto

 

[Zara Saga]

​

Zara clung to the harness behind Athena with one arm, the other still loosely gripping a deactivated lightsaber hilt, her body pressed to beskar that smelled like carbon scoring and dragon sweat. Her braid had somehow knotted itself to a strap, and she had blood in one eye and possibly a cracked rib, but, somehow, she was laughing.

"Oh wow. Wow." she coughed between sharp breaths, her voice still rich with sarcasm even as the dragon bucked beneath them, dodging a falling piece of someone's apartment. "Look at me, clinging to a Mandalorian's back like a damsel. Who would have thought."

She wiped her face roughly, trying to look anywhere but down. "You guys ride dragons. And here I am, hacking zombies with glowsticks and personality."

Another bolt of anti-air fire streaked up from below, barely missing the dragon's wing. She yelped and grabbed Athena's waist for balance, then immediately rolled her eyes. "Okay, I'm just gonna say it. If I had a fire-breathing death lizard, this issue would be over and I'd be sipping something frothy on a debris-free balcony."

She leaned forward, voice in Athena's ear now, sugarcoated and smug. "You know, for someone who plays the stoic war queen bit, you really know how to make an entrance. Very theatrical. Are all Mandalorians born with a flair for the overdramatic, or do they make you practice at helmet school?"

Another explosion, closer. Zara flinched as flaming wreckage whipped by.

She cleared her throat, voice softening slightly. "So… savior, what's the actual plan here? Are we flying to glory? To a noble last stand? Or are we just going to wing it until we run out of dragon fuel and crash in something vaguely heroic?"

She paused, then smirked.

"Don't say 'die trying.' If I hear that one more time today, I swear I will jump."

Athena Faar​

 

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

OBJECTIVE II - (EX) SPACE ELEVATOR

The line would hold holding.

That’s what he’d said. And for a time, it had. The Basilisk roared. The horde broke. His warriors fought like the wrath of gods themselves. Even the dead could not advance untouched.

Then the sky ignited.

Aether saw it before the shout came. A spiraling twister of fire, forged in Mandalorian fury, twisted and taken. Not extinguished. Claimed. By the titan that marched with chains and hunger, twisted and hurled like a spear of apocalypse.

Aether’s head snapped upward. There, above them all, the sky burned with the wrath of their own making, now turned against them. The elevator.

That beautiful, arrogant piece of engineering snapped.

His eyes went wide. “Haran.”

The next moments blurred.

Aether raised both arms, the Force erupting outward in a visceral, primal shout. A shimmering dome surged into existence, cracking with white lightning, wrapping both him and the Basilisk beneath a fragile pocket of protection. Then came the rain.

Steel. Glass. Stone.

The sky collapsed.

A mountain of debris slammed into his shield with the force of a dying god. The ground split. The air screamed. He was driven down and buried. The bubble held, barely, now more tomb than bastion. Dust filled the cracks. Flames licked at the gaps.

He could barely move. But he could hear.

“Aether! The elevator!”
“Kryze. Rally Point: Cargo Platform Alpha. Holding.”
“Mand’alor, we’re headed your way.”
“Seismic detonation imminent! BRACE FOR IMPACT!”
“Signal’s weak—but it’s there. He’s down there somewhere.”
The roar of Red’s cannon.
The wrath of Kassandra’s charges.
The howl of Miit’alor’s wings.
The chant of warriors refusing to die.​

He was not alone. And he was not dead.

His fingers clenched tighter on the Basilisk’s saddle. Through the shattered cracks above, he saw something impossible...white. A shimmer not of light, but memory. Presence. The shape of a helm. The shaft of a spear. And then many. Dozens. Hundreds. The weight of history behind him. The Manda, blazing silent in the dust.

They stood with him. His fire became fury.

Aether roared. A sound not of voice alone, but will. The bubble detonated outward, a dome of white lightning exploding in all directions. Debris lifted, not by physics, but by command. Shattered girders. Chunks of reinforced alloy. Glass like razors. Every piece of the tower that had sought to bury him now hung in the air.

He rose from the crater: tall, smoke-drenched, glowing from within. The Basilisk, bruised but unbroken, growled beside him.

Lightning coursed from his limbs. White arcs surged through the debris. His voice cracked like judgment through the comms:

“Sahan. Get clear.”

Then he hurled it all.

The mountain of wreckage screamed toward the titan and the oncoming horde. Steel became missiles. Concrete became hammers. The dead were ripped apart mid-charge. And as the debris struck, it detonated. Each impact chaining lightning across the battlefield, threading white-hot justice from corpse to corpse.

Then Aether hurled the largest piece: a segment of the central column, still humming faintly with burned-out power cores. He locked it onto the titan’s location, intending for the wrath of Mandalore to bury the beast as the elevator's debris had buried him.

But his wrath was not over. Not by a long shot. The Mand'alor's HUD flared.

And with it, his voice again, clear and final:

“All Diarchy personnel. All Mandalorians. Fall back to Siv Kryze’s rally point. Cargo Platform Alpha. Pull survivors if you can. Form ranks. This ends now.”

Aether marked the target on his helm. The Basilisk’s uplink surged to the fleet above.

“Mand'alor to fleet command. Mark my signal.”

A breath.

“Ready the Super Defoliator.”

The sword was drawn. Judgment was coming.​

Diarch Reign , Diarch Rellik , Ze'bast Verd , Red Mobius , Vytal Noctura , Rokul , Manti Wyrvhor , Adonis Angelis IV , Kandosii Ka'rta , Laphisto , Runi Kuryida , Maldor Sancetti , Sahan Dragr , Zara Saga , Ryu Jung , Kassandra Beskar'ad

 

[Jonah]

Jonah slammed the hilt of his vibroblade into another corpse’s temple, then finished it with a clean blaster bolt to the skull. One more down. Ten more rising. They never stopped.

Beside him, Kandosii was poetry in motion, and every line ended with something dying. The Peacekeeper roared with that distinct disruptor snap, punching holes in the dead like they owed him money. The rifle work was surgical. The commentary? Classic.

Jonah smirked mid-combat, deflecting a gnashing maw with his forearm before driving the vibroblade into its neck.

“Remind me to buy you a drink after this. You’ve got the death count and the one-liners. All you’re missing is the dramatic walk-away explosion.”

He reloaded, his tone still half a joke, but the edge of weariness was creeping in.

“Though I gotta admit, the bit about plague stories and ghost yarns? That’s some bleak comfort, vod. No wonder your folk kept the graves deep.”

The street shook. Not from the horde. From above.

Aether’s voice hadn’t come yet. But the world was already changing.

Jonah turned his head sharply. A sound like the sky cracking open split the air. He looked up...saw it. A swirling cyclone of flame twisted through the heavens and slammed into the space elevator.

For a moment, he could only stare.

Steel and flame danced in ruin, and then, like the wrath of the galaxy itself, the great shaft began to fall. The whole damn structure, once a symbol of progress and precision, now crashing like a slow, dying god. The tether buckled. Fire streaked its spine. The shockwave rippled all the way to the soles of Jonah’s boots.

He turned toward Kandosii.

“You seeing this?”

But then...It stopped.

The massive tether, mid-collapse, just hung there. Frozen. Suspended by something no physics class could explain. Jonah’s breath caught in his throat.

Then came the voice he knew.

“All Diarchy personnel. All Mandalorians. Fall back to Siv Kryze’s rally point… This ends now.”

Jonah’s jaw tightened. Then...

“Ready the Super Defoliator.”

Relief hit first. His brother was alive.

But then the words sank in. His eyes widened.

“Shab,” he breathed. He looked to Kandosii again, tone flat and grim now. “That was him. My brother. And if he’s calling for that…”

Jonah jerked a thumb toward the horde.

“…then he’s not playing anymore.”

He looked up toward the still-smoking elevator. Toward the sheer scale of destruction they stood inside.

“The Super Defoliator’s not any bomb. It burns everything that breathes. Leaves the armor, cooks the soul.”

He glanced around, eyes scanning for any other Mandalorian signals.

“If we’re in the radius when it fires? We don’t get to talk about this later.”

He exhaled sharply, voice regaining a flicker of that usual dry edge.

“They’re not gonna pull the trigger if there’s Mando'ade down here. So we should get to Kryze’s fallback. Fast. We clear the zone…”

He fired up his jetpack.

“…so the fleet can do what it does best.”

He launched into the air with a roar of engines, pausing in a hover overhead. Ash and cinders swirled in the sky like snow over hell.

He looked down, visor fixed on Kandosii.

“I’m not leavin’ you behind."

Because when the Defoliator fired? No one would outrun the judgment but the ready.

Tag: Kandosii Ka'rta , Kassandra Beskar'ad + Open

 

[Gath]

YAGA MINOR
Objectives I & II​

The elevator fell.

A monument to pride, now ash.

Gath watched its descent with quiet satisfaction, the inferno wreathing his frame casting long shadows across the broken plaza. He had twisted the Mandalorian’s fire into a weapon. Not merely against the living, but against the very structure that once rose above them: untouchable, unchallenged, arrogant. They had built it to defy gravity, to rise unbroken to the stars. How poetic, then, that it fell by their own hand.

And through its death throes… he felt it.

Beneath the stone, beneath the blood-slicked rubble and scorched bodies, something pulsed. A slow, thunderous beat, old as creation and just as cruel. It called to him. Not with words, but with want. It was not Harrow’s voice he heard. No whisper of his cowardly prophet. This… this was older. Primordial.

And Gath?

Gath listened.

His head tilted slightly. He closed his eyes, let the battlefield fall away. He could feel the artifact now...alive in a way only nightmares could be. He reached for it...not with hands, but with intention. And for a moment, Gath considered what it would mean to take this power for himself. To deny Harrow his relic. To possess this shard of cosmic dread and wield it not in service… but in sovereignty.

But the moment shattered. The flame-flea returned.

Mandalorian. Golden. Defiant. A whelp with a war cry and a weapon born of pain. Again, he struck. Blade flashing, gases hissing, pulses scrambling the bond to the grave. Gath felt it all. The sting of the gas, the tremor in his veins, the impact of the cursed blade as it rang against his chains.

And still…

He laughed.

Low at first. Then rising, guttural, victorious.

"I am sustained by the Netherworld itself," he said, voice thick with amusement. "By death. By despair. Trinkets will not stop me."

He inhaled deeply, deliberately, drawing the gas into his lungs like incense in a cathedral. A sign of defiance against the "warrior."

And then he exploded.

A pulse of telekinetic force erupted from him in all directions. It was not elegant. It was not clean. It was brutality, shaped into a wave. Like a train crashing through the soul, the force sent bodies, living, dead, and in-between, hurtling. Even his own risen were cast aside, shattered and scattered like the bones they once were. But he did not flinch.

He did not care.

He did not care for the dragons overhead. Nor the conjured beast that burst from the ground like a bad omen. He did not care for the glowing specter that halted the fall of the elevator, that ghost in white who stilled the sky with spear and silence.

Gath had already won.

His arm extended toward the earth.

Darkness reached down and the earth answered. From the ruined base of the elevator, a single black rod, smooth, obsidian, ancient, broke free from the rock with unnatural force. It soared through the air like a missile, and when it touched his hand, it stopped. Instantly. Obedient.

The rod was cool to the touch. Lighter than it should have been. Hungrier than it had any right to be. It thrummed in his grip...not a weapon, but a promise. A splinter of something greater. The core of nightmares.

Gath’s gaze lingered on it.

And then...

He looked up.

White lightning. Fury incarnate. Aether Verd had risen from the grave of his own making, wreathed in divine hate, and flung the elevator’s corpse back at him. Undead were torn asunder in its wake. The storm screamed with righteous rage. Gath watched, not with fear, but with approval.

“Yes,” he growled. “Stand.”

His risen forces, those that survived the quake of power, began to crumble anew. And elsewhere, Mandalorian and Diarchy warriors cut through his ranks with fire and steel. The base of the elevator had become a crucible, their last bastion, and they fought like it.

But Gath? Gath smiled behind the mask. He had what he came for.

The rod pulsed in his hand like a second heart.

A test, then. A spectacle.

He stepped forward onto broken stone and spread his arms wide, cloak torn and flaring, chains dragging behind him like the dirge of gods.

“Strike me,” he called across the battlefield, voice rising like thunder. [color=red“Bring your dragons. Your gods. Your charges and your lightning. Strike me!”[/color]

“I am the breaker of chains. The cheater of death. The master of the dead…”

He raised the rod.

“I am GATH!”​

And the earth shuddered.​

Diarch Reign , Diarch Rellik , Ze'bast Verd , Red Mobius , Vytal Noctura , Rokul , Manti Wyrvhor , Adonis Angelis IV , Kandosii Ka'rta , Laphisto , Runi Kuryida , Maldor Sancetti , Sahan Dragr , Zara Saga , Ryu Jung , Kassandra Beskar'ad​

 

[Ze'bast Verd]

TAG: Aether Verd / Adonis Angelis IV / Manti Wyrvhor / Runi Kuryida / Rokul / Laphisto / Kandosii Ka'rta / Red Mobius / Vytal Noctura / Diarch Reign / Diarch Rellik / Jonah / Zara Saga / Ryu Jung / Sahan Dragr / Siv Kryze / Athena Faar

He heard it.

Whispers in the Force clawed at the edge of Ze’bast’s mind. Dissonant, hollow, echoing within the grave-hymn of the battlefield. The Gravesong continued on. It was not the first time he’d heard it, but this time, it lingered. The voices were older than memory, familiar yet warped by whatever Force-wrought corruption brewed in this nightmare. He did what he could to push it away, drowning it beneath the thunderous roar of his jetpack. The sound wasn’t just propulsion. It was a rhythm, a focus, a mantra to center himself.

Too much was happening at once. Too many fronts. Too many variables.

But he remained focused. His objective wasn’t scattered.

He sought Mand’alor. Not just to follow, but to protect. That was his charge. He was Supercommando. A shield before the blade, a blade when the shield was broken. Others could indulge in glory; he would preserve the living.

Siv’s voice cut through the squad channel, sharp and urgent. Ze’bast’s eyes narrowed beneath his t-shaped visor as he filtered through decision trees in his head, each one branching into different paths, each one with a cost. His thoughts were methodical, but the pressure was mounting — especially with Adonis’s inquiry lingering like a weight against his chestplate. Orders needed to be given. Fast.

He inhaled, ready to make the call..

Then Mand’alor’s voice broke across the comms like a burst of cold clarity through smoke.

No hesitation. No doubt.

The rally point was affirmed.

Ze’bast never spoke the words he was about to. He didn’t need to. His instinct had aligned with the command of their warlord. A rare and welcome convergence in the chaos.

“Oya! We head to Siv’s rally point, so says Mand’alor,” he barked into comms, the tension giving way just slightly in his voice. “We’ll protect the most forward perimeter. Move with purpose!”

His squad descended like meteors. The sound of armored boots smashing against permacrete was the first statement of their resolve. Without hesitation, they fanned out to form a wall of iron, flesh, and conviction between the last vestiges of the living and the horde clawing at reality’s edge. They fired in disciplined bursts. Blaster bolts and shoulder-mounted missiles lit up the dusk with red and orange streaks of defiance.

They weren’t here to retreat. They were here to hold the line.

The sickening knowledge that the Super Defoliator was to be unleashed gnawed at the edges of Ze’bast’s mind. If that weapon had been sanctioned, the situation was worse than he had known. That meant things weren’t getting better at the current pace. A harder decision was required than one he was authorized to make.

He gritted his teeth.

“Warden Kryze!” he called out through the haze of fire and tremor, “We’ll hold this line. We serve as your shield. Death won’t win here!”

The ground shook beneath them. Not from ordinance, but something else.

It didn’t matter.

Whatever shadows came, whatever monstrous spawn the Gravesong summoned forth, they would break themselves upon his vod.

This position wouldn’t give way.

Not while Ze’bast Verd stood.

​

 

[Secret of Manda]

The Mandalorian of pure white stood motionless with their spear raised high. Vod fought and slew their way through the enemy in every direction as the ruin was fixed in a single moment in time and space. That she violated the presumably immutable laws of the galaxy weighed no more on their shoulders than basking in the rays of a sun on a lightly breezy day.

Blaster fire, disruptor fire, explosions, and force conjurings ebbed and flowed on the battlefield all around them. Even the enemy sought to rend and tear their way to victory; their abusive use of power an odious affront in every sense. Through it all they did not intrude on the interloper. Some had looked to them, but had their attention torn away once more; but over all, the Mandalorian in white was left a living statue, and they in turn left the battle to those that strenuously fought.

It wasn't until Gath roared in defiance before the Host of all the Heavens that the lone figure's helm turned slightly in its direction. There was no other movement. A subtle shift and the three feet of ground literally under and out from Gath's feet simply ceased to exist. Mandalorians didn't take requests, they gave ultimatums. Hopefully the filth could appreciate just how little was thought of them by refusing to strike them.

Gath

 

[Kandosii Ka'rta]

Objective 1: Purge the Lower Districts


Equipment: Beskar'gam, JT-13 Multipurpose Jetpack, PK-45 "Peacekeeper", M874-C Lever-Action Banger, Mandalorian Vambraces w/chamber-shot slugthrower, Enclave Bowie Knife, Pack of Fiora Ivory Cigarras
Tags: Jonah + Kassandra Beskar'ad + OPEN

Kandosii chuckled as he shouldered his repeater once more. "Well shucks, partner, I ain't ever been the type'a fella t' turn a free drink down." Before he could quip anymore, the tether was assailed by the twisting inferno, like the devil himself in a tango with the steel.

"What. In. Tarnation?" It was safe to say that yes, Kandosii was indeed seeing this. And then the order to retreat came through. And just when the fun was getting started, too. Jonah urged Kandosii to follow him in the retreat, and he wasn't about to find out what being incinerated in an instant felt like. He let his rifle hand by its sling, activating his JT-13 in jump mode, rocketing into the air with incredible speed before transitioning to flight mode. With a chuckle, he spoke. "Yeah, I should hope you ain't leavin' me behind. Now let's soar."

Kandosii shifted his weight as he flew, dodging and weaving around or through falling wreckage, and unholstered his Peacekeeper again. Dropping an empty cell to be lost in the sea of wreckage below, he slotted a new one in and began firing at any zombies he could see as he wove through the skies, his duster flapping wildly in the wind like some sort of demented bird of prey. With each snap of the disruptor pistol a zombie met their maker, surgically gunning down the unliving even as he flew towards the rendezvous alongside Jonah. Things were deathly serious now, but he wouldn't waste the chance to thin the hordes even a little. He could say for certain, this definitely wasn't the way he expected this operation to go.

 

[Velda Praz]

Location: Vjunhallow | Sublevels​

"One of these days, you guys are going to get to save me."

The Diarch and his companions would feel the presence before they could see it. Among all the chaos of the area. The fire. The smoke. The explosions. The blaster-fire. The uncanny dead.

There was something else. Something closer.

There.

A movement of color. A pattern similar to, but inconsistent within the underground of rubble and broken halls.

A pattern of color that became a person. An attacker, who would need to be dealt with?

No.

Velda Praz. She and the Diarch had never been formally introduced, but she could often be seen hovering around Maldor's affairs. Having secretive meetings. Whispered words. A woman who melted into the background whenever someone came along with official matters to discuss.

Not a particularly beautiful woman. But neither was she ugly. Not notable, really, except for the dark clothing and tech specs she was always wearing. Thin. Possibly athletic, though she showed little of her body for anyone to judge. She might be in her twenties or her forties. It was indeterminate.

Perhaps that helped her do her job.

Though what job that might be had never been clearly explained to anyone.

"That day has come, Diarch," the woman said. Was this the first time he had ever heard her speak? Probably.

"I have orders to evacuate you from this planet, and I have a Ministry Reaper standing by. Follow me."

Where she got the gall to speak to the leader of a vast nation with such a demand, one could only guess. What a 'Ministry Reaper' was, might also require a guess.

How the Diarch and his companions would respond to this apparition's appearance was anyone's guess.




Ryu Jung Diarch Reign

 

[Vytal Noctura]

​

A chunk of debris shifted and then toppled over to reveal a pale woman in crimson armor. Smudged dirt messed up the clean lines of her black facial tattoos, and a small rivulet of blood leaked from her lips. The Witch rolled her left shoulder back with a grimace as she stepped out into a less obstructed area. The magick she'd woven before pandemonium set in had sapped much of her energy moments before the fall lay waste to the area; it'd left little for which to protect herself from the fallout. There was always a price for power, and doubly so when you needed it in a hurry. At least they'd survived.

Undeterred emerald eyes turned in Aether's direction as the man seemed to be conjuring his own strength now. From where he stood with his basilisk she had to assumed he'd endured the brunt of the collapse well enough. He was alive, at least, and that was enough for the moment. Enraged as well, which was more than enough.

Vytal turned her attention back to the nearby area; there was little need for her to watch over him as a child. There were still plenty of survivors that would need help. Eventually some would ask about the people that vanished. Perhaps. They might assume they were all dead, but Vytal would reveal that was far from the truth in time. Once the battlefield was not still engulfed in the dead.

A sharp click of the tongue followed suit. If she hadn't saved all those people she could have turned a spell even stronger than that against their enemy. Well, she was just one woman. Even a Super Star Destroyer could only output so much power at any given time.

As she made her way through the ruin, Vytal paused to look back at Aether as his call came in for people to rally at Siv Kryze's location. A Super Defoliator? The name of the weapon was unfamiliar to her, but usually when they started bandying terms like 'Super' around it meant little good for the living.

With a scowl, the Nightmother turned and shouted for the survivors to begin moving and to make sure everyone around them knew to head for the cargo platform immediately. Aether was unlikely to use his weapon with civilians still in the area, which only meant the defending forces were at risk the longer it took to clear the area. Weapons of excess were not used lightly.

Then Gath. The Breaker of Chains. The Cheater of Death. Yes, these were good titles. They did not scream command, but they were ones to wear proudly. Until he got ahead of himself and the Nightsister of Dathomir stopped in her tracks to look in the direction of the boastful shout as it roared 'Master of the Dead.' A cheek quivered at the proclamation.

"Sisters." Both of her palms turned upward at her sides with fire wreathing her forearms.

Five green, spectral visages that could scarcely be called feminine arose from the shattered world around Gath. They cackled and floated above the ground made of Nether smoke and flame. "Who?" they asked in unison. "Who? Who? Who? Who? Who?" one asked right on top of the other in and endless cycle demanding Gath proclaim his identity once more after having declared himself Master. They began to circle the monstrous risen as they cackled. No effort was made to strike or impede him by the conjured spirits of departed Nightsisters.

It was time for the living to depart, and Vytal would help those that thought themselves trapped find their legs and make for the rally point while her Sisters chastised and harried Gath. Perhaps it would help warriors strike him in the confusion. It would at least eat away at the ego that'd grown far, far too large for his own good; and it would buy the living time to escape the blast radius -- whether Gath's or Aether's.

Aether Verd | Gath | OPEN​

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

Objective I

Tag: Ze'bast Verd Aether Verd Manti Wyrvhor Runi Kuryida Rokul Laphisto Kandosii Ka'rta Red Mobius Vytal Noctura

The world burned beneath them- streaks of red and orange carved across ruin and shadow. Smoke rolled like waves off a dying sea, blotting out sky and horizon alike. But Adonis didn't flinch. He flew with purpose, jetpack screaming in concert with Ze'bast's beside him, their beskar'gam flashing between bursts of fire and muzzle flare. Mandalorians, jetii or not, still owned the sky.

Below, the fallback came into view.

Cargo Platform Alpha.

An island of discipline amid disaster. Siv Kryze had carved a bulwark from broken streets and the backs of the dead, turning shipping crates, permacrete, and shattered armor into the bones of a perimeter.Civilians, and warriors alike rallied there, drawing lines in the soot and making them gospel. It was not safety. It was defiance.

Ze'bast's voice cut clean through the comms: "Oya! We head to Siv's rally point, so says Mand'alor."

That was enough.

Adonis adjusted his angle and tucked in his arms. Wind screamed past his ears. The fallback point expanded below him, like a flame resisting the tide, and he shot through the smoke, cloak snapping behind him like a war banner. They landed seconds apart. Boots slammed into permacrete, cracking debris and scattering ash as blasterfire howled overhead. Adonis rolled with the impact, snapping up beside a dented cargo hauler and unloading a clean burst into a rushing ghoul. The corpse pitched back in a mess of bone and rot.

No time to speak. Just kill.

The risen swarmed from alleys and shattered buildings, some armed, some feral, all drawn to the flame of Mandalorian resistance like insects to a forge. But the defenders here didn't break. They pivoted, reloaded, shouted positions. The line was alive. Adonis slid into a crouch, pulling closer to Ze'bast's flank as the undead surged again.

He caught sight of the chaos beyond the barricades and felt his stomach twist. The titan still moved. Gath, the chain-draped monster, raised something- an obsidian rod pulled from the bones of the world, and challenged the heavens. Adonis didn't need to hear the words. He could feel the hunger radiating from it, pulsing in time with the Gravesong like a second heart. Not a chant now, but a chorus. And they were all caught in its rhythm.

But Adonis knew his own.

He reached for his blaster and answered in kind, each shot a refusal, each pull of the trigger a prayer in reverse. Not today.

"The line holds," he muttered, voice low beneath his helmet. A vow to himself. To his vod. To Mandalore.

His HUD pinged again. Survivors. Kryze's perimeter was holding. Civilians were being moved, fighters redeployed. The call had gone out: Super Defoliator, last resort. He didn't know what kind of horror that word would summon, but Mando'ade didn't call anything "super" unless it could unmake cities.

He opened the squad channel.

"They're rallying. Siv's people have held the line. We reinforce, hold tight, and give Mand'alor a path to return."

His eyes flicked to Ze'bast's form beside him, his ori'vod in all but blood. He wasn't looking for permission. He was syncing his rhythm. Supercommandos didn't follow. They moved as one.

Beyond the barricade, Gath howled his defiance to the stars. Somewhere distant, the Nightmother's flame rose. Spirits circled the battlefield like jackals, spectral and cackling. And still, still, the Mandalorian Knight held his line.

This wasn't just war. It was trial by flame. The soul of Mandalore laid bare across a field of corpses and fire.

Adonis Angelis IV would not be found wanting.

Not while Ze'bast stood beside him.
Not while the Mand'alor still lived.
Not while a single vod still drew breath.

 

[Sahan Dragr]

Spoiler: Equipment

SHIP:

• "Ure'adtr" Howler Basilisk War Droid​

ARMOR:

• Besk'gathr Mk III​

WEAPONS:

• Tusurki'aa Ta'hye Beskad​
• M.I. Model 6 hybrid pistol​
• "O'dteyase Saranuhlr" Modified Vora-Class Verpine Hand Cannon​
• M.I. Model 12 shatter rifle​

ITEMS:

• AXC (10)​
• Mirshir Ka'esr Binders​
• Irya'kadir Smoke Bombs​
• Sasori Last Resort Cannon​
• Ring of Vision​
• Runi Ticu'r​
• Rulariyi Mandalorian Sunglasses

AMMO:

• Gas Canisters (12)​
• Slugs (100)​
• Grulyr'bedtr CryoSlugs (1 Mag)​
• RB-02 "Salt" Rounds (1 Mag)​
• RB-04 "Droid's Bane" Rounds (1 Mag)​
• RB-03 "Force Breaker" Rounds (1 Mag)​
• Tracyn'wuta Pyro Slugs (5 Mags)​
• Hurdisi Photonic Blackout Rounds (5 Mags)​

---

The Sith abomination had the gall to try to ignore the excruciating pain the blood poison was wreaking. But then, Sahan would have done the same. Sensing the pressure of the shockwave the Sorcerer sent out before it actually hit, Sahan rocketed forward to drive the blade even further and activate the plasma edge. He might ignore the pain, but there would not be a whole lot he could do to stop the rendering of flesh. The blade would now be resonating with the very frequency of the man. And as extra messure, the golden-armored Mandalorian pulled his gun and unloaded an entire magazine of Force breaker rounds into the Forcer.

"Who the feth cares who you are? You are nothing. Your ties to a twisted, unnatural version of the Manda do not make you special, and you are certainly no god."

“Sahan. Get clear.”

As Verd assaulted Gath with the barrage of debris, Sahan zipped through it, using his systems and quick reflexes to dodge it all. Then came the central column. Sahan grabbed onto it midair and fed energy into the power cores, overloading them. He ignited his flight systems to full capacity and slammed the column into Gath at over Mach VII, causing the power cores to violently explode. Sahan's armor was mostly able to shrug off the blast himself, but both his energy shields around him were overloaded and deactivated. They would need to recharge.

Before the dust from the blast could settle, Sahan moved in and latched onto the obsidian rod Gath was holding onto. He had no idea what it was, but he knew he would not let him have it. Gath would be surprised to find that Sahan could very much match his strength, despite Gath being half a meter taller.

“All Diarchy personnel. All Mandalorians. Fall back to Siv Kryze’s rally point. Cargo Platform Alpha. Pull survivors if you can. Form ranks. This ends now.”

Aether marked the target on his helm. The Basilisk’s uplink surged to the fleet above.

“Mand'alor to fleet command. Mark my signal.”

A breath.

“Ready the Super Defoliator.”

Sahan had a brief nanosecond to mark that there was another Mandalorian with the same given name as his father, when the rest of the message clicked. Karking feth! Still, there was no way he would allow the Dark Sider to get away with whatever this relic was. He attempted to twist the rod around the man's arm, spin around him, and grapple him from behind. He would pull the rod into the Forcer's throat in a choke hold and press down with his flight systems to increase the weight and pressure (around 9 G's of force) as much as possible. His armor began to strain under the load, but he did not relent.

Quickly tapping into Aether Verd's comlink, Sahan grunted a reply. <Don't worry about me. I'll hold him down the best I can. Go ahead and fire! I'll be fine.> He said a silent prayer to the Manda that his shields would recharge in time. Even then, he was not sure they could take it. But he could not call himself Mandalorian if he was not willing to lay his life on the line. And he sure as hell was not going to be bested by some damn sorcerer!

---

TAGS: Gath Secret of Manda Aether Verd​

 

[Athena Faar]

Objective II


Miit'alor carried her rider and passenger above the horde of dead, above the chaos. But the sky was filled with as much peril as the ground. Guiding the dragon away from the collapsing tether and the myriad of explosions and fireballs erupting around it, Athena gripped the harness tight.

"Warrior queen?" Athena laughed as Mitt'alor dipped and banked. "Its just Athena. And don't be too impressed, anyone would look good in the back of a fire-breathing monster..." Athena shot back to chatty companion. "Hold on tight, it looks really bad if someone falls off of your dragon hundreds of feet in the air."

For all the smarmy banter between the two strangers, things were getting apocalyptically worse around them. Athena couldn't make sense of all she saw from the corner of her eyes, trying to dodge flying debris and discern the otherworldly thing she saw, and the cacophony of chatter in her comm.

A terrific blast seemed to hit everything at once, sending the dragon plummeting, until Miit'alor could get her wings spread again to soar over the head of the raging dead. Athena felt the saber woman's arm tight around her waist, ensuring the Mandalorina that she hadn't lost her first passenger.

Athena drew the beast up to gain altitude again, remaining out of the possible path of the collapsing structure that seemed to waver under unseen hands. Then the call came in from Aether himself. Gather at Siv Kryze's position. Athena's gaze swept the north side of the complex for the Kryze's location, Cargo Platform Alpha.

"I have no plans to die today, blondie, I'm gonna introduce you to some of my friends!" Athena said cheekily to her passenger, "I hope the batteries in your glowing swords got some juice left in them." She added.

Soon, the platform came in view, the dragon gliding down towards the besieged holdout, belching forth jets of fire into the horde pressing its perimeter.

Tag: Zara Saga Siv Kryze Aether Verd ... (so many)... anyone near Cargo Platform Alpha

 

[Laphisto]

Smoke rolled thick across the fractured field, clinging to the dead and dying like ash-coated drapes. The heat from the elevator wreck still radiated in waves, distorting the horizon into a mirage of ruin. Above him, the rumble of repulsorlifts deepened.

The first Pegasus D6-AV swept overhead in a tight bank, its angular fuselage glinting with scorched durasteel. Twin dorsal rotary cannons tracked the wreckage zone as its nose-mounted sensors pulsed across the debris like a hunting beast sniffing blood. One by one, the remaining birds followed suit five in total so far. Fast. Heavy. Ugly as sin. Perfect.

"High Commander to all Pegasus flight leads, Establish combat overwatch over the crash site. Priority one: survivors. Priority two: recon. If it's crawling, I want it tagged. If it hisses, I want it ash."

The lead pilot, a gravel-throated Chiss with a voice like burning glass, acknowledged instantly. "Copy, High Commander. Razor Flight is on station. Beginning sweeps now. Painting everything bigger than a rat." Good. The bastards were sharp.

The first fighter dropped altitude fast, leveling with the street. It let loose in a heartbeat blistering volleys of high-velocity rounds tearing into the horde just ahead of Red Lancers' line. Guts flew. Bone shattered. Bodies exploded mid-sprint. The road lit up with fire and shredded flesh.

The second and third came behind it, carving clean kill-lanes into the north quarter. Undead bodies folded in on themselves, heads vaporized, torsos flung like broken dolls. Laphisto keyed into Pegasus-Three's channel. "North corridor. Dense pack, under rubble. I'm clearing the lane."

With a flick of his clawed hand, he sent a blast of raw Force into a collapsed wall blowing it apart like kindling. Dozens of corpses surged out in a tangled stampede. "Fire." The fighter swept in. The street vanished in fire.

The weapon's bellow wasn't a roar it was a mechanical judgment, a bone-shaking warcry of steel. The rotary cannon spat a ceaseless stream of high-velocity 50mm rounds, each the size of a man's forearm, moving fast enough to shear limbs clean from torsos before the bodies even hit the ground. The first line of undead simply vanished under the barrage, disintegrated into red mist and pulverized bone. A second line tried to push through, and the rounds tore them in half with such ferocity that the ground was slick with liquefied corpses within seconds.

A second fighter screamed by in a follow-up pass, its rotary cannon already cycling hot. Its rounds tracked along a new flank where the undead had tried to encircle the wounded. What had been a swarm of over a thousand was reduced to twitching limbs and splattered rot in the span of a breath. The smell of burning ozone mixed with pulverized gore. Even the walkers paused to brace as shockwaves rippled through the ground.
A flicker of motion in the haze drew his eye. Far across the broken avenue, undead stragglers clawed their way from beneath fallen scaffolding some still burning, some crawling on splintered limbs. Their forms shambled toward the nearest movement. Toward the wounded. Toward the triage zone again. Laphisto snarled."No, you don't."

He raised a clawed hand, calling the Force to him like a storm drawn to a lightning rod. The world slowed. Air grew dense. One of the corpses a bloated thing wrapped in the scorched rags of a factory worker lifted from the ground, legs kicking like a puppet on invisible strings. He squeezed. The body collapsed inward with a sickening crunch, ribs folding like paper, gore spraying in a tight spiral of pressure. He didn't waste time admiring it. With a flick, he hurled the remains into another knot of undead like a missile, flattening three in one go.

"Tarain's Sword forward two squads to the northern flank of the crash site. Establish a perimeter around the fire line. Use walker cover if needed. If they try to flank again, I want a wall of flame waiting." A beat. "Red Lancers, same orders on the opposite side. You see a path, you close it." More figures stirred at the edge of the fog not undead this time. Moving too clean. Too organized. Friendlies.

Laphisto toggled optical zoom. The dark orange of Lilaste Order armor shimmered through the smoke. A med team—two stretchers, three rifles, one repulsor cart already overloaded with casualties. One of the Pegasus gunships dipped low, stabilizers screaming as it hovered just above the crater line, laying down covering fire with its nose turret. Burnt limbs flew. Rounds hammered pavement. The team made it into the crash shadow seconds later.

Then the comms flared to life as Manda'lor the iron Aether Verd spoke through the comms "All Diarchy personnel. All Mandalorians. Fall back to Siv Kryze's rally point. Cargo Platform Alpha. Pull survivors if you can. Form ranks. This ends now."

Laphisto didn't even hesitate. he growled gently before responding "Negative, This is High Commander Laphisto of the Lilaste Order. My men are holding this field. we will keep the dead marching this direction and provide you cover"

Laphisto cut the line without waiting for a reply he would not give ground for doing so would mean leaving those they could not carry behind. His gaze returned to the fire-washed battlefield, scanning every movement, every corpse pile, every breach. "Gunships tighten grid. I want overlapping fields of fire from the air. If another elevator comes down, you're my buffer between it and our people Infantry modify your shield settings to bring energy and thermal resistance to its maximum.." he rumbled softly. Lilaste order armor was built for this. to withstand the vacume of space, to withstand falling from high orbit and not to burn up on re entry. a fire bomb would be little more than an inconvenience to it

More were coming. And as long as the walkers stood, as long as his people moved with purpose, this field wouldn't fall. Not while he breathed. Not while his blade burned. He turned back toward the front line, smoke swirling around him like a living shroud. "All units rearm, rotate, hold the line," he said into the comms. His voice was low, controlled, but rang like a war drum. "We don't fall today. We finish this. One corpse at a time."



Sahan Dragr Gath Ze'bast Verd Drego Ruus Diarch Reign Diarch Rellik Ze'bast Verd Red Mobius Vytal Noctura Rokul Manti Wyrvhor Adonis Angelis IV Merion Oreno Kandosii Ka'rta Zara Saga Ryu Jung Kassandra Beskar'ad

 

[Siv Kryze]

.​

O B J E C T I V E 2:​

The battlefield trembled as Siv raised a gauntleted hand to shield his visor from falling debris. His voice came through the comms with measured calm:

"All units, regroup at my position. Maintain fire discipline - we're pulling back in waves. Medical teams, prioritize critical evacs first."

The Spear of Longinus flashed in an economical arc, its beskar tip finding the weak point in an attacker's rusted armor before returning smoothly to his grip. The phoenix engraving along its shaft caught flickers of firelight, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.

Ze'bast Verd 's transmission crackled through: "North corridor secured, Warden. Ready to cover withdrawal."

Siv gave a single nod inside his helmet. "Acknowledged. Adonis Angelis IV , watch their six o'clock - expect pressure from the eastern wreckage."

When Laphisto 's refusal to withdraw came through, Siv paused for half a breath before responding: "Understood, High Commander. May your guns buy others time. Just remember - the fire comes for everyone when the fleet speaks."

His movements were precise as he fell back with the rearguard, each step measured, each shot calculated. The warriors around him mirrored his discipline - no panic, just professional execution of a tactical withdrawal.

"Steady," he reminded them, voice carrying the quiet certainty of countless battles survived. "We're not running. We're choosing where to make our stand."

The spear's glow intensified slightly as distant thunder rumbled across the sky. Siv remained until the last warrior was clear, his owl-eyed visor scanning the battlefield one final time before following his people to safety.

Because true strength wasn't in stubborn stands - but in knowing how to fight another day.

​

 

[Kassandra Beskar'ad]

Kassandra had needed to land to plant the next charge, and found the dead waiting for her, many of them shooting at her.

Her advanced gravity generators activated, slowing their movements down as she approached, slicing into them with her Citizen Energy Sword and Siren War Axe, brutally chopping her way into their ranks as she headed into the subway tunnel entrance. Here, the fighter would not be able to cover her. The recharging sonic carbine in her axe functioned like a sort of sonic shotgun, blasting foes backwards brutally as she fought her way to the detonation point deep in the subway mag rail tunnel itself. She had already intercepted the fallback order but there were literally so many zombies she knew that making it to the evac sight would be a dicey prospect as it was.

Kassandra cut and cut through the swarm, sustaining more damage to her chassis as it caught stray shots from dead men's bolts as she fought her way into the waiting station by the tracks.

The Nuetralizer moved constantly, slicing through limbs and necks, a walking lawnmower for the undead.

STRUCTURAL WEAKNESS DETECTED her systems told her as she looked at the subway tunnel entrance.

Kassandra fired at the ceiling with the carbine in her axe and collapsed the entrance behind her to keep the dead out.

It was eerily silent in the subway station. Kassandra saw only the splashed blood everywhere, but not any bodies. The lights were barely functional. She was half a kilometer away, and completely out of ammo, and most of the weapons the dead had been carrying looked like they were in the verge of failure anyway.

Kassandra proceeded forward cautiously, half the synthskin on her face missing, exposing the metallic skull beneath.

Kassandra ventured down the mag rail tunnel, coming across a wounded , coughing Mandalorian Supercommando with a cape and a bleeding midsection. Kassandra went over to him, knowing by the state of his wounds he was dead already. He had maybe a few minutes left. He was surrounded by zombies that had been destroyed.

He looked up.

"Well...this is odd...never thought I'd spend my final moments with a child of Laertia." he muttered, coughing.

"You're well informed." Kassandra confirmed.

"Fought House Io, a long time ago...in what now seems like a Galaxy far, far away..."

Being so close to death, the Supercommando was able to here the opening notes of the John Williams score. You know the one. It faded quickly...

"You're...one of her Support Models, right?" he asked.

"Affirmative." Kassandra replied.

"Better than nothing, I suppose..." he replied. "What's a child of Laertia doing down here, anyway..."

"I'm a rogue unit. One of your people managed to...liberate me. I have what might be considered a life debt to her." Kassandra answered. "And in answer to your question I'm planting Void-7 grade Seismic charges to level the parts of the city to slow or halt the undead to buy more time for evacuation.

"I see. Well...at least you got free...I found your race to be fierce, proud warriors, sadly shackled to the fancies of a devolving head case..." He replied, coughing some more.

"I was down here...to rescue a bunch of civilians. Intercepted their transmission. They're...on what's left of a mag-rail car, not far from here. Found them, but...but the generator on it was heavily damaged... didn't have the means to repair it, so I had to leave them to look for tools in an emergency maintenance station in the direction behind you...got a good chunk of the undead behind me, I think..." he said, coughing violently. "But I was overwhelmed, in the end..."

He looked up at her..."I promised them...I promised them I would come back with the means to repair the train...you... would you finish what I cannot?"

"I came here to plant a charge. I cannot guarantee their safety, or even that their transport could escape the blast in time..." Kassandra answered hesitantly.

"Please. You must try...there are children aboard that train..." he pleaded. "They would never make it on foot... neither would their parents..."

Kassandra's damaged face softened in expression...

"I will do it..." Kassandra promised.

The Mandalorian coughed again before pulling out a transmitter and handing it to her.

"This will summon a shuttle piloted by members of my clan...take this, also..." he said, pulling off a damaged right pauldron depicting his clan symbol, a red quiver of arrows laid against a bushel of wheat.

"This will let my clan know my fate...and it will make the civilians trust you. Hurry...you don't have much time. I'd give you a weapon, but I'm out of ammo...I did note something odd though...a breach...in the Mag Tunnel system... wasn't made by zombies...might have been someone's last stand. But it was too deep, and I was being attacked to severely to try and investigate it."

Kassandra took the pauldron.

"One last thing...my wounds...I am in very great pain..." The Mandalorian said, barely having the strength to remove his helmet, revealing a scarred man of middle age.

"I lack the means...and the physical strength required..." he said. "I cannot allow the Grave Song to reanimate me as one of those abominations...you...I ask you end my misery...and destroy my brain..."

Kassandra hesitated...

"It's a mercy kill, I assure you..." he promised. "Please...from one warrior to another..."

Kassandra's expression became resolved as she aimed the carbine in her Axe at his face.

"You have my word, Mandalorian...you won't feel a thing..." Kassandra said. "Prepare yourself. Close your eyes and think of home..."

The Mandalorian closed his eyes. Kassandra allowed him a grace period of seven seconds before she pulled the trigger, then turned behind her to go investigate the maintenance station...

 

[Zara Saga]

Zara huffed, more indignant than winded, as the dragon dropped altitude with a gut-lurching jolt that made her grip Athena's waist like a reluctant date on a too-fast speeder bike. Her voice was tight with adrenaline and sass, "You know, if this ends with me impaled on a jagged wall, I am going to haunt you. Probably during romantic dinners."

Her blood-smeared face was split in a crooked grin now, eyes gleaming despite the wreckage all around them. "Friends, huh? Is that Mandalorian for 'armed and terrifying'? Or are they just more dragon-riders with bigger egos than you?"

Then she saw the platform.

Cargo Alpha was barely holding. The perimeter looked like it had been sketched in panic and maintained by desperation. Blaster fire snapped through the smoke as defenders clung to their positions. It looked like a dam about to burst. A few pockets of resistance still held the line, but barely, half of them probably bleeding out through their armor.

Zara's expression shifted, not softer, just sharper.

"I'm guessing the plan is land, kill everything that's not breathing air, and try not to get turned into Mandalorian-adjacent confetti." She rolled her shoulders, igniting her sabers again with a flicker of golden light. "I can work with that. I do chaotic triage murder pretty well."

She leaned in again, breath warm against Athena's helmet.

"Thanks for the lift, by the way. I'll add you to the list of people I sort of like, right below a cup of hot caf and slightly above the undead."

Then she cracked her neck, braced her stance behind Athena as the dragon angled in for landing, and added one final note:

"Let's make sure your terrifying little friends don't shoot me by accident. Or on purpose. I bruise easy, and I'm petty."

Athena Faar​

 

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

OBJECTIVE II - (EX) SPACE ELEVATOR

The comms roared with life.

Updates pinged like flares in a thunderstorm: chaotic, urgent, and clear. Siv Kryze’s fallback zone was braced and active. Supercommandos had formed their perimeter. Dragonfire and blaster bolts weaved together into a stubborn, defiant wall. Mandalorians moved with purpose. Diarchy survivors were in motion. The wounded were being pulled from rubble and into the arms of waiting medics. Even the fleet, distant in the sky, fed constant data through encrypted relays, tracking coordinates, adjusting vectors, and calculating trajectories down to the meter.

And amidst the buzz of command and counter-command, a single, brutal truth was made known.

The blast radius.

Every warrior on the ground received it. Every squad leader marked it. They knew where it would fall. They knew how far to run. Mandalorian, Diarchy, and even the dragon-riders of Kalevala, each and every one moved with deadly precision. They would live because they knew where the line was.

But Aether would not run.

He remained atop the Basilisk, his armor stained with ash and light, eyes fixed not on the sky but the ground. On one lone warrior who had not cleared the zone. Who had refused to clear the zone. Who now fought like fury made flesh against a monster that refused to die. The Mand’alor did not speak into the comms. Not yet. His silence carried the weight of a decision already made.

He would not sentence one of his own to death. Not like this.

His armored fist thudded against the flank of the Basilisk, and the war droid hissed in response. A compartment opened beneath the saddle, revealing emergency tools: field welders, flare markers, medical seals, and more. But his hand moved with purpose until it grasped a compact shield emitter. He clipped it to his belt, and a faint shimmer surged to life around him as the device activated. Aether turned, then, and placed one hand against the Basilisk’s neck.

“You get him out.” he said, voice low but resolute. “At any cost.”

The Basilisk growled in reply, low and mechanical, like a vow forged in steel. Its systems shifted: the weapon systems disabled, shielding rechanneled, and auxiliary power was diverted. All of it now surged outward into a bubble of crackling energy, wrapping the droid in a second skin of light. It wouldn’t hold forever. But it didn’t need to, for it only needed one window.

Then, the Mand'alor spoke once more, this time into his helm's comm.

“This is Verd.” His voice cracked across the channels like the thunder of war drums. “High Commander Laphisto, your defiance is not disobedience...It is bravery. To see the Diarchy stand its ground, to hear the pride you carry in your armor... it is worthy of respect. Mandalore sees it. And Mandalore will not forget.”

Then his fist thudded once more against the Basilisk's hide, urging it to move.

The beast then exploded forward, high-boost engines screaming to life as it launched into the battlefield like a comet, surging straight for Gath and the Mandalorian locked in deadly embrace. Debris shattered beneath its claws. Flames parted in its wake. The HUD inside Aether’s helm flashed again...it was confirmation from the fleet.

All Mandalorian personnel, excluding Sahan, were clear.

His voice came across every channel, calm and final. “All units, brace for impact!” He raised his eyes to the sky. The targeting relay blinked green. Thus, the Mand'alor continued: “Verd to fleet command. FIRE!”

From the heavens came a single shriek.

The Super Defoliator tore through the clouds like a blade drawn by the will of gods. It did not whistle. It roared, like a sound born of vengeance and war, of every Mandalorian who had ever fallen to the Gravesong, and of every survivor who refused to kneel.

And the moment it struck, the world shattered.

A shockwave roared outward in a perfect circle. Buildings were ripped in half. Windows burst. Concrete peeled back like paper. And then came the fire: a great, sweeping ring of golden-orange flame that devoured everything organic it touched. It spilled through the streets like a living tide, licking up walls, crawling through alleys, and curling through shattered towers. It bypassed steel. It ignored stone. But it hungered for flesh.

The undead perished in droves. Not merely burned, but erased. Their bones cracked, their rot boiled, and their weapons clattered to the ground beside armor that still stood upright. The flame seared the very animus from their marrow.

Near the heart of the blast, at the edge of calculation, stood Gath.

And there, the flame consumed his position, threatening to erase both Demon and his Mandalorian opponent.

However, the Mand'alor's Basilisk roared through the inferno at the final moment, its shield flaring against the tide. Its form crashed through the wall of flame like a beast possessed. It provided a window: fleeting, brief, and precious...but a window a warrior like Sahan could easily seize in order to survive the explosion.​

Sahan Dragr Ze'bast Verd Drego Ruus Diarch Reign Diarch Rellik Red Mobius Vytal Noctura Rokul Manti Wyrvhor Adonis Angelis IV Kandosii Ka'rta Zara Saga Ryu Jung Kassandra Beskar'ad Athena Faar Laphisto + Open

 

[Gath]

(EX) SPACE ELEVATOR
Objective I & II​

Pain meant nothing.

As the Mandalorian’s vibroblade dug deeper, as poison laced his breath and breaker rounds tore across his flesh, Gath laughed. It was a deep, gurgling sound that echoed like something trying to remember how to be human. The golden warrior clung to him with conviction, grit, and fury...But fury was something Gath had known since time immemorial. Fury was an old friend and it tasted like iron in his throat.

His body did stumble...but not from the assault. It was the very ground beneath him ceasing to exist. The intervention of the pale spirit erased the stone beneath his feet, sending him dropping for the first time. But his descent was no collapse. With a snarl and a surge of unnatural strength, he leapt. And with a monstrous bound, him returned to the surface, chains lashing behind him like serpents awakened.

Sahan was fast, brutal, and relentless...But the chains absorbed the worst of it. They curled protectively around Gath’s form, deflecting blades, deflecting bullets, drinking the pain and feeding it back to their master. Yet even they could not smother everything. When the charged elevator column struck, that blast hurled Gath backwards. The explosion even seared deep gashes across his torso and tore one of the chains clean from his body. The air shimmered around him as he skidded through fire and ruin.

Yet despite it all...he laughed! For the Darkness welcomed him.

The relic, still firm in his grasp, responded like a lover’s breath. Wounds hissed with steam as flesh began to reknit. His blackened sinew regenerated with the slowness of ancient sorcery. But, before his body could be made whole, something happened: Sahan seized the rod.

Gath’s eyes flared wide, not with fear, but with amusement. “You shouldn’t have touched it.” he'd rasp.

For in that moment, a terrible clarity would pierce the Mandalorian’s mind. The relic, forged from something fouler than steel, spoke in images rather than words. It showed the Mandalorian a galaxy in ruin...It painted the grim visage of planets consumed by flame, with their skies filled with ash. But there was more! The vision would pull back, showing more and more worlds, until the entire galaxy pulsed red beneath the weight of one symbol. It was a warhammer, monstrous in size and ancient beyond knowing.

Yet, in the present, it was broken. The vision told of three pieces scattered across the Galaxy, hungering to be made whole.

But Gath had no time to allow this communion to continue. For now, for the first time, he faltered.

The specters of the dead had been conjured by a sorceress who had evaded Gath's direct attention until now. They circled like vultures with voices sharp enough to cut. Each “Who?” struck him like a lash.

It was then that Sahan struck. The relic was dragged beneath Gath's throat, locking him in a punishing hold. Beneath this pressure, Gath's body struggled to obey. His bones did not snap, and if he were a mere mortal they would have, but the Netherworld empowered him thusly.

Yet despite this, he struggled. He couldn't move. His chains were not enough. Try as he might, the Mandalorian had earned the upper hand.

And then the sky burned.

The Super Defoliator fell like the wrath of gods themselves. Gath’s chains recoiled in response, surging to wrap around him and to form a cocoon of blackened metal. He was desperate to save himself from the inferno. Yet, try as he might, he felt the white-hot sensation of fire ripping across his form.

He howled defiantly as the conflagration took him. His fingers reached one last time for the relic pressed against his throat. When his palm touched its surface, something burned itself into his skin. It felt like a brand...like an echo of the relic's will imprinted upon flesh, bone, and spirit. But this was not enough to save the Demon from the inferno.

In the blink of an eye, his form had been consumed by the Defoliator. And even the rod, indestructible as it seemed, evaporated into cinders alongside the demon that dared call himself death’s master. All that remained were the chains and the scorched remnants of his armor.

The Gravesong's anchor was lost, and thus the spell unraveled.

Across the battlefield, the horde collapsed. The seemingly endless tide of undead broke...not with a roar...but a whisper.

The dead had returned to being dead.​

Sahan Dragr Ze'bast Verd Drego Ruus Diarch Reign Diarch Rellik Red Mobius Vytal Noctura Rokul Manti Wyrvhor Adonis Angelis IV Kandosii Ka'rta Zara Saga Ryu Jung Kassandra Beskar'ad Athena Faar Laphisto + Open​

 

[Jonah]

The roar of Kandosii’s jetpack screamed overhead, followed by that unmistakable drawl crackling through the comms like it belonged in a saloon more than a war zone.

"Yeah, I should hope you ain't leavin' me behind. Now let's soar."

Jonah couldn’t help the slight smirk beneath his helm. Even now the man could crack wise while the world collapsed around them. It was equal parts amusing and comforting. Kandosii's was kind of voice that kept your footing solid when the world tried to shake you loose.

The Mandalorian twisted mid-air, shifting his weight against the sudden crosswinds as the Basilisk thundered past below. Kandosii had already shifted to suppressive fire mid-flight, picking off undead with clinical precision. The disruptor’s signature snap echoed in measured rhythm. Jonah took note of it, hearkened to the rhythm, and fell into sync.

“That’s two drinks!” Jonah called back, voice firm but warmer now. “One for the death count, and a bonus for style. You clip one of those rotting bastards mid-barrel roll, and I’ll even make it top shelf.”

The terrain ahead warped into view, the perimeter of Cargo Platform Alpha finally cutting through the haze. Through the smoke and cinder, he could make out Siv Kryze. Around him, the line held with Mandalorian ferocity. Jonah didn’t need a landing vector or rally call, as these were his people. He knew where to fight, where to stand, and when to dive in.

He landed fast, knees bending with the impact as he touched down beside Kryze and the others. Whilst blasterfire rained towards the enemy, there was no panic in the air. Instead, the Mandalorian felt the calm and focus radiating from his extended kin.

“Jonah, reporting in.” he called to Siv, giving a curt nod before turning toward the horde with his blaster raised once more.

Then, the sky came falling down for the second time in that hour.

A streak of fireripped down through the heavens like a blade falling from the Manda itself. The Super Defoliator hit the battlefield with apocalyptic finality. Quiet befell Jonah as he witnessed the inferno begin.

The burning ring poured through Yaga Minor like a tidal wave of vengeance, ripping through undead no matter where they shambled. The Mandalorian's gaze then focused on the base of the space elevator, where his brother yet stood. He bore witness as the ring of fire came near the Sole Ruler...but more importantly, as the flamed devoured the towering Demon approaching the elevator's base.

It was over so quickly that the Mandalorian could hardly believe his eyes. In one moment, there was hell on earth. In the next, the dead marching against the line were returning to the grave. Those that weren't burned to oblivion simply...fell over. It was just like on Taris when Pallor was slain.

He turned slightly toward Kandosii, giving a nod through the visor. “Told you we’d get out of this. And you didn’t even lose your hat!”

Tag: Kandosii Ka'rta , Kassandra Beskar'ad , Siv Kryze , Athena Faar , Zara Saga + Open