Operation Hammerfall | Invasion of Mandalore and Concord Dawn [TSE/UCM]

[Amaya Cardei]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uSzWKPv3n7c&feature=youtu.be[/media]​

​

​

Concord Dawn.

It had started as a quiet day on the agriworld. The sun had risen just over the horizon and illuminated the wheat fields, painting a broad stroke of golden rays over each stalk. A gentle flowing breeze passes along, and none on the world would have been any wiser as to what was to come that day.

Far above the quaint world, a sinister plan had been in motion. One that Lord Admiral Raaf had borrowed from an old colleague, Admiral Achim Veers both formerly of the First Order. Raaf now commanded a fierce Armada part of which now laid under the command of Vice-Admiral Sentongo.

The Sith-Imperial Armada would arrive very quietly over Concord Dawn. Engines cut, sublight thrusters at minimal - an ever so subtle push and glide. This subtle maneuver had been conducted behind spatial bodies, that appeared as nothing more than a passing meteor shower. Or perhaps it appeared as just space debris traveling across the black.

The maneuver had been used against the Silver Jedi Order over Ossus, and would now be utilized against the United Clans of Mandalore.

At the same time, a massive armada made its way to the heart of all Mandalorians. Mandalore, itself. Led by the twin super star dreadnoughts, Behemoth and Goliath the unmistakable signature of the War Fleets Black Iron and Leviathan along with countless other dagger and wedged-shaped vessels carved a path through the abyss.

Carving out a new hyperspace lane was a familiar tactic to the Sith Empire. The Sith. Once, they held great respect for the Mandalorians, and once they promised to aid and ally those who heeded the Call of Manda. The time for peace and friendship had gone, for it seemed to the Sith Empire. The so-called United Clans of Mandalore, the former Mandalorian Empire could not uphold their end of the alliance. In essence, the Mandalorians had lost their bite and had shown weakness in recent months.

For the Sith, weakness was not to be tolerated.

They would cull the weak, and so to would cull the Mandalorians.

Over Concord Dawn what appeared to be a passing meteor shower, or space debris drifting in the black. Turned into something far more sinister, for once close enough the forces of the Sith-Imperial Armada jettisoned their rocky cargo into Concord Dawn’s orbital pull.

Simultaneously, the Sith-Imperial Armada bearing the Dark Lord of the Sith himself emerged from hyperspace over Mandalore. There was no hesitation in the fleet’s maneuvering all weapons began to fire on the unsuspecting Mandalorians.

The Mandalorians would feel the deep sting of betrayal as the Sith Empire’s invasion force began to descend from hyperspace lanes. Lanes, newly created for this very purpose, both around Mandalore and Concord Dawn where the Sith-Imperial Armada brought their shields and weapons online.

A message would be given to the Mandalorians.

Bow to the Sith Empire, or perish.

The Siege of Mandalore had begun...

Objectives
Mandalore:

Capital of the United Clans of Mandalore. Lay siege to the world, occupy the capital - burn New Keldabe where it stands. Solus shall be claimed for the Sith Empire. Let it be burned and reborn a new, cripple it - do not destroy it outright. This can be useful for the Sith Empire in the Future.

Key Targets -

Sundari: Once there was a time when the Mandalorians wiped life from the very face of Dromund Kaas. Today, we remember this and return the favor. No Mandalorian shall leave, and no Mandalorian shall live - lest they bow the knee to the Sith Empire.

Solus: Such a unique shipyard it shall be for the Sith Empire. Cripple the yard’s defenses, seize it. We shall remake it in our image. Armada and Corps work well here, hold these yards and make the Clans pay for their complacency.

New Keldabe: Scrap it. Destroy this city, bring it to ruins and over it, we shall build anew. Salvagers can take what they want from this place. Slavers are welcomed to scrape whoever flees this place as it burns to the ground.

Concord Dawn:

An agricultural frontier world, the breadbasket of the Clans. It shall now feed the mouths of the Empire, seize all agricultural lands belonging to the Clans. To the Concord Belt, there are but few resources, but nonetheless, the Sith Empire shall lay claim. The Varos Shipyards are to be crippled, severely. Leave but it’s skeleton behind, for we shall once more reforge it anew. Corporate City? Their offer is but one, join or die - if they refuse, burn them. Let them know that any Mandalorian swearing allegiance to the Clans are forfeit.

Key Targets -
Varos Shipyardshttp://starwarsrp.net/topic/146901-varos-shipyard/: Cripple it. Toss out anything belonging to the Clans, these shipyards will now serve the purpose of the Sith Empire.

Third Moon of Concord Dawnhttp://starwarsrp.net/topic/139607-concord-dawn-moon/: A destroyed moon now filled with criminals, and ice mines. Starfighters take hold here and be careful of the belt. Exterminate any and all Mandalorians here, give no quarter.

ArmaTech Corporate Cityhttp://starwarsrp.net/topic/73725-armatech-corporate-cities/: Seek out the leader here, they have a choice just like the others. Join the Sith Empire or die, but know that any swearing allegiance to the Clans forfeit this. Should this city refuse - burn them, reduce them to rubble. We can build a new city atop their corpses.

​

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j1pf6s8MGrs[/media]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

​

Fire crackled and smoldered in the darkness of the chamber, burning just bright enough to illuminate portions of the twenty by twenty meter room. Four braziers hung from the ceiling by heavy iron chains, bronze basins pounded into gargantuan Rancor skulls ornamented with gold. These were the only light source, for no grandiose viewport dominated any of the four walls. If they had, the churning madness of hyperspace would seethe just beyond its boundaries. Heavy acrid smoke billowed out as the incense burned in these great censers, filling the room with the putrid stench of death. In the crux between these macabre thuribles was a single man, naked and kneeling in devout contemplation. Though impossible to tell in the shadows of the chamber, he was a giant of a man; his muscular body mutilated with scars from battles too numerous to recollect. Many who had inflicted these healed wounds had died by his hands, those that yet lived would soon find themselves in his grasp.

From the darkness emerged four creatures, their sexless bodies concealed by shimmering cloth-of-gold robes that left only the bottoms of their face revealed. Crowning their heads was a skull-cap of ruby-studded gold which encompassed the entirety of their craniums and the top half of their face, which had been fashioned to resemble an immaculate face with aquiline features. In their emaciated hands were pots of gently sloshing liquid, which they placed on the floor next to the kneeling giant as they themselves mimicked his posture and bowing so low that their golden faces kissed the floor. Unbidden, they rose and dipped their fingers into the liquid which clung to their fingers most fervently and began to spread it along the giant’s naked flesh. For hours they did this, never ceasing in their obsession to see every inch of the giant’s skin glistening with sacred oil. When at last their pots sat empty, they produced a knotted satchel and slowly unfastened the twine. Reaching into the bag they produced a mound of white powder, which they also began to coat the giant’s body with as well. The powder stuck to the oil which coated him, creating a ghostly pale sheen that soon encompassed his entire body.

Once these two rituals had been completed, the four creatures retreated into the darkness with their pots and their bags of powder. The giant rose, his bones creaking in protest at being disturbed from their prolonged rest. He walked with purposeful steps towards the wall directly facing him, two panels parting into the wall’s partition to allow him access; closing behind him once he has passed the threshold. This new chamber was more brightly lit, artificial strips of light beating down oppressively from above. In this light the giant was even more impressive, the enormity of his size fully presented without shame. More creatures awaited him, these ones clad in robes of sapphire samite and wearing masks of deep silver studded with amethysts. In lieu of pots and bags they held ornate scarlet pillows with golden tassels, upon which sat individual pieces of armor. The first pair of creatures approached and began to dress the giant, pulling on a skin-tight black body glove over his powdered muscles, upon which pieces of the giant’s black and red armor was affixed and tightened. Greaves were brought and placed around his lower legs and sealed, vambraces were done the same around his forearms. Gauntlets were pulled up tight over the hands, both pulsating with dark malefic energies. An armorweave hauberk was pulled down over his torso, his upper chest covered by black Impervium. Likewise his shoulders were protected by segmented plates of Impervium. A cloak of maroon armorweave was then magnetically clamped at the back of each shoulder pad, the emblem of the Empire proudly emblazoned across its rippling fabric.

All that remained was an austere helmet, bereft of over complicated ornamentation in favor of battle practicality. The giant held this last component in the crux of his left arm while his right hand grasped the hilt of a massive lightsaber, far greater than one of average stature could possibly hope to possess. Another pair, smaller and curved, were hooked on both sides of his waist.

Another partition opened up before him, leading to a wide hall large enough to drive two heavy repulsortanks side-by-side with some room left on either side. The giant strode with head held high, the unrivaled master of this domain of dark durasteel and recycled air. Everywhere he journied he was assailed by re-confirmations of loyalty in the form of crisp salutes and demonstrations of submission by those beneath him, the mounting reverence leaving little impression on his mind. He suffered such prostrations nearly every day, the subjects of his vast interstellar Empire more than willing to prove their devotion at any given moment in his presence. To another man it might have proved grating, and to another it might stroke the flames of ego. But the giant barely noticed it.

Such trivialities were beneath the notice of the Emperor of the Sith.

The Emperor emerged onto a massive bridge, multiple walkways overlooking recessed data pits filled with machinery and the technicians to operate them. A massive throne had been erected on the side closest to him, raised up three levels above the walkway floor to give whoever sat in it an unparalleled view of the bridge. Beyond that was a viewport that took up the entirety of the far wall, the cerulean swirl of hyperspace churning just outside. As befitting his position, the Emperor took his seat upon the throne and gazed down at his subjects as they worked. Only the dreadnought's secondary captain moved to stand at his side, on the lowest rung of the raised dais.

"My Supreme Excellency, we're about to reach hyperspace terminus with the rest of the fleet over Mandalore." Captain Godfris was a short man, not yet reaching the average height threshold for his species, and woefully dwarfed by the gargantuan size of the Emperor. “Very good,” the Emperor’s voice was a deep baritone rumble, like the breaking of stone. “Engage all forward weapon systems, and prepare to target their strongest defenses with the main cannon. We cannot allow them to stonewall us in space, we must achieve planetfall."

A shrill dirge heralded the arrival of the Behemoth, the Emperor's gargantuan Super Star Destroyer, alongside the rest of the fleet that began to materialize around it. Running along its central spine was a monstrously powerful superlaser, which was now angled right towards Mandalore itself. It didn't immediately fire, the planet's surface was not its target. It waited, gathering ever more power unto itself as the planetary shields of the Mandalorian homeworld began to flicker into existence. Com-scan was catapulted into overdrive analyzing the shielding around the planet, evaluating at what point would best serve the Empire's assault. Calculations by AQUILA further refined and honed the superlaser's targeting algorithm, precisely honing in on the weapon's intended target.

"Prepare to fire on my command."

 

[Constantinius Zambrano]

Objective: Sundari
Post: 1
Location: The Behemoth

Constantinius had completed his own pre-battle rituals during transmit. A multitude of exotic slave girls had assisted him in equipping his bulky suit of power armour, it's plates forged from Beskar seized from the corpses of Mandalorian warriors he had personally slain during a recent border incident, and whom he would face in battle once more on their own homeworld. A pair of slaves approached, carrying forth a massive sith sword, adequately sized for Constantinius within his armour. When fully equipped in his full war panoply, he departed from his personal chambers aboard the Behemoth, his towering form striding confidently through the corridors of the ship.

As he moved through the vessel, the same subjects who'd just been prostrating themselves before his father soon did very much the same for him, seemingly caught off guard by TWO royals passing by their workstations in quick succession. He eventually arrived at the bridge of the Super Star Destroyer, striding over to stand beside his father on the highest dais available next to his towering command throne. "This will be a day long remembered, father. A triumph worthy of the ages."

[member="Darth Carnifex"]
[member="Vaulkhar"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Objective: Sundari
Location: Flight Deck, the Behemoth

He wore the sooty black and royal scarlet of the Imperial Envoy, the same he had when in service of the Zambrano family in years past. Time had seen him put it away in favor of a quiet life, but Alkor Centaris had since learned. Some men were never meant to live quietly.

He looked on at the Holographic image of the Emperor himself as he came into view, and after several moments longer of waiting, he addressed Kaine Zambrano with a slight bow. "Your eminence," he greeted, "I wanted to verify the terms of our agreement before I began preparations to join the siege of Sundari. I serve you in exactly the same capacity as I did before I left the Empire, with no exception."

Slaughter. Compliance.

"And you will in turn allow me to conduct my investigation with regard to the death of one of the Confederate Knights Obsidian."

Naedira.

Life had a way of twisting and entwining. He never thought he would wear those clothes again. He never thought he would return to the life of Envoy, of murderous machine that brought world leaders and rebellious factions to heel before the Sith Empire. He never thought he would lead, and he never thought his blunders would bring about the death of a subordinate.

Despite all of that struggle, he only needed a clear and concise answer from [member="Darth Carnifex"] to suspend the duties of a Knight and become a killer once more. He wanted answers. Naedira deserved answers. The Knights Obsidian would want Justice. It all made sense.

In his mind, it all made sense.

He could feel the excitement boil in his blood. The urge to taste the smell of burning flesh. The desire to carve to pieces those who stood against him. His fingers danced longingly across the hilt of his Sith sword.

Not yet. Your time is coming. Not yet.

 

[Darth Bellum]

K O R _ V E X E N

---

---

Location | Aboard The Baal, Space over Mandalore
Objective | Curtain Call
TSE and Irate Mandalorians | Allies
The UCM | Adversaries

How long the Anzati General had waited for the right moment, biding his time and pulling unseen strings from the shadows to orchestrate war and spark conflict across the Galaxy. Everything had proceeded according to plan, according to his vision to ensure that only the strongest would survive while laying waste to the weak; His vision of the future had no place for the complacent or cowardly. From the false flag attacks that had been orchestrated on Umbara and Eshan, to the retaliation of several Galactic powers, and finally the iron fist of the Sith being brought to deliver a crippling blow to those who claimed to be Mandalorians. Did Vexen feel any bit of remorse or perhaps regret in this moment? No. Not a single shred of emotion other than cold and ruthless joy remained to fill his body. Centuries he prized Mandalorians for being an excellent source of sustenance, feeding off of the seasoned warriors, devouring their skills and experiences as fighters, and growing ever stronger in the process. For the latest Mand'alor to have brought the quality down on his one source of enjoyment was something he could not forgive nor allow to pass. It was an insult to both the Anzati and those who adhered to the traditions of the warrior culture. If anything it provided an opportunity for the wolves among them to rise up and fight amongst each other for rule over its people once they have turned and tore out its current leader. A weak leader had no place leading vicious wolves, a point Vexen made when addressing the Mandalorians that defied [member="Yasha Cadera"].

'And only the strongest shall rule Mandalore'

Yes, their planet and cities would burn, but it was a small price to pay in order to ensure that those who survived this conflict would never again bend their heads in submission, never again be trampled upon and viewed as complacent and weak. Adversity was a simple yet effective measure of a peoples worth. They would either rise from the ashes, reborn and renewed or they will simply die out, and fade from the annals of history as weaklings who betrayed everything their culture stood for, all that their ancestors had built and achieved. He was intimately familiar with the history of Mandalorians and their culture, making it a point to drive his message hard into those who rose to defy the UCM. This was a battle for everything they stood for to determine their future. They could either choose to side with those they hated for casting aside their traditions, or side with those that would aid in taking back their history to forge a better and stronger future.

Vexen stood aboard the bridge of The Baal, the capital ship for the Gehenna Invasion Fleet, staring into the void with his arms crossed over his chest, accompanied by Vice Admiral Koruuna, his naval counterpart in every campaign they had been through. The Atrisian Vice Admiral would be stroking his beard as he spoke, " Suffice it to say I never would have thought us to attack the Mandalorians. Quite curious indeed though it does bring more entertainment than chasing after rebels and dissidants. What are your thoughts on the matter General? " The Vice Admiral would lower his hands to his side as he turned his head to look at the Anzati Sith who towered several feet over him. Vexen's cold and vocoded voice would reply, though he remained staring into the void, " Mand'alor has failed to live up to expectations and lead her people as one would expect from a culture based in war. Her expectations that we would come to her aid and remove any threat to her rule without her needing to lift a finger is foolish behavior that we will no longer tolerate. A weak Mand'alor that won't even lead her people into battle and rise victorious is a weak ally unworthy of our graces. The price for treating the Sith as her shield is death. "

Their fleet would soon arrive in space alongside the rest of the Sith Armada; a sight to behold indeed. Gehenna would be maintaining position over space until the planetary shield had been breached, and then proceed to deploy its invasion force to the ground and take its capital. Vexen anticipated meager resistance at best, as his elite Red Legion were trained as the best the Imperial military had to offer, and outfitted with equipment that would put them on even playing fields with the Mandalorians that were foolish enough to attempt to stop him. He would take the capital, or see it burned down to the ground with not a single structure left standing. Across the ships that comprised Gehenna Fleet, his elite Red Legion prepared their equipment and gear, getting loaded onto transports as starfighter escorts were preparing to take off the moment the shields had been breached.


It would be a bloody day to remember.

​

​

 

[BobertEZ]

Location: Mandalore
Main Objective: Conquer Mandalore
Secondary Objective: Reduce New Keldabe to slag
Star Date: Wiped from database

It was here. The battle of Mandalore. The battle FOR Mandalore. Months of planning, weeks of training. Long had Raptious prepared for this. Long had they built the desire for battle against the greatest warrior people in Galactic history.

The Mandalorians.

The Mando'ade.

Aboard their battlecruiser, Ruthless Vanguard, the Sith Lord watched in awe as hyperspace flew by their portion of the fleet like water passed through two rocks in a river. Like the lava flow of Mustafar raged from the endless volcanoes. Tumultuous yet somehow still orderly. Impetuous yet somehow still understanding. An angry child that was scolded into submission. Chaos and Order harmonizing in the space between space. The reality between the veil. On the other side, blood and gore and death awaited the Empire, awaited the Mandalorians. It would be the most glorious battle the Darth had taken part in.

For the Empire, they told themselves as the battlecruiser and their portion of the fleet exited hyperspace with dull thunks and booms. Before them, the Mandalorian homeworld sat, waiting. The fleet as a whole began aiming and firing, dozens of Mandalorian ships, civilian and otherwise, twitching in shock at the sudden arrival of the Sith who had clear malicious intent.

The Darth formed an intimidating figure on the bridge of their ship, standing nearly eleven feet in height and comprised mostly of muscle and wires and added organs following the augmentation process they had undergone before this day. Their hair had been bleached white as had their skin; their eyes became an amethyst purple; and their teeth sharpened to puncturing points, capable of ripping flesh if the Sith Lord felt the desire to do so. Of course, these features were hidden behind their helmet, crafted in such a way so as to resemble a golden Corosian Phoenix, a bird of astounding beauty and rarity.

Alongside their helmet, the Sith was clad in their own unique set of purple and gold enameled Primarch-Class power armor. It bore various Sith emblems as well as their own personal insignia on their left breast under their wing shaped pauldron: III, the meaning unknown to all but the Sith Lord themselves. Additionally, they were gripping their lightsaber tightly like a Rancor gripped its meal, the orange crystals waiting for their time to feast. And so the Darth waited. Waited for the chance to make landfall and assault the Mandalorians face to face. Like true warriors.

Raptious felt a smile creep across their hidden face and turned to their Second, Rear-Admiral Tyths Lore who used his fingers to brush his curved blonde mustache in intrigue.

“Order the Malaks to begin firing on the planet, aim towards New Keldabe. That is our main target. Have the Corvettes engage the enemy ships. Keep the Strike Cruisers and Assault Frigates here until a breach has been made. Scramble the fighters and keep people from leaving the planet."

Tyths Lore bowed his head gracefully, his loosened hat sliding with the movement, "Of course, Lord Raptious. This will be a day long remembered."

"As it should," the Sith Lord responded in whisper before turning to their second to look him in the eyes, an action that required the Darth to lower their head. "And activate the transceivers. Send a direct message to Emperor Carnifex. Let him know we are preparing our own assault and await further orders. And then...send a challenge to the Mandalorian frequencies. Let’s see if any of those plucky bastards want to fight personally.”

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Objective: Sundari
Location: The Behemoth
Allies: TSE & Allies
Enemies: UCM
Wearing: Armor | Pathfinder Boots | The Forgemaster's Ring | Ring of Stasis | Sofitor
Wielding: 8 Nozhi Blades | 2 Czerka knives | 2 Nastirci Combat Knives | Copero's Wail | Fire and Smoke (lightsabers) | Combat Gauntlets | Knight Obsidian Sword | 2 TOTT-001 Arc Light Blaster | 2 Dissuader K-30 Pistols with Glitter Bullets | Pouch of Vita Stones
Post: One

Scherezade was psyched. To say that the tall brunette was practically bouncing would have probably been an understatement. For months now, under the guise of her new role within the Ministry of Secrets, she had used the connections and clearances granted to follow every tiny peeps the networks could find about Mandalore, the capital planet of the United Clans of… Well, Mandalore. She had, sadly, been unable to find any information regarding Mandalore the Chicken, but she supposed that it made sense. From what she'd heard about her from [member="Kaden Farr"], she wasn't expecting the woman to show up at the scene anyway.

Though, it angered her. For all her gripes with the people who led the Confederacy, they at least had what it took to bother showing up when war was happening. The Mandalorians, whose entire culture was based on bad fashion choices and battleware, to have an absent leader for so long, was beyond weakness. Through all the reports she had scoured, from Eshan, from Taanab, from Azure, from every other war that had been waged against them in recent times, she had not found a single mention that would indicate their leader had been present. And that infuriated the Princes of Endelaan, the only known daughter to its King and Queen. How dare someone hold the banner of rulership while dodging it like that.

And then of course, there was her own personal stake in all of this. Scherezade was by blood and legacy, a deWinter. A war that had begun between the deWinters and the Mandalorians a millennia ago was now a thing forgotten by most. But she was not among those who'd forgotten. She remembered very well who her enemies were. Who had kidnapped her aunt and forced her into becoming one of them. Who had kidnapped her grandmother and conducted the worst of experiments on her. Who had tried to poison several of her family members, and succeeded with the murder of few. Scherezade knew that she was but a small piece in a war that would not end until one of the sides was entirely eradicated. But she did not dodge her responsibilities. She would not hide or escape. Every chance that had existed since her return from the space between dimensions, every single opportunity to draw blood from the Mandalorians, she had grasped with both hands, and choked the living krak out of.

And now this.

The Sith Empire had decided not to just call on war, not to just push the Mandalorians back from from the Silvers' borders. No. They were going for the capital. And while Scherezade had spent weeks now moping around, feeling entirely lost, the mere knowledge of this had been like an adrenaline stim to her very soul. To massively destroy Mandalorians in a scope her family had not been directly responsible for in about seven hundred years… It was her time now, her chance to make a mark in this blood feud.

It also gave her a chance to ogle the Sith Empire for a little bit. While it was true that the NAP agreement between the Sith and the Confederacy had changed things, Scherezade hadn't actually had the time to look at them from up close yet. Who were these people, that by all logic and common sense she was supposed to have ended up with after breaking free of the pebble? Why was it that even now, a year and a half after that, she still found herself willingly maintaining a distance from them? These were supposed to be her people, and yet… She was a stranger amongst them.

Scherezade shook her head and pulled one of her knives out from her thigh belt, a small rag in her free hand used to clean it again. She wanted it to shine before Mandalorian blood stained and tainted it. Soon... Soon, they would begin dropping in the drop pods that had been the opening notes to every war she had been in thus.

But oh, they would have so much fun…

 

[Ra Vizsla]

TEN YEARS AGO

---

Location: Keldabe Fields
Event: Call of the First Crusade


"Mandalore remembers."


The statuesque visage of the newly claimed Mand'alor the Undying stood before the massives on the outreaches of the plains surrounding Keldabe. Thousands were amassed to come here him speak - they hadn't had a Mand'alor in quite some time, the Alors of the Clans had been running the government. Times were changing - fast. This new incumbent was talking fast, loud, and aggressively.

He was talking about war.

"Move aside, boy." An old man brushed past the crowd, moving as others had moved closer towards the front to hear their new leader. A young boy of only eleven years was pushed into the trodden mud. Not a single person seemed to notice, the crowd was fixated.

"For this, I name Isley Verd... Warmaster of the Clans"

The crowd erupted in cheering, illuminated by the roaring blaze of the many great fires they had erected.

An older boy offered his hand to the one that had fallen.

"C'mon, Khor. I found a spot closer," he whispered. Excitement fell over both of their faces, and they sprinted through the crowd, the older one leading the other to a displaced boulder. Offering his hands as leverage, the older boy lifted Khor up onto the darkened face of the boulder, and they began climbing to gain better vantage. The crowd had begun applauding again.

"Approach, Draco Vereen. I name you Shukalar."

More applause.

"He's not wearing his armor." The older boy looked over. "I thought he'd be wearing his armor."

"Shhhh," shushed one person from the crowd, their eyes lit in the flames while looking at the boys. Khor waved his hand at the person, dismissing them, looking back to his friend.

"His spear, though. By the tent." Khor nudged his friend. "It's huge!"

"Mandalore's security must be ensured, for our children's future, for our future. For a thousand generations to come."

A dull hush had ran across the crowd. Goosebumps fell over Khor's skin.

"...He's taking us back to war," he whispered to the older child.

The Mand'alor began roaring with an excitement that brought the crowds to exhilaration.


"Mandalore remembers.



Now it is time for them to remember us."


The older child's face darkened, a somber expression crawling across his face. He was an orphan from the raids on the One Sith, just a few years prior, the painful memories of his family emanating from his change in behavior.

"No..."


For Honor.


For Glory.


Your Mandalore calls you..."


Khor laid his hand on his friend's shoulder as they looked out upon the crowd.

"Brev....are we...are you...going to be okay?"

---

TODAY

---

A small knoll on the edges of the city limits.

An unmarked grave.

The grass was very sparse this far out. Desert, for as far as the eye could see. The domed city of Sundari sat in the backdrop.

A large golden gauntlet lay on the unnamed marker.

Mandalore remembers.​

"...I remember."

A weighted figure stood, massive in stature, clad in familiar golden beskar.

A spear gripped in his offhand.



A speeder lay still some few meters off from the grave, a few men gathered around it.

"Vod, what're we doing out here?" One of them bemoaned. "They'll be here any minute, we need to head back to the shelter to focus up."

"Not now, Set. Give him some time, today's a big day," another said in a lowered voice, laying his hand on the man's shoulder. "He's got a lot riding on these next couple of hours."

"I know, I know. I'm just amped... it's just... we're back, y'know?


Killing Sith, big speeches, tearing off limbs and poodoo... I'm just really amped, man. We're back. "




"...Ra Vizsla's back."


The speeder soon took off, scorching across the sand dunes of the Sundari desert.

 

[Jor Kvall]

Location: Sundari
Equipment: In bio

​

Prelude​

​

They deserved this.​

The Sundari desert sat in decrepit solitude​

visible from inside the dome of the city.​

Silent, for now,​

but soon it would melt into the wound-sea.​

Jor had warned for years of the Empire's duplicity,​

but his voice was a pale moan.​

Ashes against the grain.​

Mand'alor had attached their fates to the Sith's wagon,​

a dangerous game.​

For when all usefulness was gone,​

thousands would die​

and Mand'alor would exhale her people into oblivion.​

​

They deserved this.​

​

The mournful silence brought a dark reflection​

of his betrothed's pale shadow.​

Jor would never feel her embrace again.​

Never would his life-blood carry on into a beating heart.​

He would kill for his people,​

no matter their sins.​

He would die here,​

alone,​

as he lived.​

​

A great journey,​

one last beautiful ride,​

to where death sleeps and dreams of his buried pain.​

His weapons, those old friends,​

odes to triumph,​

clung close to him.​

He was ready to die.​

​

Were they?​

 

[Adenn Kyramud]

Location: Sundari
Equipment: In BIO under "Things always with Adenn" armor and main gun in sig.
Tags: @Darth Prazatis
Links: Beskad Elite(x20), Beskad Warriors(x100), Hell's Angel, Gunner, Protektrak(x10), AT-AD(x200), Hanger Complexes, Magnaguards(x10), Never Again, Krayt Dragons(x2), Tracyn dragons, I haven't linked everything I will be using just yet, I will though once the fighting gets started

[media]​

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fs79G2FWwbI​

[/media]​

​

Adenn was in Sundari, in fact he was in the palace itself. He had gone to Mandalore for both business and to examine his cultures home planet. It had been some time since he'd last been there, what with all the conflict that had arisen in recent times. But here, in the heart of the Mandalorian people, Adenn felt somewhat safe, at least for now. As such he walked around the innards of the palace with only his main weapon and his beskad on hand, while obviously also wearing his armor. At his side was Gunner, his second in command for all of Clan Mortui, and his closest friend and ally.

They walked the halls of Sundari's palace, speaking of clan matters, taking the time to relax themselves and the enjoy the peace. Then the alarm came, a fleet was coming in from hyperspace. However, it was a fleet from the direction of the TSE and they were flying TSE colors. Wondering why they were coming, Adenn made note of them, even as the fleets in orbit went about their business, unconcerned with the arrival of the TSE, they were allies after all. As such, Adenn kept walking the halls of the palace, eventually nearing his own temporary quarters. Another call came to him, telling him that the TSE had weapons hot, and most likely were headed towards the SJO.

Mentally shrugging, Adenn entered his own quarters, and there took all of his weapons he usually carried and armed himself. If the Sith wished for a meeting, then Adenn wanted to at least be armed in a well enough manner. After all, who knew if the Sith wanted some Mandos to accompany them or not. Sighing, Adenn prepared himself for some over cocky sith to come demanding something or other, mentally fortifying himself to not try and kill whoever it was.

Walking as he prepared himself, Adenn soon found himself inside the palace's throne room. Making his way towards the throne itself, Adenn refrained from sitting for now. As it was, Adenn awaited a communication in the throne room from the Sith. In the room were his beskad elite along with 10 Magna guards he'd acquired from a clone on Obroa Skai. Then there was also Gunner, his friend, who even now stood by his side as they looked towards the heavens to catch a glimpse of the Mandalorian fleets in space. Something felt wrong to him, but Adenn decided to ignore it. The Sith were their allies and he hoped they'd continue to be. So it was a waiting game now, one Adenn would play for now. Observing the heavens, Adenn stood there, watching, waiting.

Space

In space around Mandalore was Clan Mortuis fleet. It had been damaged and reduced at Tanaab, losing all Hammerhead destroyers, and the rest of the ships receiving some damage. But now they were as strong as ever, with their numbers back up to pre Tanaab levels, while they were also near another ship. The Never Again. Said SSD was in orbit of Mandalore, near Sundari palace, with Clan Mortuis fleet around it in a loose formation. They'd been practicing recently and were now coming down from the work they'd done. As such, they were still in formation and orbiting Sundari, though their weapons were powered down, they had shields up as that was what had been the last test run.

Fleet:
Mors Classemque (Death Fleet)

• Kanjiklub Star Deceiver (x3)
• Mandalorian Star Destroyer (x4)
• Hammerhead Destroyer (x2)
• Unicorn-class Heavy Cruiser (x1)
• Venator 3 Star Destroyer (x1)

SSD:
​Never Again(x1)

 

[Mishka Larraq]

Location: Larraq Homestead, New Keldabe Outskirts, Manda'yaim
Allies: UCM,
Enemies: TSE,
Objective: #GetOffMyLawn
Post: 01

Several Hours Ago​

Cold soil and gently trodden grass pressed against Mishka's knees as she settled into her usual spot. Behind her, in the distance, a scattering of low wooden buildings clustered beneath the shadow of a towering metal behemoth. Home. The place she had spent most of her young life. She and her family had lived here before the Cataclysm that had torn her world asunder, and they had stayed in those same wooden buildings, sheltered by the rusting behemoth above them as the world around them was reduced to hot winds, ash clouds, and acid rain. And as the foreign nations helped to restore the broken world, the Larraq Homestead and those within had stood their ground and rebuilt their own little community upon the golden planes of Mandalore. An empire had risen since then. Children had been taken from their homes, a vile leader lashed out in fear at a people who had committed no crime, and those that came after tried to convince the survivors to forget that it had happened.

Today, like those that had come before, toxic air of a ravaged planet or the cool caress of morning dew, Mishka knelt upon a slight hill at the edge of her family's property. Before her, the sweeping plane of Kelita Valley sprawled out for miles. Long stocks of golden grass and amber ferns danced in the breeze before her eyes. Numerous small creeks flowed into the wide, slow river that wound its way through the lowest points of the plane as it snaked its way from distant mountains to far away seas. On the far side of the valley, the famous silver-leafed trees of Mandalore clustered together at the base of mighty gray mountains that rose up to meet the bright blue sky and the scattering of clouds that hung just below the heavens as they drifted lazily across the world.

Calmed by the sight of her world's natural beauty, Mishka closed her eyes. A gentle breeze howled in Mishka's ear. But as her heart calmed, so too did this noise fade away. Her face was warm with the light of the sun, a gentle breeze causing strands of wayward hair to dance against her cheek. Her heart calmed, and this too faded from Mishka's awareness. Her natural senses, those of the body she had been born into, all faded into nothingness. Mishka simply existed, becalmed within the void of her own mind. And within her core, somewhere not too far from her heart, Mishka allowed a new sense to come to the fore. Slowly this sense spread, and Mishka became aware of herself once again.

Golden hair danced upon her slightly bowed head. Her eyes, green and hidden behind closed lids. Her skin soft. Neither pale nor tan, but somewhere in between, modestly adorned with a simple blue and white dress, the hem of which sprawled around her like the rings of some distant world. This was her. Mishka Larraq. Daughter, Grand Daughter, and Sister to many whom she loved dearly. And also, a part of something far, far greater.

The Jetii. The Dar'jetii. They called this greater thing The Force. But to Mishka's people, it was The Manda. The great oversoul that connects to all things and that all things are a part of. A thing to which the Mando'ade are uniquely connected. For only they truly know what it means to live their lives as a part of something so much larger than they could ever become. Or so they told themselves. For the Jetii and Dar'jetii each told themselves much the same story.

Mishka however, didn't bother herself with trying to understand the nature of the universe. She simply let herself be a part of it. She sat, she connected to it, and she accepted the universe for what it was. And it, in turn, blessed her with awareness of all its splendor. It did not tell her these things, nor did it fill her head with knowledge and secrets. She was simply... aware. She was aware of the blade of grass that had struggled so valiantly against the pressure of her knee and finally snapped from its roots. She was aware of the insects that crawled about beside her. She was aware of a sea of life that danced and moved with the rhythm of the planet's swirling oceans of barely contained gasses. She was aware of the water tumbling over rock and mud as it fell towards greater pools of salt seas that sloshed upon silicate beaches. She was aware of the immortal struggle of the distant mountains as they rushed up from the deep of her world and sought the freedom of open skies, and the relentless battle these monumental titans waged as cruel winds tore apart their brilliant peaks, seeking to force these noble titans to join their lessor kin.

The Manda spoke to Mishka, for she was blessed. She was Runi'verd, and her soul was radiant within the Manda. A dazzling light among the thousands of souls that graced her blessed homeland.

The chill of death ripped all joy from Mishka as a tingle ran up her spine and a boulder ripped at her gut. A gasp escaped her lips as eyes shot open.

"You okay?" Her brother asked, his blue, semi-corporal form standing a few feet away, tilted sharply as if he were leaning against an object that did not exist.

"Something's coming." Mishka said as she struggled to her feet, her legs wobbly and the boulder still sinking within her gut. Her brother motioned to help steady her, but paused mid-gesture partially because he remembered his own condition, and partially because he knew she needed to stand on her own.

"Ok." Rygel said as he watched his sister struggle to catch her breath after the modest effort of standing. "How bad of a something?"

"Darkness. Hunger. Anger. Pain." Mishka said as she stood straight and still and willed her body to be calm.

"Well... poodoo?" Her brother's ghost said flatly, still unfamiliar with the gifts his sister possessed and he had newly acquired through the accident of his afterlife.

"We need to rally the family." Mishka said as she turned towards home and put one foot in front of the other, slowly building up her pace as the stone in her stomach slowly shrank in size. "We need Olivia."

Rygel, whose spectral form had been walking beside Mishka, paused in his step but continued to drift alongside his sister as she marched towards the ranch. "Mish... Olivia's dead." Rygel said after several somber moments.

"Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la." Mishka said as a long lost sparkle danced in her eyes.

Now​

"Mish, I really don't think this is going to work." Larraq said from deep within the bowls of what was once a nuclear warhead. His spectral arms reached through solid pipes and struts, his lower torso straddled either side of the warhead's outer casing, and his lower half sticking out of the massive missile, his legs and feet dangle in the air several meters above the gantry where Mishka stood, hammer and chisel in hand as she carved away at the steel and composite casing of the aging weapon.

"You just need to have faith." Mishka said as her armed worked with the precision of a lifetime of practice to chisel precise markings into the side of the massive missile without compromising the structural integrity of the machine itself. "Thinking about it too much just makes it harder."

"You've told me that." Larraq said as his hands worked a pair of pliers and wrench in an effort to finish securing the warhead's new payload. While his spectral form might not be able to manipulate the objects directly, his surprisingly clever sister had managed to make him a pair of gloves that he could manipulate. And so long as he concentrated, he could even wear the gloves. Which was what let his sister put him to work fixing parts that couldn't otherwise be reached. "A lot." He added as he adjusted his grip.

"This is different." Mishka said as she gently wiped away a sliver of metal, half listening to her brother as she tried to recall the next set of symbols she would need to engrave. "And I told you she wasn't in the afterlife."

"You also told me you couldn't find her. Not just in the afterlife, or in the Manda. But in the whole karking galaxy." Larraq said, his pliers slipping from the bolt. A moment of distraction and the gloves passed through his hands and collapsed into the nooks and crannies of the warhead. A sigh would have escaped his lips if he still had any. "You said it yourself." He continued, his voice echoing through the missile's interior as he tried to wiggle his hands back into the gloves and began fishing for his tools again. "You even broke a Dathomiri Crystal Ball trying to look for her."

"I did." Mishka said as she finished the last of her symbols and stepped away to admire her work for a moment. "I'm done out here." Mishka added.

Larraq had managed to get the gloves back on his hands, but after a moment of frustration, gave up on gathering the pliers and wrench. Glancing back at the bolt he had been tightening, Larraq was confident that it would do just fine. "Yeah, me too." Larraq said as he began to wiggle his hands back between the various pipes and hatches of the warhead. Once free, he drifted down to stand beside his sister and take in the sight of their work. Without access to the vast industrial resources of his once mighty corporate empire, there wasn't a great deal he could do for his family now. But his sister had asked for a Hyperspace beacon. His sister had asked for a powerful Hyperspace beacon. And he had delivered.

In the distance, sirens and alarms began to echo throughout the valley as rest of the Mando'ade recognized the threat that Mishka had predicted. The Sith had come to Mandalore once again.

"You still can't find her, Mishka. How is this going to help?" Larraq asked as a crane moved the completed missile out of the hangar and onto a landing pad. Together, Rygel and Mishka walked onto one of the other landing pads built into the massive Kyr'vhetine monstrosity that towered over their childhood home. Beneath them, their extended family and most of their neighbors finished organizing themselves into makeshift battle units. But up on the massive rusting behemoth, the two stood in silence for a few moments as they watched hundreds of miles of yellow grass sway with the breeze.

"She'll find us." Mishka said at last as the sun warmed her face and her hair danced in the wind. "We just have to show her the way."

Alarms echoed across the valley, warm wind buffeted her dress, and the roar of a massive missile reached high into the brilliant blue sky above her home.

"Have faith." Mishka said calmly, her heart warm and her eyes twinkling.

 

[Kaalia Pavanos]

Location: Mandalore - In orbit
Objective: Valkyrie it up in Sundari
Gear: Twin lightsabers, Valkyrie Founder's Armor
Allies: TSE - [member="Charlyra Araano"]
Enemies: UCM - To be seen

The weak were to be purged. It was the only way to keep the galaxy from falling into ruin. What then, when an ally loses their strength?

Then, they can no longer be an ally. They, too, are to be purged. This was the decision that the Sith Empire made.

And so, war arrived on Mandalore's doorstep.

---

---

Darth Avacyn's pre-battle ritual was quite a simple one. A moment to herself. To reflect on the events that had brought the Sith forces to this place. To awaken her lust for battle and let it fuel her very being. For this, she sat in meditation, feeding off the Force around her and letting it course through her. Her heartbeat quickened. Her bloodlust rose. The Sith were the strong. The Mandolorians had become the weak. This day was inevitable.

In the back of Avacyn's private quarters, was a terminal. Her back was turned to it now as she meditated, but the screen still displayed a message that had been sent not an hour before now, the recipient being logged as [member="Ishana Pavanos"].

As always, you'll say there's nothing to worry about, but please be careful. I will literally drag you back into the realm of the living if you die on me.

I love you, miala.

Kaalia

Something in the back of her mind felt off this time. However, there was no time to let it affect her. Ishana would be fine, she couldn't see any other outcome this day. She didn't accept any other outcome.

 

[Funami Teriyaki]

Objective: Sundari
Location: The Behemoth


Little feet slowly shuffled along the endless corridor and suffered greatly. Looking down and sulking, a little girl snailed through the Behemoth. She had not signed up for this! Now the decision to board the Sith emperor’s ship weighed heavily on her disillusioned mind. All her dreams had been violently shattered by this day. Giving a weary sigh, the girl moved her purple gaze to the ceiling and perked up her ears for the sound of turbolaser batteries. Any minute now. The turbolift shaft at the end of the hallway continued to mock her from distance. Could she make it in time? As if ready to give out any moment, her knees trembled. This wasn’t what she had imagined. Not one bit.

Those Super Star Destroyers were way, way too big to her liking!

A whole world had been sentenced to death and she was nowhere near a viewport to see it!

How could she have been so foolish to roam about instead of finding a nice place to watch the battle from?!

For years she had imagined herself having a Super Star Destroyer. How utterly foolish had she been in her wretched naivety! In Funami’s childish dreams, all Super Star Destroyers were thrice the size and she never needed to spend half a week to get from one end to another. Finally confronted with reality, the Sithling made a mental promise to settle for a simple Star Destroyer next time. Unless the massive city-like ships also housed shopping centers, restaurants, and cafeterias. She had no idea.

The echo of her fancy shoes tapping against the metal floor filled the infinitely stretching corridors. Pacing down the hallway, getting in the turbolift, pacing down another hallway that looked just the same as the previous one and using another turbolift – the monotonous, repetitive scenery was confusing enough to make the Sithling wonder how anyone could stomach serving aboard without going mad.

More walking.

A lone officer strode by and the sound of his boots reached a halt. Funami practically felt his eyes staring daggers at her back. It wasn’t every day a pink-haired ten-year-old girl in an Atrisian schoolgirl uniform paraded through the emperor’s ten thousand meters long pride. Her bang had been bound by a hairclip and two pigtails playfully rustled at the sides of her head.

She did not know much about the nature of the conflict that raged below – above? – the gargantuan ship. But did she care? Opportunities to test her psychokinetic potential to the fullest had been awfully rare so far and she had not joined the Sith thinking them to be a collective of noble and honorable beings. To hold, squeeze, crush, destroy with her mind without fearing repercussion; it was among the reasons why she knew the decision to ally with the Sith had been a right one. Her psychokinetic abilities practically ached to seize something, anything, and make short work of it.

Finally. She reached the bridge and was promptly stopped by one of the many present officers.

Cold sweat dripped down his brow. He frantically looked about in hope of getting an explanation, “What’s this little kid doing here? Did someone really take their daughter to work? Today, of all days?”

Funami’s grabby little fingers reached up and a tug at the officer’s sleeve called for attention. Her expression showed the purest display of childish innocence to ever grace the ship.

“Um, excuse me? Can you tell me where the nearest viewport is?”

Their eyes met and stared at each other in silence.

[member="Constantinius Zambrano"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"]​

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Darth Ophidia had long awaited the chance to be unleashed upon Mandalore. When the Mandalorians put the Sith-Emperor on trial and killed his firstborn son, she called for retribution. Lesser insults had set planets ablaze and she had forged ties to malcontent clans to exploit this opportunity, but she was ordered to stay her hand. When Mandalorian mercenaries worked, time and again, against Sith-Imperial interests, Ophidia had prepared for war, but stayed her hand.

Now, with the weakening of the rule of the Mandalor, the rise of corrupt and bickering Alors, the alliance was broken. She was free to bring a torch to every homestead, a blade to every man, woman and child.

But she was no warlord.

No, she did not command any grand armies nor apocalyptic weapons. Instead she commanded a force far more insidious: Sith Assassins.

She had come with the Eidolon, filling it with operatives of her organisation distributed to four smaller Phasmas. Each Phasma would carry a team down to the surface of Mandalore, where they would be tasked with disrupting enemy command. Cloaking systems were primed on the Star Destroyer and on the smaller vessels. Darth Ophidia herself was to take the lead of the infiltration of Sundari.

The Pale Assassin donned the old, but still functioning armour she had worn for the One Sith, worn over silken robes of black and dark blues. After strapping on the vambrace, she tested the wrist mounted shikkar’s mechanisms, gave it some lubricant, then checked it again before proceeding to the next item in front of her. Toolbelt and lightsabres, vibrodagger and smoke grenade. It was like a ritual with little pomp, only purpose, as she placed the weapons of her trade on her person. The last thing to adorn her body was the helmet as she picked it up between her hands and mirrored herself in its eyes.

For a moment, the eyes that stared back were not the burning embers, but cold and grey, young and ambitious. She turned the helmet and placed it over her head. It sealed itself to her head with an intense whine as the visor lit up.

The Queen of Shadows met with her agents, the assassins. Much like her, they were hooded and dressed in dark or muted colours. Their eyes followed her intently as she clasped her hands behind her back and took a broad footed position in front of them.

“Our mission is clear; our objective simple: Disrupt Mandalorian defenses. Strike at their command and communications, and by the Nether, someone throttle those damn lizards” “Two on each team will be responsible for bringing the explosives. Do not lose them.” “Should you find yourself isolated from the rest; Success or death.”

She made a simple nod and the assassins dispersed, picking up their last equipment and moving to their assigned vessels to wait for the signal. Darth Ophidia herself followed at a casual pace.

 

[Samka Derith]

Location: The Behemoth​

Allies: The Sith Empire - [member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Constantinius Zambrano"] | [member="Alkor Centaris"] | [member="Funami Teriyaki"]​

Enemies: Mandalorian Empire​

​

​

​

She sat on a spare chair tucked away on the corner of the ship's bridge. It had a nicer view here, the images of lightspeed travel oddly soothing to the young girl whenever she glanced up. When they arrived, she wouldn't have to move an inch to observe the start of the destruction. For the time being though, she would wait.

From far in the bowels of the colossal ship, she could feel a mass of Dark energy. This was a familiar presence. That of the Sith Emperor, Darth Carnifex. His aura more than enough to dwarf all others around so his was the only other individual signature which she could detect. The Dark Lord of the Sith was no doubt in one of his usual pre-battle rituals. He'd done one the very day they'd met. But for Samka Derith, Master of the Knights of Ren, there was a rather different pre-battle ritual. It was called: ​Knowing the Boom to Bust Cycle: A Beginner's Guide to reading planetary economic models and their advantages and it was awfully dry. She flicked to the next page of the text, doing her best to concentrate. Knowing such matters would be a benefit to her affairs on Bespin but the mundane affairs of Governance and economics were of little interest to her. Stifling a yawn then tutting her tongue, she did her best to avoid switching her holopad to more stimulating affairs and continued reading.

At least the Sith weren't paying her any mind.

She supposed they'd seen far stranger than a young, Dark Sided woman in a dress reading in the corner of their ship, it was a mild improvement over the stares and awkward glances she received from First Order officers. It was worse now than ever, the Grand Admiral's longstanding prejudice against her order now infecting the rank and file like a disease... it was no wonder she hid herself away in semi-retirement.

But this? This call wasn't going to go unanswered. Mandalorians were perhaps her most disliked creatures in the galaxy. Even with the Galactic Alliance, the Jedi, the Outer Rim Coalition... Samka's differences with them boiled down to a difference of how to make this galaxy a better place. Her time around Jedi had convinced her that enough of them had a genuine desire to help. Peace, happiness and prosperity for the greatest number of people. It was the same thing she wanted. The Mandalorians however... thrived off of war, they held no loyalty to allies nor needed provocation to attack. Terrorist deeds and backstabbing behaviour characterised their path of wanton destruction through the galaxy. Maybe there were good ones but she was yet to meet one. So when the request for her aid came, Samka had only one question for the Sith:

"What took you so long?"

The doors near to her opened and out strode the massive form of the Emperor himself, accompanied by another even larger presence. Yet another spawn of the Zambrano clan, no doubt. She knew Lepi who bred less frequently. As the uniformed men and women performed their formalities to their leaders, Samka offered a small smile, wave and nod of her head but little more. He knew she respected him and she wouldn't grovel on the floor every time they met to remind him of that. Instead, as the Dark Lord took his throne, her eyes turned back to the book on her holopad. She could probably finish this chapter before fighting started.

That was ruined, of course, when another familiar voice caught her attention. The hologram wouldn't see her from here but she could see Alkor Centaris just fine. How curious. The lost man not sure what meaning life held for him here to shed blood for the Sith. Or was it more to shed the blood of the Mandalorians? The Ren gave a short chuckle and closed her holopad.

Another time.

Battle was upon them.

Which is why the next thing to happen was a tad strange. Catching her eye from the entrance of the bridge was a young girl. A child. The bright pink hair was oddly reminiscent of her own when she'd dyed it purple. Rising from her chair, Sam took a few hops towards the child, close enough to overhear the conversation and sense the girl's intent. The Dark Side was potent for one so young yet she looked so sweet. A knowing grin crept onto Samka's face.

"It's just through here," wearing a warm smile, she gestured for the young girl to come forwards onto the bridge. The officer would not dare contradict his guest. The child probably wanted to see the battle. She'd been the same at that age. The same in a lot of ways, she supposed.

 

[Taru Cadera]

Location: Sundari
Allies: UCM & Friends
Enemy: TSE & their allies
Equipment: Everything in Equipment​

​

​

Running could be heard in the Sundari Palace as Taru's feet bound up the stairs and down the many ornate halls. Behind him scrambled a ball of fur, or more properly, a pure black Nexu cub named Arceus.

Some people were talking, most calm but others confused. Hearing what they said about who had just exited hyperspace, Taru had gone out to see for himself what the fuss was about. The Sith Empire had brought a sizable navy to Mandalore, and Taru really wanted to see if maybe this time he could tag alongside his Mandalorian brethren on the field of battle as they joined forces with the Sith to destroy the Jedi of The Silver Jedi Order. As he ran through the halls, it could be seen that this impatient youth was quickly strapping on his Beskar'gam mid-"run", barely managing to run at anything above a slow jog as he strapped his weapons across their respective magnetic holsters. The scattergun to his left thigh, his mace to his hip(on the right), and his Ash'amur across his back. Having finished strapping on what armor remained, he turned on all systems and double checked that everything was working in good order. Seeing that all was good, he abruptly leapt into the air from this very slow jog and barreled forwards under the power of the built in repulsors. This horizontal run in mid-air caused him to slam through a set of doors which had been slowly closing, and also caused him to swerve around a guard who, upon realizing who had just ran past him relaxed. Thank god for friend or foe identification, he thought to himself.

With all of his gear secure and presentable, Taru rushed into the throne room, where he was rushed immediately by the well trained Beskad Elite. It was understandable, but as with every other time, unpredicted. One would expect to be able to go into the throne room whenever one wanted, even when someone important was there, but Noooo... you can't. Seeing Adenn talking with his friend Gunner, Taru called out "Pas Adenn! Darjetii cuyir olar. Liser ni slanar ti etid? Gedet'ye! Ni copaanir at kyr'amur jetii irliur... (Hey Adenn! The Sith are here! Can I go with them? Please! I want to kill some jedi too...)".

[member="Adenn Kyramud"] | [member="Mishka Larraq"] ​

 

[Vaulkhar]

The ways of the Dark Lord sang of brilliance. The imperial masses worshiped him as a living god, chosen to stand above all others and rule with a fist of iron. Where Darth Carnifex moved, dozens followed in his wake to serve their emperor. Many of his children were very much the same. The Zambrano line had been graced with gifts many onlookers would consider simply unfair. Hulking, powerful forms capable of shattering the very earth they stomped across. It was said, those who looked upon the descent of the Dark Lord and his bloodline as they came from above knew only two feelings before their demise. First came awe. The beauty of the near godlike beings inspired those who waited below in ways no other mortal could. Next came fear. As the shock of beauty washed away from the poor sods awaiting their doom, fear consumed them. Much like angels of death, the Dark Lord and his children often fell upon their victims with reckless abandon, with but one objective in mind.

Doom.

Now Vaulkhar... Vaulkhar was different. Whereas his kin stood at seven feet tall, he was a humble 5'10 (177.8 cm). Many within his family sported a physique akin to divinity, he was smaller and weaker. Whatever had caused such a strange deformity in the man's life was simply unknown. However, if one were to consider it a weakness, they'd be sorely mistaken. The halfbreed had grown accustomed to his body. He had mastered it in a way that allowed him to stand shoulder to shoulder with his powerful lineage, never faltering.

While the Emperor went through his customary rituals, Vaulkhar partook in his own. No slaves or servants waited on him. He sat alone, his gaze settled on the helmet held firmly in his grasp. With every blink, flashes of battles long past burned through his mind. Stories of war sang only of victory. They left out the stench of death, the grizzly sight of thousands massacred, the gut wrenching feeling of loss that clawed from deep within. Every day the halfbreed struggled against these memories, thrashing wildly against them as if he were dragged down beneath a violent sea. No matter how hard he fought, he failed. He could never beat them back. In his isolation he concentrated to calm his mind. He locked the memories away behind a wall of apathy. Soon these memories would be necessary. Soon they would burst forth and flood the Sith Lord's mind.

But not yet. Not now.

Instead, Vaulkhar slipped the helmet over his head. The hulking sound of his father echoed through the halls of the Behemoth, shaking Vaulkhar from his meditation. Another massive form joined his father. If the halfbreed had to guess, he'd be willing to bet it was his elder brother; Constantinius Zambrano. The briefing was short and sweet. The two brothers were meant to join Darth Carnifex within the vanguard and ensure both their father's survival and the success of the objective. More likely than not, the Dark Lord wouldn't require his children's aid, but rules stood in place for this very reason. The Empire would not be without its Emperor and the brotherly duo were to ensure that was the case.

As the two marched past his room, Vaulkhar slipped silently out behind them. He was fortunate in the way these things worked. The soldiers, officers, and even some of the more personable druids showed fealty to both his father and brother as they stomped through the ship. Per usual Vaulkhar went unnoticed. The smaller more silent of the trio snaked through the shadows cast by the hulking Zambranos.

While the Dark Lord and his towering son marched into the command deck, Vaulkhar waited. Several seconds ticked by before their shadow moved into the room. His gaze swept over every inch of the room. No corner remained unchecked as he danced across the large chamber. All was normal... for the most part. He faltered for a split second as his gaze passed over someone reading.

Strange...

The thought barely crossed his mind before a child stepped into the command center. Behind his helmet his eyes widened.

A child? Here?

The very idea of a child joining in on the assault of Mandalore baffled him. The Sith were not stupid. Sure, Acolytes died all the time in their quest for power. It was the way of things. The road to greatness was a long one, usually fought with tooth and nail. However, to see a child such as this intentionally brought along to this battle sent him back on his heels. He shook his head before moving to take his customary place at the Dark Lord's left side, but a few feet back. Vaulkhar had become accustomed to such a place, acting as the emperor's left hand in battle. None would be permitted to approach. None would be prepared for the onslaught if they tried.

[member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Samka Derith"] | [member="Constantinius Zambrano"] | [member="Funami Teriyaki"] | [member="Kaalia Pavanos"]​

 

[Vash Windrider]

Objective: Sundari
Location: Eidolon
Allies: TSE + [member="Darth Ophidia"]
Enemies: UCM


Vash was waiting within the safety of the shields holding back the void from the launch deck of the Eidolon. A black and red cloak concealing the majority of his Nightseer armor. Standard issue, basic but more then functional for the task he was preparing for. Adorning the armor was his utility belt, holding his weapons. Twin curved lightsaber hilts, a HPX -7 pistol, 4 thermal detonators and 2 EMP grenades.

The assassin closed his eyes and felt over his armor and weapons. Committing placement to memory as the fingertips touched over every piece. A ritual he had done before every battle since he was an Acolyte. As his felt his queen of death and shadow approach, Vash took his place among the others as they gathered.

He listened closely to her words, his ears perking up to the sound of Communications. An evil grin enveloped his face from within the black faceless screen of his helmet.

"It will be done" he answered simply.

Turning then, Vash would walk with controlled excitement to his designated Phasma shuttle, along with the small squad of recon troops also assigned. He stood at the top edge of the ramp and waiting as it closed. Allowing himself now to meditate, to fall fully into the force. To gather his passion and fear and allow them to flow over his mind.

"The dark side shell free me"

 

[Taozi Fuyuan]

Objective: Be alert​

Location: Armatech City​

Allies: UCM+friends​

Enemies: TSE+friends​

Tags: [member="Marina DeVoe"] [member="Mig Gred"]​

​

Taozi had been watching, somewhat supervising, the unloading of medical cargo onto the planet. Her clan had used the Free Enterprise to bring swathes of equipment, pharmaceuticals, and other supplies to one of the cities as part of a trade deal instead of her fleet's ships. She logged each and every box of cargo that went on the ship at Taanab, and each box that left the ship here on Concord Dawn, per her agreement with the Jetii. As she checked numbers, a shiver went down her spine.

Something was wrong.

Her voidstone necklace had been left in the cockpit, and the doctor frowned. Was this part of her newly found connection to the Force, then? This would become annoying, if it were. She turned to her clan members who were unloading the ship. They were on the last boxes of shipment, now.

"Be on your guard. Something's... wrong. I don't know what it is, but something tells me we'll be needed."

 

[Nicair Claden]

Location: Sundari
Allies: UCM
Enemies: TSE

The sight of Nicair with his adopted son, Kheir, was becoming a common one in Mandalorian space. The young vong was independent, but lacking in social graces. More often than not, he held onto one of the segments of Nicair's kama as a sort of leash. They'd been in a relatively unsafe location once or twice. The most recent example had been on Kiros, though they'd been safe underground. Nicair had deemed it time for his son to see the place his father truly called home. Not just Mandalore, but Sundari. It was where he went to heal, and it was where he'd gone to die at one point in his life.

Only one of those ended up taking place, and it wasn't the latter.

"*This is the place Haran will be based on. The seat of the Qer'ak's power on Antisoch.*" He'd named the city Haran after his Mand'alor, [member="Yasha Cadera"]. He'd never known an individual inspire such loyalty in her people, let alone himself. She was the first Mand'alor he truly felt he'd die for. It had been long since he'd seen her, even longer since he'd fought by her side. But he'd heard she would be here, eventually. It would do Kheir some good to see her and her stature. He wasn't entirely sure the vong believed how large she was. Their first meeting would hopefully go well.

Walking with them was Teurit, one of the more trusted of his Sociph retinue and the first to be inducted into his clan, and two others. The first real encounter they had, Teurit attempted to attack him during Nicair's training of his army. It was fitting, how Nicair behaved around those that try and kill him. It was what brought about Kheir's adoption, and what brought Teurit and Nicair about as close as two Sociph could be to the other.

Nicair's brother had become his eyes, ears, and if needed blade, on Antisoch; Teurit had become his hand. The man accepted the Mandalorian culture far better than Nicair could have ever guessed or even hoped considering the nature of most Sociph. Their armor was of a different design than most Mandalorians, but it could be seen that that was the basis of the inspiration.

"*Sundari, you said? Different than I expected. Appealing to a degree.*" Nicair gave a shrug and a grunt of acknowledgment. They were slowly making their way through the palace when the alarm sounded. The Sociph, as they are known to do, immediately snapped to the expectation of combat. Their people were honed in combat and ambush tactics. If there was an alarm, they'd been conditioned to respond immediately or they wouldn't live long enough to see the end of it.

​"*Easy, it's just signaling an approach, not an attack. Adenn was around here, we'll see if we can find out what's-*" Something changed.

A ruler on Antisoch must have a sixth sense about conflict and the approach of it. As a result, most of Nicair's force training had been the reading of individuals in order to detect intention, motive, and frame of mind. His already proficient ability to read individuals, had been heightened. Something called back to the invasion on Azure, a feeling, a presence. Sith, and something told him they weren't here for peace. No reason to stoke the fires just yet.

It didn't take them long to find their way to [member="Adenn Kyramud"] and [member="Taru Cadera"].

"Su'cuy. What do we know?" It was all that needed to be said. Nicair could hide his emotions and had learned quite swiftly how to mask himself with the force. In many cases, force users on Antisoch were used as assassins and torturers, one had to be able to shield and hide from them. There was one thing he didn't hide, when he felt combat was getting close, his words and sentences got shorter.

He hadn't stayed alive this long without anticipating attack. He never trusted the Sith, nor the Jedi, nor some that still wore the visor. Not after the civil war. His hand, whether he knew it or not, came to rest on Kheir's small, grey, vong shoulder.

[member="Taozi Fuyuan"]