Mission Iron & Dust || COV (Open to THR)

[Vren Rook]

Ryloth.

A planet deeply historied with the ilk of the Iron Covenant's predecessor, The Enclave. What once was a reliable ally during the era of Reclamation Wars, proved an old wound in the hearts of the Covenant's old guard even now.

The palpable anguish for the fallen during the Ryloth Uprisings of 902 ABY still a fresh memory in the minds of the many, the proposal for a diplomatic approach in pursuit of satisfying the needs of the growing Fleetbound peoples quickly became subject to heated debate, before an unwilling conclusion was eventually reached.

Another chance.

With the word sent, a retinue of brothers and sisters assembled in short order, as a small element of the ragtag fleet was summoned forth. Embarked with the intent to peacefully negotiate a trade deal, it quickly proved that the Mandalorians of the Iron Covenant were not the only ones who held the events of 902 fresh in their memory.

Taking unkindly to the re-emergence of the Mando'ade from the outer depths of Wild Space, the people of Ryloth met the retinue with in a manner befitting a stand against an invading force shortly after planetfall. With a general alert sounded off, the planet's capital would soon turn into a hotspot of conflict, skirmishes raging block by block amidst the struggle of life and death.

And fate would only tell the story of the victor.

LESSU

Treachery came from every corner.

Left disoriented in the wake of a well executed ambush, the Mandalorians quickly find themselves caught on the backfoot.

The swift offensive at the hands of the planet's defense force, mounted against the diplomatic retinue of the Iron Covenant soon proved a fierce one; the city of Lessu came to life with the chorus of blaster fire and earth rumbling fiery outbursts of brief flashes of orange.

Yet they withstood.

Beleaguered but unbroken, they were yet to be overrun. Their fury proved to burn hotter than that of the Twi'leks', as their formidable spearhead to twist the knife was met with the surety of Mandalorian resolve.

The damning notion of returning to Kestri, empty handed, proved heavy to bear on the hearts of warriors. In sharp refusal of capitulation, the Mandalorians of the Iron Covenant found themselves amidst a race against time towards the spaceport, in pursuit of taking what was rightfully theirs and by force, for the greater good of the Fleetborn. Cease any ships possible as well as any parts that can be used while trying to get back to the Fleet.

ORBIT

Not any less important than the efforts of those in the streets of Lessu, was the task entrusted to the small naval task force of the Iron Covenant. Their mission - the delay of any possible High Republic forces. They would prove to be pivotal in buying time for the retinue on the ground, should the distress from Ryloth be heeded. Additionally, they'll provide any air support for those on the ground with available Basilisk War Droids. ​

 

[Sahan Dragr]

Spoiler: Equipment

Vambraces
Tusurki'aa Ta'hye Beskad
O'dteyase Saranuhlr
M.I. Model 6 hybrid pistol
M.I. 'Pulsar' jetpack
KestrisaurHide Utility Belt and Duster
Rulariyi Mandalorian Sunglasses

"Dammit, I knew I should have come alone!" Maybe then they would not have seemed so intimidating. One person who wasn't even wearing beskar'gam would not have seemed like such a threat to the Twi'leks. Which would have a severe mistake on their behalf, but so was this one. Sahan could not decide which would have been stupider.

"Come on, now. We just want to talk. We just want to talk. We just want to talk." He gave a sigh as blaster fire started praying all around. "Well, never mind then."

This entourage had come to... negotiate... about resources, but instead of Lessu diplomats, they were met with Ryloth's planetary defense force. "Ungrateful little bastards." Sahan dodged a blaster bolt as the rest of the retinue scattered to meet the combat in their own way.

The ambush had met them when they were already on the ground and on their way to the capitol building, stranding them away from their goal and the spaceports. It was sort of clever, in a way. Except that it was against them, which obviously made it utterly foolish. And they were not going back to the ships to leave empty-handed.

Sahan pulled his MI pistol. "Aggressive negotiations it is, then." He grinned.

TAGS: OPEN​

 

[Kalantha]

IRON DUST​

Kalantha's Battle Dragon, the Crucible of Fate, dropped from hyperspace over the Twi'lek homeworld with all the support she needed to aid in forming a blockade over Ryloth. For a fleeting moment, it felt strange to be keeping Republic forces away from a planet in distress, but the woman who stood at the helm of the Hapan capital ship couldn't be more different than the one who once led the Republic. The version of Kalantha that was currently commanding one of Black Sun's Ecliptic-pattern Lucrehulks into position was stronger, colder, and decisive. There would be no floundering over petty politics or squabbling nobility, no appeasing the corporations or dancing around Jedi morality. The only thing holding Kalantha back was the number of turbolasers her ships possessed.

Thanks to Black Sun, it was a great many.

The Crucible's scanners had not yet flagged any Republic threats in the vicinity, affording her comms officer an uninterrupted window to make contact with the Mandalorian forces below. Hopefully they received the hail before any warning shots were fired.

"Covenant Command, this is High Commander Kalantha Berenko of the Crucible of Fate, flagship of the Crimson Fleet. We're in position over Ryloth—consider our support a gift from the Underlord."

Kalantha turned to face a large monitor that displayed holographic forms of the ships under her command. They were alone in orbit, for now. A cruel smile spread over her porcelain face as she watched for the first sign of enemy contact. Every fiber of her being wanted nothing more than to send a message to those who had left her behind.

Tags: Open​

 

[Darion of Myrkr]

OBJ I.
TAGS: OPEN

When Darion of Myrkr was assigned as a security detail to a diplomatic retinue, he did not understand the reason for it. They spoke of trade and of talks, and of words that were meant to settle things. These words meant little to him. He knew only the strong took what they can and the weak suffered what they must. Bored, he spent much of the journey half-asleep beneath the old Crusader armor.

When the shooting started, he understood it all clearly. He fired the jetpack and shot himself straight into the foxhole of a sniper and carved his skull open with his beskad and split his lekku into two separate parts. He stood there breathing, wide awake now, looking down at what remained of the marksman. He understood it, truly did. Men could talk as long as they liked, but diplomacy only worked when you had a gun on the table.

 

[Fenn Stag]

FENN STAG
CITY STREETS | RYLOTH
TAG: Vren Rook l Sahan Dragr l Darion of Myrkr
GEAR: COMBAT GEAR

BROKEN ARROW​

A scorch of blaster fire screeched across his view, returning fire from the sector's defenders. Fenn snapped his head around the corner, putting a fresh power pack into his rifle. Fenn took a knee, charging his rifle, stood up, and put six rounds down range. Two defenders went sprawling out, crumbling over. He ducked down, rifle in hand. Fenn reached to the back of his belt, primed a grenade, and held it in his off hand, and tucked it against his chest.

Rolling into a more advantageous piece of cover- before he held his arm straight on outset the roll, and let the momentum of his roll propel the grenade forward. The grenade slammed into the ground, and sent more defenders flying and then running for cover. Fenn pressed his body against the barricade, turning his head towards his compatriots.

The diplomacy had failed, because it always would.





​

 

[Kjartan Hammer-Hand]

KJARTAN HAMMER-HAND
ABOARD THE VOD’GAM | RYLOTH - HIGH ORBIT
TAG: Kalantha | [OPEN]

THEME​

It took some getting used to, going on diplomatic missions. In seemingly another life, Kjartan was ‘the problem’, not usually the solution. Today, it would seem he would need to solve a lot of problems. The Vod’gam rested in high orbit over the planet, receiving frantic communications from the ground delegation of an ambush. The chieftain began taking control of the situation without delay. He turned to his executive officer: “I want rapid response teams deployed immediately to provide air support! Ready extraction teams for immediate emergency insertion, but I first want a status update on the landers at the spaceport.”

Just then, the tactical officer spoke up; a woman wearing red-stripped beskar’gam and red with white clan markings along the breastplate. “Alor, several unconfirmed signatures have exited lightspeed - they’re taking a non-threatening posture, but moving to orbital positions at full speed.”

He flexed his fingers as his eyes scanned the screen in front of him, when the call came through:

"Covenant Command, this is High Commander Kalantha Berenko of the Crucible of Fate, flagship of the Crimson Fleet. We're in position over Ryloth—consider our support a gift from the Underlord."

Kjartan nodded in acknowledgement. “Hold our fire, but keep our guns at the ready and our shields up. I won’t trust aruetii to act out of the goodness of their hearts.” He keyed a few commands on his screen then turned to the comms officer: “Hail them.”

Moments later, a channel was opened. <“High Commander Berenko, this is Chieftain Kjartan Bralor, Covenant Command. We acknowledge your friendly intention and offer of support. Be advised we are at a high alert status due to developments on the ground. Our first priority is securing the exfiltration of our delegation; the locals appear unready for peaceful negotiations, so we shall commence with the aggressive variety.>”

He paused, an edge to his voice beneath a faint tone of humour. <“We propose keeping this channel open for coordination. How copy?”?>

​

 

[Carduul Akahl]

City Streets | Ryloth
Tags: Vren Rook | Sahan Dragr | Darion of Myrkr
Soon. : Gavin Restur

Diplomacy was something rarely exercised in his time, even by himself. There was not much thought able to be spared to such a concept when the galaxy was constantly at war. After all, what point was there? It was not until the short-lived Crusade ended and scattered did he realize a semblance of an answer—there was not an immediate need to integrate others to the fold. Not yet, anyways. There will come that time again, but it was clear that the Galaxy was far too oppressive to tolerate their staked claims. At first, Carduul wasn’t sure whether or not he was suited to attend a ‘peaceful’ gathering like this. If not for his demeanor, then only for what he was. Yet, he was someone who was meant to be constantly learning.

So he chose to accompany them, only to find himself right back where he started. Amidst a hail of blaster fire, a few bolts ricocheting off of armor as his weapons worked with deadly efficiency forwards- others behind cover at his back.

It was ironic; even when they offered peace, they were spat upon. He supposed the population of Ryloth had every right to act hostile, given what he knew occurred in the past. In fact, it was a good thing they fought like this now. It proved that their previous encounter with Mandlaorians had strengthened them to the galaxy, emboldened them to even go this far. Still, any loss of life would be placed on their own. It was easier that way, to place the burden of such thoughts onto others. It was one less off of his shoulders. For the first time in a while, it would not be his decision alone what fate awaited once they escaped Ryloth.

The crunch of bone and sinew echoed into the open as blood stained his poleaxe for the first time in a long time. The cra-zoom! of a heavy blaster pistol in his off-hand pierced the forms of a few more planetary defenders amidst a desperate firefight. He couldn’t help but to feel the adrenaline again. The surge of battle, and how sweetly it beckoned. The once-Rallymaster might temper it best he could right then, for he knew he was fighting for a different cause today than that of conquest. Still, he had a home to return to, and warriors alongside to ferry with him. This wasn’t the first time he had been caught in an ambush, with a rush to the spaceport—oh, how he remembered Manaan. Were the Covenant any crueler, Ryloth would see a fate much similar. How fortunate for them. Things were different, yet history loved to repeat itself.

“Onwards to the port!” His voice rang out with a sharpened decree, just as his hafted weapon clove down into the shoulder of another brave defender. Their struggling form was brought around as a shield for the hail of bolts that came his way moments thereafter, eliciting a sharp cry as they went lifeless. Carduul’s form veered into cover, casting aside the body in the sidestreet. “If they seek to provoke us, they shall have the battle they wish—one gladly obliged as we carve our way to freedom!”

 

[Rohrkell Vætir]

​

​

| Location | Lessu, Ryloth​

| Objective | Die a Glorious Death​

​

<"Still alive, my friends?"> A voice shouted out in Mandalorian. A figure broke the ranks, charging forward at full speed.​

​

Blaster bolts pinged off the runes etched into the Vætir's armor, glancing off at an angle as the Mandalorian warrior charged forward. No need for fancy jetpacks and flying, just raw, unbridled rage and adrenaline, as well as the utmost faith in his armor. He cried out in tongues foreign to the Twi'lek, leaving the covering fire to his companions. ​

​

The head of his hatchet hooked around the neck of a Twi'lek, pulling them closer as his sæx drove itself deep into their torso. The Twi'lek's eyes bulged as they felt the sharp blade pierce their body, an ugly gurgling sound coming from their throat as Rohrkell's T-Visor coldly stared them down, their reflection in their dying moments being the last thing they saw before they exhaled their last breath. ​

​

<"Shaaaa, Seems you won't be sending me to feast with the Old Gods. "> He muttered as he ripped the sæx from the Twi'lek's body, letting it fall as he clanged his blades together before he extended his arms out, shouting out in Mando'a. <"Your talks bored me anyways!"> Diplomacy outside of mediating duels of honor were not his thing anyway. The Twi'lek were a fiercely independent and hardy people, something that Rohrkell at the very least admired.​

​

He was glad that the talks fell short and they could do what they were born and raised to be - Warriors feared by the Galaxy. At least they would be able to test their steel against a people that had a spine.​

​

He beat his clenched fist, wielding his sæx against his armored chest, howling at the top of his lungs, <"Come on then! Who will be the one to best Rohrkell of Vætir?">​

​

[ Open ]​

​

 

[Kamon Hourn]

KAMON HOURN
ABOARD THE VOD’GAM | RYLOTH - HIGH ORBIT
TAG: [OPEN TO OTHER IRON HOWL MARINES]

THEME​

Klaxons sounded throughout the deep halls of the Vod’gam, with the entire ship going to battlestations. Gun crews who had previously been off-shift rushed to their stations, engineers to their maintenance halls, and pilots to the hangar bays.

And then, there was the mother-karking Iron Howl Marines.

Kamon Hourn was among the new recruits to the elite force of shock troops, and was among the throngs of marines who ran through the halls to the aft-hanger bay, which housed the Keldab Dropship complement aboard the star destroyer. Engines road to life within the hanger, which combined with the dinn of hundreds of voices shouting above them in the hopes of being heard over the other.

Kamon’s commander - a battlescarred, head-shorn man with a face chiseled from stone mentally took a count as his unit gathered together. “Our mission is clean and simple marines! Once the order is given to launch, we go in hard and fast - clear out a landing zone, and provide fire support as we extract our people.”

The squad of marines numbered about twenty in total, all of whom remained stoically silent as they gave their commander their undivided attention, who for his part pointed at the dropships and continued: “We’ll be divided across multiple gunships, four per craft to allow for enough fire support but space for personnel extraction. Weapons free is authorized, but only on actively belligerent targets. No civilian casualties under any circumstances. For you bastards who ‘have a hearing problem’-”

The commander smirked, and the marines all let out a slight chuckle.

“...if you see shots fired, take the threat down. The priority is getting in, but then getting the hell out.. Understood?!

“YES SIR!” came the collective response. The commander nodded, and returned with his own shout.

“VODE AN!”

“VODE AN!”


​

 

[Dominique Vexx]

Office of the Chancellor
Theed, Naboo

An otherwise ordinary day full of endless reports and orders to keep a thriving Republic healthy. Chancellor Dominique Vexx sat behind her desk with a smile as she conversed with one of the Republic's regional representatives. Every world had its own concerns, problems, and needs. Each of them sought to carve out their piece of the communal pie to address them. And perhaps more at times. Not that Dominique faulted them for it; she hailed from that side of the desk, after all. If a people were willing to sell their soul on the cheap, why wouldn't they accept such an offer? Fortunately, for the Republic, Dominique wasn't of the mind to sell out on the cheap, and so those seeking extra had to fight that much harder. People gnashed their teeth when someone like her got in office, but sometimes that could keep the machinations of Corpos from bleeding a people dry.

Dominique just had to make sure the idealists weren't the ones bleeding them dry instead.

While in the middle of a light-hearted discussion, the doors to the Chancellor's office parted and in darted an aide. "Chancellor, the Mandalorians--" they started excitedly, eyes wide and locked on where she sat.

"Stop," Dominique snapped in a voice that easily filled the room. The lilac glareshades seemed to grow fuller and conceal her eyes. With a brilliant smile, the Chancellor slowly rose to her feet. "My apologies, it seems something had come up. I'll have my assistant schedule another time for us to continue our conversation." The Denonite began to step out from behind her desk to escort her visitors to the door in no particular hurry.

There was some light banter and polite laughter as they crossed to the door. Once they were through Dominique reached over to trigger the door to slide shut in their wake. Another tap activated an extra privacy filter. The room was already warded against eavesdropping, but some things warranted further precautions.

Only then did the Chancellor turn her head in the direction of her aide. Only this time there was no smile. "Never burst into my office screaming information about another galactic faction unless we are being invaded. As I do not hear explosions..." A heavy exhale through her nostrils followed as Dominique turned to begin a casual stroll back toward her desk. "Report."

Anxiousness to the point of bursting with the need to talk grew cold beneath her stare. A parched throat seemed more from the threat of reprisal than the near-run that'd carried them there moments ago. "Yes, Chancellor. Of course, Chancellor. I, uh, that is Mandalorians are currently engaged with forces on the planet of Ryloth."

Behind her desk once more, Dominique regarded the bearer of the news for a moment in silence. "The Mandalorian Empire?" she asked with more calm than she felt. Things could not have possibly deteriorated so far. It had to be something else. Their work couldn't be for nothing.

"No, Chancellor," the young man drew closer to the other side of her desk, "they are not under the Empire's banner. They appear to be a cohesive group. Early reports imply more than a single clan, but information is limited at the moment."

More than a single, unaffiliated clan? A sharp nail tapped the surface of her desk even while she remain standing. "The Enclave. Close enough to it." Had to be. Further out than she would have expected to hear of them again, but perhaps the closest to the High Republic contact would occur. Without warning though? Under the Quartermaster they had been more akin to the Confederacy or even modern Mandalorian Empire, but with their passing they'd turned more militant. Had such inclinations remained after all these years?

"Contact the Ryloth Representative, Duncan Avaron. Coordinate with Strategic Command regarding our forces in and around Ryloth. Have a detachment of reserve forces dispatched presently to support them while information is being gathered." Seeing as the Empire had a vassal State nearby the Republic was far from defenseless in the Southern Reaches even if the bulk of their forces lay elsewhere. "Then contact the Mandalorian Empire's Ambassador, Sibylla Abrantes. We need to know their official position on these events." Since the warrior people held honor in such high esteem if they denied involvement then that would at least confirm the worst case scenario wasn't at play. "And send word to the Jedi Order. They may have people in the area."

"I'll also need contact with Rhys Gorne, Cynan Obaith, and his Majesty Veruna. Discretely. Anything their own networks can provide may prove useful in plotting the movements of these Mandalorians. Where they came from. Where they're headed." Dominique pursed her lips for a second. "And make certain our off-world forces priortize secure and stable communication with the Ryloth government. Any at the scene should prioritize the people of Ryloth." Both for the Republic's sake, but also for Duncan if he happened to be off world. Everyone needed to see the High Republic was fully mobilizing to protect its people and ensuring all necessary resources were available. This was a dangerous and unfortunate incident, but they could weather worse and make it through.

FYI Duncan Avaron | Sibylla Abrantes | Ala Quin | Rhys Gorne | Cynan Obaith | Aurelian Veruna
Responses are optional; Dominique can coordinate with your characters off-screen, but worth noting events unfolded.​

 

[Gavin Restur]

[Objective 1: Unleash Hell]
Equipment: Dual Blaster Pistols, Forcepike, Cycler Rifle, Rocket Boots, Rebreather + Tubes, Misc.
TAGS: Carduul Akahl (Soon.)

Man, does it feel good to be back...
​

And by "back", he means back on the battlefield. All of those months in hiding definitely took a toll on his adrenaline-seeking brain. The thrill of battle is a sensation like no other, and it's one that he, frankly, can't live without. It gets the blood pumping...and spilling. Preferably, his enemy's.

It was starting out to be just another day. But, that quickly proved not to be the case when a priority alert came through. Something about Ryloth, something about Mandalorians. Mandalorians on Ryloth? That's interesting. Mandalorians killing people on Ryloth? Wasn't the Mandalorian Empire not going to do those things? Oh, it isn't the Mandalorian Empire. Alright.

The man was quick to form up with the rest of the High Republic response, and book it for Ryloth. Information on what was happening was pretty limited, but the priority objectives were to get planet-side, establish a presence and connection with the government, and drive out the Mandalorian forces.

After jumping towards the planet with the rest of the Republic's clone and ordinary forces, it was clear that the Mandalorians had every intention of stopping Republic forces from getting anywhere near the planet, given how they had a blockade up. And while dogfighting in his shuttle was pretty fun, he wasn't an exceptional pilot. Nor was his ship anything to write home about. Because of this, he elected to leave matters up in space to the professionals. Whenever things in orbit heated up, and the battle in space went underway, that would be the opportunity he took to slip by the blockade. A single shuttle like his was bound to get through, especially when there were thousands of other shuttles in the area.

Once he had broken through the atmosphere, he made his way towards Lessu, and he could see the destruction even from afar. Blaster fire, explosions-- the whole ordeal. And he was looking forwards to getting right in the middle of it. With a few taps on his ship's console, he put it on an automated mode. It would fly around the area and do its best to combat any Mandalorian air support, but stay far enough to avoid any possible damage from the ground. But before that, it would get him relatively close to the ground and slowly cruise by the defender's side of the battle.

With a rise from his seat, he walked towards his ship's ramp, grasping his rifle and holstering it on his back. Pressing a button near the ramp, it would slowly lower the ramp, allowing him to step on it and glance outside. However, he'd quickly notice two approaching streaks of smoke approaching, as two Mandalorians with jetpacks quickly flew towards his shuttle. Whether it had been communicated from the ships in orbit that he was approaching, or if they merely saw the shuttle and elected to attack on their own, what ultimately mattered is that the two Mandalorians were currently blasting at him.

With a quick unholster of his blaster, he quickly let off a few bolts of yellow towards the pair. One of them had gotten struck in the chest and quickly crashed back towards the ground, but the other managed to avoid his bolts. With a press of a button on his wristpad, his own rocketboots quickly fired to life. Giving the man his own flight, as he barreled towards the remaining Mandalorian. Bolts whizzing by him, he would eventually crash into the Mandalorian, fighting each other's hands momentarily. Eventually, he'd manage to get his blaster around the other's back, firing a bolt directly into his jetpack. As the Mandalorian quickly spiraled in the air, he'd kick off them and fly himself towards the ground where the battle was happening, leaving only the explosion of the Mandalorian's jetpack behind him as he landed.

Rising to a stand, he would holster his blaster, before pressing on the comm device in his wristpad. "Gavin here, I've made it planet-side. It's a full battle goin' on down here. Whoever's lookin' to get down on the ground, double time it." Comms were turned off, and he hurried his way over, getting behind cover.

Let's get this party started.

 

[Mykel Dawson]

___________________________________________________________________​

The Mace Windu of the Spare Fleet, Eastern Republic Space

As he usually did between missions, Mykel was down in the hangers tinkering on his fighter. Amphrite stood stripped bare, outer panels removed to reveal the gutted skeletal fuselage beneath. Music filtered softly from his headset as he manned a robotic arm delicately installing new rack of micro-missile launchers. The Sith loved their drone swarms and 'spawn hordes, so he was adapting accordingly to craft one wicked superiority fighter.

Or not. The music cut off abruptly as Hecate sliced into his audio feed to deliver a message.

"Lightspire has issued a general alert! Mandalorian incursion reported on Ryloth!"

Mykel frowned, releasing the robotic arm's controls. "Mandalorians? I thought they played nice with the Republic these days?"

A newcomer to the High Republic, the refugee was still wrapping his head around the complicated interplay of the various powers of the galactic south, a veritable powder keg of clashing ideologies and interests.

Hectate filled him in on the details as he quickly cleaned up, his upgrade project abandoned. It was just his luck that his fighter was nearly completely disassembled - there was no way put it back together and respond to the alert in a timely manner. Oh well, time for a loaner.

"Inform the Jedi Order and the Republic that I'm outbound for Ryloth with a small QRF of Antarian Rangers. It's a straight shot there through the Mara Corridor so we'll arrive within the hour."

Not even bothering to kit up, he simply threw his equipment into a stealth shuttle as he boarded with the Rangers. There was plenty of time during transit to change, and to coordinate with the other friendly forces likely enroute to the defense of Ryloth.

Dominique Vexx , Gavin Restur​

 

[Vara Rasha]

RYLOTH | STREETS OF LESSU
ALLIES: Fellow Vode | Vren Rook | Yuri Maji | Fenn Stag | Kamon Hourn | Sahan Dragr | Rohrkell Vætir | Darion of Myrkr
ENEMIES: Tailheads | THR | Anyone Who Stands Before Me
GEAR: In Bio
​

Hostile Illusion​

It all happened so quickly.

One moment they were enroute to the Capitol building where their negotiations would take place, and in the next, a bone-rattling shockwave had ripped through her.

A sharp whistle mercilessly rattled around inside her head.

Breath slashed in and out through a snarl. The taste of copper, heavy in her mouth. Her boots clawed shallow pits into the dry earth as she powered forwards. Drops of blood trailed after her. Vision a blur underneath the cracked visor. Vara’s crimson glare snapped sharp from one corner to the other. Relief flared as she found the refuge she’d been hunting, bounding from cover to cover.

Blaster fire split the air from afar. Bolts hissed and whipped dangerously close to her buy’ce as Vara crashed against the primitive door, shoulder first.

The wood groaned in protest as it tore free by its hinges. The woman stumbled inside as a new wave of pain surged through her in an instant. A hand instinctively went to clutch at the wound, as if she could nurture away the pain with just touch alone. Crimson seeped between her digits as she glared at the chunk of metal lodged into her midriff. The bore of her rifle faced the floor after sweeping the empty room.

All clear.

The Harpy’s world spun, as darkness threatened to fill her vision. Her grasp around the rifle’s pistol grip began to slacken by the minute.

A snarl ripped from Vara. <”Karkin’-... Tailheads.”> Her gear rattled, the rifle shuffled aside in a hurry. Her deft hands produced a stimulant from a pouch. The table under her lamented in a creak as she sat down. The needle bit sharply into her neck, but relief followed in an instant. The color to her surroundings began to return as the potent cocktail of morphine, bacta and hemostatic agents entered the mutt’s bloodstream.

A mere bandaid solution to her most pressing problem.

A quick examination, and the woman concluded the matter in her mind. There wasn’t a thing she could do to remove the shrapnel. Not alone. And moreover, the Harpy knew full well it held back a deluge of her blood.

The only reason she hadn’t bled out yet.

<”Schuttas-..!”> Vara’s lips peeled back in a grimace as she forced herself back onto her feet. The buttstock softly clattered against her chestplate as the Foundling shouldered the blaster once more, her grasp firm. A hand went to her throat mic as she stalked towards the wide open doorway. <”Any station, Vara,”> The Harpy spoke over their secure net on the ground, hoping to raise someone over the chaos they found themselves in. The rifle snapped to brace onto the door frame, methodically pieing the corner amidst her brief sitrep.

Her gaze instantly snapped to a distant silhouette. The outline of a weapon clear. The Paranaor spat a burst of red blaster bolts. <”Injured, but still in the fight!”> The man cut down like wheat under a scythe. His scream melted into the background. The militiamen’s response came sharp.

The Harpy slinked back into cover just in time, a bolt snapped past where she just was. <”Moving to regroup. Over!”> Her grasp returned to clamp the handguard. Incisively, she slipped the barrel around the doorframe when they relented.

The rifle barked. The volume of fire quickly surpassed that of the militiamen. Their gun reports dulled, forced to seek shelter. Quick to turn the lull into an opportunity, the Foundling moved. Swift in her step, she thrust herself back into the cauldron of fire, bounding towards where the distant blasterfire came the loudest and most vicious.

She knew she’d find her kin amidst the thick of it.​

 

[Darion of Myrkr]

OBJ I.
TAGS: OPEN || | Vren Rook Yuri Maji Fenn Stag Kamon Hourn Sahan Dragr Rohrkell Vætir Vara Rasha

Darion wiped the beskad on the dead Twi'lek's clothes and turned it in his hand. He watched the blade and smiled. It was always good to use it, as rare as it was these days, he told himself. There was something about cutting down enemies with a blade, feeling the sturdiness of their bones resist the bite as it cut through flesh and sinew, that made him truly feel like walking on the edge between life and death. Truly feel the heat of battle.

Truly feel alive.

He slid the beskad back into the sheath across his shoulders and took the sniper rifle from the fallen marksman. He settled himself into the foxhole. From there, he watched his vode fight. He heard orders shouted in Mando'a through the noise of the fight. Above it all he heard Rohrkell's challenging cry.

Darion smiled faintly and lowered his head behind the scope. Some said snipers were cowards. He had always thought that was an easy thing to say and a foolish one. War did not reward pride in narrow tools.

He breathed in. He breathed out. Then he began to kill the other snipers, one after another, taking the enemy's eyes from them with each steady pull of the trigger.

Over comms he said, "I have overwatch on higher ground," and after a moment he added, "More enemies are coming. You should move."

 

[Zavar Kelborn]

BLOOD, ICE, AND STEEL - CHAPTER 1
ABOARD THE KAR’TA KELBORN | RYLOTH ORBIT
TAG: Kalantha | Kjartan Hammer-Hand | Open
GEAR: in bio

WELCOME TO THE JUNGLE​

The viewport of the Kar'ta Kelborn offered a panoramic view of the cold, silent violence of space, but for Zavar Kelborn, the shifting streaks of turbolaser fire and the erratic dance of starfighters looked like a ghost.

His mind kept drifting back to the red dust of Ryloth. It had been years since the Crusade, yet the memory of the mud clogging his filters and the sound of his father's last breath over the comms remained as sharp as a fresh weld. Ryloth had been a graveyard for his family's peace, and every time he stepped into a combat zone, he felt the phantom weight of that world's gravity pulling at his boots.

Standing on the bridge of an assault frigate was a different kind of burden. Zavar shifted his weight, his Beskar’gam feeling uncharacteristically heavy in the artificial gravity. He is an Alor now, the head of his clan. But here, amidst the hum of shield generators and the frantic chatter of pit-officers, he felt like a fraud.

He was a Si’kayha. His life had been measured in breach-charges, close-quarter takedowns, and the silence of a successful extraction. He was a creature of the dirt and the shadows, not a master of orbital vectors and broadside maneuvers.

<Steady the port stabilizers,> a gruff voice commanded from the captain's chair.

Zavar didn't move. He remained a shadow behind his father’s right hand man, the man who actually knew how to breathe life into the Kar'ta Kelborn. His hands moved over the controls with a grace Zavar hadn't yet earned. For now, the Alor was a student of the stars, shadowing the high admiral and learning that commanding a ship required a patience that his warrior's heart still resisted.

His gaze flickered to the tactical holomap, specifically the blinking icons of the allies holding the other end of the blockade. Kalantha and the Black Sun.

The presence of the Syndicate sat in his gut like bad tihaar. The Iron Covenant was built on endurance, honor, and the preservation of a legacy. The Black Sun was built on greed, exploitation, and the shifting sands of profit. They were a shadow within a shadow, and Zavar didn't trust the help they offered. A predator like the Black Sun didn't lend a hand unless they intended to keep whatever they touched.

"Covenant Command, this is High Commander Kalantha Berenko of the Crucible of Fate, flagship of the Crimson Fleet. We're in position over Ryloth—consider our support a gift from the Underlord."

<Keep a close eye on the Sun's telemetry,> Zavar pointed, his voice a low, metallic rasp that didn't hide his disdain. He didn't look at the pit-officers, his eyes fixed on the atmospheric curve of Ryloth below.

Moments later, a channel was opened. <“High Commander Berenko, this is Chieftain Kjartan Bralor, Covenant Command. We acknowledge your friendly intention and offer of support. Be advised we are at a high alert status due to developments on the ground. Our first priority is securing the exfiltration of our delegation; the locals appear unready for peaceful negotiations, so we shall commence with the aggressive variety.>”

He paused, an edge to his voice beneath a faint tone of humour. <“We propose keeping this channel open for coordination. How copy?”?>

<High Commander Berenko, Chieftain Bralor, this is High Admiral Harding Kelborn of the Kar'ta Kelborn,> The High Admiral responded to the open comms, his tone professional yet pointedly firm. <We are operating within a High Republic sensor net. Let's keep the chatter to tactical essentials. High Commander Berenko, ensure your formation remains tight on the current vector; we can't afford any drift while the Republic's eyes are on us.>​

 

[Kalantha]

IRON DUST​

“We copy loud and clear, Chieftain,” Kalantha acknowledged. She nodded to her comms officer, who was now patching another hail from the Covenant forces. As the second voice spoke, Kalantha listened silently, all the while issuing commands to hold tight on their current vector—no drift, no gaps, no quarter.

“Understood, High Admiral. It’s our pleasure.”

The Battle Dragon and its escorts were more than enough to challenge an emergency response fleet from the Republic, but the massive profile of Black Sun’s battleship would be there if a more formidable force arrived. The Republic tasted an Ecliptic-pattern’s might over Wielu, a battle in which the syndicate saw no major naval casualties. All three thousand meters of the Lucrehulk was manned by bloodthirsty pirates, Hapan support crews, slaves, and patchwork droids; unorthodox, but effective.

“Holding position,” an officer announced.

“Good.” Kalantha gazed at Ryloth through the viewport with both hands folded neatly behind her back. “Limit comms, focus on protecting the ground, and have shuttles on standby if additional ships are needed for evacuation.”

Tags: Kjartan Hammer-Hand | Zavar Kelborn | OPEN​

 

[Yuri Maji]

RYLOTH | LESSU
ALLIES: COV | Vara Rasha | Carduul Akahl | Fenn Stag | Darion of Myrkr | Sahan Dragr | Rohrkell Vætir
ENEMIES: TWI’LEKS
ENGAGING: Open
GEAR: In bio

HORSEPOWER​

The moment Yuri heard that they were heading to Ryloth, he volunteered to head planetside with the rest of the diplomatic group. But his reasons were far more personal. Sure, making peace and fixing relations with an old ally was a worthy goal, he knew people like him and Minerva Fhirdiad yearned for moments of peace such as this.

But there was something else as well.

Lessu was the location of a fateful day, when two chosen sisters had to decide on which family they would fight for. His mother gave her life trying to protect her people… and in the process, she sacrificed one family for the other. Baby was also not his normal self. The Basilisk was difficult, writhing and anxious to fly. Any attempts Yuri made to calm him down were met with one binary phrase, cold and mechanical.

:: Promise. ::

He elected to leave Baby on the cruiser in hopes of mitigating the risk of a rogue Basilisk on the loose. He had no clue what the droid meant and he wasn’t anxious to find out, either.

He broke off from the main entourage to explore the city. His Ryl was very rusty, but he knew enough to ask for directions. To his surprise, people kept retreating from him or tried to antagonize him. As far as he knew, the group had descended under a white flag.

Clearly things didn’t go according to plan.

A massive explosion split the air, and within moments he had people shooting at him while others tried to pin him down.

Tossing a body off him, Yuri scrambled to his feet and fired a burst into another Twi’lek coming at him with a blade. ”Every karkin’ time!” He snarled under his helmet, blasting into the air to get out of the killzone. A volley of blasterfire knocked him off balance and sent him tumbling into a nearby building. He quickly hid behind a low wall and reloaded his pistols. ”Can’t ever have one damn gig without shootin’.” He continued to grumble to himself as he peeked over the wall and fired at a small group of planetary troops pursuing him. They quickly scrambled for cover, allowing him to take off once again.

”Oh, I come in peace. I’m here to pay respects. Nah! Kark you, here’s a shot to the head.” He swooped down to evade more aerial fire and hid on a rooftop. ”Karkin’ tailheads… this is why you’re all slaves!” He screamed at nobody in particular.

<”Any station, Vara,”>

<”Injured, but still in the fight!”>

<”Moving to regroup. Over!”>

Golden eyes snapped to the corner of his HUD, looking for a ping on his proximity. He needed to get back to the rest of the group. :: <All stations, this is Maji. Ping location, I got no clue where you lot are. Vara, I’ll regroup with you. Stay where you are. > :: He called out over the radio before leaping to another rooftop.

”Karkin’ lovely, just karkin’ lovely.” He continued to grumble to himself.

 

[Duncan Avaron]

Ryloth

Dominique Vexx | Sibylla Abrantes | Ala Quin | Rhys Gorne | Cynan Obaith | Aurelian Veruna
​

Duncan Avaron stood amid the controlled chaos of the command concourse, his presence a steady anchor as reports flowed in from every direction. He did not raise his voice. He did not need to. Officers and soldiers alike moved with urgency simply from the sharp focus in his eyes and the certainty in his posture.

He issued orders in clean succession, assigning ground personnel to layered defensive rings around the capital and the spaceport approaches. Infantry units were redeployed to hardened choke points. Anti armor emplacements were brought online and repositioned to cover primary avenues of advance. Shield generators were reinforced and power rerouted to ensure civilian districts remained protected first and foremost.

Ignorance, Duncan thought grimly, was indeed paramount among their enemies.

They had struck assuming panic. Assuming confusion. Assuming that Ryloth would fold beneath the memory of old wounds and sudden violence. Instead they would find discipline, preparation, and resolve sharpened by generations of survival.

He turned his attention skyward as Navy personnel reported in. Patrol wings were scrambled and set into overlapping flight patterns, establishing air superiority over Lessu and the surrounding regions.

Duncan clasped his hands behind his back as a tactical display map showed before him. Enemy movements were erratic. Aggressive and wasteful. That told him everything he needed to know.

"This is not an army," he said quietly to his adjutant. "It is a mob with armor and old grudges."

His gaze hardened.

"They will pay for every step they take."

Orders continued to flow outward, precise and unrelenting. Medical teams were staged. Evacuation corridors were secured. Civil defense units were reinforced with Republic troopers. Ryloth would not stand alone, and it would not bleed without answer.

Whatever this menace believed themselves to be, they had made one fatal mistake.

They had underestimated the people they came for.

 

[Seva Beroya]

VORNSKR
ORBIT | RYLOTH
TAG: Kjartan Hammer-Hand | Zavar Kelborn | Kalantha | Duncan Avaron |
GEAR: In Bio
SHIP: Huntress (100/100)

FEAR INOCULUM​

She had spent so much time abroad that she had forgotten how the Enclave does things.

Granted, this was not the Enclave, but some of the people were the same. Always tried to seek the smarter way, only for nations to turn tail on them. Seva didn't have too much issues with it, as long as Force Users weren't included in that sentiment. Only thing was that some of her own clan were down there when the comms had come through that shit had gone south.

<Vornskr, how copy?>

Jet's comms pulled her from her thoughts.
<We'll send support.> she answered her 2IC and fellow Beroya.
<Hurry!> Blaster fire could be heard in the background.

Green eyes snapped toward the commander helping her on the bridge - Aran Awaud.
"Deploy what Basilisks we can spare to cover those on the ground and don't let them hold back. Anyone shooting at our Vode get sent to Haran." she told him.
"Yes, Alor." he said before issuing the orders and commands that are to be issued to the battle droids.

Before long, several squadrons of Howlers hurtled toward the surface.

Only to be met by several shields that had been put into place by the supposed Republic garrison on the planet.

"Alor." Aran said looking up from the messages from the droids. "They met a shield."
The ex-Crusader's eyes flashed. "They're four squadrons. Let them drop seismics on that shield collectively to get in there. No shield can take that." Seva said, her voice going cold. No one fucks with her Vode and prevents them to help them. "Let them the taste the Iron they provoked."
A sinister smile spread on Aran's face before he issued the command.

After a minute, an immense explosion's light could be seen into orbit as the collective squadrons' seismics hit the shield. It didn't take too long for the shield to give under the immense barrage of power. That's when all hell broke loose as the Howlers howled through the opening they created, the sound deafening on the ground and most probably rupturing those eardrums without helmeted protection as the ions sounded through the sky towards their comrades on the ground in unison.

Seva registered the comms conversation between her Vode and the newcomers in the system.

"That's a Battle Dragon, Alor." Alora Beroya said from the scanners.
"Now that's a nice addition to this show." Seva said. No amount of great talk was going to simply erase her vengeful nature. There was a reason why she had backed the Crusaders with her Clan and ships. "We'll surely need it soon. Now, keep ready all armaments and shields."

On the surface, the Beroya Basilisks have reached their Vode.

One half of them engaged the little bit of Republic air support that had been deployed from the garrison with the vehemence that the droids possessed. Particle turrets whirred and golden bolts hit the Republic air superiority along with their laser cannons. True to their fashion, the droids didn't hold back as some of them grabbed onto the starfighters deployed and either attempting to crunch their Impervium and Beskar claws through the Glassteel or flinging them off course.

The other contingent spread out, following the IFF transponders of Mandalorian allies to provide them with whatever firepower or bulk they needed, including Jet and the rest of the retinue guard.​

 

[Livia Cadera]

​

Location: In space
Objective: engage the republic
Gear: Beskar'gam, Skeleton, shotgun, Ship x4
Tags: OPEN Seva Beroya Kalantha Kjartan Hammer-Hand Duncan Avaron Zavar Kelborn

Four nearly invisible Cadera scorpions traveled through the inky blackness of space as Livia watched the much larger huntress above her. The larger ship deployed heavy firepower and ships to take out a shield that was stopping her vod, she loved basilisks, wonderful pieces of technology and would provide excellent air support for those on the ground. She could provide that support too, but she had other plans for today, and she smirked to herself.

When she left imperial space she had come on a mercenary contract, her small fighters enough for the missions at hand. But after she and her vod dedicated themselves the the covenant , being joined by numerous others that wished to move away from what some of them saw as the more passive elements of the Clan, she found herself wanting a little something, a ship, something to use as a base. She had no intention of indebting herself to the covenant to gain one. So here she was, some might call it selfish, but by doing this she would not only protect her allies but make herself more useful to them. When the republic reacted to the attack on Ryloth she would pounce and seize herself a prize. Was she a pirate now? That was a very interesting turn to say the least.

---Assassin 1 this is Assassin 3, picking something up on long range, incoming hyperdrive---

Livia nodded and looked at the readout on her own systems, something large was arriving at high speed. A flash of light far out to her starboard heralded the arrival of a republic torpedo cruiser it probably just happened to be the closest heavy warship in the vicinity, its captain was in for a suprise. Although she had better act fast as it quickly opened fire on the mandalorians.

---Gear up, contact in two minutes--- she sent the message to her allies as her ship followed by the other three all banked starboard and engaged their slam drives to cut down the distance before it could become too much of a nuisance, or before the mandalorians could damage it too much for her.