Dominion Operation: Creedfall || Mandalorian Empire Dominion of Ketaris

[Aether Verd]

OPERATION CREEDFALL
"From the deep they rose. From the sky we fall."​

The borders of the Empire are no longer fractured.
The ancestral worlds now stand united under iron rule. The clans have rallied. The Great Heathen Army marches. And now, the Empire turns its eye beyond the stars of home.

Ketaris called.
And we answered.

A world of glistening seas and ivory coasts, Ketaris was once known for its beauty. Island-chains ring its continents like scattered pearls. Skybridges connect gleaming towers to research domes, and the jewel of it all — the city of Asluria — cradles the University of Ketaris, one of the oldest institutions in the region.

Now? It’s a nightmare made real.

From the ocean trenches, they rose — titanic, Yuuzhan Vong warbeasts once called Firebreathers, bred to devastate the Core. Forgotten. Dormant. Awakened by the chaos of the Planeshift. Their skin glistens like charred obsidian, their lungs exhale napalm. They do not sleep. They do not turn away. And now, they march.

Asluria burns.

The beasts swarm the city’s edge, clustered in the University District like hounds around fresh kill. If they break through fully, they will not stop. Their direction is clear. Their hunger is endless. Unless they are halted, Asluria will fall — and the rest of the planet with it.

The Mandalorian Empire offered Ketaris one path forward: Take the Caburian Creed and be liberated.

And so they have. Their fate is now bound to ours. Our fleets darken the sky. Drop-pods roar down like falling stars. Beskar meets beast. Again and again and again.

This is not a rescue. This is a reckoning.

Spoiler: Tag

Tasia Palpatine
Rhys Swynol
"Templar"
CT-312
Lysara Rynn
Nephthys Nardithi-Verd
Hanna
Siae Andronike
Zlova Rue
Runi Kuryida
Ren Ashbridge
Aliza Vale
Thram Drokor
Sagan Verd
Tarw Rhyfelwr
Ze'bast Verd
Vyse de Valorous
Varuun Rekaal
Kuben Woods
Valeria de la Vallée
Lyra Scarlet
Trask Skirata
Talohn Atar
Incitrix
Klavatora Verd
Aselia Verd

Spoiler: Objectives

OBJECTIVE I: Crush the Firebreathers
Location: University District, Asluria, Ketaris

The Firebreathers — titanic, bio-engineered war beasts left dormant beneath the waves since the Yuuzhan Vong invasion — have awakened.

Towering leviathans of muscle and molten breath, they’ve risen from the deep and laid siege to Ketaris, with the worst of them converging on the prestigious University of Ketaris. Research halls burn. Skies are blackened with ash. Civilians scatter.

The Mandalorian Empire does not come with empty hands.
It comes with blaster, blade, and beskar.

Engage the beasts. Cut them down. Protect the university’s surviving personnel and crush every last Firebreather in the name of the Iron Mand’alor. Let the Galaxy know what happens when you threaten a world under our banner.​

PvE-heavy | Combat, tactics, and beast-slaying encouraged!

OBJECTIVE II: Seal the Vault of Forbidden Echoes
Location: Undercampus Research Catacombs, University of Ketaris

Beneath the hallowed halls of the University lies the Vault of Forbidden Echoes — an abandoned research facility sealed during the tail end of the Vong War. Once home to grim experiments and invasive biotechnology, the vault was buried for a reason.

Now it’s waking up.

Pulsing Vong growths are spreading like a cancer from the vault's lowest levels, overtaking labs, corridors, and classrooms with living tissue. Entire wings of the university have already been absorbed. Staff beg the Mandalorian Empire to seal it forever — to bury what’s down there in fire and rubble.

But our duty is more than demolition.
It is understanding. It is strength.

Push into the vault’s fleshy depths. Navigate twisted passageways of bone and sinew. Discover what lies at the heart of the infection — and decide if it’s worth saving, studying… or destroying.​

Hybrid PvE | Exploration, horror, moral decision-making, and biotech corruption themes encouraged!

OBJECTIVE III: CHART THE UNKNOWN
Bring Your Own Objective

From its gleaming research domes to tide-lashed island chains, there are stories waiting to be carved into stone. Whether you're securing hidden data caches, forging new alliances, settling old scores, or simply chasing glory — this is your moment.

Explore. Conquer. Shape the narrative.
Make Ketaris your battlefield, your proving ground, your legend./indent]

You bring the mission. | Mandalore brings the might!
​

​

​

​

 

[Varuun Rekaal]

Objective 3: Chart the Unknown

The Writ of Iron:
Contract on Dr. Halven Krex
The Imperial Scientific Corps
Wanted on multiple counts of unethical human experimentation.
WANTED: DEAD


The sky above Ketaris churned with low-hanging clouds, bruised and gray, casting a bleak pall over the cliffs and broken ground below. Wind swept through the dead canyons, carrying the distant wail of stormfronts that had long forgotten warmth. A dropship descended in silence, its hull blackened from old engagements, engines snarling briefly before dying to a hiss. It settled atop a crumbling landing platform once carved by Imperial hands. The facility beneath it stood in decay, its edges worn by time and failure. Towers slumped like dying trees. Antennas twisted like broken bones. The scars of retreat and collapse still marred the ferrocrete walls.

A single figure emerged from the hold. The ramp extended with a mechanical whine, and down came a black and grey armored Mandalorian. He was tall, built like a monolith carved from the obsidian cliffs nearby. The air around him seemed to stiffen, thick with a quiet that no longer belonged to the wind. No sigils marked his arrival save one, a crude white fang painted over a collapsing star on his shoulder. He wore it without pride. Only remembrance.

Varuun Rekaal did not speak. His helmet was fixed forward, visor blank, a dead sun staring at a grave. The bounty had led him here. The name Krex echoed in silence, like rot hidden beneath floorboards. A scientist, once called a genius by his masters, is now branded a butcher by those who remembered his work. The Dark Empire had given him tools. Chains. Flesh. Power. When it crumbled, he fled like the rest of them into the cracks of forgotten places. But some shadows are followed. Some debts are chased to the end.

The compound before him was not dead. Steam still hissed from ruptured vents. Panels flickered with erratic light. Life stirred in the dust, not from mercy but from the fear of being found. He walked forward with the patience of a coming tide, boots thudding against the old stone as echoes rippled ahead of him. A storm cracked in the distance, lightning spidering across the horizon. The blast doors at the entrance were split down the center, mangled by fire or sabotage. Through them waited silence and machines. Through them waited Krex.

Varuun passed beneath the arch of ruin, never once breaking stride. He did not reach for his weapons. The carbine across his back remained idle. The blade at his hip still slept. But every step was a question answered. He did not need noise to announce himself. He was a fact. A shape that appeared when those who once thought themselves untouchable learned that time runs out. Justice did not come with banners or courts. Not here.

Only steel and silence.

 

[Alora Vizsla]

OBJECTIVE I: SEARCH & DESTROY

"Alright, Gam, I know this is not your thing--"

"I should hope you do. I constantly remind you--"

"I'm not a warship."
"You're not a warship."

"I know. Really. But there are freaky creatures down there and the people need us. Come on, Gam, this isn't our first time."

"If I tried to recount the number of times we have done this, my dear, I would suffer a heap error that would detonate the hyperdrive."

Alora exaggeratedly shrugged as she stood down in the mechanic bay, two disruptors in her hands. "Even after all those memory upgrades?" she quipped. Those credits they earned had to go somewhere, and they very frequently went toward upgrading the Gambit constantly. People were always trying to find new ways to detect stealthy vessels like them, so Alora had to keep up making them all the more invisible. Bolstering Gambit's core was equally important too since he not only piloted himself, but took care of her as well.

A synthesized sigh followed before Gambit added, "We're nearing the University of Ketaris."

Alora nodded. "Alright, Gam, open the bay doors."

The ventral doors began to part to reveal the planet below sweeping by. The monstrous creations had left a burnt path of destruction in their wake.

She lowered both disruptor pistols down through the opened portal as they slowed and banked to port. Time to see how tough these brutes were. The sharp pings of two disruptor bolts soaring through the air echoed throughout the bay. An ear-piercing shriek followed suit as the disruptor blasts managed to carve out great big holes in the creature, but it didn't completely vaporize them as intended.

Gambit couldn't linger to give her another shot at the same one either. A plume of fire erupted at where they'd been just a second ago.

Looked like she'd need to warn the others entering the field about this. "Gam, see if our sensors can gather anything useful about these things while we're in the area."​

OPEN​

 

[Lyra Scarlet]

OBJECTIVE I: Crush the Firebreathers

Location: Airborne
Tags: Alora Vizsla OPEN
Gear: piloting Crimson Shadow
Mask: off (unless someone is riding along)
Callsign: Siren

​

A hunt? She knew mandalorians loved to hunt things, it was in their nature, their very blood. When the contract landed in her comm she questioned why they would want a pirate on board for this one, kind of defeats the point if someone detonates anti shipping ordnance where your beast used to be standing. But then she saw the pay, and she saw the beasts and the wild girl inside her got very excited.

She descended through the clouds and could quickly see the rampaging beasts below. Her instructions were to try and not level what remained of the city so she would have to opt not to use the Void-7s, despite how effective they might be. And also despite the fact that the noise when exploding in atmosphere they made was just beautiful.

"This is Siren, engaging the target by the University she crackled through the comm as she buzzed past the open doors of the Gambit where disrupted bolts were being unleaded. She did a loop and unleashed a volley of heavy laser cannons and a proton torpedo before whizzing past and firing backwards as the retreated.

The beast roared as its back was peppered, it looked like a volcano as is cried in pain? Maybe? anger? At least it was grounded and although the first volleys hadn't killed it they could make as many passes as they needed until it or the city were obliterated.

 

[Hanna]

Location: Asluria Airspace - Ketaris
Objective: Crush the Fire Breathers
Tag: Alora Vizsla Lyra Scarlet │ Open

Hanna had accepted the contract as soon as it appeared in her feed. After reviewing the briefing materials enclosed with the message, she elected to equip herself with heavier armaments and some of her dangerous, specialized ammunition types given the target profiles. For all intents and purposes, this was a Mandalorian beast hunt, albeit with the fate of an entire city hanging in the balance. The Qilin had once thought that the Mandalorians would be hesitant (if not even outright opposed to) sharing such a mission with an outsider to their culture—an aruetii. After all, beast hunts were where Mandalorians engaged their rites of passage, where warriors proved themselves worthy of song and beskar.

Perhaps that might have once been the case. And maybe, it still was.

But now, given the Planeshift and the recent famine on Mandalore, things seemed different. Even the Mandalorians might potentially be suffering a dearth of trained, capable warriors. Hence, the Writ of Iron.

At least, that was what Hanna believed to be the impetus behind its establishment.

Though perhaps there were other factors at play.

Regardless, Hanna didn’t question her Mandalorian benefactors. The Qilin’s ingrained predisposition towards violence demanded that she take the assignment. A beast hunt would satisfy both her financial and psychological needs.

Now, riding along in the gunship of a fellow Writ of Iron signatory who she had met only a couple hours before, Hanna finished the final checks on her equipment before powering on her repulsorlift skates and readying her Verpine shatter pistols.

“I’m all green down here. Ready to disembark!” Hanna called out to her partner from the gunship’s passenger deck, before slowly standing up, her skates levitating her only a few inches above the floor. The two women had formulated a strategy during the ride over: the Qilin would spot and electronically tag targets on the ground for Siren to strafe from above. It would allow for a more precise and efficient application of firepower, while also minimizing the risk of blue-on-blue or excessive collateral damage.

“Comms check,” Hanna added, speaking through their shared channel. “Verify reception, over.”

Spoiler: Loadout

• Sparkle Velocity
  
  • Gauntlets and Vambraces
    
    • Modular Weapon Mount (3) - R
      
      • PC-05V Plasma Caster
        
        • Ammunition
          
          • Medium Plasma Gas Canister
      • NML-02VTB Nano Missile Launcher
        
        • Ammunition
          
          • Depleted Baradium-tipped Baradium Nano Missiles (12)
      • Breshig War Forge Consolidated METV-02V Micro Energy Torpedo Launcher
        
        • Ammunition
          
          • Fusion Plasma Canister
          • HAPU Power Connection
    • Modular Weapon Mount (3) - L
      
      • IceJet Miniaturized CryoBan Projector
        
        • Ammunition
          
          • CryoBan Canister
      • Repulsor Projector
      • LPD-49 Astrapi Miniaturized Static Blaster
        
        • Ammunition
          
          • HAPU Power Connection
• Glitter Roses (2)
  
  • Ammunition
    
    • Extended Magazine - Standard Penetrator (4)
    • Standard Magazine - Antimatter Explosive (2)
    • Standard Magazine - Seismic Implosive-Explosive (2)
  • Attachments
    
    • 1-5x FAE/S-08 Electro-Sight
• FAE/MDE-01-S2 Semiautonomous Seeker Thermal Explosive (2)
• Infrared Smoke Grenade (2)

 

[Jonah]

UNIVERSITY OF KETARIS

The city was on fire.
Not metaphorically—though, that too—but quite literally. Smoke churned skyward as the Firebreathers did what they did best: burn everything that wasn’t nailed down. And even then, some of the nailed-down things weren’t holding up so well. Explosions punctuated the distance like a steady drumbeat, and screams rose with them in tempo. To most, it would’ve looked like a warzone.

To Jonah, it looked like opportunity.

He stood in the shadow of a half-collapsed duracrete archway, coat swaying in the soot-heavy breeze. One hand rested on the hilt of the curved blade at his back, and the other gripped the hilt of a wrapped weapon slung low at his hip. His eyes weren’t on the flames, though. They were fixed across the way, on a street clogged with Vong flesh—twisting, pulsing things that had once been students, professors, or security personnel. All now lost to the Vault’s breach.

Typical.

Of course the artifact they were after had to be buried under a mile of Yuuzhan Vong gunk and tentacles.

Jonah exhaled through his nose, slow. “Always the hard way,” he muttered, just as the ground beneath him gave a soft tremor. He didn’t flinch. That would be Velda. She’d felt his call. And she’d come. As she always did.

He almost smiled.

Funny thing, family. Aether wore the mantle of Mand’alor like it had been forged just for him. All discipline and legacy and duty. Took after their old man, that one. Jonah? He’d taken after their mother. Darker, subtler. No throne in sight, no armor clanking with every step. Just shadow and smoke and secrets.

But family was family. So when Aether called—when the fate of his empire hung in the balance—Jonah didn’t hesitate. He just adjusted the angle of his own game.

Once, he’d ruled the Haxion Brood with a woman who’d made the darkness feel like home. But she vanished, and the fire dimmed with her. He passed the torch, stepped back from the spotlight, and slipped deeper into the kind of study most Sith only whisper about. With Velda as his mentor, he had learned what power could really feel like. Not just brute force—but influence. Precision. Patience.

And today? Today was a test of all three.

He turned his gaze toward the center of the chaos—the direction of the breached Vault. Knowledge buried deep, now bleeding out into the world thanks to some hot-headed zealots with flamethrowers and bad taste.

Jonah took a step forward, the street groaning under his boots.

“I’ll clean this mess up,” he said to no one in particular. “But I’ll be damned if I don’t see what’s worth keeping before we torch it all.”

The Vault was calling. The Firebreathers had unwittingly opened the door. Now it was just a matter of who walked through it first.

And Jonah had no problem getting his hands dirty.

Tag: Velda Nar-Donna + Open

 

[Malachi Vokat]

OBJECTIVE III - CHART THE UNKNOWN​

"The forge doesn’t care what you were—only what you become."​

The wind howled like a starving beast.

It whipped across the broken ridge, dragging dust and the scent of ozone through the ancient cracks of the mountain facility. From where he stood, Malachi Vokat could still see smoke curling in the distance—billowing up from the heart of Ketaris where the Firebreathers raged unchecked. That was where he wanted to be. On the frontlines. In the fray. But the orders from the Iron Throne had been clear: Dr. Halven Krex was the target. And so, the Alor of Clan Vokat stood at the edge of a shattered platform, watching storm clouds churn over what remained of an Imperial nightmare.

A soft hum escaped from the underside of his boot as he stepped forward, tribal beskar’gam glinting with dark polish and faded scars. His helmet—horned and imposing—tilted toward the ruin ahead. The compound was silent, but not empty. He could feel it. The chill of the wind was nothing compared to the cold that lived within those walls. Krex had once worn the banner of a government that saw sentients as parts to be rearranged. Now he wore only fear. And soon, he’d wear the judgment that followed.

But not quite yet.

< “This is Vokat,” > Malachi said into the comm, voice like stone grinding steel. < “Backup’s arrived. I’m on approach.” >

He wasn’t alone in this operation. Another had been assigned—Cordelia, of the Great Heathen Army. He knew little of her beyond the reputation. That was enough. A sharpened blade didn’t need a story when it cut clean.

Still, his own mission had nuance. He didn’t come for vengeance, not entirely. If Krex’s notes survived, if they could be retrieved before his execution, they could offer insight into the twisted minds of those who once served the old Empire. Knowledge had its own weight in this war, and the Mandalorian Empire needed every advantage it could grasp.

He advanced toward the fractured entrance, boots grinding over cracked ferrocrete.

And somewhere—just beyond the wreckage—someone watched him back.

Varuun Rekaal , Cordelia Malkavian , Adean Castor​

 

[Adean Castor]

TAG: Varuun Rekaal | Cordelia Malkavian | Malachi Vokat

Adean wasn't meant to be here.

She should've been buried among scrolls and texts in the midst of research, or coated in sweat and grime on a sparring field, caught up in a perpetual game of catch-up as she played at being a Sith acolyte. That's all it was after all, a role she played while fueled by the crippling anxiety of discovery, buried so deep that even she would forget the charade every now and then. It hadn't been a life she wanted. It hadn't been a life on her periphery, to begin with.

And yet here, pinned among debris and hellfire, she almost missed it.

How exactly she'd gotten herself into the 'care' of Dr Halven Krex was a whirlwind of confusion. She'd meant to visit the University to peruse their archives. Then one thing led to another, and suddenly she'd traded the hallowed halls of knowledge for halls of horrors. Her saving grace was being there under the pretense of a new lab tech rather than another subject for experimentation. Any relief she could take from that was short-lived, however, knowing that she'd be expected to aid in administering the horrors ahead of her.

By that notion, the Firebreathers were a blessing. Clinical precision had been traded for unbridled chaos enough for her to ditch the assigned lab coat and find a way - well, try to find a way out. Navigating the twists and turns of the facility's halls, the ground beneath her shuddering and quaking with each passing moment, it was one particular half-hazardous turn where she had found herself face to helmet with an armored individual.

And then there was darkness.

For how long, Adean wasn't certain. When she woke with a groan, it was soon cut off by a fit of coughs induced by the debris-filled air. A dull pain, the kind she suspected would turn sharp in some areas with the addition of weight, coursed through most of her body. In the midst of it all, the armored figure was still close to her, slumped, unmoving. In the midst of ringing ears, she could catch the hint of a comm in that helmet.

Survival instincts, or perhaps letting shock coat her anxiety like a weighted blanket, saw the Epicanthix scramble to push herself closer to the slumped form, teeth gritting as debris and infrastructure shifted to further settle on her lower half as she did so. She didn't look at the individual's face as she pulled the helmet from their form, nor did she think about the moisture that now gathered on her face as she slid the helmet onto her own head. The way the figure further slumped told her all she needed to know: that she was better off not looking.

< “This is Vokat,” > Malachi said into the comm, voice like stone grinding steel. < “Backup’s arrived. I’m on approach.” >

Catching the tail end of the message, Adean spoke without quite knowing if her words would transmit. After all, she'd had no experience with such helmets before and was very much not interested in taking a detailed look at this one now. She could only hope she'd be heard. "Backup is sorely needed. Pinned in Block C."

 

[Cordelia Malkavian]

OBJECTIVE III​

Tags: Malachi Vokat | Adean Castor ​

How long had it been? How long since the sounds of raging destruction and deepened cries of anguish and despair had rolled along the savage winds to reach ears that used to crave that sound? The very idea of the visual, where the thick of offense and defense were clashing...it was enough to cause the most delicate of shivers to race along a spine otherwise maintained in perfect posture. But those beckoning sounds were not meant to be the focus of this endeavor. For once, those screaming cries were not caused by monstrous hands or an unforgiving blade. No, this time there were other tasks of more importance.​

​

Family had called, had reached out for aid, and Cordelia had answered without hesitation.​

​

To be sent along without the faces of familiarity did not bother her as it might others. She was not usually one to cling to fickle ties to others. Her circle was small, very small, for a reason. And while she coveted the laws and bindings of family, that did not make her any more or less impressed by those she wound up surrounded by. Or in this case, paired with.​

​

A soft clicking of the redhead's tongue occurred as voices wafted over the noise in the background. A tightly gloved hand lifted to touch the scarred surface of her helmet, right over the ear. There had been a moment where she was ready to roll her eyes, but for some reason the idea of another trapped in the thick of all of this did not sit well with her.​

​

Odd, normally she was the sort to chortle something sarcastic about them digging their way out. But that was no the case in this moment. A moment of softness that she would certainly need to address at a later date. For now, her body shifted only enough to curve her frame towards Vokat, and while he could not see her expression currently, slender brows lofted as she spoke.​

​

< "I brought no shovel." > Well, so much for no sarcasm, but at least it wasn't her blowing the situation off. < "And unless you've one stashed somewhere unpleasant, I think perhaps we're about to be busy." > With that, she made a simple gesture for him to lead the way, again with him unable to see the slight hint of amusement in her eyes - but at least it was in her tone.​

​

​

 

[Kirae Orade]

Tags: Open

As the flames erupted over Kirae's shield, she stood firm, digging the heel of her boots into the ground. The force slowly but surely pushing her back inch by inch whilst she bought time for the civilians behind her to clamber for safety. For them to get away from the danger as explosions rung out around them. The heat burned. It screamed at her, as the heat invaded her armour like some kind of virus. Unlike her shield, her beskar'gam wasn't made from full Beskar. No, it was a mixture of other metals. She hadn't saw herself as deserving enough to wear a full set of armour. What was more important to her was to keep her shield at the ready. Her beskar'gam was to protect only her. The shield was to protect her and her people. Of course that belief didn't help prevent the heat from building. As her body screamed, Kirae stood unyielding until the flames subsided for even a moment.

Now would be the logical time to retreat. To fall back away from the fight to let herself recover. But that was not Kirae's way. To fall back to where the civilians had ran to would only be to put them in danger. And so instead she charged onwards, lugging her shield alongside her. She didn't care to use the Force, but it was necessary for this Hunt. As Kirae gripped the shield with both of her hands, she used the Force to enhance her strength to smash the main body of her shield into the Fire-Breather's legs. The bigger a creature was, the harder they fell when you took out their structure. As metal met bone, Kirae continued on with her onslaught. With beskar smashing against bone, Kirae crippled each of the Fire-Breather's limbs to let it collapse down to the ground. And from there, she wailed on the creature's head as hard and as swiftly as she could. Raining blow after blow until she was sure that it wouldn't get back up.

"One...down..."

The exhaustion hit her like a brick through a greenhouse as she stumbled backwards away from the creature's corpse in front of her and leaned against her shield. A few moments to relax would be good...but there was plenty of other people out in the district that needed aid. Asluria was burning. There would still be plenty who needed to be shielded from the threat to their lives. She could leave the Hunting to the others, whilst she did what she did best.
​

 

[Aether Verd]

ASLURIA, KETARIS
"When the beasts rose, so did we."​

The sky burned.

From orbit, the surface of Ketaris looked like a cauterized wound — a jagged lattice of ash trails and black smoke slashed across pearl-white coastlines. And at the heart of it, coiled around the shining jewel of Asluria, came the beasts.

Aether Verd stood at the prow of his descending Basilisk War Droid, Ori’tracin, one hand wrapped around a magnetic tether, the other gripping the rotary blaster mounted to the creature’s flank. Flames licked the heavens. Storms of soot and shrieking wind rose to meet him as the droid punched through the clouds like a meteor cast by the gods of war.

“Multiple hostiles confirmed in the University District,” Ori’tracin growled, its voice box modulated in harsh Mando’a tones. “Targeting priority: largest Firebreather. Southwest quadrant.”

“Confirmed,” Aether answered, cold and calm. “Take us in.”

As the ground rushed to meet them, his HUD lit up with sensor telemetry — Lyra’s ship, Crimson Shadow, strafing low with impressive precision; disruptor fire sparking from the bay of Gambit where Alora stood like a specter of defiance; Hanna tagging targets below with ruthless efficiency. And at the edge of it all — a shield, raised like a fortress in human form.

Kirae.

Pinned beneath a deluge of fire and fury, the woman held her ground. Not for glory. Not for kill-count. But for the civilians scrambling behind her. The heat singed through her armor. Her strength ebbed. But when the flames broke for even a second, she surged forward like a hammer from the forge.

One beast dropped. Crippled. Caved in. Beaten down by shield and will alone.

"One...down..." her voice came across the open line — quiet, strained, but alive.

Aether’s jaw clenched with pride.

“Confirmed kill. Kirae—your stand bought them time. Those civilians owe their lives to your shield. And so does Mandalore.” His voice rang firm across the shared channel. “Fall back for now. Regroup if needed. You’ve earned your breath.”

The comms then cracked with Hanna's voice — clear, disciplined, professional.

“I’m all green down here. Ready to disembark!”
“Comms check. Verify reception, over.”

Aether keyed into the channel.

“Reception verified,” he replied, voice steady beneath the roar of reentry. “Hanna, your tags are sharp. Keep feeding Siren that data. Alora—excellent hit. Disruptors marked that one. Stay mobile. Siren, your fire’s breaking its flank. Keep the pressure on.”

Below, the Firebreathers howled.

The wounded one — cratered along its back from Lyra’s cannonade and still smoldering from Alora’s disruptors — turned its molten gaze skyward. Lava spilled from its maw. It reared, towering above the shattered skyline, and roared like thunder incarnate.

“Eyes on Alpha,” Aether said, locking onto it.

He leaned forward, and Ori’tracin answered.

Twin blasters opened up, peppering the beast’s head with searing red bolts that cut into obsidian hide. The War Droid’s claws extended, catching a balcony for stabilization before unloading a missile from its underside — a warhead meant for starships, now screaming toward the beast’s exposed ventral chest.

It hit dead center.

The explosion rocked the district, and the Firebreather stumbled — not dead, but bleeding fire, its stride staggered.

“On me!” Aether barked through the comms. “This one’s reeling — drive it down before it recovers! We hold the line here. We don’t give an inch. Oya!”

The Basilisk flared its wings, stabilizing mid-air.

And down below, the Mandalorian Empire roared to life — blade, blaster, beskar, and blood.

Hanna , Alora Vizsla , Lyra Scarlet , Kirae Orade + Open

 

[Alora Vizsla]

Alora was contemplating her strategy when her honey brown eyes looked up from the chaos below at the reports pouring in. Great. More people, more guns.

"Going in."

Alora hopped over the edge and out of Gambit's belly. Her jetpack flared to life as she spun off-axis from Gambit's trajectory. They'd played poke-the-bear to figure out what was what with some crazy creature; now it was time to play smoke-em-cause-you-gottem. The non-traditional helmet with its line instead of a T -- which probably still irked some here or there, but oh well! -- was securely in place and hid the grin of the Mandalorian warrior as she soared through the air. Eh, just because they were throwing liquid fire all over the place didn't mean it wasn't fun.

Unlike Gambit, her suit wasn't a stealth suit so she could register on sensors. Some people might be concerned about firing patterns and stray shots, but Alora wasn't worried about it. With her sensor suit and that of Gambit being her eyes in the sky, plotting all the trajectories of projectiles and ordinance was a breeze. Which was why Alora never understood why people never made use of their services more often. Always with the kick-the-door-down approach and none of the stealth. Well, Mandalorians would be Mandalorians.

She continued raining down disruptor bolts while the Gambit took wider arcs and let loose with its dual turbo-cannons. He always went on about not being a warship, but he wasn't toothless. Just not a porcupine. Alora preferred him not being a porcupine, and Gambit wasn't complaining... about that, anyway.

"Hey, Kirae, let me know if you need cover fire." Alora whipped around another jet of hostile magma. "I'll piss them off to draw their fire." Like how she wasn't letting up on the big bulbous thing except when she needed to eject a spent cartridge and slam home a new one. Disruptors were hungry boys.

Hopefully Siren would throw out a few more torpedos. Those were all kinds of exciting to watch explode. What could Alora say, her time being part of the elite Si'kayha Kandosii Squad with the Enclave had offered her plenty of combat experiences. Who knew that a "mildly crazy" cybernetics doctor could have so much fun with disruptor pistols and explosives?

Alora drew up and slammed both disruptors forward to lay in to the beastie that had the Mand'alor's attention. "Time for dessert!"​

Aether Verd | Hanna | Lyra Scarlet | Kirae Orade | OPEN​

 

[Varuun Rekaal]

Objective 3: Chart the Unknown

The Writ of Iron:
Contract on Dr. Halven Krex
The Imperial Scientific Corps
Wanted on multiple counts of unethical human experimentation.
WANTED: DEAD


The corridor beyond the ruined blast doors stretched long and silent, lit only by the stuttering glow of old ceiling panels. Dust curled in the stale air like forgotten breath, and the walls were lined with cracked monitors and hollow databanks long since stripped of their purpose. Varuun moved without sound, the only rhythm the dull thud of his boots and the low hum of his internal HUD sweeping through the electromagnetic haze. His breath was steady beneath the helmet, every nerve sharpened to the familiar tension that came before contact.

He turned a corner where the hallway split in two, one side leading deeper into the main laboratory wing, the other sloping downward into a sublevel lined with storage vaults and cryochambers. As he paused, his visor flickered faintly—motion detection catching a series of faint kinetic echoes ahead. It was not the skittering of vermin or the faltering stumble of malfunctioning servos. This was controlled movement—disciplined, military.

He shifted slightly, leaning toward the edge of the wall, and tilted his head just enough to peer around the corner. There, near the collapsed bulkhead leading to the central data core, he saw them. Stormtroopers. Not the ragged deserters that haunted fringe worlds, nor the mutated remnants of the Dark Empire's fanatics. These men moved with precision. They bore polished armor, not pristine, but maintained. Their rifles were held high, fingers resting just shy of the triggers. They spoke in low bursts through their helmet comms, their posture tight and aware.

Four in total. Two are securing the main corridor. Two sweep the flanks. Varuun remained still.

These were not Krex's usual scavenged bodyguards. These were trained. Possibly mercenaries in recovered armor. Possibly loyalists paid to keep mouths shut and weapons hot. Or worse, remnants of a hidden network still loyal to the vision Krex once served. Their presence meant one thing with certainty: Krex was still here. And he was not alone.

The Mandalorian lowered slightly, sliding one step back into the shadows. His hand hovered near his belt but did not reach for a weapon. Not yet. The flicker of movement in his visor painted potential lines of attack. His mind already calculated the arc of each breath, the distance between killzones, the time it would take to close the gap between silence and finality.

He would not charge in. Not blindly. He had learned long ago that patience kills more surely than fury.

Varuun moved again, slipping into the side passage that snaked around the facility's understructure. The floor beneath creaked faintly with age, but he pressed forward. These troopers were guards, not hunters. They did not know he was here. Not yet.

 

[Aselia Verd]

​

Aselia landed beside him with a hiss of repulsors and the crunch of half-liquefied duracrete. Her boots sank slightly into the fleshy spread veining the street, but she didn't look down just turned, helmet tracking her brother with that unmistakable steadiness he'd always known.

She didn't speak right away. Just stood beside him for a beat, letting the air settle between them like ash. The Firebreathers' flames roared somewhere behind them, casting flickering shadows against the nearest wall. She didn't need to ask why Jonah was here.

She already knew, always an angle with this one.

She checked her equipment one last time as she spoke, voice coming low through her helmet, warm even through modulation. "Hello there Vod'ika. Thought you might appreciate some firepower when subtlety runs its course."

She angled her head toward him. A soft pulse of humor in her tone followed. "Let me guess you told Aether you would handle it. Didn't specify how so he sent me here as insurance"

Her crimson visor turned toward the writhing corridor of Vong matter ahead, scanning the direction he'd been watching. Her HUD marked pressure pockets, weak supports, heat blooms from biomass that shouldn't be moving. She drew a breath, the kind meant to steady not from fear, but from recognition. The Vault didn't just feel dangerous.

It felt wrong. Not that a feeling would stop her.

"So what are we waiting on?"

TAG: Jonah Velda Nar-Donna
​

 

[Kirae Orade]

Tags: Aether Verd Alora Vizsla

She wanted to push herself. Harder. It didn't matter if she needed to breathe. If she needed to take a break. Yet she heard the words of Aether. He had told her to fall back. To regroup. He was right of course. She had brought the civilians some time. That meant she could afford to waste some time whilst she recuperated. It wouldn't be for long but it was needed. And so she hefted her shield up onto her shoulder and broke out into a run. She was not fleeing from the battle. It was a tactical retreat, a fallback to where she could recover and then return to the fight. For now, she held the shield aloft to protect herself from any stray magma falling from the skies. Her muscles ached, and screamed at her to drop the shield. She could come back for it later once she had rested...but she refused to leave it behind. The only time the Shield would fall is if she was to fall.

"Just keeping hitting them hard Alora. Pretty sure you've got their attention already."

This was what Kirae lived for. Taking down threats and dangers to the Mandalorian people, whilst working alongside her people. She was no Crusader, nor an Enforcer. Kirae was a Defender. A Protector of the citizens. During her retreat, Kirae saw how Asluria was burning. The buildings being reduced to ash and rubble, with the occupants inside. It wasn't something Kirae could focus on. Not right now. Though she pulled a sharp turn towards one of the buildings when she could hear cries of distress coming from inside. Burning rubble and debris blocked the entrance to the building, having trapped those inside. That's fine. Kirae could make a new exit. Hefting the Shield aloft once more, Kirae smashed it against the building wall, letting the stone and brick tumble to the ground, as plumes of smoke spewed out of the gap in the walls

"Move while you can! I'm not dragging your asses out of here! Keep your heads down low!"

With that, she was once again back on the move. Kirae needed to take a breather but she wasn't going to do it in front of the rescued. Kirae wanted the Domarians to see those who fought for them as Heroes. To inspire them. Seeing one of those warriors hunched over to recover wouldn't be very inspiring in her eyes. Eventually, she found a side street to fall between, kneeling down to rest her head against the Shield. Breathe. She needed to take a few moments here and then she could get back into the fight​

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

| Location | Ketaris, Outer Rim Territories
| Objective | I - Eliminate the Firebreathers

The assignment should have been straightforward: retrieve a stolen research sample from the University of Ketaris before the suspected thieves could connect with a potential buyer. True, time had been of the essence, and the theft itself had suggested the original architect of the crime was involved enough with the university to be nearby, but that had ultimately been a minor complication, made all the more simple by the fact that the hired team had been rookies. They'd practically led a trail so thick, Itzhal had been forced to consider he was walking into a trap more than once. In a way, he had been, but that had been more the result of a poor choice of clients and a six-way betrayal that had left the Mandalorian more exasperated than endangered by the time he finally captured the sample. In the end, he'd walked away with nothing more than a scorch mark upon the beskar plates across his right shoulder and a story with so many unnecessary twists and turns, he wasn't sure anyone would believe him.

At least the client had been pleased—their satisfaction a small consolation for the chaos he had endured.

However, just as the debrief had begun, it had been rather abruptly shattered by the ominous arrival of colossal creatures with spindly limbs and bulbous frames that flexed and warped with every breath that turned the water upon their skin to steam. Torrents of flame, belched out of a grotesque mouth stretched wide and far as it rained down brimstone upon the city, transforming it into a hellish landscape smothered in ash.

The memory of the moments leading up to their arrival held in picturesque relief, in contrast to the chaotic mess of screams and flicker of flames, stolen by clouds of smoke.

Those same flames danced upon Itzhal's visor, caught in the moment as he pulled the man beside him into cover, their face drawn in a stark white that made the human look deathly ill, just moments before another inferno turned the street ahead of them to boiled cement and organic slurry of those who had been unable to escape.

Another failure.

Behind the visor of his helmet, Itzhal's features contorted into a scowl, a mixture of deep-seated frustration and seething anger etched visibly into every line of his weathered face. In that instant, as tendrils of smoke began to curl and spiral upward, carrying the wretched smell of burnt flesh towards their alley, Itzhal knew hate. The same desire made him wish to bring pain and suffering upon the monstrous abominations that would do the same to all those helpless beings sealed within the city.

Yet, fate was not so kind as to allow Itzhal his satisfaction. Not when he still had so much more to lose.

On the edge of his visor, a small screen displayed the frightened faces of countless civilians standing behind him, their wide eyes filled with a mix of hope and dread, huddled together in his wake. His weapons, a set of blaster pistols that had been acquired at a discount, were little more than a temporary replacement for his preferred weapons and wouldn't pierce the creature's carapace, while whatever explosives would have done the job had long been used.

Crack, sounded the tarmac as the nearest of the beasts stepped forward, their shadow stretched across the street they loomed over.

"Pull back," he commanded, his tone steady and measured, voice modulated to a low growl that carried clearly through the speaker attached to his helmet. Not once did he look back at those behind him, his helmet tilted forwards, straight towards the ominous shadow that neared ever closer with every step that shook the earth beneath their feet. One hand, he wrapped around the grip of his pistol, finger off the trigger as his other hand signalled towards the professor beside him, their expression tinted a slight green, even as Itzhal signalled for them to step back and out of the upcoming danger. "I'll hold it off. Try to see if you can get someone on the holocomm."

Quietly, he glanced at the damning indicator on his remaining fuel levels.

Then, with a deep breath, muffled by the seals of his helmet. Itzhal Volkihar stepped out into the street and fired straight into the beast's face, his steps carrying him away from the others, towards the other side of the street and a stairwell guarded by a door that shattered upon impact with his shoulder, little more than a temporary obstruction as a wave of heat followed behind him. He flicked his hand, a reminder of the vibroblade attached to his gauntlet.

Tags: Aether Verd Alora Vizsla Hanna Lyra Scarlet Kirae Orade​

 

[Ze'bast Verd]

TAG: Aether Verd / Kirae Orade / Alora Vizsla / Hanna / Lyra Scarlet / Itzhal Volkihar

Ze’bast was already well aware of the situation on Ketaris. He wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to honor his House and Empire. Never one to sit idle while the galaxy burned, he understood that timing and precision were just as vital as firepower. Underestimating the enemy, Mandalorian or not, was a mistake few survived. As much as he longed to call in an orbital strike, this situation demanded finesse.

The heat of the burning world was muted beneath his deep purple beskar’gam, its sheen visible even in the flickering chaos. This wasn’t the first flame-lit battlefield he'd walked. Braced within the open bay of a Supercommando gunship, marked in the same dark livery, Ze’bast leveled his Verpine Shatter Anti-Material Rifle toward the target below. The distinct hum of the weapon filled the air as he fired three precision rounds into the creature’s skull, following up Aether’s assault with surgical efficiency. Salt in the wound, but salt that counted.

“I’m dismounting. Stay frosty for medical extract of military personnel. Continue with the mission,” he barked to the pilot, voice muffled through the cold distortion of his helmet. His jetpack ignited, sending him soaring from the ship before boots slammed onto scorched ground beside Kirae and Alora. “Clean kill. I’ll have your flank,” he stated, giving a sprinkle of praise in a monotone distorted voice caused by his helmet.

Mand’alor had spoken—and Ze’bast answered. Five more shots rang out from his rifle, each striking true against the beast as Alora worked her craft. His eyes scanned the horizon, always alert. The only thing worse than facing a monster was being caught off guard by another. He hoped that the civies would hurry up and get to safety. Things were already getting messy.
​

 

[Malachi Vokat]

OBJECTIVE III - CHART THE UNKNOWN
"Though buried, you are not alone."​

< “Then keep watch.” >

Malachi didn’t meet her sarcasm with any of his own. There was someone buried beneath stone and steel, someone who had called out for help. That was all that mattered.

He stepped forward.

< “I need no shovel.” > His voice grated through the comms. < “I have other means.” >

His visor flickered—lines of code scrawling across his HUD as he traced the signal’s origin. It pulsed faintly, wedged beneath what was once the ceiling of Block C. A mess of heat signatures danced erratically across the area, but only one burned with the weight of a living soul.

He advanced into the ruined facility.

The wind fell behind them, replaced by the low groan of settling metal and the hiss of punctured gas lines. His boots crunched over shattered ferroglass, scorched datapads, and remnants of a life lived behind lock and key. He ignored it all.

He had a lock.

Malachi stopped before a collapsed corridor and exhaled once. His hands lifted, fingers splayed wide, and he reached out—not just with flesh, but with will. The rubble shivered.

Then, it rose.

Shelving units twisted free of their moorings and sailed overhead with the scream of sheared metal. Cracked beams tore loose from warped walls. A chunk of the ceiling was wrenched upward and hurled aside, shattering against a distant pillar. Bit by bit, the ruin was peeled away, thrown back like the layers of a wound too long left to fester.

And there—through the smoke and ruin—he saw it.

A helmet. Slumped. Motionless.

Malachi surged forward, dragging aside the last of the debris with a snarl. He knelt, one armored hand resting against the rubble just beside the body, scanning for movement.

A moment passed.

Then another.

< “You still with me?” > he asked, low and even. < “Tell me how bad it is. Can you move?” >

His voice softened—only barely. Still made of stone, but stone shaped for a purpose.

And that purpose was getting them out alive.

Adean Castor , Cordelia Malkavian , Varuun Rekaal​

 

[Velda Nar-Donna]

​

WEARING: Midnight Blue Sith Robes | WEAPONS: Crimson lightsabers (x2)
TAG: Jonah | Aselia Verd

Objective II

There was an elegance to darkness, an element of the unknown. What could be lurking beyond the shadows could very well be the most diabolical thing one ever encountered in life. Overcoming fears of such things could bear fruits of esoteric knowledge worth knowing.

That was partly why she was here.

And the other part? Well, Jonah summoned her... and ever the reliable mentor and master that she was... she came.

But also the Bogan sang whispers to her and approved of such a dangerous meeting. On a planet where, for the Imperials, the urn had been sealed, and there was no greater example of such a demise than Ketaris.

And from the ashes rose a new Mandalorian Empire.

She had arrived moments earlier, Spacetime warping and bending through the sheer will in the manipulation of The Force, as an obsidian mass coalesced into a misty ethereal doorway. The slender figure of a completely hooded shadow materialized, and after doing so, the doorway evaporated into scarlet-hued fog mixed with white mist.

She didn’t bother hiding her Force signature, allowing it to signal to Jonah that she had indeed arrived.

And what did she see, besides Jonah? A planet ravaged by the signature signs of Vong Warbeasts.

What an interesting disposition for this world... It was an unexpected development—one that should be easily navigated but also something that should not be underestimated.

And yet, Velda and Jonah were not alone, as she witnessed another figure land beside him. They struck up a conversation, one that Velda assumed was friendly.

She quietly made her way forward toward them and announced her presence to the woman by answering her question.

“Perhaps... you await a sign from The Force...” Velda said as she emerged from the shadows behind them.

“Greetings, Jonah...” she continued, stepping to the other side of him, cloaked in a midnight blue robe, hood up, covering her features to the point where it appeared as if there was only a void of blackness under the hood—an illusion of The Dark Side and bending shadows.

Her exotic umber eyes, hidden within her hood, peered out beyond it and down the chamber further into the vault. Then, she turned back to Jonah.

“I see your thirst for knowledge has not been quenched, nor should it be...”

 

[Varuun Rekaal]

Objective 3: Chart the Unknown

The Writ of Iron:
Contract on Dr. Halven Krex
The Imperial Scientific Corps
Wanted on multiple counts of unethical human experimentation.
WANTED: DEAD


Varuun ghosted through the side passage, emerging behind a line of scorched machinery that overlooked the troopers from an elevated maintenance corridor. From his vantage point, the two farthest soldiers stood near an old access terminal, their backs half-turned, their attention fixed on the corridor ahead. He moved without hesitation.

He dropped silently behind the first trooper, one hand seizing the man's helmet from behind while the other drove a vibroblade up beneath the chestplate, through the soft synth-weave gap. The weapon whispered as it punctured, vibrating once before Varuun yanked it free and let the body slump silently against the wall. The second turned too late.

The Mandalorian struck him like a hammer. He slammed into the trooper's back, knocking him forward into the console. The helmet cracked the edge with a sharp crunch. Varuun spun, blade flashing once across the throat, severing the voice modulator with surgical precision. The body twitched and fell.

But the silence broke.

The remaining two had already turned. One shouted something indecipherable as a blaster roared to life. Red bolts lit the gloom, screaming past Varuun as he vaulted the railing and dropped into the corridor proper. The other trooper moved to flank, shouting into a comm unit. This was no ambush now.

Varuun fired once mid-fall, his carbine sending a bolt into the first trooper's shoulder. Armor cracked. The soldier stumbled. The second came at him hard, rifle raised, but the Mandalorian closed the distance before the shot landed. The barrel swung, but Varuun caught it, twisting the weapon aside with brute force. His armored knee drove up into the trooper's stomach, lifting him from the ground and slamming him into the wall.

The first trooper recovered, drawing a vibrodagger and lunging. The blade scraped across Varuun's chestplate, leaving a shallow gouge. The Mandalorian turned, caught the attacker's wrist, and drove his head forward. The beskar helmet cracked against the soldier's visor with a sickening crunch. The dagger clattered to the floor.

The last trooper roared and tackled him from behind, slamming him against a rusted pillar. Sparks flew as they grappled. Varuun twisted, elbowed the man in the ribs, then drove him backward through a rack of overturned chairs and debris. The soldier hit the floor hard, disoriented, and Varuun did not give him the chance to rise. He raised his gauntlet and brought it down with all the weight of a silent fury. Once. Twice. The fight ended in a wet, final silence.

Varuun stood over the bodies, chest rising and falling in quiet rhythm. His armor was dented. A shallow burn scorched his left vambrace. Blood, some of his, most not, streaked across his chestplate. He scanned the corridor again. No movement. No voices. Only the thick scent of ozone and death.

He knew more would come. The sound of combat would travel. But he had no intention of retreating.

Krex was here. He could feel it. And Varuun Rekaal had never come this far to leave a hunt unfinished.