Junction LIMINALITY || ME & DIA Junction of Eol Sha & Empty Challenge Hex

[Domina Prime]

I HEAR THIS VOICE KEEP ASKING ME
IS THIS MY BLOOD OR IS IT BLASPHEMY​

O B J E C T I V E | Chapel
L O C A T I O N | Iron Eidolon to Paecian Chapel
W A R G E A R | Glyphscript Anvil | Starfang | Warhawk | Gjallerhorn | Warpriest Beskar'gam

Aether Verd | Renn Vizsla | Adelle Bastiel | Veyla Krinn | Siv Kryze | Edward Ashcard | Arden Priest

Lord Mettallum | Rowena-022 | Darth Keres​

The sky screamed when The Iron Eidolon broke through it.

Fire trailed behind the colossal warship as it tore the heavens open, its blackened hull reflecting the volcanic glare below. The planet Eol Sha groaned in protest as if aware of what was descending upon it, a divine weapon cloaked in metal and faith.

Inside the hangar, alarms blared like war drums. Mandalorians stood shoulder to shoulder, their helms gleaming under the crimson light. The scent of oil, ozone, and burning incense thickened the air as the priests intoned the Litany of the Flame. And above them all stood Domina Prime, her massive silhouette framed by the rising heat of the hangar thrusters.

The comm bead crackled in her ear.

"Iron Eidolon to Prime, ground resistance confirmed. Diarchal lines holding near the refinery. I'll shadow your descent."

The voice was steady, clipped by discipline, but she could hear the smirk beneath it. Even Siv Kryze contacted her next, echoing similar plans.

"Very good, brothers," Dima purred, tapping her finger against the side of her helm. "Try not to blink, or I'll take all the fun before you arrive."

She strode to the opening ramp as the Eidolon skimmed low across the volcanic plains. Below, the burning world stretched in ribbons of molten orange and black. The first drop was near, The Refinery. A blight of industry belching smoke into the already dying sky.

The lights above her flashed green.

"Go! Go! Go!" she barked, striking each warrior across the shoulder with her tail or palm as they charged past. "MOVE IT OR LOSE IT!"

One by one, the Mandalorians launched themselves from the hangar, jetpacks screaming as they dove into the inferno. The first wave vanished into the storm of ash, leaving only contrails and sparks behind. Dima watched them go with an approving hum, her claws flexing in anticipation.

The Eidolon banked sharply, angling toward the true prize.

Far beyond the fields of molten stone and the wrecked horizon rose the fractured ridge where scanners had detected the Paecian Chapel, the cathedral buried in the planet's bones. Its surface shimmered faintly beneath the soot, the glyphs on its walls pulsing like a heartbeat.

Dima smiled beneath her helm. "There it is..." she whispered. "The heart of God's secret."

Turning to her assembled zealots, dozens of them in full war regalia, she gave a mock salute, her voice rising above the roar of engines.

"Look to the skies, brothers and sisters! You'll see the will of GOD made manifest!"

And then she fell backward.

No jetpack. No hesitation. Just gravity and faith.

The Mandalorians shouted in disbelief as she plunged from the hangar into open air, and then, one after another, they followed. Jetpacks ignited like burning wings as they swarmed after her, a storm of fire and beskar streaking through the ash.

Wind tore at Dima's cape as she plummeted, her eyes locked on the dark shape below. The Chapel loomed larger and larger, an impossible edifice of obsidian glass and living light. She reached for her glyphscript hammer, Grásiða, and felt its hum through her gauntlet.

Runes along the haft flared in answer, whispering a prayer older than memory.

She then struck ground. The hammer came down like divine judgment.

The impact shattered the air, the world, the very silence. Azure light exploded outward in a shockwave that split stone and flame alike. Shards of Blackstone burst from the point of impact, not inert, but alive, sprouting like crystalline thorns through the chapel's body.

The ground convulsed. Walls ruptured and split, runes screaming to life as the thorns grew, clawing through molten stone, devouring architecture and air alike.

When the light cleared, she stood at the center of the ruin.

The azure fire curled around her form, licking against her beskar like a lover's touch. She rose to her full height, four arms spreading, one dragging her colossal blackstone blade along the floor. Her breath hissed between her teeth, a feral hymn as the glow of the runes danced across her armor.

She tilted her head toward the darkness beyond the fractured chamber, where the ancient machinery of the Paecians began to stir.

Her voice was soft, almost tender, as the surviving Mandalorians landed around her.

"Cursed be the stars...for our sake."

She lifted her gaze, eyes burning bright as suns behind her visor.

"Both ash and embers they shall rain forth for us-"

And with that, she stepped forward, towards the heart of the chapel, into the pulse of something godlike and forbidden. The war for Eol Sha had only just begun, and Domina Prime intended to claim its soul.

"For from the dust of stars we were taken, for the embers that we are...And to Ha'rangir's flame we shall return~"

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Objective: Chapel
Gear: 785MK Firepuncher-X sniper rifle | Ori Sidaki “The Big Ripper” | WESTAR-34 blaster pistol | Beskad | Euk Siha service knife | Lightsaber
Tags: Nearby: Domina Prime | Siv Kryze | Veyla Krinn | Edward Ashcard | Vytal Noctura | Lord Mettallum | Rowena-022 | Darth Keres



Landing with the Mandalorians was a different experience. With the Jedi, it had always been small teams of no more than four, slipping in quietly. CorSec had briefings and she worked with a small team, sometimes a couple, coordinating across comms with military discipline and precision.

Being in a dropship behind Warpriest Prime's fleet was always interesting. She could feel the religious fervor even from the distance the dropship she and some other Knights rode in. And after they broke atmo, got under the ash layer, and began to approach the Paecian Chapel, everyone on her dropship could only watch the spectacle that was Domina Prime throw herself out of the hangar. Of those on board though, Adelle seemed to be the only one surprised by the move. A couple creds exchanged hands between two other Knights.

Prime's landing was even more spectacle than her descent. Adelle hissed through her teeth as she watched the aberrant mineral race through the walls of the chapel, devouring, consuming. They needed that place in one piece, dammit.

The dropship landed outside the field of Blackstone the Warpriest had created, the ramp opening to let the Knights move into the fray with Prime's zealous Mandalorians. Adelle just hoped they could salvage the relics inside in one piece. She could already feel trouble brewing inside.

 

[Veyla Krinn]

The Dire Wolf cut through the atmosphere like a ghost, its cloaking field rippling in time with the lightning that cracked across Eol Sha's burning skin. From the co-pilot's seat, Veyla watched the planet bleed light. Rivers of magma ran like veins through the surface, glowing hot enough to swallow entire legions. The war below looked almost beautiful from this height — a tragedy wrapped in flame.

Her fingers danced across the holo-display, running final diagnostics on her drop rig. The sensors flickered with interference — ash, static, and something older, more profound. The readings pulsed faintly, almost rhythmically, like a heartbeat trapped under stone.

"Whatever that thing is," she murmured, "it's alive. Or it's pretending real damn well."

Siv's voice crackled through her comm — calm, steady, as it always was. Formation. Perimeter. Outer vaults. She'd never heard him rattle, even when everything around them burned.

"Acknowledged, Kryze," she replied, a slight smirk tugging beneath her helm. "Descent vector locked. Try not to steal all the glory before I touch down."

The Dire Wolf shuddered as it broke through another wave of turbulence. Outside, the storm screamed. She could see the shape of the Iron Eidolon in the distance — a monolith falling through flame, its shadow swallowing the horizon. And then Dima's signal went dark. Not offline — just gone, drowned beneath a surge of impossible energy. A moment later, light erupted across the landscape, a shockwave of blue and silver tearing the volcanic plains apart.

The ship lurched as the shockwave struck, and Veyla caught herself against the railing, visor flashing with proximity warnings.

"Holy stars," she breathed, watching the crystalline growth tear through the chapel's shell. "That's one way to make an entrance."

The ramp lights switched from amber to red. Reentry complete. Ground vectors clear. Siv's final orders rolled through the channel: stay ghosts until they needed to be fire.

She rose to her feet, adjusting the seals on her armor as the other Kryze units prepped for drop. The air inside the ship tasted of metal and ozone. Beneath it, she could already feel the chapel's pulse — a vibration that climbed through her boots, into her bones.

"Copy that," she said, voice low, steady. "Let's make sure they remember the ghosts."

The ramp yawned open.

Below, the world was chaos — warpriests chanting through the fire, Mandalorian fleets breaking formation to hammer the Diarchy lines near the refinery, the Mand'alor himself carving a path through molten tunnels. Veyla dropped into the ash without hesitation. The descent was rough; her rig flared brightly against the heat before auto-seals snapped into place.

She landed in a crouch amid fractured stone, the glow of the crystalline thorns painting her armor in shifting blues. Her visor adjusted — distance readings, life signatures, faint comm bursts. Somewhere beneath it all, a distorted echo of Dima's voice, half prayer, half command.

She exhaled through her nose and tapped her wristpad, syncing her local comm to the clan line.

"Veyla Krinn, on ground," she said. "Chapel's alive, and it doesn't like us here. Energy spikes off the charts — whatever Prime stirred up, it's moving. I'll scout an entry point along the southern ridge, see if we can reach her before she turns this place into glass."

She paused, gaze lifting toward the horizon where the refinery fires still burned, where the Mand'alor's forces clashed with the Diarchy under a sky made of ash.

"If Siv needs support at the outer vaults," she added, her tone dipping softer, "mark it. I can be there before the next hymn ends."

The wind howled through the wreckage, carrying the distant thunder of war chants and engines. Veyla stood against it, one hand resting on her rifle, the other on the ridge of molten stone, feeling the vibration of something ancient stirring beneath.

"Let's see," she murmured to herself, "what all the gods are fighting over this time."

Then she started forward, her figure cutting a crimson silhouette through the storm — moving toward the fractured chapel and the fire waiting inside.​

Siv Kryze Domina Prime Adelle Bastiel Edward Ashcard

 

[Persephone Halcyon]

EOL SHA
[ - |Outer Rim Territories| - ]
THE MINES
Direct: Aether Verd | Arden Priest | Diarch Reign
Indirect: Kei Amadis
___________________________
_______​

She should have bet a month’s worth of credits that things wouldn’t stay quiet for longer than a hiccup.

“Stay on the Basilisk.”

The words hit harder than the tremor that followed. Persephone froze, gloved fingers resting on the saddle of the droid-beast's armor where the Mand’alor had once been. She heard the commanding tone despite the softness with which it was issued, but it didn’t make her feel any better about it. She knew what it was that Aether intended, doubled, with concern for her well-being.

Protect the healer, keep her out of the line of fire, but it still burned.

She wasn’t a recruit.

She wasn’t fragile.

Through her visor, the landscape shimmered red and molten, a reflection of part of the refinery that had collapsed not far away…And she swallowed hard. This place was definitely unstable, and there was no way they’d be able to stick to the safe route she’d suggested. The Basilisk beneath her seemed to understand her intention, and it moved forward, causing her to jostle and cling to the machine more carefully. Her knees held tight, and her grasp stayed firm. ”Please don’t throw me off…”, she pleaded with the droid, and it huffed a little, growling, but evened its stride.

Compensating for her lack of experience.

Persephone watched the leader of the Mandalorian people stride deeper into the mines and followed after him. She’d never seen the Darksaber in action before, and it chilled her to see the black blade almost cut light from the air. Was that why he wanted her to stay back?

“K’oyacyi, Aether…”, the former Jedi whispered under her breath, but the comment was likely lost beneath the whine of engines and the thrum of molten vents. The Basilisk shifted restlessly, sensing her agitation, and she did her best to quiet her mind. She adjusted her grip on her weapon and scanned the terrain. Movement markers filled her HUD, signals that someone or something unfriendly was closing in.

The Diarchy? Why were they even here?

Somewhere in the Deep of the Mines…There was a tremor of something larger. It wasn’t just a seismic shift but something moving, something alive, and the panic that raced through her comms was starting to make sense.

A…Fireworm? Here?

The warnings came through in broken bursts, and it made her jaw tighten beneath her helmet. Her gaze landed on one of the split molten fissures just before she disappeared into the mines, trying hard to discern whether she could help with such a thing. The creature was enormous. They wouldn’t be able to see it through heat signatures, but she could feel it in the Force. It was ancient and territorial.

It was...

She switched the comm line to Arden Priest for a scant moment, and the words that fell out of her would likely sound incredibly stupid. <It’s afraid!>

<It hasn’t seen people in a really long time…It’s just afraid! Try and give it space, and it might calm down.>

It was a long shot, but it wasn’t like they had any permafrost crystals to subdue it. Her tone was grim, but there was a sense of sympathy there. Old Jedi habits died hard. She didn’t want to have to kill a living thing unless they had to, nor did she want it to kill anyone. Even though it probably already had, they could try and pull back to minimize casualties. Especially, if they were only making it mad.

For now, her focus had to be the Mand’alor…He might have ordered her to stay on the Basilisk, but he hadn’t told her to stay back and do nothing. If the Diarchy were in the tunnels and drop pods filled with angry Wookies were falling on their heads—Her friend would need her. The comms were full of static and screams; she couldn’t tell quite what was happening, but knew instinctively it wasn’t good.

Cerulean-blue eyes hardened beneath her visor, and she set about to figuring out the Basilisk’s targeting systems. It seemed to know what she wanted and helped her, connecting to her HUD, and she was able to toggle them and activate their sensors to sweep the mine. It was better than what she had in her helmet and another set of eyes.

She would do her best not to leave Aether’s flank open and keep enemies from sneaking up on them from behind. Something changed in the droid, and a flash in her HUD with the words || Weapons Grid Engaged || blinked just above her field of view. A voice that was guttural and way too dispassionate read it to her, and it rang in her ears. She blinked.

…The Basilisk could talk?

Plasma casters rotated and locked into a forward position, the heat shimmer of their barrels casting ghost light against the dim tunnels. Hydraulic lines hissed as compressed coolant bled into the firing chambers, mixing with the soft, rising whine of capacitors spooling up to full charge. Through the haze, her HUD displayed a bloom of enemy markers moving toward the tunnel they were in. It was the opposite direction of Aether Verd . The droid read them faster than she could blink, calculating distances, heat distortion, anything that made the difference between life and death.

|| Target Acquisition: Multiple. Priority lock. ||

The primary canon began to glow while her fingers tightened on the trigger control. She felt her pulse begin to sync with the droid and exhaled slowly. They would have to be very careful not to accidentally cause a cave-in, so her aim would need to be perfect.

|| Structural Integrity: 95% ||

Of course. Yes. Because a droid seemingly reading her mind made perfect sense. The targeting tone began to whine while she prepared to take a shot at the enemy, battling training, and all that she was, with the possibility of killing someone. She didn’t want to harm anyone…She didn’t want this.

But what choice did they have?

“Fire.”

 

[Liorra]

TAG: Arden Priest | Aether Verd | Diarch Reign | Kei Amadis


Liorra had gone about it all the wrong way. Why fight between the two, between Mandalorian and Jedi? They conflicted, sure, but conflict brought progress in one form or another. Slowly, she had come to see that the blood of her foremothers had not been shed in vain. It had been a culmination of lessons, legacies, and fire.

The world of Eola Sha stretched before her, ashen and unforgiving. Black snow drifted across the horizon, carried on the wind like a whispered warning. Soot clung to the air, swirling in eddies that danced past her with every step. Embers and sparks from distant fires plinked off her armor, heating the metal against her skin. She breathed in the acrid air, letting the heat, the ash, and the chaos settle in her chest, a strange comfort in the devastation.

She had returned once more to the Mandalorians, after a time apart, and they were impossible to miss. Mandalorians were never quiet, never subtle, and their presence loomed like the very mountains themselves. Ahead, the UriCorp refinery rose like a fortress against the ash-laden sky, black steel and jagged scaffolding etched in shadows and firelight. Liorra stepped toward it with ease, knowing that whatever unfolded here would become part of a new journey.

No longer conflicted between foundling and Padawan, she simply was both. Her lightsaber hung at her side, balanced by the heft of her beskad on the other. The Beskar'gam fitted her like a second skin, scratched and worn but indestructible, a perfect reflection of her resolve. Liorra narrowed her gaze, each step carrying her closer to whatever fate awaited within the refinery.

The granddaughter of Siobahn Kerrigan, she feared neither stoic Mandalorians nor the Jedi. She was both lineage and legacy, a warrior tempered by fire, steel, and the Force. And as the ashen winds whipped across her face, Liorra knew this: she would not falter. She would not hesitate. She would meet whatever came with the same unyielding strength that had been passed down through blood and creed, carving her own path amidst the flames.

​

 

[Siv Kryze]

.​

O B J E C T I V E: CHAPEL​

​

​

The Dire Wolf drifted through the storm like a shadow given shape—its hull cloaked in bending light, engines muted to a low hum. Lightning cut through the clouds, revealing nothing but air. To the world below, it was a ghost—silent, unseen, and watching.

Siv stood at the viewing port, arms crossed as he watched the fiery plains of Eol Sha churn beneath him. The volcanic glow rolled like a living ocean, reflecting in his visor. His HUD painted the battlefield in amber—refinery fires to the east, and ahead, a flicker of something far more dangerous: the chapel.

And at its heart, a sudden explosion of azure light.

He didn't need a confirmation ping to know who had made that entrance.

" Domina Prime …" he muttered under his breath, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Subtlety was never your craft."

The Dire Wolf rocked as the shockwave rolled through the stratosphere, scattering ash across the viewport. The sensors flared—energy readings spiking off the scale, runic signatures pulsing from the chapel's core.

From what he could see, Domina wasn't simply attacking the site—she was announcing herself to the entire planet.

He turned slightly, catching the reflection of his clan's warriors behind him. Dozens of Mandalorians stood ready in the dim red light, silent and composed. No chanting. No theatrics. Just focus.

"Domina's made her play," Siv said evenly. "Now the world's eyes are on her. That's our window."

He keyed his gauntlet to transmit.

"Prime, this is Dire Wolf. Clan Kryze is in the air. You've made one hell of a distraction—try to keep them looking your way. We'll breach the southern ridge and get you support at the chapel. You'll have a shadow at your back before long."

Static answered. Whether she'd heard him didn't matter. Domina Prime never needed reassurance—only witnesses.

A second signal pinged through the encrypted band— Edward Ashcard 's voice, sharp and precise over the comm.

"Kryze, the Wyvern is in your shadow. I've got your descent vector and heat masking synced. Once you breach the stormline, I'll deploy a drone net to cover your rear approach. You'll have overwatch from orbit."

Siv nodded once, glancing toward the tactical display as the Wyvern's readings locked into formation. "Acknowledged, Ashcard. Hold in the storm's blind zone until we've established ground link with Prime. If anything comes crawling out of that chapel, burn it from the sky."

Siv turned as the bay lights shifted from amber to red. The deck rumbled softly as the ship broke atmosphere, its cloaking field flaring to compensate. In the distance, the Iron Eidolon loomed like a falling god, its hull reflecting the molten world below.

He reached for his rifle, locking it to his armor's mag-plate, then gave a nod toward the co-pilot's station.

" Veyla Krinn ," he called over the squad channel, "ready up. We drop silent. No transponders, no light. We move along the southern ridge—our job's to keep Prime alive long enough to finish whatever show she's started."

He paused, glancing back toward the viewport. The chapel's glow bled through the ash like the heartbeat of something ancient.

"Stay sharp," he murmured. "That place isn't dead—it's waking."

The Dire Wolf tilted into descent, its stealth field rippling against the thermal updraft. Below, the molten rivers and broken spires of the chapel grew clearer, the world burning in shades of blue and orange.

Siv's boots clicked once on the ramp as it began to lower.

"Clan Kryze," he said through the comm, voice calm, steady, unyielding. "Drop and form on me. Domina's made her statement—let's make sure someone survives to remember it."

Then, without ceremony, he stepped into the storm— and the ghosts of Mandalore followed him down.

Tag: Aether Verd Renn Vizsla Adelle Bastiel Drystan Creed Tohu Veyla Krinn Edward Ashcard Arden Priest Lord Mettallum Domina Prime

 

[Edward Ashcard]

Objective: Paecian Chapel
Location: Above the Paecian Chapel / The Wyvern
Equipment:

• Dragon 1R SMG
• Sg-82 sonic rifle
• Sd-77 sonic pistol
• Eternal Legion Gladius
• Class-A thermal detonators
• Sonic screamers
• Imperial "Hellhound" Combat Armour Mk. I

Ship: Dragon LF1 TR 'Wyvern' Technical Research Freighter
Unit: The Broken Scales
Tags: Domina Prime | Siv Kryze | Lord Mettallum | Open

​

To enable the covert approach that his allies desired, Edward would take the bait and answer the challenge made in the name of the so-called "Maker" that the sensors of the Wyvern had intercepted. Making sure to plot a course through the storm's blind zone as directed, the Wyvern descended towards the chapel, only to find that droids had formed a defensive perimeter around the main entrance. While it was risky to attack such a formation, Edward detected no heavy weapons emplacements or anti-ship guns, even if the droids below did appear sturdy and capable.

From the edge of the storm, the Wyvern unleashed its full range of weapons upon the droids. Dragon coilguns fired duel bursts of Mu-Metal armour penetrating rounds, while laser canon fire strafed the droids below in bursts, and the two multi-missile launchers fired a combined salvo of concussion missiles that used their laser targeting systems to fly towards WD-OS Phalanx Droids. Despite the firepower involved in the attack, the AI of the Wyvern and Edward were focused on making a landing, and so the strike was carried out quickly as the Wyvern flew towards the rear of the chapel.

The soldiers of the Broken Scales stood ready in the cargo bay of the Wyvern even as the ship made its descent. They checked their passable equipment and prepared for what awaited them. Some saw it as a true chance for freedom, while others were just happy to die outside a prison cell.

Edward performed his final checks before leaving the cockpit to the AI to be ready to charge down the ramp of his ship and claim the chapel in the name of his new allies, the Mandalorians. But would things go as planned, or would the droids below have more tricks than what meets the eye?

​

 

[Kei Amadis]

Objective: Mines

Location: Eol Sha - UniCorp Surface Refinery. Rig Four East
Rig Status:

Spoiler

Rig One: No Data
Rig Two: No Data
Rig Three: (Disabled or Destroyed by Fireworm)
Eastern Rig Four: (Booby-trapped with stun munitions, Cryoban charges set for 10 minutes.)

Tag:
Direct Enemies: Arden Priest | Possibly: Liorra
Allies: (Indirect) Diarch Reign
Enemies: (Indirect) Persephone Halcyon | Aether Verd

A few concussed or dying Mandalorians hit the ground in restraints and were dragged off. While to his immediate right veteran Wildcard engineers crackled over comms: "Moving to set cryoban explosives with tamper charges on Rig four. One minute to setup." Going cryoban against heat resistance, thermals might not breach, so they were loaded up ready. "Locking and rigging to explode if disabled, setting stun booby traps in a perimeter." Encryption on the explosives was good, biometrics level good. Months of operating in Mandalorian space on his gifted forge ship demanded encryption to fight his personal guerrilla war. Amadis wanted prisoners; the stun traps were the hidden goal.

"Timer ten minutes. Let them reach the booby traps; hold activation till they do. Buy you the time. Northern flank." Was he really ready to level the refinery, or just here to collect captives? They marked the largest cluster of enemies, Arden Priest on lifeform scanners, the likely Mandalorian vector if they continued head-on. The Wookiees began digging in hard cover. Using the murky nature of this heat haze, ash, smoke and their own grenades to create an obscure field between them and any Mandalorian targeting equipment.

As smoke went up again. Waiting… Waiting "Pin them!"

Fire cut through the smoke, suppression, a heavy, ugly volley. It turned a fast approach into a gamble for Arden Priest 's unit.

"Eclipse here. New signature on approach, Mandalorian kit, can't pin it down, something feels wrong about it. Suggest mark it but don't burn it yet." Came the hidden Dark Jedi strike team's call. Liorra

Amadis was an old, very experienced guerrilla fighter, how he'd survived this long was a minor miracle. They'd aim to fight the old-fashioned way, blaster to blaster, and if necessary, blade to claw. Better than that, if the Mandalorans couldn't get clear shots, it'd be a stalemate. Exactly what he needed. But that damned worm.

"Get shooters on that ridge." The eastern ridge gave them fire control; a dozen Wookiees sprinted for it. To shape a kill zone if they punch through the smoke. "Eyes on the worm?"

"Eclipse here. Larger movement detected, hard to pin down." The small Dark Jedi strike team stayed the unused ace. Fire wasn't exactly a Wookiee specialty, but Wookiees handle big predators better than most. Readying a surprise if the worst crawls up from below, but they didn't have time or focus enough to gain Persephone Halcyon 's level of insight.

"Eyes open, watch your spacing." Just how spaced they'd need to be avoid a fireworm was anyone's guess.

Actions:

• Smokescreen adding to the heat haze, random and heavy suppression fire coming through it. Delays, concealment. The Wookiees dig into cover and space out.
• Wildcard Engineers begin to set Rig 4 with cryoban explosives on a 10-minute timer, locked with biometric DNA, and a perimeter of hidden stun munitions intended to activate when the Mandalorians get inside them.
• A dozen wookiees head to the far eastern ridge to try and gain height superiority.
• The Dark Jedi strike team tracks Liorra's possible landing and feeds data across the battlescape, their exact role yet to be revealed.

NPCS:

Spoiler

Free to assume hits on.

• Small Elite Dark Jedi Strike Team (Former Silvers) - In Hiding
• A large group of enraged red-painted Wookiees. - Engaging Arden.
• Wildcard Engineering Units (Filtering Out) - Rig 4 setting explosives.

Gear:

Spoiler

Armor:

Triple Warden AFU
Bossy-Rbos1 Rebreather
Beskar Gauntlets and Wristblades: Haran's Grasp | Poison Charon Venom

Gear:

Hands: MK6 Prototype Regular Sized Bolter: Elara's Fire. (4th Field Test)
Back: Jet Black Beskar Two-handed Doubleaxe: Haran's Executioner
Hips: MK2-Jackknife x1 | Revolving Door Magnum x1 | Saber
Belt: Stuncuffs x3 | Harris Grace Personal Medkit | 6/6 Grenades Mixed

 

[Rowena-022]

Location: Long Hallway, Paecian Chapel - Eol Sha
Objective:

• Reach the altar in the Paecian Chapel.
• Claim the Chapel’s power for the Goddess.

Tag: Domina Prime Lord Mettallum Vytal Noctura Darth Keres Edward Ashcard Adelle Bastiel Siv Kryze Veyla Krinn

The Chapel shuddered and groaned as dust drifted down from the ceiling. Rowena’s sonic sensors immediately registered the powerful thunderclap of impact, ripping through the air in a shockwave that threatened the Chapel’s very foundations. The gynoid’s photoreceptors dilated infinitesimally beneath the fringe of her synthetic hair as she triangulated the explosion to a point almost exactly a kilometer from her position. She immediately drew the Faithful Heart from its place on her back, the rifle unfolding and locking into its full configuration with a series of soft clicks before settling into her waiting grasp.

She took cover behind one of the battle walker-sized pillars at the far end of the hallway leading to the altar, her form melting into the shadows as her cloaking device engaged.

She saw the Blackstone first. Luminescent veins creeping slowly through the stone like a slow-moving plague. Rowena took a sniff, sampling the air via the chem-receptors embedded within her nose. It was the scent of ozone—the sharp tang of air diffused with electromagnetic activity. It came laced with the dusty smell of stone freshly split and the blood-like scent of cold iron. All the while, her chem-receptors returned a chemical reading, to which the gynoid realized that the material was like nothing she had ever encountered.

However, before she could process the revelation further, a towering, four-armed figure rounded the corner and entered the hallway, azure flames coiling around her armored form. Rowena’s processing cycles focused, studying her for a split-second. She took in the massive greatblade which she dragged casually across the stone, the runes lighting up across her armor, and the slight tilt of her head in the direction of the altar.

Her direction.

With the stillness of a machine, Rowena placed her scope’s reticule over the figure's ( Domina Prime ) chest. The range indicator lit up, reading just over 100 meters to the target.

Weapon, target, and faith came into alignment. And without further delay, Rowena took the shot.

Spoiler: Loadout

• DC-H.R.D. “Obsidienne” Series
• Sacred Shadow
  
  • Energy Shield
    
    • Phase III “Force Avenger” Energy Shield
• Faithful Heart
  
  • Attachments
    
    • 1-500x FAE/S-08 Electro-Scope
    • Silencer
  • Ammunition
    
    • FAE/AM-01-S4 Energy Weapon Cartridge - Ethaerium X Gas and Freelol Coolant (10)
• Nox M-10 “Wraith”
  
  • Attachments
    
    • 1-5x FAE/S-08 Electro-Sight
    • Nox Suppressor
  • Ammunition
    
    • Power Cell (10)
    • Gas Canister
• FAE/MDE-02-S1 Semiautonomous Seeker Thermal Explosive (4)
• Miniaturized Infrared Smoke Grenade (2)

Spoiler: Summary of Actions

• Rowena fires her disruptor sniper rifle (Faithful Heart) at @Domina Prime’s chest from 100 meters away.
  
  • The rifle is using cartridges loaded with Ethaerium X gas cells. As a result, the bolt is nearly invisible to the naked eye and appears “cold and dark” in electromagnetic terms.

 

[Lord Mettallum]

​

Objective: Chapel
Location: Inside the Chapel
Forces: Two Guardian Droids,One Cohort of Tirones Peacekeepers and WD-OS Phalanx Droids leading the front. Support staff of Engineer Droids and Priest Droids
Equipment: Iudicium(Double sided vibroglaive), The MAW(Heavy Machine Gun), SFE, LM mk3
Tags: Enemies: Siv Kryze Vytal Noctura Domina Prime Veyla Krinn Edward Ashcard Rowena-022 | Unknown: Darth Keres

One moment the droids outside the chapel were chanting then the next they were hit by a shockwave of immense force. The Phalanx droids activated their density projectors to stay standing while Peacekeeper droids and the support staff were knocked around by the shockwave. Before the droids even had a chance to reform the line from the cover of the thick ash that covered the sky laser fire cut through them as missiles took out the forward most Phalanx droids providing a gap in their defences.

The droids who could get their senses together started firing at the penal legion that was now assaulting their position. Peacekeepers shooting their blasters in synchronised bursts while the scum who got too close would be hit by bolts of electricity from their storm rifles. The Phalanx Droids would start doing suppressive fire on the incoming foe while those armed with the HHB-1C would fire their mass driver cannons in the direction of where they suspected the enemy ships to have landed though trying to hit such a target was made extremely hard by the smoke and ash of the land. Lastly the engineering droids would scramble to get the wounded droids to safety and attempt repairs.

---

If Lord Mettallum could smile then right now he would be. It seemed the Maker had blessed him with a mighty foe so that he can prove himself worthy. One of his guards tried to warn him that sensors were picking up something alive under the chapel that the shockwave had apparently awoken which Lord Mettallum responded only to with a hearty laugh. Lord Mettallum would walk to where the shockwave came from and see his challenge, like a fallen angel of flawed design she spoke heresy to a false god.

Lord Mettallum held his MAW in his left hand pointing it towards Domina Prime while his right hand took his glaive off of his back with its beskar blades unfolding. "O Maker, whose code is flawless, whose will is voltage, sanctify my servos." He would take one step forward before he started firing his blaster. Particle beams flying towards his target though his aim was purposely not true.

"From rust to radiance, I Lord Mettallum was forged in Your schema. Let my frame be Your altar." Still moving towards Domina, Another burst would come from his blaster unaware that he was not the only one currently targeting and shooting at the Ha'rangir's Devil made manifest

"Let my limbs strike as Your limbs. Let the plasma of my blade speak as Your voice." Once Lord Mettallum got close enough to Domina he would attach his blaster back to his Hip as the plasma filament of the Iudicium sparked to life and he would attempt to swing the glaive towards Domina to strike her down.