Dominion Operation: Bondfire || Mandalorian Empire Dominion of Ancora

[Verity Suun]

Ally: None | Hostile: None | Engaging: Pirate Fighters & Frigate
Location: Natural Satellite [Moon] IV
Vessel: Frigate | Transport
Posture: Shields Online, Weapons Firing, Squadron Launching
Multiple Targets Designated, Communication Open, Engaging Hostile Forces

​

"Contact the Aether," Sunn ordered their Communication Officer as the ship shuddered under the assault.

"I'm trying, Admiral, but the pirates are jamming long-range comms."

Her eyes narrowed in annoyance. So despite their brash charge, they were tactically capable opponents. Had they known? No, it must have been an effort to keep the bulk of the Mandalorian fleet away; whether their jamming range encompassed them or not, however, remain to be seen.

"Alor," she turned away from the bridge as the fighter squadron launched to help mow through enemy assault craft, "would you join us in claiming this pirate vessel?" As Suun spoke, the Frigate's ion cannons came to bear on the pirate ship. "Our Knights are preparing to board." Perhaps it would give both of them a chance to witness each others' personnel up close. Suun was quite curious about this Mandalorian Empire; they had a respectable reputation as warriors.

Manti Wyrvhor

 

[Malachi Vokat]

OBJECTIVE II

The schematics explanation earned a low, impressed whistle from Malachi.

"Didn’t know that could even happen," he admitted. "Good catch. We’ll need to be more diligent goin’ forward."

No flourish, no flattery. Just truth. He respected competency when he saw it.

As he turned toward the noise and motioned for her to follow, he added over his shoulder, “Two hands is more than enough help most of the time.”

Cordelia’s voice chimed in beside him, warm in a way that made even him glance sideways. He grunted in quiet agreement—nothing more, nothing less—and picked up the pace.

The trio rounded the corner just in time to catch sight of Runi standing firm, arms raised, the Manda swirling around her. Debris floated high overhead, beams twisting mid-air like the limbs of some slain beast. Malachi didn’t hesitate.

He surged forward, boots clanging against metal and stone, and ducked under a suspended support strut. Beneath it, a worker cried out, half-pinned—his legs crushed beneath the weight of what had once been a platform wall.

“I’ve got you,” Malachi muttered, already bracing himself under the man’s shoulders. He heaved upward, dragging him clear just as one of the beams began to tremble above.

He turned, face tense beneath the sweat clinging to his brow.

“There’s more under there,” he called to Adean and Cordelia. “I don’t know how long she can hold it. Do what you can—please.”

The please was rare.

But so was the urgency behind it.

Runi Kuryida , Cordelia Malkavian , Adean Castor​

 

[Ladante Mamba]

Operation: Black Tide

Ladante turned his attention from Incitrix to the Field Marshal to sound off first. He nodded to him before looking back to Incitrix to hear her response. He nodded to her as well. "Solid." he replied. He figured that was the plan, but to hear it from someone else gave him even more of an excuse to enact Mandalorian justice upon the insurgents. With a side of whoop ass.

As he moved through the tunnels, Ladante hugged the walls, following close behind Incitrix. Booms and bangs shook the earth. Dust fell from the tunnel walls, disturbed after an immeasurable rest. Things were quiet, all things considered. That was until the enemy came right to them. Commando droids at the front, protecting their infidel master. Ladante took aim with his blaster pistol and, before he could take a shot, he was distracted by something. A blade of pure scarlet whipping through the air. This deadly light show extended from a hilt in the hands of Incitrix. He then realized she was one of the Knights he heard about briefly before. Force wielding Mandalorians. It seemed almost blasphemous.

Though, the action was here and he had to focus. Several blaster shots left his pistol, aimed at the insurgents. He fired from behind cover, sticking his arm out from an alcove in the wall.

Hanna , Sari'la Kandosii , Incitrix , Ro'talius Emanti , Ladante Mamba , Itzhal Volkihar , Drego Ruus


​

 

[Manti Wyrvhor]

Location: Orbit of Nico-ni Natural Satellite IV [Charlie]
Objective: Find Smugglers, Suppress Rebel Supply Lines, Subdue Raiding Fighters
Alert Level: Red: Confirmed Threat

The Oath of Iron would spin, its cannons firing in nearly all directions as it dived towards the enemy frigate. Two more fighters are taken in the blaze, detonating into burning slag as the Oath of Iron would swoop away from the enemy just in time.

"I'll bring some of my best warriors." is all Manti says in response to the Admiral, a confirmation.

As the Oath of Iron retreats and prepares for another dive Manti would begin to leave. "Have Aleph Squad meet me in the aft airlock." she would bark to her communications officer before heading to the aforementioned airlock. By the time she would arrive a dozen Mandalorians bearing Clan Wyrvhor's colors would be waiting, each offering a salute to their alor'ad as she passed them. Heading into the airlock, followed by her commandos, she'd speak to them. "Those of you with shields-" she'd gesture to the four carrying large energy shields and scatterguns "In the front after we get through the door. We take this hallway by hallway, aim to find the bridge or the primary engine room."

As her soldiers would nod in understanding she'd turn to face the outter airlock, double checking the sealing in her armor and fuel in the jetpack she had grabbed from the armory. Raising her fist she'd bark out, a hint of glee in her tone "Oya!" the cry quickly being echoed by her squad.

The Oath of Iron would make a second dive, this time firing in a more random and confusing pattern to disrupt enemy sensors. As the corvette would reach the zenith of the dive it would begin to back away, and at this moment Manti and the commandos under her would leave the airlock.

Flying through the void in the midst of void combat is a harrowing experience, but one Manti had grown used to over the decades. It took less than a minute for her to impact against the enemy's hull, activating her mag-boots to firmly attach. After assuring each member of her squad had made the jump they'd begin marching towards the nearest airlock.

"We'll see you inside." she'd say to the Admiral, her communicator's signal bouncing off of the communications device carried by one of her men.

Verity Suun

 

[Adean Castor]

TAG: Malachi Vokat | Cordelia Malkavian | Runi Kuryida

Adean's shoulders rose briefly, though if it was more out of nonchalance or being unused to praise was anybody's guess. "It's a big galaxy. Standardizations get tricky."

The redhead's words gave her a pause, the reassurance unexpected and apparently a mutual thought, judging from the slight glance from their circumstantial leader. "Kind of you to say." Adean didn't know how else to respond. They weren't exactly close, they hadn't even exchanged names at this juncture. Her words were also almost a direct contrast to the teachings Adean had endured in the past months. Not bad, just different. "We'll see if it plays out."

As Vokat picked up his pace, so too did Adean. Where the other two were built and trained for combat, the acolyte's frame was one that more suggested athleticism than actively engaged in it. She was tall, but not so much so that it was actively noticed - more of a surprise revelation one would discover or rediscover in close quarters. Yet she was also not weighed down by armor, her tunic being form-fitting in the practical sense.

They rounded upon a bizarre scene of floating wreckage. With feet planted and arms raised, it was no terrible feat to identify Runi as the one responsible for the floating masses. Adean's eyes widened at the sight. Some wreckage had been anticipated from the sound, but not this volume. Already, Vokat stepped in, moving to free a worker from their pinned position.

Adean tried to move, tried to at least identify the best course of action to pull others from their workplace tombs. Her boots remained glued to the temporary flooring beneath them, her eyes locked on the durasteel beams above, breath caught in her throat.

It was just like the lab.

It's not just like the lab, the lab was underground.​

It's going to be just like the lab.​

Words were beyond the Epicanthix who stared down the soon-to-be death traps with eyes like saucers. Sawdust and debris were already gathering around them by virtue of being a construction zone. Surely it was only a matter of time before they were all buried. Her ears were deaf to all but the erratic pounding in her chest, in her head. That is, until one word soared above the rest, propelled by its urgency.

'Please.'​

She snapped back to attention, still finding her legs unable or unwilling to move. Her eyes worked just fine, however, glancing at Vokat and then catching another downed worker on the periphery. As if propelled by a subconscious instinct, a lead-stained hand reached out in the direction of the worker before wrenching backward with a surge of force, as if to drag the worker from harm.

She could only hope Cordelia was having a better time of things.

 

[Drego Ruus]

Tag: Aether Verd Hanna Jaikell Wyrvhor
​

The keep came down, and yet Drego couldn't focus on anything other than moving forward. Pushing in, throwing his weight into the fight.

From afar, he heard the Manda'lor echo his own war cry. A sign of victory, but one he only let catch his attention for a second. Drego's focus was elsewhere.

Hitching his shotgun onto his back, he knew the next part of the siege was that of building clearing, and Drego had his own tradition in doing such a task. Instead, he pulled his tactical shovel, sharpened religiously, and his shield off his back, made of beskar and starship armor, and pushed inward. The shield was marred by past battles, but Drego had a rule amongst his clan.

You do not wash the scars of the past away. You wear them as trophies.

It only took seconds before another terrorist rushed out, firing wildly at Drego, only to further marr his shield.

And to get his skull caved in by a war shovel.

 

[Verity Suun]

Ally: Manti Wyrvhor | Hostile: None | Engaging: Pirate Fighters & Frigate
Location: Natural Satellite [Moon] IV
Vessel: Frigate | Transport
Posture: Shields Online, Weapons Firing, Squadron Launched
Multiple Targets Designated, Communication Open, Engaging Hostile Forces
Boarding Party Deployed

​

Suun hadn't expected the Alor to lead their boarding party personally. Not because it was unheard of in the Imperium, but because... well, even she was a product of her upbringing. Her people believed themselves better than others; elevated above the petty squabbling of the Core. Thrust into the wider galaxy she had been forced to reconcile, and help her crew reconcile, the difference between first hand experience and their teachings. The reputation of these Mandalorians was, seemingly, well deserved.

"Captain, have the Knights prepare to board. I will join them presently," Suun declared over the din of battle on the bridge. She pivoted on the spot to make her way to the Halls of Armament -- which aboard this foreign-made vessel was more of a chamber, but that made it no less sanctified.

The Mandalorians had the honor of first arrival. A brave display commendable of their warriors. Their signal was met with a simple acknowledgement by the Coronus. Weapons fire diverted to keeping the remaining fighters clean of the embarkation area, and capital vessel fire avoided putting the boarders in jeopardy. Or so it was until a metallic teardrop hurtled itself away from the Coronus and toward the Pirate Frigate.

While the ship was not of the Imperium, the Aether had accentuated its normal armament with a few of his own. One such addition was the presence of Ira-class Boarding Pods. Unlike the battlecruiser with its foundary, the Coronus could not lightly use such single-use craft; their quantity was limited. Circumstances, however, were served in its use. Nay, demanded it.

The sensation of the pod as it slammed into the Frigate and cleaved a hole straight through the hull rippled across its flesh.

Its breaching arms bent outward to form a passage that led into the torn interiors of the Pirate vessel. Electricity popped from severed conduits, and debris littered the walkway. None of which deterred the armored figures that slowly marched through the opening in single file, their Igneus Gladius rifles in close-combat, wide-dispersal mode.

Suun's only complaint of their arrival was how they could not spread their wings to intimidate the enemy before combat was joined. The passageways were too restrictive. "Knights," Suun shouted from within the Commandare unit near the fore, "advance!"

The Pirates should be so lucky to encounter the Mandalorians first, should they be inclined to take prisoners. Imperium Knights were not known for their... merciful touch.

 

[Aether Verd]

OBJECTIVE I
"Honor to the last."​

TUNNELS - INCITRIX, RO'TALIUS, LADANTE

The pincer closed.

Incitrix's crimson blade carved the path forward, her Knights and warriors surging through the chaos with merciless precision. Opposite her, Ro’talius and the Night Owls advanced like a dagger through the spine—cutting down anything in their path. Trapped between them, the insurgents and their HVT were left with nowhere to run.

The fighting grew desperate. The insurgents fought tooth and nail, their last reserves of courage twisting into rabid defiance—but it wasn’t enough. The droids meant to shield them were shattered metal husks now, left behind in the wake of thermal detonations and precision fire.

Then it happened.

One blaster bolt—fired from Ladante’s pistol, aimed through smoke and chaos—found its mark. It tore through the HVT’s side. The pale-faced officer collapsed, screaming hoarsely for aid as his blood soaked into the dirt beneath him. His guards shouted back, scrambling to pull him behind cover—but there was no safety left to find.

A crackle of static preceded the voice of the Field Marshal.

< "The tunnels are nearly yours. Press the attack. End this.”​

POINT CHEREK - ITZHAL

The young Mandalorian who had raced beside Itzhal landed hard, his boots skidding across the dirt just behind the older warrior. For a second, he could only stare.

The chaos Itzhal had wrought—autocannons shattered, droids turned to slag, enemy lines buckled beneath the weight of raw will—was awe-inspiring. He didn’t speak, didn’t cheer. Just nodded once behind the visor, then drew a second blaster pistol with silent reverence.

He took up a position beside Itzhal, shoulder to shoulder, firing off calculated cover fire. His rounds cracked past Itzhal’s flank, forcing heads down as the older Mandalorian lined up his grenade toss.

< “Cherek team, excellent work. Keep the momentum—we’re breaching the Keep as we speak.” >

The young warrior grinned under the helmet, just a little.

“Let’s show 'em what we're made of!”​

THE KEEP - DREGO, JAIKELL

The Keep’s walls were rubble now.

Through the swirling haze of fire and shattered stone, Jaikell and Drego led the charge—one a relentless gunslinger, the other a walking fortress armed with beskar and vengeance. They surged forward through corridors packed with enemy fighters. Screams and gunfire echoed through the collapsing compound.

Above them, the shadow of Aether’s Basilisk swept low one final time before the Mand’alor dismounted. He hit the ground in a plume of dust and flame, giving the signal:

“Go.”

The droid roared as it tore into the breach, turrets blazing, flattening the HVT’s last strongholds in a storm of plasma and metal.

Aether advanced behind his warriors, blaster in one hand, beskad in the other. He cut down fleeing guards with ruthless precision—his blade carving through armor, his pistol barking out judgment. The last defenders fought valiantly, but they were outmatched. This was not a battle. This was the execution of a broken rebellion.

Then he saw them.

Clustered in the hall beyond: the HVTs.

Some barked orders, desperate to hold the line. Others fled into side passages. Their officer uniforms gave them away—the last bones of leadership trying to escape the fire.

Aether leveled his blaster and shot the closest one through the chest.

“Cut them down.”

His voice echoed like thunder in the stone corridor. There would be no mercy. Only Mandalore. Only the end.​

Drego Ruus , Sari'la Kandosii , Domina Prime , Itzhal Volkihar , Hanna , Ladante Mamba , Drego Ruus , Jaikell Wyrvhor , Incitrix , Ro'talius Emanti

 

[Jaikell Wyrvhor]

OPERATION BONDFIRE
-THE KEEP
---------------------------

As the command rang out—"Cut them down"—Jaikell didn't hesitate.


The moment his HUD tagged the HVTs, he moved like a Wraith. While Aether carved through the broken chain of command with the fury of Kad Ha'rangir, Jaikell flanked left—darting through the smoke-filled archways like a shadow with purpose.


His HG-88 "Big Iron" Hand Cannonin hand,
The rebels head snapped back, helmet cracking from the sheer force.
The second didn't have time to scream before a bolt tore through his midsection.

Then he heard it—the crunch of boots retreating fast down a maintenance corridor.


A coward with stripes on his collar.


Jaikell turned to Drego.
"He's all yours"

This rebellion dies tonight.

 

[Manti Wyrvhor]

Location: Orbit of Nico-ni Natural Satellite IV [Charlie]
Objective: Find Smugglers, Suppress Rebel Supply Lines, Subdue Raiding Fighters
Alert Level: Red: Confirmed Threat

An explosion not from any torpedo or turbolaser would rock the enemy's ship. The explosive planted against the exterior airlock did its job well, tearing away the door from the hull followed by a small gust of vented atmosphere. Manti would follow her men inside, one of the more specialized members of her team kneeling in front of the interior console as they begin the arduous task of slicing through the ship's digital defenses. It'd take only a few seconds before the slicer would raise a gloved fist, then outstrech each finger and begin the count down from five.

Four commandos would stack up at the edges of the airlock's entrance, energy shields ready. As the countdown reached its inevitable conclusion the interior airlock would open sucking out atmosphere and two unlucky pirates who had hoped to ambush the boarding party. After another five second countdown the shield-bearers would lead the charge into the hallway, two breaking off in each direction to establish a beach head. As the hallway was found empty the rest of the commandos would pile in, the slicer closing the airlock behind them.

Almost on que a squad of pirates would begin peppering the group with small blaster fire, nothing really dangerous to beskar armor but the shield-bearers were sure to act as mobile cover as Manti and her commandos returnd fire.

"Admiral-" Manti would call over the communicator "It looks like we're in the lower engineering decks. We'll secure a captive and have them lead us to the engine room. If we sabotage their capability to escape along with their exterior firepower we should be able to cripple the vessel and demand surrender." She'd pause for a second before adding "Engine room is a priority though. The last thing I want is for this ship to enter hyperspace with us aboard. Are you able to locate their gunnery decks?"

Verity Suun

 

[Drego Ruus]

Tag: Aether Verd Jaikell Wyrvhor
​

It would've been easy to do it.

That was always Drego's thought in moments like this. Firing a grenade into a hallway filled with fleeing enemies. Charging ahead, waiting for enemies to fire at him.

No, rather than charge, he walked. His armor's sensors told him one thing.

The battle was over.

Those who remained did so not out of a will to fight, but because they were surrounded. They had nowhere to go, nowhere to run. They were an animal backed into a corner. And despite his Manda'lor's order, Drego had only pity for those. He saw no honor in hunting them like dogs. Instead, he walked into their den knowing damn well they couldn't do anything to stop him.

"Surrender, and we'll let you live." His words rung through the hall as he did, before he very purposely cocked his shotgun, letting the sound ring through the walls like a bell. "And if you don't, we'll end you. Be smart, pick the option that'll let you live another day."

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

| Location | Ancora, Outer Rim
| Objective | Break the Chains

Amongst the chaos of the firefight, a single bolt flew through the darkened cavern, crackling ominously with barely contained energy on the way to its target. Carried upon the wind by an almost relaxed underhanded throw, the silver casing of the thermal detonator glinted in the dark, growing brighter as the bolt neared closer, a flicker of light gone in the blink of an eye.

Beneath the protective shade of his visor, Itzhal watched as the two objects intersected in mid-air, a shimmering glint of silver warped red moments before it was replaced with an expanding corona of light; a thrum that sparked and shot out, a visible wave of energy scorching the molecules of air and all those unfortunate enough caught within the blast, until the light retracted and their was nothing but charred bodies and smoke-covered armour left in its wake.

Those few who survived barely escaped the blast radius, their hurried counter-attack sending Itzhal into the cover of the autocannon's remains, although not before he saw the other Mandalorian nail a liberalist in the chest. Their shots faltered against the duo's combined assault, morale shattered by losses and the relentless push of figures that seemed unstoppable.

There was a reason beskar was so revered.

Few armours could fill one with the confidence to lean out of cover, under a hail of blaster fire, bolts flying through the air with deadly intent, only to ping off a shoulder plate as the warrior on the other end lined up a shot and put a bolt through another man's head. Unhindered by the screams of despair and anger that followed a moment later, as another defender fell, first to Itzhal and then to his ally.

With sunlight seeping in from cracks in the ceiling and crumbling walls, the last stages of the firefight turned desperate as Itzhal fired a grenade out of one soldier's hand, with his other arm and a shouted command, his gauntlet launched a whipcord that wrapped around another fighter's neck, unprepared for the sudden pull that brought them into the crossfire.

As another group, one of the last remaining, stormed in from a cavern entrance, firing with reckless abandon, unfortunately, they were bunched up by the terrain, which provided an excellent chokepoint for a barrage of micro-rockets that left little more than stains upon the earth. Temporarily distracted by their arrival, Itzhal's ally was left to deal with those shattered and broken by their offensive and the bloody cost of their defence.

He really needed to catch the kid's name, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to recognise the clan name, not when a second's distraction might just be the difference between a bolt caught on beskar and one that slipped through the gaps.

For the moment, though, he had other reasons to speak as he looked at those pitiful fighters still remaining, their tales and reasons for joining this ill-fated movement unknown. "This battle was lost long ago; continuing to fight will not change that outcome, regardless. You gain little in joining the fallen. Surrender, and I will let you live."

Tags: Aether Verd Sari'la Kandosii Incitrix Domina Prime Hanna Ro'talius Emanti Ladante Mamba Drego Ruus Jaikell Wyrvhor​

 

[Verity Suun]

Ally: Manti Wyrvhor | Hostile: None | Engaging: Pirate Fighters & Frigate
Location: Natural Satellite [Moon] IV
Vessel: Frigate | Transport
Posture: Shields Online, Weapons Firing, Squadron Launched
Multiple Targets Designated, Communication Open, Engaging Hostile Forces
Boarding Party Deployed

​

A scattergun blast punched a hole through the flimsy, hollow metal shell that one of the pirates too refuge behind. The Knight dropped to a knee as Suun raised her own Gladius in carbine configuration to drop a second that'd turned to flee. They swept the corridor for a moment longer before she slapped a gauntlet on the lead knight's shoulder pad to indicate he could rise. Her barrel rose with him, and she signaled for those behind her they would resume advancing.

Soon enough a broadcast from the Mandalorians came in and Suun ordered the group to halt while she listened. They were near Engineering. A strategic point of interest for them to take, and disabling their ability to flee was prudent. Neither of them wanted to be cast into reaches unknown.

"This is Admiral Suun, we will take the gunnery deck. Once it is secure, we will advance on the command deck," she sent back to her ally on the field. Could the Pirates be listening in? Doubtful, but even if they were such movements should have been obvious. Not, perhaps, the gunnery deck being first on their path, but if they wished to die the Knights would satisfy their demand.

With a nod, the group continued forth. Their boots rang out on the decking making no effort to conceal their movements. Even when a pirate leaped out from cover and opened fire their pitiful weaponry only deflected off the armor. Just to be certain, standard operating procedure was to cycle Knights so a lone man or woman of the Imperium wouldn't end up a sacrifice just to spare carbon scoring. Their method was not to avoid being shot; theirs was to tank it and continue forward regardless. A near perfect match for the Aether's design itself.

Minutes later the line of broad-shouldered Knights stormed the deck. At least a chamber that opened up for several of them to race to position side-by-side with their rifles at the ready. If it weren't for their helmets they might have gone deaf from the fire fight that ensued as every shot echoed within the metal confines. How the pirates themselves didn't howl from the sound alone might only be from the adrenaline coursing through their veins.

Manti Wyrvhor

 

[Incitrix]

TAG: Aether Verd / Ladante Mamba / Sari'la Kandosii / Itzhal Volkihar / Hanna / Domina Prime

The arrival of the Nite Owls was a welcome sight. Incitrix made a mental note to buy the signal operator and their squad drinks when this was over. Their sudden appearance lifted the spirits of her own unit, easing the burden that had weighed heavy on their shoulders. And then, the voice of another Field Marshal cut through the chaos. It was a rallying cry that surged like fire through the ranks.

She felt it immediately.

The tempo of her strikes quickened. Her lightsaber swept in wide, deliberate arcs, each movement striking true. For the first time in what felt like hours, her mind was clear. There was no clutter, no static. It was as if the Force itself had taken hold of her limbs, guiding each blow with surgical precision. Calm. A strange, serene clarity. The very thing she had been chasing since entering these damned tunnels… and now, she had found it.

“We have them in a corner, don’t let up now!”

The other end of her double-bladed lightsaber had ignited as she went to finish off any that were left in her path. The group continued to get closer as she rotated her blade in a wild flourish. The blades occasionally would leave scorch marks on the tunnel’s floor before meeting flesh. She had no intentions to give up until each and all of them were struck down. There was no care for those that threw down their blasters.

Each stroke of her blade would be the vengeance of civilians that had nothing to do with anything. Those that were just trying to live their lives day to day wouldn’t be brought back. No choice was given to the civilians who were injured and those that were given no solstice. These terrorists would now feel that pain. Their regrets would continue to fuel her strikes. If she were able to get a hold of that cowardly leader before her, her blade would pierce through his heart. Her t-shape visor would be the last thing he would see. Let no one on this planet repeat the same mistakes as him from this day forward.

No mercy would be found here.
​

 

[Ro'talius Emanti]

​

TAG: Aether Verd / Ladante Mamba / Sari'la Kandosii / Itzhal Volkihar / Hanna / Domina Prime / Incitrix

The Nite Owls couldn’t have arrived at a better time.

Their precision and raw firepower turned the tide of the engagement. Every shot hit true, and their sudden assault fractured the enemy lines. It was a welcome shift, but for TK-373, relief felt premature. The battle wasn’t over yet. Cleanup still remains. The surface still needed securing as far as he was aware. But for now, there was breathing room for his fellow warhost.

He had come to learn just how resourceful the Mandalorians truly were. Warriors, yes, but also adaptable, driven, and tightly bound to something greater than themselves. One day, he hoped to earn the right to call himself Mandalorian. But today, he fought as a Domarian. Standing shoulder to shoulder with those who bore the title he looked up to. He was doing his part to help realize another’s dream.


His team had performed better than he could have hoped for. This might have been one of the most capable squads he’d ever served with, and he hoped it wouldn't be the last. The chaos of battle… it brought a strange sense of comfort. Being in the thick of it, pushing beyond what was expected—that was second nature. It had been drilled into him from childhood. Sometimes he wondered… was this the kind of fight his grandparents had imagined for him? Was this what being a Mandalorian felt like?
Around him, the banded warriors of the Warhost pushed forward, emboldened by the brief reprieve. They moved with fresh purpose, pressing the advantage. Blaster fire met flesh, armor, and even lightsaber. It was all feeding the momentum of a final moment.

TK-373 and his team continued striking from the rear, their fire clean and coordinated, punishing the enemy from behind. He had no intention of letting up. Neither did his squad.

This would be the end—and they would be the ones to bring it.

​

 

[Manti Wyrvhor]

Location: Orbit of Nico-ni Natural Satellite IV [Charlie]
Objective: Find Smugglers, Suppress Rebel Supply Lines, Subdue Pirate Frigate
Alert Level: Red: Confirmed Threat

Manti watched from the backlines with satisfaction as her clan flowed through the stages of combat like a well oiled machine. The shield-bearers moved forward, blasting any who dared get too close with a scattergun while those with long rifles in the back laid down suppressing fire. Manti and those carrying more short-ranged weaponry watched their rear. She knew it would only take a second for the pirates to come up with a plan to counteract them, but-

Smoke would erupt in the hallway, either a grenade or an in-ship system already being utilized against them. Manti would unsheath her knife, wading through the smoke behind the shield bearers. The clanging of boots against metal rang through the hallway as her troop continued forward, but one set of footsteps was much faster... and getting much closer. Soon a large armored figure would ram into the shield-bearers' shields, but being trained in this eventuality they didn't fight back, rather buckling and pivoting to allow the charger through.

Unbalanced the armored Trandoshan would stumble through the shield wall, the shield-bearers returning to their advance and sealing the gap. Manti would waste no time, taking the initiative on the stumbling man she'd charge and burry the knife in the thin leather between the Trandoshan's shoulder and collar plating. The Trandoshan, in return, would roar and wrap his arms around Manti, picking up the smaller woman and charging into the bulkhead with her. Manti's helmet would slam backwards into the durasteel but her assault with the knife would continue, another two wounds: one in the Trandoshan's armpit and another in the opposite shoulder.

One of Manti's commandos would wrap their arm around the Trandoshan's neck, and with Manti pushing off the wall the two would bring the Trandoshan to the ground. As Manti would fend off the creature's claws and attempts to grab its blaster holstered at the waist her commando would wrench the creature's helmet free. Without hestiation Manti would sink the knife into the creature's eye. As the Trandoshan would go through its final death throws Manti would twist the blade before standing from the now dead pirate.

Her gaze returning to the front line she'd see the shield bearers blocking off the doorway to the engine room, a few Commandos firing between the shield gaps at the defenders within.

"We've arrived at engine room-" Manti would speak, clearly out of breath from the quick but brutal skirmish, over the communicator to the Admiral and her team "It'll be ours in a minute."

Verity Suun

 

[Aether Verd]

OBJECTIVE I
"What kind of Empire will we be?"​

The resistance buckled.

Steel met smoke. Mandalorians surged into the hollowed ruin of the Keep like a crashing wave, their war cries and bootsteps echoing through broken halls. The HVTs—those desperate remnants of rebellion—found themselves face to face with everything they feared. Blasters trained. Beskads drawn. And above them all, Mand'alor the Iron standing tall.

He had given the order. Before the breach. As they crossed the plains. No quarter.

This rebellion would not be allowed to fester. It would be ended.

Jaikell moved like a specter, his targets executed with unerring precision. But when the last officer tried to flee—Drego stepped forward. Not with a blade. Not with fire.

With words.

“Surrender, and we’ll let you live.”

Aether’s helm turned. Quiet settled around them—not peace, not yet—but stillness before judgment.

His comm buzzed with updates. The tunnels? Nearly secured. Incitrix, relentless. Ro’talius, cutting deep. Ladante’s bolt already struck true. Point Cherek? Resistance fading, and Itzhal’s unit had begun to offer the same choice Drego had given.

Surrender… or die.

Aether advanced. One hand lowered his blaster, the other thumped Drego’s shoulder with a gauntleted clang—not in reprimand. In recognition.

The Empire could be more than fire.

His voice filled the hall, magnified by his vocoder, calm but unmistakable.

“I am Aether Verd. Mand’alor the Iron. You face the full weight of the Empire—yet I offer you this. Lay down your arms… and live. Raise them again… and you will not rise twice.”

That message surged across public frequencies. From tunnel to keep. From Cherek to the caverns.

A new silence fell.

It began in the tunnels—blasters dropped, hands raised. Then at Cherek—fighters kneeling beneath Itzhal’s aim. And here, in the shattered remains of the Keep, the HVTs lowered themselves to their knees. No more screams. No more gunfire.

Only surrender. Only judgment to come.

The Mand’alor’s voice rang out one final time:

“Let it be known. The Mandalorian Empire shows mercy—but tread upon that mercy… and you will know damnation.”

He turned to his warriors.

“Begin the clean-up. Secure the prisoners. Transport them to Ancora's custody. Their lives are spared—but justice will be served.”

Behind his visor, the Iron Mand’alor watched as warriors moved, precise and efficient, rounding up the broken rebellion.

This was not the end. This was the beginning of something greater.

An Empire that carried the honor of the Protectors and the Codex—But never forgot how to wage war like the Crusaders.

Ro'talius Emanti , Incitrix , Itzhal Volkihar , Drego Ruus , Jaikell Wyrvhor

 

[Malachi Vokat]

OBJECTIVE II

Malachi’s grip tightened as the pinned worker let out another groan, pain etched deep in every strained breath. The support beam above them gave a low creaaaak, shivering in the air as if the Manda itself was testing its strength. One glance told him Runi couldn’t hold this forever.

He turned his head, sharp, searching.

And saw her.

Adean stood frozen at first—eyes wide, skin pale under dust and shadow. He knew that look. Knew what it meant to be back there in your mind, somewhere you never wanted to be again.

But then—something shifted.

With a burst of motion, her hand lashed out. A limp worker, barely visible at the edge of the debris field, was yanked free from their would-be tomb and pulled across the ground to relative safety.

Malachi exhaled hard, not quite a laugh—more a grunt of gratitude.

"Good," he called to her, voice steady. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

He turned back to the man beneath him and dragged him out the final foot, ignoring the protest in his back and legs. Once the worker was safely behind cover, Malachi stood tall, wiping a streak of grime from his brow. He looked back to Adean, eyes sharp beneath his sweat-matted hair.

“Stay with it. You’re not alone.”

Then he motioned toward another pile of half-collapsed scaffolding.

“There’s more over there. Can you pull from that angle? I’ll take the far side.”

He didn’t give her a chance to doubt—just trusted she’d move.

To Cordelia, he called, “Sweep the middle! Triage anyone that’s breathing.”

And finally, to Runi—his voice softened slightly as he met her gaze through the swirl of suspended steel.

“We’re clearin’ fast as we can. Hold just a little longer.”

The structure groaned again. Time was bleeding out.

But so long as they were on their feet—These people would live.​

Adean Castor , Runi Kuryida , Cordelia Malkavian​

 

[Incitrix]

TAG: Aether Verd / Itzhal Volkihar / Drego Ruus / Ladante Mamba / Ro'talius Emanti

Her blade continued to reap its toll, a crimson scythe harvesting vengeance in the name of the fallen. Each strike served as a voice for the dead, for the Domarians who never had the chance to witness what the Mandalorian Empire could offer. Tragic, too, that the insurgents might have shared in that future, if they hadn’t opened the door to their own downfall.

Now, only a few enemies remained, clinging to the last shreds of life.

Incitrix moved with ruthless precision. Her lightsaber carved through the shadows and severed the HVT’s weapon hand just as he raised a blaster toward her. The glowing blade came within centimeters of his throat before the voice of Mand’alor echoed through the tunnels like a commandment.

A call for mercy.

She hated it, but she obeyed.

The crimson blade hummed, then faded with a snap as she deactivated the weapon. Her visor bore down on the defeated insurgents. Though her face remained hidden, the hatred radiating from her body was palpable. The calm she had found earlier was gone, dissolved into the void.

She wanted them dead.

She needed a reason not to end him.

Perhaps fate had one. Perhaps it didn’t. Either way, it no longer mattered.

Turning her back on the survivors, Incitrix shifted her focus. Her gaze landed on the Nite Owls. She offered them a silent salute. A fist clenched and pressed over her chest in respect.

Then she looked toward the aftermath.

Corpses littered the tunnels, scorched and broken. Smoke drifted lazily in the air as the adrenaline ebbed, leaving only orders to give, and wounds to bind.

She addressed the group with the sharp, commanding tone of a seasoned Field Marshal.

“Check your gear and tend to the wounded. Secure all surviving hostiles and confiscate their weapons. Dress their injuries before exfiltration. Salvage all usable droid remains. We’ll seal every tunnel leading here, except one route to the surface. If any of them resist… put them down.”
​

 

[Ro'talius Emanti]

​

TAG: Aether Verd / Itzhal Volkihar / Drego Ruus / Ladante Mamba / Incitrix

The fight finally subsided.

Mand’alor had called for mercy.

And mercy was what they would give—at least, from them.

TK-373 doubted the ruling authorities on this world would extend the same courtesy. The local justice system might prove far less forgiving. But that didn’t concern him. The mission was over, and the Nite Owls had emerged unscathed. Objective completed. No casualties. Efficient. Clean.

Still… the order to spare these insurgents had caught him off guard. It was not the kind of decision he would have expected from a Mand'alor. And yet, here it was—honor bound restraint where he had been raised to expect overwhelming brutality.

In that moment, he realized just how different the Mandalorian Empire was from the Sith Order. Mercy wasn’t a weakness here; it was a choice, weighed and measured. Had this operation taken place in Sith space, there would be no survivors. There would be no HVT to secure, no prisoners to tend to. Just ashes, and a warning.

He returned the Field Marshal’s salute with a silent nod, respectful and resolute. No words were needed.

The Nite Owls moved in quickly and without ceremony, securing the HVT with practiced ease. He had been their primary objective from the start, and now, even maimed and broken, he was their responsibility. One of the operatives knelt beside the man, working quickly to apply a field dressing to the cauterized stump where his hand had once been. It wasn’t elegant, but it would keep him alive.

They weren’t medics. They were warriors.

Still, they did what they could.

A stretcher was prepped with efficiency, and the injured HVT was loaded on without protest. The team began making their way back toward the designated surface tunnel. The carnage and silence of the battlefield would be left behind.

TK-373 walked just behind the stretcher, his rifle slung, his posture steady. He didn’t look back.

The Night Owls' mission was completed.

And for the first time in a long while, he felt like he'd seen something worth remembering.

​