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

[Aether Verd]

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

OBJECTIVE II - SPACE ELEVATOR DEFENSE

Aether Verd gave no reply as Jaikell's voice echoed through the comms. But he gave a nod, firm and sure, as his warrior passed. You lead. We follow. The words struck deep, not with pomp, but with faith. Trust. And for that, Aether gave him the only answer needed. A look. A certainty. They would all bleed before they bent.

He glanced to Vytal as she summoned fire to her palm, giving instruction to her spirits. The Mand’alor tilted his helm ever so slightly. A gesture of respect for the Witch who had stood with him since before Taris. She had sensed something and so had he. The dead were not merely stirred. They were being sculpted. And whatever had its hands in that grave soil was growing bold.

“Stay close,” Aether said, his voice deep and clear over the hangar's commline. “The elevator is bleeding. That’s where we make our stand.”

He climbed onto his Basilisk. Its crimson plating glinting like blood beneath the hangar lights. As its engines roared to life, the hangar deck shuddered. Warriors scattered to give him room. Cannons rotated. Rockets locked in. As the magnetic clamps released, Aether and his war mount shot like a meteor from the Resolute Dawn toward the planet below.

They descended into fire.

The sky was black with smoke and tracer rounds. The dead surged in waves, crashing against the makeshift barricades surrounding the space elevator. There were so many. Undead soldiers, ghouls, bloated things that oozed rot and bile. And beyond them, something else. Something smarter. Watching. Guiding.

The Basilisk’s cannons opened fire mid-descent. Autocannons shredded a rooftop swarm. Twin rotary blasters tore through a cordon of shambling corpses. Aether watched it all in silence, calculating, grim. As they approached the surface, his voice cut through the droid’s battle systems.

“All weapons...Fire!”

Shockwave rods detonated mid-air, flattening half a city block’s worth of cadavers. Micro-rockets screamed through alleyways, striking choke points with surgical fury. The Basilisk bellowed its rage in steel and fire. And then they landed.

Crimson plates met broken duracrete with a thunderous impact just beyond the defensive line. The shockwave from the Basilisk’s landing crushed a dozen undead outright, blasting back another score in a storm of debris.

Aether rose from the saddle. One foot on the mount, he surveyed the battlefield.

There she was. Zara Saga. The same spitfire who had snarled at him on Taris. Her golden blades tore through the rot, her fury as loud as her fethin' mouth. At least this time, she fought beside his kin.

Elsewhere, he saw the storm that was Red: a one-woman artillery barrage. Disruptor shots and flamethrowers turned the tide wherever she walked. And Sahan Dragr was already crafting a new apocalypse with toppling buildings and a vortex of flame. And still, they were only slowing the tide.

Aether lifted a hand and crackling arcs of white lightning spilled forth. The Force surged through his frame and leapt from his fingertips in violent bolts, turning scores of undead into twitching piles of ash. With his other hand, he raised his vambrace and fired a salvo of wrist rockets into the horde. Explosions rocked the ground.

“This. Line. Holds.” he growled into the Mandalorian-wide channel. “So says Mandalore!”

The Basilisk reared back, its engines flaring as it unleashed a fresh barrage. Aether stood tall atop it, the eye of a crimson hurricane.

No retreat. No surrender. Only war.​

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

 

[Gath]

YAGA MINOR
Objectives I & II​

OBJECTIVE I

The horde grew.

They moved like water, like smoke, like purpose. The Civilian Horde, grandmothers still clinging to knitting needles, infants crawling on shattered limbs, bloodied fathers dragging toys behind them like echoes of their former lives, swarmed the defenders without hesitation. Without pain. Without mercy.

They poured from alleyways. Crashed through shopfronts. Clambered atop rooftops and leapt from balconies. They flung themselves forward with no regard for form or fear, driven by one mind, one will: His. Where one fell, two rose. Where two burned, three more staggered from the wreckage to take their place. It was not rage that moved them. It was resolve.

Kassandra would find herself tested. Surrounded suddenly. Clawed at. The biot’s strength would be met with a hundred small hands reaching up at once, tearing, slashing, and trying to pull her into the tide.

Adonis, burning bright in his defiance, had become a beacon and so the dead came. He carved them down, saber swinging in wide, desperate arcs, but every victory led him deeper in the pit. Corpses would grab at his boots and at his weapon. A child’s voice screamed without breath. A mother’s face wept without tears. Still they came.

Kandosii and Jonah, guns hot and blades sharper, would face the same tide. So many. So fast. Some still wore their wedding rings. Some still bore the scars of the last war. And now they were weapons. Puppets. Punishment.

Even Ryu, far below, felt would feel the dead's hunger. Those who fell would die screaming, their final moments ripped apart by the people they had come to protect. And through it all, one word echoed. Not spoken, not shouted, but known. GATH.​

OBJECTIVE II

The first wave continued. The unarmed dead, fodder, slammed into defenders like a storm surge. Their numbers had not depleted. They had grown. Each corpse left unburned became a soldier in Gath’s army. Each hesitation in the line was met with another body, another set of teeth, another shriek of the Gravesong.

And through that ruin came the second wave.

The true warriors. The honor guard. Dead soldiers clad in rusted armor and armed with battered rifles, riot shields, and shattered blades. Gath marched with them at the center, towering above the field. His chains clanked like ceremonial drums. His breath fogged the air like the heat of a forge. Around him, his undead advanced in perfect formation: unnatural, unstoppable, undeterred.

Until the fire came. Sahan.

A spark. A flash. A blaze that roared to life around them, licking at the sky and swirling into a furious cyclone. Mandalorian fury, compressed into motion and flame, seeking to drown Gath in a whirlwind of vengeance. It was fast...faster than anything should be.

But Gath was not anything. Gath was not mortal.

His eyes tracked the golden insect with clarity born of torment. He saw Sahan. Saw the strain of speed. The burden he carried...A relic of prey masquerading as defense. A parasite that drained and dulled the Force. But the Netherworld was not so easily silenced.

Gath reached deep. Into the scars branded across his flesh. Into the grief he carried for every brother lost in chains. Into the truth he had become.

The Force roared to life.

His hand stretched forward. The flame did not consume him. It bent. It obeyed. The cyclone writhed, twisted, folded toward his palm as if drawn to a sun. Debris joined it: metal sheets, shattered droids, starship plating, shattered skulls, broken duracrete. It all swept into a singularity of power.

And then… he saw it. The elevator.

A gleaming ribbon of arrogance. Transit in motion. A chamber descending from on high, precious and unaware. He could feel the life within it: Maldor Mecetti. A name. A weight. A target.

Gath clenched his fist. And hurled the inferno. The fireball screamed through the sky like a god’s judgment, bloated with hatred and debris. It twisted through broken wind, accelerated by Gath’s unshackled rage. It struck the elevator at exactly the midpoint of its descent: exactly where Maldor rode.

The explosion was cataclysmic.

Fire erupted in all directions, tearing into the shaft’s reinforced walls. Glass burst. Metal curled. And the shockwave rippled through the surrounding city like a bell tolling the end of days. It might not have destroyed the entire tower, but it would damage it and potentially close the defenders’ lifeline.
And maybe, hopefully, erase the Chancellor from the board entirely.

Gath did not cheer. He did not gloat. He advanced.

The undead surged again, rushing forward in renewed waves. Toward the elevator. Toward the breach. Toward salvation. For them, for him. For freedom. The world would break before he did. The heavens would fall. And the living would be dragged screaming into a new order: his order.

He was not a man. He was a reckoning.

He was Gath.​

Drego Ruus , Diarch Reign , Diarch Rellik , Ze'bast Verd , Red Mobius , Vytal Noctura , Rokul , Manti Wyrvhor , Adonis Angelis IV , Merion Oreno , Kandosii Ka'rta , Laphisto , Runi Kuryida , Maldor Mecetti , Sahan Dragr​

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[Diarch Rellik]

Location: Surface of Yaga Minor, Outer Ring above Vjunhollow Medical Evac Zone

The wind howled as the shuttle doors hissed open.

Down below, Vjunhollow burned. Industrial towers wept fire from calculated attacks. Unknown to the Diarch whether Mando'a or Lilaste. Smoke spiraled in reverse, caught in the pressure shear of the orbital tether above. Rellik stood at the threshold of the ramp, cloaked in black and red, eyes narrowed against the glow of bombs and warfare. The signal from Manda'lore still echoed in his ears.

They had agreed.

The Accord was real despite the damning footing their factions had met on. The moment of acceptance had come not from Rellik, but from his brother.

"We agree," Reign had said from a forward command post, blunt, unadorned, absolute.

Rellik had smiled at that. Even now, standing amid the thrum of his droids' and the low growl of his mount, he murmured beneath his breath:

"My brother speaks like a saber. The galaxy doesn't always need poetry... sometimes, it needs to be cut raw."

Rellik had been busy calling in more reinforcements before descending unto the world. Hence his moment of being behind the rest of the active combat. He had reached out to Tertius C. Nargath about the support of several Barragan - Class Versatile Assault Carrier's specifically he wanted their drone teams to rain fire upon the enemy from above while the ships supported with NZ RP-1CM Cluster Missile and NZ RP-3GMIM Guided Mass Incendiary Missile barrages on the outskirts of the enemy. There effect would be devastating upon open field targets. Furthermore, within his own ships crew, there were many trained soldiers ready for war.

There was a reason his personal ship was called The Vault, Its shielded cargo holds held many mysteries. Pyrrhax his crimson-scaled Adar mount uncoiled like a living siege engine beside him. Lightning scars streaked across his snout, Mounting his monster of war he prepared for descent unto the world of Yaga Minor. Calling out to his crew one last time he gave his orders before launching to battle himself.

"Ready fighters along with the M.I.S.S.M.E. and its personnel for landfall. Have them circle the tower in fast reactive positions. Be active, be ready, and support each other, the Lilaste and the Mandalorians!"

Golden eyes glowed as he stepped forward, saddle bristling with Sith runes, wings flaring once against the wind. At his sides, six RDB-01 Dra'khan Sentinel Droids moved into position, steel giants with adaptive shields and plasma-fed optics, each armed for war, each programmed to die before letting harm reach the Diarch.

Pyrrhax leapt and after him the Dra'khan droids followed. The roar of LAETs broke across the sky like a holy storm. Gunships from the Lilaste Order screamed through the black, blasters spitting radiant death into the horde below. Their doors opened mid-air, the Diarch could see their men and theirs he. Streams of bonded warriors who had fought bloody wars together. Descending into another with recognized honor.

Rellik raised a hand briefly toward them in salute.

Than with striking quickness land came into view; Pyrrhax's claws slammed into the dirt with bone-crushing force. Atop the beast sat Rellik, his blade unlit and his spear humming in readiness, his cloak cracking in the stormwinds of his landfall. the Dra'khans deployed, heavy boots striking the scorched duracrete in unison. There was no command, simply the hell fire of LO-27R LMG's firing at the waves of undead.

A medical triage tent was collapsing at the far end of the evac line. A tide of corpses poured over the barricade like a wave. An unspoken command was given. Rellik and his mount were intertwined in mind and action, with a leap into the sky their attack began. A deep crackling roar built in Pyrrhax's chest, pulsing through the air like ozone before a storm. Then with a flash of golden eyes and a thunderous exhale Pyrrhax unleashed a blast of Force lightning that tore across the landscape.

Hundreds of undead exploded with their bones erupting, their squishing flesh drowned by the roar of alchemical breath. With the descent of the monsters both mount and rider, the golden blade of the Diarch and spear like forelimbs of Pyrrhax ripped and tore through the remaining undead outside of the tent. Rellik hopped off as the medical team and the DAF soldier finished off the remaining undead and approached.

"You've held this long," He studied the face of the man, his posture, his spirit. " Zara Saga told me of your efforts on Mygeeto... Rokul It is an honor to meet you in person." The Diarch showed his understanding of those who were under him. No matter rank or creed. He listened, cared for and was as willing to die for them as they were for him. He bowed deeply before Rokul in respect.

the Dra'khans were reforming the line, Rellik speaking with Rokul for a moment before he turned toward the next wave. As he did he watched a ginormous monster of flesh hurl a ball of fire at the Dockyard Elevators.

"NO!!" He screamed before rushing to mount Pyrrhax again. Hoping to rush to the aid of those who might still live through the attack before they became decorations for the duracrete below.

Aether Verd Laphisto Zara Saga Rokul Sahan Dragr Ze'bast Verd Red Mobius Maldor Mecetti @Anyone I missed on Obj 2 lol - OPEN!! Would love to interact

 

[Maldor Mecetti]

The Space Elevator
_________________________________________
​

Few people who rode the space elevator appreciated what a marvel of engineering it was.

That was the problem with the modern age. When you could hyperspace leap from star system to star system, what was so special about descending in an elevator through a few hundred kilometers from orbit? A shuttle could do the same job, after all.

No, people saw it as a mere feature of economy. Oh, the elevator was expensive, no doubt. But over twenty years, it would be cost-effective. It would replace a million shuttles over that time-span, carrying personnel and supplies at a fraction of the cost of a shuttle launch. And safely, too. Safer than a million piloted journeys. Sooner or later, a pilot made a mistake. But there was no mistake for an elevator to make.

It was an engineering marvel, though. A structure under incredible tension, made from materials of stupendous strength. The calculations to construct it were precise. THIS much material needed to do the job. And so that's how much was used. Just enough. Enough to last a thousand years.

Making it thicker, or more robust than it needed to be? Counter-productive. It would ruin the cost-effectiveness of the structure.

Could it withstand storms? Yes, of course. Earthquakes? Without question.

Magical exploding fireballs?

Well... no.

Maldor felt the car he was in shake violently. He felt the heat cooking the walls of his elevator car. He heard the shriek of the elevator tether ripping itself to pieces. Like a row of dominoes. Once the threshold of damage had been reached, components failed in quick succession. The entire cable snapped like an over-extended spider-silk strand.

His elevator car was thrown free of the tether. Other cars, too. Hundreds of evacuees on their way to the station spilled out in dozens of cars like blood from an open artery.

Like drops of life, they fell.

Their falling would spell certain death for their occupants, with a terrifying view all the way down.

Maldor found himself seemingly weightless. Free of the fires, now. But not free of gravity, though he felt free. It would catch up to him quite suddenly when his elevator car struck the ground.

He reached out with the Force. Not his best talent. Not by a long shot.

But his connection to the Force was driven by Fear, and for once he was grateful of that fact. The terror of the moment empowered him. He was able to slow the descent of the elevator car.

He couldn't stop it. But maybe he could slow it just enough. Enough to make survival a dim prospect.

He saw the tether drop below him. The other elevator cars with other passengers, with nothing to slow them, soared past. They peppered the city like bombs. At the speeds they were going, they didn't need explosives to be deadly. Buildings burst apart under the weight of the multi-ton cars. Under the force of terminal velocity.

The tether was an even worse destroyer. It weighed millions of tons, and it was laying down across the city, cutting a swath of ruin through everything.

Maldor's car fell. Slower than it might have, and yet not quite slow enough. Sweat poured from his skin as he concentrated. Strained.

Commanding the Force.

Begging it.

A golden statue in the city was obliterated. A statue of Maldor, as it turned out. The High Chancellor. He'd been flattered when the local population had erected it. Usually the statues were of the Diarchs.

Investing a billion credits into the local economy had probably lifted his esteem among the locals.

But now, watching the statue get destroyed was like seeing his own death a moment before it happened.

Eventually, Maldor's elevator car hit the ground.

There was a flash. The world turned over and over. The shell of the elevator car crumpled and split. Maldor was nearly concussed into unconsciousness. His legs broke. His hip. Ribs cracked. Internal organs were perforated and ripped.

It took him a moment to perceive his surroundings again. The two House Sancetti guards he'd brought with him were still in the cracked-open car with him. Moaning.

They were not as badly injured as he was. That hard-shell armor of theirs was good for something besides looking pretty. It made collisions much more survivable than his silk robes.

Maldor knew he wouldn't survive more than a minute or two. He could feel his life bleeding away under the leaky envelope of his torn-open skin.

He reached out with trembling hands. He reached out to one guard, his fingers snaking through a crack in the armor. Finding the warmth of skin.

And then the other guard.

Was he pleading for help that they couldn't give? Seeking a last gesture of comfort? A final human connection?

No...

Not quite.

Maldor felt his legs crunch back into shape. His ribs snap together. His lungs and kidneys mending their holes and tears.

He felt life come back to him.

And... he felt the guards wither and die.

The life left them at the very moment they thought they'd survived the impossible. Their joy melted into confusion. They barely had time to be horrified.

Well...

They'd done their duty of protecting their Lord.

Even if they hadn't known it.

Maldor would ensure they got medals for their sacrifice.

It was the least he could do.

​

Drego Ruus

,​

Diarch Reign

,​

Diarch Rellik

,​

Ze'bast Verd

,​

Red Mobius

,​

Vytal Noctura

,​

Rokul

,​

Manti Wyrvhor

,​

Adonis Angelis IV

,​

Merion Oreno

,​

Kandosii Ka'rta

,​

Laphisto

,​

Runi Kuryida

,​

Maldor Mecetti

,​

Sahan Dragr Vyllia Santhe

 

[Ze'bast Verd]

TAG: Aether Verd / Adonis Angelis IV / Manti Wyrvhor / Runi Kuryida / Rokul / Laphisto / Kandosii Ka'rta / Red Mobius / Vytal Noctura

“Double-time!” Ze’bast’s voice cut through the chaos like a vibroblade through flesh, sharp and commanding.

The thunder of armored boots struck the terrain in unison, the cadence of warriors forged in war. Through the haze of smoke, dust, and the rotting stench of the undead, Adonis’ voice crackled over comms. There was so much Ze’bast wanted to say, lessons that could wait for calmer times. Now was not one of them.

He keyed his mic. “Endure. Let Manda guide your hands. We’re almost at your position.”

The heavy repeater in his hands barked out in rhythmic six-second bursts. Superheated bolts and tungsten slugs tore through corrupted bone and flesh alike, reducing ghoulish forms into steaming ruin. The Supercommandos pressed forward with unrelenting resolve, their formation tight, fluid—surgical. They weren’t just fighting—they were reclaiming honor with every enemy they struck down. Their vengeance had found purpose. Their blood oath to Mand’alor had found flame.

Closer to Adonis, their approach shifted to a coordinated rhythm of movement and suppression. Controlled bursts echoed in disciplined tandem. It was a hard push by anyone else's standard, but to the Supercommandos, it was just another brutal stanza in the battle symphony they’d rehearsed a thousand times.

Undead hordes fell like wheat under a scythe. Smoke and entrails clouded the way, but within moments, a clear path emerged.

Ze’bast broke through with his team and flanked Adonis in a maneuver practiced through fire and fury. He turned briefly, nodding to the young Knight, his repeater still chewing through any stray foe that dared stagger forward. He addressed him without hesitation.

“Vod Adonis. There’s a fine line between courage and ineptitude.” His voice was hard, but not unkind. "Risking your life just for an LZ? Not against this kind of enemy. Our ships are armed for a reason."

A beat passed before a toothy grin spread beneath the helmet.

“You held your own, though. Oya, verd'ika ramikadyc!” A short chuckle followed, the rare kind shared between blooded warriors on the cusp of becoming family.

Ze’bast saw potential in him—raw, kinetic, and untamed. Not years… mere months of proper training, and Adonis would be the kind of warrior legends whisper about around forge fires.

Then the ground trembled.

A monstrous groan cracked through the air, thunderous and sharp. The space elevator—a marvel of engineering—shuddered violently. Its titanic frame bent, groaned again… then collapsed in a devastating cascade of steel and duracrete.

Ze’bast’s words died in his throat.

His jaw tensed behind the helmet, knuckles whitening around his repeater. In the distance, amidst the chaos, dust, and fire—his liege… his brother—had been there.

“Mand’alor…” he muttered.

Time slowed. The sound of war faded.

Then, his focus returned.

His next orders were clear. Sharp. Final.

“We’re changing objectives. Head for the fallen elevator—NOW! Mand’alor needs backup! MOVE!”

He didn’t wait for agreement. This wasn’t a democracy.

His jetpack screamed to life, thrusting him skyward toward the epicenter of destruction. The others followed without question. His HUD lit up with real-time diagnostics, marking heat signatures, and the last known beacon of Aether Verd.

They were warriors. They were family.

And no Mand’alor would fall alone while Ze’bast still drew breath.

“Mand'alor, we’re headed your way.”

Ze'bast stated as his comms opened up. His supercommandos would do what was needed. Some began utilizing flamethrowers before their jetpacks came to life to follow. They'd even bring Adonis along.
​

 

[Athena Faar]

Objective II

The command had been given. Again, Mandalorians girded their armor to fight on behalf of another, but now, under the new Mandalore, they would fight on their own terms and from a position of power. They had fought this enemy before, this horror, proving that the dead can still die, en masse, beneath the blazing guns of Mandalorians.

As for Athena, her personal opinion about the Diarchy was still in flux, but this engagement would surely solidify her stance one way or another.

In the hanger of the Resolute Dawn, Athena checked her gear, and the flying harness before mounting Miit'alor. The war dragon sensed the coming battle, as both human and beast watched Aether Verd mount his Basilisk. The Mandalore's war droid lifted and streaked out of the hanger, followed by others. Among them, the scaled beast plummeted, wings back, as both rider and mount surveyed the chaos below amid the elevator's base compound, zooming towards them. Frantic figures moved about rantically, small craft being hurriedly loaded, all behind a wavering line of defenders, beyond which the countless masses of living corpses pressed relentlessly.

To one side, the dancing glow of a pair of lightsabers caught Athena's eyes through the rising smoke. The defenses there had dwindled to what appeared to be a single woman. Several other vod jetted her way. Athena guided Miit'alor toward her as well. Skimming close to the ground, wings spread wide, the dragon and her mistress streaked over the saber-wielder's head, the beast vomiting a searing jet of fire into the shamling, grotesque attackers. A path of the corpses, engulfed in flames, flailed wildly as they were consumed, some spreading the flame upon others.

The dragon wheeled around, releasing another stream of flames into the ranks just beyond the blonde woman. To conserve Miit'alor's limited reserves of chemicals in her glands, Athena held the beast's attacks, bringing the dragon down beside, at some distance from, the Brotherhood-robed woman. Standing in the saddle, Athena opened fire upon the advancing mass with her rotary carbine, the spinning barrels spewing plasma into their ranks, as the dragon ripped apart with tooth and claw any who drew close enough.

But they kept coming. With more of them, forcing the dragon and her rider back. Blaster bolts shredded dead flesh, but didn't stop them, it seemed only those who had been engulfed in dragonfire had ceased to be. Miit'alor could never produce enough fire in one battle to burn them all. But they wouldn't stop fighting.

A fresh stream of jet fire spewed from the dragon's maw, searing in flames the front ranks of the unrelenting horde of living dead.

Then the massive explosion erupted above, along the elevator structure. Her helmeted gaze turned to the saber woman, this may have been their last stand, and Athena didn't even know who she was...

Tag: Zara Saga

Edited to include overlooked events.

 

[Diarch Reign]

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Location: Vjunhallow | Sublevels
Tags: Ryu Jung @OPEN

---

The Diarch did not have time to be thankful that the Mandalorians were on the move. He had given command of the First Cohort and the 1st Division of the 3rd Legion to his apprentice, yet reports were coming back that they were overextended, drawn in to the horde and surrounded.

As soon as word had reached him of their situation, Reign was a blur of movement. Showcasing a speed not seen since the battle of Serenno against the Sith Order. There was nothing but destruction in his wake, but not pure chaotic destruction.. the pinpoint precision of a living weapon. He passed by legionnaire med tents, evacuated citizens, and people in various stages of distress.. to those, he looked like a streak of black and gold, and where he passed, the dead were not.

Until he came fully to sublevel 1, where Ryu had taken his men. He found them by the screams. Without hesitation, Reign jumped into the fray, Blood-Orange saber lighting up the area as if the sunset had come to the sublevel.

As he spied his apprentice, surrounded by the dead, Reign released a devastating ball of Force Destruction, turning everything between him and his young ally into a pink mist. As he approached, the Diarch looked more and more as though he had been through the ringer, the usual tight ponytail showing strands of hair loose and falling in his face, his cape torn and uniform dirty.

He walked up to Ryu, along with the First Cohort of the Myrmidons, and smiled.


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

He said with a small clap on Ryu's shoulder.
This moment of Levity was short lived though as Reign heard the shriek of more undead.

As the Myrmidons and Legionnaires fell back into position, Reign stood side by side with his apprentice in front of the defensive cordon. His attention now fully focused on the battle ahead, however, he did spend a quick moment to give Ryu some confidence.

"We are together now, fear not. We can hold. The Mandalorians have come, we do not face this evil alone"

 

[Kassandra Beskar'ad]

Kassandra had heard no reply. Everyone was overwhelmed. She proceeded as originally planned.

The former House Io warrior moved quickly across the street. That was when the first blaster shots came.

Kassandra blinked. The Dead could use weapons.

They came at her from everywhere, but Kassandra was not unbloodied.

She was a product of a psychotic ex-Jedi who had taken on all the major factions of the Galaxy at one point. The Nuetralizer Army had committed countless atrocities against their enemies, and had helped crush the Bryn'adul's empire. They had fought Jedi, Sith, Abominations that had no name, and they had passed the data on to each new generation.

Nuetralizers do not fear enemies. Nuetralizers are, as per their Creator's design, capable of murder and destruction at the drop of a hat.

Kassandra felt not a spark of fear as the undead surged all around her, some armed. Her DC-15N worked like a turret in her hands, blasting apart the ones armed with rifles as well as everything immediately in her way. The Blastboat surged overhead, blasting apart the masses of corpses. The built in Tensor Rifle in her throat, standard to her model, ripped open the undead with controlled gravity beams as she blasted her way expertly into the mass, carefully blasting apart the zombies armed with rocket launchers trying to down her auto piloted fighter, transmitting the order to launch more missiles to clear her a path. Red had wanted to do this carefully. That wasn't going to be possible. A pair of missiles from the blastboat, one launched ahead, the other behind, detonated and Kassandra ducked into a building to survive the destination, the dead, burning and ripped apart, still coming for her, crashing violently into the building to continue pursuit. All of them shouting 'Gath' at her.

But Kassandra was a Nuetralizer.

And even the weakest of the Nuetralizer machine race was more terrible than any swarm of undead.

Kassandra fired at the ceiling above her, collapsing it behind her. She had to reach the minimum safe distance away from the elevator --

That was when everything went to hell...

Kassandra looked up and saw the freaking elevator crumble from an explosion. Toppling onto much of the evacuation zone.

Kassandra did the calculations. Thousands likely dead. Red was likely dead as well, but somehow... somehow Kassandra doubted it.

Kassandra had a mission, regardless. And her own sense of honor would not allow her to leave until she confirmed Red was deceased. She owed the strange Mandalorian that much for freeing her of her loyalty programming completely.

Kassandra crashed out of the building now firing at full auto at the undead hoards, finally sustaining damage a as a blaster bolt punched through a shoulder and a leg. She felt no pain and blasted apart the shooter. Almost to the detonation point. Her strategic database consulting her engineering database and rapidly recalculating the plan as she reached the first detonation point, the dead hounding her like a tide of rot.

Kassandra blasted open the doors to the broken skyscraper her rifle finally running dry and she dropped it, and pulled out her Type 2 Energy Sword, skewering the pile of dead that met her with expert spins and slashes, her throat tensor firing as she shredded apart the undead, remote readying the first of her four cobbled together heavy seismic charges, transmitting orders to Droid Mod-piloted blastboat to open fire on the building with the last of its missiles, and Kassandra continued to hack and slash her way to the exact center of the building, prioritizing those armed with blasters or other firearms.

The building exploded above her, taking half the artificial skin off her face and revealing the gleaming, silvery Nuetralizer skull beneath as she was flung back, going blind in one eye and activating her repair systems. Ten seconds. The charge had been armed. She had to leave now or she would be atomized.

Kassandra saw the blastboat swoop in firing it's cannons in burst at the undead still around her. She dropped the armed charge and jumped onto the wing of the fighter for dear life as it swooped upward.

"This is Kassandra to all Diarchy and Mandalorian forces--seismic charge detonation imminent! If you're deep in this hellhole, BRACE FOR IMPACT!"

The charge detonated, equal in strength to a Void-7 Charge the flat, planar explosion leveled buildings, undead, and anything else in a very, VERY large radius that quickly spread. The air compressed around the explosion worsening the blast. Seismic Charges had been a go-to tactic of her race since the very first battles with the NIO.

She directed the fighter to blast apart another building at the base where the ensuing blast would just barely be out of range of the space elevator evacuation site.

Kassandra let go, activating her jet pack. She had lost enough weight that she could finally fly, and armed the second charge, streaking through the corrupted sky as she armed her second charge, pulling it out of the sack and tossing it into the mass of swarming undead converging on the building.

She barely got high enough in time to clear the second seismic charge explosion, watching the effects level parts of the city below, the destructive wave cutting through vast swaths of undead...

Aether Verd

Gath

Diarch Reign

Diarch Rellik

Ze'bast Verd

Zara Saga

Kandosii Ka'rta

Jonah

Adonis Angelis IV

Laphisto

Maldor Mecetti

Runi Kuryida

Sahan Dragr

Rokul

Manti Wyrvhor

 

[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)​

---

Sahan was mildly surprised when the firenado he created was seized by the Dark Sorcerer and thrown at the Elevator. He fired lasers to keep off any shrapnel that would pelt him.

He was only mildly surprised, because he had been expecting the Forcer to do something. And, just like he had hoped, that allowed him to pinpoint which creature amongst the army of zombies was the commander.

More of the undead kept coming. Sahan was not concerned. As endless as they seemed to be, there was most definitely a finite number. His comrades simply had to not die. It was as simple as that.

Spinning rapidly, Sahan created a pocket of air and tore through the center of the massive ball of fire and debris, cutting some of its momentum. It collided with the Elevator, but was nowhere near as devastating as it could have been. It could have obliterated the structure entirely. Perhaps the people inside would even be able to find a way to survive.

Unfortunately for them, Sahan was to busy fighting to worry about saving anyone. Hurtling toward the Forcer at Mach IV, he pulled his blade and slashed at the foe, stopping behind him to pin the adversary between his blade and the tailwind that would push them together to drive the blade deep. He kept the plasma edge off. He wanted the blade to bite and draw blood. The Devaronian Blood-Crystals embedded in the edge of the blade would cause excruciating pain, even long after it healed, and he wanted this foe to suffer.

"Foolish sorcerer. You twist the Gift of the Manda into something unnatural. You don't deserve that Blessing." Grenades fell all around, releasing AXC gas to interfere with Force use. As that happened, Sahan set a pulse from his armor. It was a frequency that would cause midichlorian apoptosis.

---

TAGS: OPEN
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

The wind pulled at Kandosii's duster as he glided downwards through the air, free-falling like a living torpedo subtly shielded by his jetpack's personal shield generator. Aided by micronized repulsor jets he dodged to the side, giving Kassandra room to do her strafing run. "Much obliged, partner," he transmitted to the pilot, before at the last moment he tucked into a roll as he landed, drawing his rifle in the same motion. Coming out of the roll into a kneeling position, he deftly worked the lever, dropping nearby zombies one by one. The hollow points were definitely the right choice.

"Y'know friend, ya may have had a point 'bout them tales, I don' envy the folk stuck on cleanup duty after we're done 'ere. Gonna reek to high hell." After the repeater went dry, he slung it across his back and drew his Peacekeeper with a twirl. With each pull of the trigger, a zombie was reduced to little more than ash and scraps of clothing by its disruptor setting. "Tales probably started 'cause of that ol' Gulag Plague Virus Thing all them years back. Us bein' simple folk, it hit the Commonwealth mighty hard whenabouts it finally got to us." He'd have to go back home to Morellia one of these days, see how things've changed since he left.

When all of the unliving in the immediate area were dealt with, the air filled with the familiar clacking as he reloaded his rifle once again.

" 'Course, I don' think them ol' nans were expectin' them things from their yarns to be real."

 

[Secret of Manda]

The Scales were not idly tipped.

Gath reached deep into the void and used their rage to fuel an explosive assault on the elevator that provided a means for the people to escape. It used an existing conflagration and turned it into a weapon. A lance of flame to crush the bodies and souls of those in and near the engineering marvel. Yet it was not this horrific act that brought judgment.

Soon Maldor Mecetti 's carriage to the surface broke free of the ruin as the elevator splintered under the strain of its own existence. The loss of the High Chancellor, and the deaths of hundreds of innocents, would be a devastating blow to the Diarchy; and do little to improve relations with the Mandalorian Empire, whose efforts would be deemed too little and too late. Yet it was not this deplorable state that brought judgment.

The bulk of the tether, mighty and long, stretched forth over the city. It cast a shadow longer and more terrifying than any beast. It would rain debris long before it shattered the body of the world itself. People would flee as they would a tidal wave with all the same effectiveness; for what was once hailed as a marvel had now become their scourge. It would lay low any and all beneath it. The shockwave would topple buildings far from where its touch alone might manage. Concussive force alone would shatter even transparisteel for miles. It would be a black day not soon forget.

And in the shadow of these events, as the inhabitants of the world mourned, there would be those that had died far from home; people that would have given it their best and felt it not enough. It would hurt longer than any blaster. Sting pride and honor greater than any barb. Countless souls would be lost that day and those that followed. Mandalorian warriors that would continue to fight even as so many of their brothers and their sisters were snuffed out of life in an instant.

That is what brought judgment.

Figure adorned in bright, white armor appeared in the city. They wore an ancient style of beskar'gam with a towering spear clutched in their hand. As the tether began to curve down to meet the shimmering figure and threatened to flatten the city and untold lives on the surface and those trapped below, the spear lift fro the planet's surface. A 'pop' caused the ground to tremble and windows to quake; a wave of something not quite tangible could be felt pass through the living and dead alike. With the spear held aloft, the nightmare unleashed with its all-consuming shadow inexplicably, simply stopped. The bulk of the ruined tether hung suspended in the air in defiance of gravity and Gath alike.

Aether Verd | Ze'bast Verd | Adonis Angelis IV | Manti Wyrvhor | Runi Kuryida | Rokul | Laphisto | Kandosii Ka'rta | Red Mobius | Vytal Noctura | Athena Faar | Diarch Reign | Diarch Rellik | Kassandra Beskar'ad | Zara Saga | Jonah | Maldor Mecetti | Sahan Dragr | Drego Ruus

 

[Vytal Noctura]

​

Vytal stepped aboard a gunship beside Aether as he boarded his Basilisk before he set course for the elevator. It made sense to get the most people away from the carnage. Then the Mandalorians would be free to end this assault with everything at their disposal. So long as innocent people were in the way, however, and as long as honor demanded their hands were tied. Not that a Mandalorian let something like overwhelming odds deter them.

Once they pierced the atmosphere, the pale Witch looked out at the scene below. Her black lips curved down at the sight. Too many Sisters would think little of such things. Outsider problems suffering problems of their own making, some might claim. Vytal, however, saw a fate that could easily be that of those she personally cared for. If this had befallen her Sisters she would want allies like these Mandalorians to be there to help in some fashion. Perhaps it would not be enough. Perhaps it would be just enough. The fact they tried mattered.

She had seen similar things back in the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Had seen them on Ryloth where the Solanaceae coven held circle. In this galaxy, these horrific fates were all too common place.

A roar of weapons fire hailed their arrival as the Basilisk established a defensive zone with which to land. Vytal stepped out from the gunship that deposited fresh troops on the ground as Aether let loose lightning from his hand. The ship would resume aerial position to lay waste to the enemy more effectively and at distance.

With casual disregard, she flung emerald flame at several of the undead and burnt their visage from the world. Her burning eyes looked out across the land where the defenses fought to hold. Where the Mand'alor commanded they hold. Vytal began to weave her hands before her in anticipation of a spell that would bolster their efforts.

Until a shout drew her eyes high above the battlefield. The raging ball of flame was already too far and too fast for her to do much else but watch it strike the elevator. Her black lips parted to reveal her teeth as a 'slight' wave in the tether could be seen from the impact. Technology could almost be considered a form of magic itself, and she'd made efforts in her time to better understand it. One thing she'd learned was that technology was often quite rigid and 'purpose built'; and when it was taken outside of the arena for which it was built things often spoiled swiftly and spectacularly. And the elevator shaft was quite spectacular all on its own.

"Aether! The elevator!" she shouted before her hands wove in a frenzy and were thrust out before her. The Mand'alor needed to see it for himself, and there wasn't time to do more than direct his attention. Vytal had to focus all her energy into completing a summoning ritual in great haste and with even greater effect. Teeth clenched, she thought of even rune and whispered incantation to bring forth the creature as the ever so 'slight' sway turned into a nearly incomprehensibly long, absurdly thick beam of metal as it toppled toward the surface -- and its base would strike far faster than the length that threatened the city proper.

"Devour!" she shouted.

A massive maw of a gargantuan dragon seemed to erupt from the ground without the slightest tremor. Its teeth were as thick as basilisk. Its jaw the size of a corvette. It lurched out of nothing and swam through the earth to envelop and consume all the living creatures in its path in the shadow of the falling tether than would soon crush all such life into paste. As the torn mass came crashing down, the dragon would sink back below the surface just as quickly and silently as it had appeared.

Aether Verd
Ze'bast Verd | Adonis Angelis IV | Manti Wyrvhor | Runi Kuryida | Rokul | Laphisto | Kandosii Ka'rta | Red Mobius | Athena Faar | Diarch Reign | Diarch Rellik | Kassandra Beskar'ad | Zara Saga | Jonah | Maldor Mecetti | Sahan Dragr | Drego Ruus​

 

[Siv Kryze]

.​

O B J E C T I V E 2:​

Tag: Aether Verd Ze'bast Verd Adonis Angelis IV Manti Wyrvhor Runi Kuryida Rokul Laphisto Kandosii Ka'rta Red Mobius Athena Faar Diarch Reign Diarch Rellik Kassandra Beskar'ad Zara Saga Jonah Maldor Mecetti Sahan Dragr Drego Ruus​

The plan had been solid.

Secure the plaza. Establish a perimeter. Keep the damn elevator operational long enough for the last shuttles to lift off. Simple. Clean.

Then the first explosion rocked the tower's base.

A shower of sparks erupted from the maglev coupling as the entire structure lurched sideways. Siv's boots slid on debris-strewn permacrete as his HUD lit up with structural failure warnings. The elevator wasn't just damaged—it was coming apart in real time.

"Shab."

His gauntleted fist slammed against his thigh plate. All that work securing the LZ meant nothing if the primary evac point collapsed into a pile of scrap. Through the smoke, he could see the panicked crowd below the tower—civilians, wounded, the last defenders falling back as the dead pressed forward.

No time to curse. No time to second-guess.

The transport bucked hard as it skimmed low over collapsing rooftops. Siv ignored the lurch, his gaze locked through the viewport on the dying orbital elevator. Fire geysered from its buckling spine. Screams – human and inhuman – bled through the hull. His HUD spat warnings:

PRIMARY LZ: ANNIHILATED.
EVAC ROUTE: NULL.
HOSTILE DENSITY: 92%

Plan B. Always a Plan B.

His thumb flicked a switch on his vambrace. A crisp, encrypted burst pulsed out – Nite Owl frequency, tight-beam, cutting through the Gravesong's static shroud like a vibroknife. Two recipients: Aether Verd command channel. Ze'bast Verd 's squad net.

His voice was gravel scraping durasteel over the comms: "Kryze. Rally Point: Cargo Platform Alpha. North Quadrant. Solid ground. Holding."

The platform was the only patch of permacrete near the collapsing tower not actively crumbling or swamped. Defensible. Accessible. It would hold. Because he would make it hold.

​

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

Objective I​

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

The ground trembled again, not with the percussion of blaster fire or the shriek of the undead, but with a low, unnatural pressure that seemed to reach into Adonis's ribcage and press against his lungs. It wasn't just another quake. He knew what it was before the red scroll of structural failure warnings even flashed across his HUD. The tether was falling.

He turned just in time to see it, a godless monument of durasteel and reinforced composites, now bent like the snapped spine of a dying titan. The orbital elevator, once a symbol of salvation, had become a guillotine. Its descent should've been final- an apocalypse unto itself- but then, impossibly, it froze. Suspended in place, hanging in the sky like a blade arrested mid-fall. A tremor passed through the battlefield, not physical, but spiritual. Something... other. And there, amid the ash and ruin, a single armored figure stood radiant and still, their spear held high against gravity and fate.

But the awe passed quickly. Miracles didn't win wars. Vod did.

A blip flared across Adonis's HUD. Aether Verd, still transmitting, faint but active. The Mand'alor was alive, or at least had been moments ago.

His hand shot up to his helmet, opening a direct line to Ze'bast. "The signal's weak, but it's there. Mand'alor is down there somewhere."

Without needing a word, their jetpacks screamed to life. Twin plumes of fire shot them into the smoke-choked sky, engines humming like war drums as they soared above the collapse. Below, the city convulsed, flames licked at shattered towers, and necrotic beasts surged like a living tide. Blasterfire streaked skyward from below, sporadic and rabid, but Adonis moved like a hot knife through fat.

The Knight adjusted his angle, pulling closer to Ze'bast's flank as more terrain came into view. Fire and ruin painted the world beneath them, and somewhere in that hellscape, Mand'alor's life hung by a thread. But then his HUD pinged again, Siv's signal, broadcasting a fallback point. Defensible ground. Civilians and troops were rallying there, trying to hold back the tide and form a new perimeter. It wasn't far, just a few clicks north and out of the blast zone. Safer. Tactical.

Adonis leveled out, blue cloak snapping in the wind behind him. The blast from his jetpack flared bright as he looked over to Ze'bast mid-flight. "Ori'vod- do we divert to Siv's fallback? Or go after him directly?"

The question lingered between them, swallowed by the wind and the weight of command. Adonis didn't press it. He trusted Ze'bast's judgment more than any strategy he could form on his own. This wasn't just about saving a leader, it was about saving Mandalore itself.

Blaster bolts hissed past them as they continued forward, cutting through pockets of undead that had begun to scale rooftops or take aim with looted weapons. Adonis fired back in quick bursts, his hand steady even as his heart pounded like a war drum. They were still climbing, still carving a path through the sky. Either destination would mean more blood. More fire. The only question now was where they would bleed first.

And Adonis was ready for either.

 

[Laphisto]

AT-AE walker main weaponry loadout per battalion
E.M.D.C.: 4
LO-24/AT: 5
LO-22/AP: 3
LO-21/AAA: 2
LO-AC300: 2​

Laphisto held firm at the front of the assault, his broadsaber cleaving through flesh, bone, and armor with measured precision. He moved with relentless purpose, each strike honed by centuries of combat. Around him, the soldiers of Tarain's Sword advanced with grim resolve, their formation tight, their discipline unshaken even as the undead surged in waves.

Behind them, the AT-AE walkers opened fire in coordinated bursts, their massive cannons lighting up the battlefield with explosive fury. Each shell burst sent limbs flying and carved trenches through the advancing horde, the earth itself trembling beneath the weight of sustained bombardment. Then he saw it far in the distance, a line of structures beginning to buckle. Cracked supports gave way under the strain of battle, and upper floors sagged like broken ribs. But instead of alarm, a tactical opportunity formed in his mind.

He keyed his comms, his voice edged with iron. "Red Lancer Command, this is High Commander Laphisto. Adjust your fire. Collapse the buildings bring the structures down to cut off enemy movement. Prevent their mobilization at all costs." He glanced back toward the walkers, eyes narrowing. "We can rebuild this world, but we cannot bring back those we've already lost."
The moment word reached Laphisto that the triage tents were being overrun, a snarl curled from his throat. "Crator fangs!" he snapped, fury rising in his voice. "Pull units off the front! Redirect to defend the walkers and the wounded we've got breaches in the line!" His ears pinned back tight against his skull, rage and urgency mixing behind his narrowed gaze. Without hesitation, he reached out with the Force, seizing one of the undead mid-charge. The creature froze in the air for a heartbeat then crumpled into a compact mass of shattered bone and pulped flesh, folding in on itself under invisible pressure. With a flick, Laphisto hurled the mangled remains into a crowd of the advancing dead, buying precious seconds.

His eyes scanned the battlefield with predatory speed, pupils narrowing. He spotted another rot-slicked figure stumbling toward the rear. Reaching out, he clenched a clawed hand in the air grabbing the thing by the skull and crushing it with a sharp crack, like a rotton egg bursting in one's fist. Disgust twisted across his features as he hissed in frustration. These things just kept coming. Holstering his broadsaber for a moment, he drew his sidearm with a practiced snap and squeezed off several well-placed shots, each bolt dropping another corpse in its tracks.

"Artillery walkers!" he barked into the comms. "Shift targeting. I want LO-FR1 shells targeting the main gathering of dead! airburst pattern. Load them with Kov'dra shards!" Already, the thunder of repositioning cannons echoed in the distance. Moments later, the first of the LO-FR1s detonated high above the battlefield, releasing a vicious spray of force-resistant shrapnel. Razor-edged Kov'dra fragments rained down like a metallic storm, lacerating the dead and embedding into the terrain, creating a hazardous field that slowed their advance and tore at their limbs. The sound of mangled screeches filled the air. Laphisto didn't flinch.
The first barrage screamed overhead LO-FR1 shells detonating in midair with precision-timed bursts. A split second later, the sky rained death. Shards of Kov'dra, glittering like black glass in the firelight, cascaded down in a lethal storm. The Force-resistant metal tore through decaying flesh and splintered bone, embedding itself in corpses and earth alike. Wide swaths of terrain became impassable kill zones, carpeted with jagged shrapnel that cut and skewered anything that moved. The undead, mindless and unfeeling, surged forward regardless only to be gutted, maimed, or impaled as they advanced into the metallic thorns.

From the rear line, the AT-AE walkers shifted formation. Rear hatches groaned open, platforms lowering with mechanical finality. A single AT-ASMKII Light Walker unfolded itself like a steel predator, from each AT-AE. its frame compact but built for speed and impact. The moment its feet hit the ground, it surged forward with a roar of engines and thundering footfalls. Heavily armored and merciless in its charge, the walker tore into the frontline. The undead were flattened beneath its legs, crushed under the full force of several tons of steel. Limbs snapped, torsos exploded, and the front line buckled under its weight. As it charged through the crowd, its quad-mounted 40mm autocannons roared to life, tearing swathes through the mass with relentless bursts of fire.

Then, without slowing, the AT-AS veered back looping into a controlled retreat through a cloud of pulverized bodies only to pivot and repeat the charge with surgical brutality. The pattern became a rhythm of devastation: crush, fire, fall back, repeat. When Laphisto heard the voice of Runi Kuryida break through the comms, a brief flicker of relief cut through the tension."Vod," he replied, his tone sharp but warm with recognition. "Good to hear a Mando'ad voice out here in the fire." He quickly toggled his command interface, his armored gauntlet dancing across the controls.

"Uploading full IFF tags and walker positions to your system now. Two battalions under my command sixteen walkers per battalion. Sixteen gunships are in the air, running combat patrols and med-evac rotations." He paused, his gaze lifting toward the distant sky where fire still burned through the cloud cover. "We've also got eyes in orbit several heavy anti-vehicle starfighters are on standby. I've received their loadouts and strike authorization codes. Forwarding you their specs now. You and your fellow vod can call in gun runs as needed. Just paint the target and give them a lane they'll do the rest." His voice hardened again as another explosion rippled through the comms, underscoring the urgency of the moment. "Let's make sure whatever's left of this field belongs to us by sundown."
As Laphisto spoke, a distant roar tore through the sky followed by a searing fireball hurtling earthward. His eyes snapped upward just in time to witness the burning wreckage of a space elevator lift breaking through the cloud cover, spiraling out of control. Flames curled along its surface as it tumbled end over end, trailing a stream of black smoke like a comet of ruin. It slammed into the planet with a thunderous crash, the impact kicking up a plume of debris that rose like a mushroom cloud. The shockwave reached him a moment later, rattling armor plates and briefly throwing his HUD into static. Dirt and ash blew past in a stinging wave.

By sheer luck or perhaps something greater the wreckage came down between the forward elements of Tarain's Sword and the Red Lancers. Close, but not a direct hit. Still, he couldn't be sure if it had fallen east or west in the chaos. The terrain was too broken, the sky too choked with smoke. He growled low in his throat and slammed a hand against his comms. "All gunships, track those elevator lift fall trajectories. I want aerial sweeps across the debris zone, now. Search for survivorstag any heat signatures or bio signs you find and bring them home." His voice softened, barely, just for a breath. "No one dies in the dark. Not today." Maldor Mecetti

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

 

[Lyssara Thrynn]

Objective One : Open | Diarch Reign

The Solar Spectrum arrives within view of Yaga Minor and begins to decelerate. Its cloaking shield deactivates, and I appear on all of the Diarchy's systems. I initiate a transmission to Diarch Reign, leader of the ground intervention unit, to announce my presence in the battle.

-This is Lyssara Thrynn. I'm joining the ground fight. Don't hesitate to call if you need my assistance somewhere. Awaiting orders.-

Having announced my presence, all that's left is to perform the atmospheric entry maneuver to find a place to land well, "land" is a strong word. Judging by what's about to strike the planet, I have a feeling we're nowhere near the end of this ordeal. What caused this carnage? As a scientist, my mind can't help but think differently, often against the grain.

I fly the Solar Spectrum over the battlefield, searching for a landing platform. Failing to find a proper place to touch down, I'm going to have to improvise a makeshift landing strip. I settle on the rooftop of a tall building and hand control of the ship to Nyva. She can assist me remotely and provide backup if needed.

Now I'm standing atop one of the buildings overlooking the battlefield below. I watch my ship lift off again with Nyva at the helm. Pulling my hood back over my head, I open my comlink to the Diarchy's frequency. The real battle can begin now.

I allow myself a brief thought: I'd like to bring back one of these specimens or maybe a strain or sample of the virus to study it in the lab. If I can figure out who created it and how it works, maybe I can find a way to stop it... or use it to our faction's advantage. I turn my back to the open air, extend my arms out to the sides, and let myself fall from the building. At the last moment, a portal engulfs me. As a Nightsister, I can teleport and it comes in handy. I'll reappear a little further out. I stay connected with my subordinate so she can support me if needed.

Zombies. Fantastic. Just what I needed today.

 

[Red Mobius]

Red crushed a Zombie's brains in her hands, vaped another mass of undead with Disruptor fire and flamethrowers. And still the dead came.

She dragged a wounded Mandalorian to safety, firing her Disruptor with her other hand flash frying another swarm, and worse, now they were using tactics, firing back with guns of their own.

She fell back to the elevator, dragging the wounded Mandalorian to his fellow Clan and fired the last of her Disruptor ammo, dropping it and loaded a fragmentation shell into her grenade launcher, creating a tremendous explosion that sent twitching undead flesh flying in all directions...

Red took out her Enclave Relic, the Besragr. The Vibrospear locked into place from its non extended state and she fired her jet pack, keeping the tip ahead of her as she impaled multiple Zombies, the vibrating tip helping shear them off it one by one, helped by her furiously, continuously punching anything her weapon impaled. She began spinning the weapon in front of her like a maniac, ripping the mass apart as it dared to try and close in on her fellow Mandalorians. She landed deep in the hoard, set one ablaze, then impaled it on her spear as it still burned and swung it violently in a circle around her, setting more of the monsters on fire before activating her jetpack with the monster on her spear snarling, still actively burning and she used the burning abomination on her spear as a battering ram that set more of the endless wave of undead on fire around the elevator evac site when she saw the Triage tents being overrun.

Red's sense of professionalism and honor compelled her to try and help at least someone there escape. So she yanked her spear away from the burning zombie, retracted it, and loaded a Napalm round into her launcher and blasted away a swarm of zombies that had already reached a tent in flames, then activated her jetpack again, the energized vibroblades in her armor sliding out at she punched her way through the ocean of dead towards the now partly burning tent, finding a scene of horror on the inside. The badly injured being ripped open in their cots, injured medics who had been fighting back the hoard with whatever they could get their hands on going down screaming to dead teeth and fingers. Red violently slashed into any undead in front of her, using her wrist mounted Disruptor pistol to vape a few of them, desperate to try and save anybody, spotting a cowering sullustan medic and a screaming female child and cutting and vaporizing her way towards them...just as Zombies started to tear through the tent on their side. Only quick thinking by Red allowed her to fire her Disruptor pistol at the last moment a few times, hitting the zombies before they could drag the pair to their deaths.

Red quickly examined both with her helmet systems. No wounds. No bites.

"Come with me if you want to live!" Red shouted firing her Disruptor pistol at a rushing zombie behind her (Judgement Day cannot be stopped: 400 XP).

The shaking medic stood up, grabbed a fallen blaster carbine and the girl by the arm, then followed Red as she reloaded her grenade launcher, down to her last Napalm round and blasted apart of blasted armed zombies firing their repeaters in their direction, whipping out her triple barreled lupara and exploded a mini swarm ahead of her, putting away her grenade launcher and reloading her shotgun, deciding now was the time to start expending her shotgun ammo, her wrist mounted flame thrower burning down the swarm behind it, spotting an ambulance shuttle that was being closed in on by the swarm, and acted quickly, tossing an old school plasma grenade that created another wide, burning blast wave that sent the reanimated flying everywhere.

Red used her jump pack to get on top of the shuttle, firing her reloaded Lupara and exploding a rocket launcher armed Zombie, catching his relatively undamaged launcher as it flew into the air, and firing its missile into a massive undead wave that had been about to descend on the shuttle from behind.

"GET IN THE SHIP!!! GET IN THE SHIP!!!" Red shouted at the pair. The Medic scooped the girl up and into the shuttle closing its doors just barely before blasterbolts from the dead pelted the hull.

Red emptied the last of her Disruptor pistol ammo into the undead shooters, spotting fleeing Diarchy defenders heading for the shuttle, conducting a desperate fighting retreat from the undead hoard. Red used her last plasma grenade and burst apart a massive amount of zombies they had been fighting, looking for something else to more rapidly chew up the undead mass.

She spotted that something in the hands of a dead, torn up Mandalorian, still clutching a Z-6 Rotary Blaster.

(THIS Plays)

Red jumped down, shotgunning apart a nearby gang of Zombies about to kill a wounded Mandalorian and ripped the rotary Cannon from the corpses hands. Ammo counter read as still half loaded.

She activated it and the barrel spun before it unleashed a deadly stream of blue white bolts into the mass attacking the shuttle, shooting down those threatening the retreating Diarchy squad, her helmet systems quickly scanning the squad for wounds, finding only blaster shots and shrapnel wounds on them before resuming firing at the dead. The Medic, frantically powering up the shuttle opened up the door at the last second, in a panic as he checked the wounded for bite marks, anything that looked like a zombie could have inflicted a scratch, even going so far as to hold them at gunpoint until they showed every wound they had. This wasted time, but no one could fault the medic for being cautious. He would NOT permit a nasty surprise to happen once they were airborne.

Red steadily retreated, showing no fear, only vicious, murderous rage as she gunned down Zombie after Zombie--

The elevator exploded.

Red stared up in horror, the shrapnel from the massive elevator already falling everywhere.

"TAKE OFF RIGHT NOW!!!" Red shouted at the Medic as he finally let the squad aboard.

Massive burning hunks of debris fell all around Red as she burned through her cannon ammunition, shredding as many as she could as the space elevator started to fall directly on top of her and countless others.

The shuttle finally lifted off, and Red fired her own jetpack to try and escape the falling debris emptying the last of her cannon to destroy debris that would have hit the shuttle before letting it drop and increasing jetpack thrust to rocket out of there.

Some of the shrapnel smacked into her and she tumbled to the ground. But she saw the shuttle escaping into orbit, far away from the falling elevator. She ripped away her ammo belt as she fell.

Red barely managed to get the remaining thruster of her jetpack working and sustained brutal controlled crash that scraped part of her shoulder plating off. She disconnected from the pack, watching it tumbling and exploded into a massive wave of zombies ahead of her. All of her ranged weapons except the spear was gone and everything hurt. She still had the gauntlet blades.

Red blacked out for a long moment. She was awakened by the sound of Kassandra's seismic charges in the distance

Red had barely cleared the falling bottom of the elevator watching in religious awe at the sight of the heavenly Mandalorian and his spear, and how the upper half stabilized...

Red fell to her knees for a moment, thinking it to be nothing less than a manifestation of the Oversoul...

That was when Red looked down.

Clutched in the hands of a dead Mandalorian, half buried in the rubble...

...was an ENCL-45

Red grabbed it, religious fervor gripping her as she inspected it. It was fully loaded...

(UAC ANNOUNCER: WARNING. THE SLAYER HAS THE BFG. REPEAT, THE SLAYER HAS THE BFG)

Red fired the massive Disruptor at the next hoard that came rushing in...

Aether Verd

Ze'bast Verd

Laphisto

Zara Saga

Diarch Reign

Diarch Rellik

Adonis Angelis IV

Vytal Noctura

Gath

Rokul

 

[Zara Saga]

Zara's lightsabers sputtered in their arcs, steam and rot flecking from every strike. Her arms felt like molten iron, hot, heavy, and brittle. Her face was carved with soot, blood, and the kind of grim defiance that belonged to martyrs or fools. She hadn't decided which she was yet.

Then the dragon came.

Wind burst around her like a slap. The beast roared overhead, fire licking down in a brilliant arc that turned the undead into screaming pyres. The sheer heat singed the ends of her braid and made her skin prickle.

Zara blinked hard through the smoke, panting. "What the hell..."

The creature wheeled mid-air like a mythical judgment, jaws snapping, flame spilling again just behind her as if it knew she was there. And then she saw the rider. Clad in sleek beskar, weapon blazing, regal as hell and probably loving every second of it.

Zara had the distinct, sour feeling of being upstaged. By a Mandalorian. And her pet dragon.

"Of course they have dragons," Zara muttered, teeth gritted. "Why wouldn't they have dragons?"

She didn't stop fighting, couldn't. But her eyes flicked to Athena more than once now. Watching how she moved. How she positioned. Calculated and brutal. There was no chaos in her method. She controlled the field like it owed her something.

Zara hated how much she respected that.

Then...

A sound split the air. Not another explosion. This was deeper. Wronger.

She turned, still striking out with her saber, and saw it.

The elevator.

It was falling.

"No..."

Zara stumbled backward, nearly crushed under the sheer weight of what she was witnessing. The tether, a line that had once connected the heavens to the dirt, was coming apart in the sky. Snapping loose like the unraveling of fate itself. Its descent was elegant and horrifying, an unfathomably massive thread dragging down death with every meter.

Buildings were crushed. Thousands of people, gone in flashes of metal and fire.

A flaming segment of the tether smashed into the north quarter of the city. The shockwave hit a beat later, throwing her off her feet and into the ash and bone.

She rolled to a stop and choked out a breath, ears ringing, saber blades flickering uncertainly in her hands. All around her, the frontlines were collapsing, defenders fleeing, screaming, or falling to their knees.

And there, Athena still stood. Her dragon still breathed fire.

Zara rose again, shaky, bleeding from somewhere behind her ear.

She limped toward Athena, slicing a corpse clean through the torso as she shouted hoarsely over the chaos:

"Hey, helmet! You still got room on that fire-breathing murder-lizard or are you just here to look impressive while we all die?"

Another explosion in the distance. The sky bled smoke.

Zara spat blood and glared up at her.

"I don't like you. I don't like dragons. And I definitely don't like needing help. But if that thing can get me out of here and doesn't argue, I'm in."

She glanced once more at the tether, tumbling now in horrifying silence.

Athena Faar​

 

[Ryu Jung]

Objective I: Purge the Lower Districts
Tags: Diarch Reign | Open​

The next five seconds were a blur. His master's powers had caused the bodies of the zombies around him to eviscerate and Ryu had stood frozen in his stance as he hadn't seen the fullest extent of his master's power. He knew how powerful his master was, yet he never really saw his master's powers up close. He stood in awe which overtook his fear. His soldiers cheered on their Diarch as he swiped through the zombies with little to no effort, faster than Ryu could ever dream to achieve. As Ryu stood and his lightsaber deactivated, he felt so ashamed as he was saved by his master once again.

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

Ryu didn't know what to say. While he knew of his master's kindness, he never knew how to repay it. He felt as though he owed his master his life by becoming just as powerful as him. But he always tried to force his progress and reach heights he could was not close to hitting. He desperately wanted to prove to his master that he was strong and capable, but always found himself falling short of the mark. He knew that he would reach his master's prowess one day. But as his master stood by his side, he felt himself reinvigorated by his presence.

"Watch me master! I won't let those mandos show us up."

With intent behind his words, Ryu dashed towards an oncoming pack and started swinging his lightsaber. He maintained his stance and focused on his anger. He would not let the literal brainless undead overcome him. Just as he cleared the zombies around him, Ryu threw a massive force push that sent the zombies flying.

"Come master! There's still more glory left to be had!"

 

[Athena Faar]

Objective II

All hell broke loose, as if it hadn't already. The sky was falling, the ground quaked. An apocalyptic dread seized Athena as she looked up, and out. The dead didn't only keep coming, they were multiplying. She looked out from her seat atop the fire beast's battle harness. In the distance, a great force engaged the endless horde, and even their lines were wavering and falling back.

"Shyke, shyke, shyke..." the Korun bemoaned. It was time for a strategic withdraw. Miit'alor turned the next rank of attacking corpses into flaming funeral pyres. Projectiles and blaster bolts came from undead ranks further back. Dead soldiers answering the Gravesong.

Athena heard Blondie Golden Sabers yelling over the din of the chaos. It was not desperate pleading, not even an arrogant demanding. The woman was sarcastic. Ah, now that was a woman after Athena's own heart. "Quit bitching and moaning and get on!" Athena cried back, leaning down to offer Sabergirl an armored arm up. Taking hold, She helped the duelist up onto Miit'alor's forearm, and then into the battle harness, behind Athena.

"Up Miit'alor...up!" She forced into the dragon's battle-focused brain.

The massive wings unfolded and with a few beats, the trio lifted from the ground. A quick burst of fire, the heat of which kissed the riders' skin and armor, blew back the few clawing corpses that tried to cling to the raging reptile. Then the beast wheeled up and towards the main forces, dodging and juking to avoid debris from above and fire from below.

Tag: Zara Saga