Dominion Sanctuary Flight | Rishian Nights - GA Dominion of Rishi Maze Super Hex

[Spirit of Diligence]

SANCTUARY FLIGHT | RISHIAN NIGHTS​

The Chaos of the Stellar Convergence continues as the denizens of the Galaxy find themselves scrambling for answers. When the companion galaxies collided with the Galactic Disc, thousands of stellar systems were thrown from their orbits, and countless planets were displaced, and cut off as even once reliable Hyperspace Lanes have become unnavigable. The Galactic Alliance has survived, the shock to the system not enough to cause it to collapse as it did with entities such as the Mandalorian Neo Crusaders or the Foundation. However, the threat of the Unknown remains as the Alliance quickly maneuvered to rescue citizens whose planets were shifted into the territorial claims of the Sith Order.

Following this Planeshift, the Galactic Alliance found itself facing new threats and challenges as a strange wave of energy permeated throughout the Galaxy, resulting in a Population Boom. Nearly overnight the Alliance watched as entities such as the newly organized Mandalorian Empire and the Black Sun Syndicate rose to power. With the threat of war looming on the horizon as the Imperial Confederation inches closer to the Alliance, the need to secure the frontiers of the Alliance has been renewed. The Supreme Commander of the Galactic Alliance has once more begun to organize a new expedition of the Sanctuary Flight, and a call for volunteers has risen.

The Sanctuary Flight now aims to push the Alliance along a newly discovered and unnamed Hyperlane Route to connect to the Rishi Maze, one of the companion galaxies that had merged into the main Galactic Disc. Staging at Osseriton a former penal colony, the Sanctuary Flight seeks to reestablish contact with the planets within the Rishi Maze.

A THOUSAND FACES​

For thousands of years, the planet of Lao-Mon has remained a mystery that has stumped many who have visited the planet. Those that have returned report a terrestrial planet whose continents are covered in jungles, only broken apart by vast oceans and seas; and towering predatory beasts that call those jungles home. Lao-Mon has long since been believed to be the homeworld of the mysterious Shi’ido species, masters of shapeshifting who have remained isolated for thousands of years. Recently, a message was received from Lao-Mon, requesting that the New Republic send envoys to discuss Lao-Mon joining. Though the New Republic has long since been lost to History, the Alliance has agreed to send a host of Senators and Ambassadors to attempt to form an agreement with the Shi’ido to welcome them into the Alliance.

RECLAIMING THE REACH​

The Croke Reach was a Sector of star systems that the Croke species claimed as theirs and settled many of the planets in the Reach. However, the species fell into infighting, and during a devastating Civil War, the Croke unleashed an even more destructive power that they quickly lost control over, the Lugubraa. The Croke Reach was quickly overrun by these living weapons, whose rapid reproduction has resulted in a huge population whose intelligence has dwindled without the presence of Elder Lugubraa. At the center of the Reach is the planet Crakull, the homeworld of the Croke Species who have requested assistance from the Alliance in beginning to reclaim the Reach from the Lugubraa in exchange for allowing a permanent Alliance presence in the Region.

BENEATH THE STORMY SKIES​

During the early stages of the Empire, the planet of Kamino was devastated when Tipoca City was destroyed, leaving only a small population of Kaminoans that survived. Those that remained were enslaved by the Empire, with few managing to escape and hide in the Galaxy. When the Empire fell to the Rebel Alliance, the Kaminoans began to trickle home, reclaiming their ocean world and beginning the long process of rebuilding. Among the Galactic Alliance Federal Assembly, laws have been adopted that have outlawed the creation and proliferation of Clone Armies, making Kamino a planet of vital importance. Recently, the Strategic Intelligence Agency was tipped off that a rogue Kaminoan has been utilizing a section of Tipoca City to clone an army for the Zualjinn Syndicate to replace their numbers lost at Cerea. Agents have been dispatched to the sunken city to prevent the Syndicate from growing in strength once more.

BYOO​

There is much to see in the Rishi Maze beyond the jungles of Lao-Mon, the Oceans of Kamino, or the devastated worlds of the Croke Reach, with rumors of untouched Hypergates and undiscovered treasures. Provided, that is, one has the luck to stumble upon these wonders.

​

 

[Velyra Vonn]

Senator Velyra Vonn of Zeltros
​

The air on Lao-Mon was thick with breathless silence.

Not the hush of peace, nor even secrecy—but a silence that watched you. That waited for your next word before deciding what face to wear in response.

Velyra Vonn descended from the diplomatic transport with all the serenity of a woman walking into her favorite ballroom, not an ancient jungle. She was dressed in midnight black offset by delicate accents of Zeltrosi gold, her silk sleeves flowing just enough to flirt with the wind. The white streak in her dark curls caught what little filtered light broke through the canopy—just enough to ensure that even the shadows couldn't quite forget her.

Each step was unhurried. Measured. Intentional.

If they mean to test our sincerity, they’ll find I’m already playing the game.

She paused briefly near the edge of the clearing, one hand brushing the vine-draped archway carved from natural stone. There were no guards to meet them, no formal delegation—only the ambient hum of the jungle, and the feeling that they were already surrounded.

“Let’s not pretend we’re the ones directing this scene,” she murmured toward whichever diplomat or aide had dared keep pace beside her, lips curling into the kind of smile that offered both comfort and challenge.

“We're the guests. And I do so hope we’re charming ones.”

She drifted forward like perfume, every motion soft but impossible to ignore—eyes alight with calculation, curiosity, and something perilously close to joy.

A negotiation was, after all, just another kind of seduction.

@TAGS — Open for interaction: fellow senators, Alliance personnel, or Shi’ido hosts.
​

 

[Judah Lesan]

Kas Larsen

The stars had shifted.

Again.

Not in the silent, invisible rhythm of galactic drift, but in a cataclysm. The Stellar Convergence had torn the Galaxy from its axis. Companion galaxies collided with the disc, scattering thousands of worlds like shrapnel. Hyperspace became a gamble. Borders collapsed. Entire sectors vanished behind curtains of navigational uncertainty. And in the vacuum left behind, monsters crept forward.

The Jedi Order survived, so did the Alliance. But Judah Lesan wasn’t sure he had.

He had been many things in his life: a Jedi Knight, a father, a husband, a Shadow. Titles felt increasingly hollow in this new galaxy where the lines between order and chaos blurred with every parsec. The worlds he bled to protect had been torn from the sky in an instant. All his sacrifices felt like whispers drowned in a rising tide.

He told himself this latest mission mattered. That the rogue Kaminoan cloner beneath the ruins of Tipoca City posed a real threat, and the Zualjinn Syndicate’s attempts to regrow its numbers in secret were reason enough to descend into a drowned city filled with ghosts and glass. In truth, Judah wasn’t sure anymore.

Not about the mission.

Not about himself.

Srina Talon’s presence still lingered in his shattered arm. I was a bitter memory of the battle on Echnos, where she had torn through him like a blade made of ice. She had stolen more than his shoto that day. She had left questions about power, purpose, and the dark allure of clarity in a broken world. Every time the Force went quiet in him, every time he felt that cold space where it used to burn bright, he wondered if she had left a crack deep enough for something to creep in.

Deeper than that… was the silence Katara left behind.

She had that red hair and a voice that could quiet storms, and Judah had loved her in the way only those who know war can, with desperation and fire. She was gone now. Another casualty of his absence. It was just one more wound he refused to let heal. He carried her in every step, every decision, every refusal to let the dark win, because if he let go of her, it meant the pain hadn’t bought anything. That none of it had.

The Galaxy had changed again, and Judah Lesan had changed with it. He always did.

Now he moved through Kamino’s sunken bones, a ghost among ruins, searching not just for cloned soldiers or criminal plots, but for meaning and assurance that the work still mattered. He wanted to know his suffering had built something worth keeping.

He no longer sought victory.

He sought weight and purpose. He needed a reason to keep walking into the dark when the light had grown so faint.

And if he couldn’t find it, then perhaps, he could at least keep the fire from going out for someone else.

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

A Shadow With Teeth

Outfit: Field Attire, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike | Slugthrower Rifle

Crakull had no sky.
Only layers of ash and low pressure, thick with fungal rot and static cling.
The jungle here didn't breathe—it twitched.

Aadihr’s boots sank ankle-deep into the mossy foam at the edge of a ravine. Dead Croke structures jutted like vertebrae through the swamp—cracked domes and spires of forgotten biotech, long since overgrown by the Reach’s uncanny ecosystem.

The Jedi Knight did not ignite his pike. Not yet. He simply walked, guided by sensation alone. The echoes here... they screamed hungrily.

He stopped near a collapsed transmitter dish, its steel bones wrenched open by some massive force. What remained of the Alliance scouts had signaled from here—moments before their biosigns vanished from the maps.

Aadihr knelt. Brushed fingers through soil, bone shards, and old Croke text etched in pale-stone prayer wheels half-swallowed by vines.
This had once been a place of memory. It reeked of desecration now.

"You won’t be alone long," he murmured softly, unsure if he meant the dead—or himself.

Behind him, dropships hissed steam into the marsh. More were coming. Soldiers. Jedi. Healers. Anyone brave—or foolish—enough to reclaim this cursed reach.

He rose, staff in hand.

"Form a perimeter. Keep quiet.

The forest was listening.

@OPEN​

 

[Nos Voros]

Objective: Beneath the Stormy Skies – Kamino Cloning Facility Raid
Outfit: Senate Commando Armor [X]
Full Kit Deployment:

Spoiler: Full Kit

• Legion Combat Engineer Multi-Tool
• 4 X Combat/Utility Knife-Model 01
• 2 X Vibroblade-Model 01
• Cortosis Vibroblade
• Legion Combat Pistol Mark I with Whisper-class Suppressor Series
• Legion Crew Personal Protection Weapon Mark I
• Combat Scattergun-Model 01
• 3 X Modular Hand Grenade-Model 01
• 3 X Anti-Armor Grenade-Model 01
• GAHA-32 Lionheart Commando Armor
• Combat Blaster Rifle-Model 01 with Tactical Accessories Series and Underbarrel Grenade Launcher-Model 01
• 4x blaster cartridges
• 2x stun grenades
• Ascension Pistol
• Fusion Lantern
• Datapad
• Garrote
• 3x stimpacks
• 3x bland survival bars
• 128oz Canteen of water

Spoiler: Rubrus Squad

Squad Leader: Captain Nos Voros (Zeltron male)
Fire Team Alpha — GAHA-32 Lionheart Commando Armor
Team Leader: Lieutenant Karis Vonn (Human female, Corellian)

• AT-FL9 Flechette Launcher
• A sharp tactician with experience in counter-assassination operations.

Medic: Sergeant Lorne Vesik (Mirialan male)

• Former Judicial Forces combat medic,
• GAGL 56 Snarl Grenade Launcher
• specializing in battlefield triage and trauma care.

Machine Gunner: Corporal Bex Jarn (Besalisk male)

• Heavy weapons expert.
• AT-RB07 Heavy Repeating Blaster
• Strong but surprisingly fast for his size, excels at defensive holds and breaching operations.

Rifleman: Private Tash Renn (Human male, Chandrilan)

• A precise and disciplined soldier.
• BHSR-1 Service Rifle
• Prefers coordinated maneuvers and works best in tight formations.

---

Fire Team Bravo — GAHA-32 Lionheart Commando Armor
Team Leader 2: Sergeant Jil Torvan (Togruta female)

• Former planetary security officer with expertise in urban combat.
• GARBR-5 Beak repeating blaster
• Skilled in squad coordination.

Marksman: Corporal Rann Kyber (Nautolan male)

• Expert sharpshooter.
• GABB-15 Talon II Blaster Carbine
• Specializes in eliminating priority targets at long range.

Heavy Weapons: Private Drax Molgar (Zabrak male)

• Specializes in explosives and heavy ordinance.
• ML-04E-GA Rocket Launcher
• Often deployed against armored threats or for breaching enemy positions.

Rifleman: Private Cass Deren (Duros male)

• Agile and quick-thinking.
• BHSR-1 Service Rifle
• Often acts as the squad's point man, scouting ahead for danger.

The dropship bucked once—twice—then stabilized, its stabilizers whining against the coastal wind shear. Outside the narrow viewport, the Kaminoan skyline cracked open with forks of green lightning, silhouetting the broken skeleton of Tipoca City beneath boiling stormclouds. The ocean boiled around it like something alive.

Nos stood, gloved fingers curled around an overhead strap. Rubrus Squad fanned out around him—quiet, ready.

Breach and burn. In, out. No cloning lab, no reinforcements.

He glanced down at his HUD overlay. Schematics loaded. Redlined sections denoted submerged sections where a rogue Kaminoan cloner had been spotted. Zualjinn Syndicate. Black market flesh trades. A grower of bodies.

"Hard entry in thirty. Keep comms encrypted. Lorne—jam their response relays. Jil, with me on breach. Rest form staggered wedge on descent. Hit them before they blink."

<<Already dialing them blind, Captain. Syndicate won’t call home tonight.>>

<<What’s the clone count if they’re online? Should we expect full-grown? Armed?>>

"Expect what you'd expect from a Kaminoan with something to prove. Anything that moves, we verify throat and brainstem. If it looks like someone we know—shoot twice."

A beat of silence. The dropship lights flickered as the first burst of ionized rain slapped the canopy.

<<So, standard Tuesday. Copy that.>>

Nos allowed himself a brief, mirthless exhale. His scar caught the light.

The light above the hatch turned green.

"Go."

@OPEN​

 

[Kas Larsen]

Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit
Equipment: Sentinel Lightsaber Hilt | Utility Belt
TAGS: Judah Lesan

It seems the Force was guiding a young Jedi Apprentice to the planet of Kamino. It was mainly an ocean world and constantly raining down on the cities situated there. He had never been to this planet before but having done some research this served as a cloning facility by past governments and other factions. Clones didn't sit right with Kas. It felt wrong. Uniqueness was what Kas finds best suited in life.

The young Jedi took his ship down to Tipoca city and made his descent to arrive on the city surface. Gathered what equipment he was able to take with him. The rain certainly would drown civilians out in the city. Kas had never experienced or seen anything like this. The weather.

His instincts being open although Kas was being cautious with his environment not familiar with the planet or city at all. However, a Jedi never stops learning. That's always one thing he takes with him from the Jedi ethics he studied from the Archives. Keep learning and continue his training.

There was this strange pull that Kas continued to follow coming from the Force. What was it? Why was he being led down another avenue? Only one way to find out. To find the source of it.

Coming down one of the many streets of Tipoca there was a figure close-by. Kas had a hand near his utility belt and Lightsaber hilt. However, he didn't feel or sense darkness strongly in the figure. There was flickers of light emitting from the man. Never met the older gentleman Kas proceeded to approach Judah Lesan cautiously. The Force energy had been surrounding this man.

"Excuse me sir. Is everything alright? I'm Kas Larsen. A Jedi Apprentice and I'm happy to help you if there are struggles you're enduring."

Titled his head and was examining Judah trying to figure out who and what he was. Noticed the Jedi robes, a utility belt and a Lightsaber hilt hanging from the belt. A fellow Jedi? Time to see why the Force led Kas to Judah. Something mysterious in the Force was working away here...

 

[Tilon Quill]

Spirit of Diligence

Galactic Alliance authorities would likely be in possession of mapping scans undertaken by the Mercy-Quill expedition earlier in the Planeshift crisis. The scans illuminated a significant fraction of the Rishi Maze adjacent to Kamino and the strange yet welcoming planet Wo'theth. The data also spoke to a miraculous encounter with a vanishingly rare family group of Vantasanth Leviathans, and contained observations about the Kaminoan Hegemony. Having been taken primarily by Starchaser-build expeditionary ships, the mapping scans were high-quality and compatible with Alliance technology and mapping protocols.

 

[Drystan Creed]

OBJECTIVE II

Drystan remained steadfast as a legion of Lugubraa surrounded him in an ever-enclosing circle. He seemed tense—a far cry from his usual calm demeanor, even in situations like this. He found himself in a darkened basement, beneath a structure nestled in a long-abandoned colony.

One of the leech-like foes stumbled toward him, reaching out an arm to grasp with its suction-cupped fingertips—but it found naught but a Shadow. Drystan sidestepped the hand with ease, smashing his forearm into the extended elbow joint and breaking it effortlessly. Despite the lack of effort, his eyes narrowed as he followed up with a roundhouse kick, sending the creature flying into the edge of the ring formed by its fellow leech-like brethren.

How?

It was a question he had been asking himself since deploying on this operation. The objective was simple enough, but Drystan always found ways to make things more complicated—more so to keep himself progressing as he intended. Which led to the question in his mind:

How do you knock these creatures out cold?

In a fight against a humanoid, the easiest way to neutralize an opponent was the chin. The chin was considered the prime target for most methods of attack—so much so that even a basic fighting stance instinctively guards the head, and more importantly, the chin.

Why was this so? The answer lay in the relationship between the chin and the brain. When a punch lands on the chin, it causes the head to rotate rapidly. That rotational force is transferred to the brain, which is suspended in fluid within the skull. As a result, the brain slams against the inner wall of the skull, mimicking the effects of a concussion and disrupting brain activity—leading to potential unconsciousness. In combat terms: a knockout.

However, against creatures whose biology differs from baseline human physiology, that tactic might not be feasible. The Lugubraa, in particular, were more akin to leeches than to men—and thus, there was no chin to exploit. Drystan wasn't even sure if they had a brain.

And that was the conundrum he was trying to solve—not just for the Lugubraa, but for all threats that deviated from traditional biology.

This fight was just another step on Drystan's path to mastery.

To find the "chin" of every creature he faced... and exploit it.

OPEN

 

[Gavin Restur]

Objective 2: Reclaiming the Reach
Full Loadout

He reeeaaally needs to stop accepting participating in these weird jobs...
​

When he had found out about the call asking for volunteers to help with the newest string of problems that always seem to grow, he was just happy he found one that he was actually able to participate in. Hunting nothing but bounties for a while, despite the money, was starting to get boring, and he was looking for an opportunity to explore the "mercenary" side of his contract with the Alliance.

But, it was right around the time when he got briefed that they would be combatting some "biological weapon" species, that he figured that he might've made a mistake.

He was asked to join a squadron of troops that were going to be clearing a designated sector, to which he agreed. Working alongside actual military folk wasn't something he was particularly used to, but a bit of previous experience with it at least helped make the whole thing go smoothly, at least in terms of communication.

And how it all usually goes, things started out well. They landed at their LZ, they secured their perimeter, and starting pushing into the area they were supposed to clear. They even had a few armored vehicles for support.

And, how it all usually goes, things quickly went to hell.

"Ghk--!" Finding himself being shoved harshly into a wall. He was heavily separated from the rest of the unit, which itself was either overrun or dead, he didn't know. But, it wasn't at the top of his priority list at the current moment, as the leech that had shoved him into the wall was charging straight towards him, looking take a nice chomp out of his skull with it's maw.

A lean down and to the side allowed him to avoid the attempt to cause an untimely demise for him. At the same time, his Force Pike (which was at its highest setting) was slashed across the torso of the leech, cutting it messily in half, spraying blood everywhere. Despite how durable these things normally were, his Pike was able to cut through them outright. And getting cut in half is, usually, enough damage to end something's life.

No time to rest just yet, however. Another leech was heading straight for him, with some poorly constructed spear in hand that it was looking to jab into him. With a maneuver of himself and his Pike, he was able to both deflect the incoming thrust, and drive the leech maw-first into the wall behind him. His off-hand too the opportunity to unholster one of his blasters, as he unloaded point-blank into the creature. It took a few shots, but eventually, it went down, and stayed down.

It didn't seem like they would stop coming anytime soon. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a couple more coming his way. He started walking backwards, continuing to fire off his yellow bolts to the approaching creatures.

Yellow bolts that were likely heard, or possibly outright seen, by someone.

Drystan Creed

 

[Alicio Organa]

Lao-mon
Obj. 1: A Thousand Faces
- Velyra Vonn - Open -
​

Usually, Alicio went without an armed escort.

It was his favorite way to convey a sense of trust and confidence, but it was also a constant point of criticism among his aides. To have a Chancellor brazenly step into the unknown without a shield of people around him seemed reckless. Of course, he usually knew he wasn't in danger- he was a seer, after all- but the optics sometimes made him appear brazen.

But today, Alicio was flanked by four of his Honor Guard. Wearing dark armor, walking with unnatural fluidity, the warriors dutifully scanned the area, keeping the Chancellor within arm's length.

He didn't bring them because he was worried. He brought them because they were Shi'ido.

Lao-mon refugees were some of the first he'd worked with after taking the office of Senator. With massive amounts of help from Inanna Harth , many Shi'ido fleeing the Brotherhood of the Maw were brought to Alderaan, creating the city of Maranatha. Since then, he'd visited a few of the clans on Lao-mon itself, though it seemed whatever controlling government had risen from the chaos of the Second Great Hyperspace War had forgotten his existence.

No matter. In all honesty, he was just happy they were interested in joining the Alliance. They'd been through enough alone.

“Let’s not pretend we’re the ones directing this scene. We're the guests. And I do so hope we’re charming ones.”

Chancellor Organa gave the Senator from Zeltros a sideways smirk. He wasn't very familiar with her, though he was sure she wasn't expecting the Chancellor to overhear her musings. "I certainly hope so too. Though, Shi'ido do live for hundreds of years, all are sensitive to the Force, and they have a cultural aversion to outsiders with roots going back thousands of years. It'll take more than our charms and pretty words to convince them."

"That being said... wouldn't hurt to have good manners." Alicio's smile filled his face. There was always someone looking to throw a wrench into things. He wondered briefly who it would be this time.

 

[Velyra Vonn]

Senator Velyra Vonn of Zeltros
​

Her gaze shifted as the Chancellor of the Galactic Alliance drew near, flanked by four impossibly fluid figures in dark armor—guards, yes, but more than that. They moved like memories. Like shapes still deciding what they ought to be.

Velyra’s smile sharpened just slightly.

He hadn’t come with political entourage, or gilded ceremony. He came with history—and kinship.

Clever man. Knows which threads to tug. Pity he’s already married...

But there was no indulgent flutter in her lashes, no deliberate pause of breath. Not here. Not with so many eyes she couldn’t see.

Instead, she turned to face him fully, her heels barely whispering over the vine-dusted stone beneath.

“Of course,” she said, her tone smooth and low, “though I suspect even charm must wear a mask to be welcome here. Still, it's no small thing to be met with silence instead of suspicion.”

She gestured subtly toward the path ahead, where unseen hosts might already be listening.

“They’ve given us space to speak. That’s more than most worlds offer on first contact these days.”

Then, quieter—meant only for him:

“You’ve come wisely, Chancellor. They’ll see it, too.”

She didn’t overplay it. No bow. No grand flourish. Just a respectful nod to a man who understood diplomacy as something deeper than negotiation. As something closer to trust.

And in that stillness, Velyra Vonn continued forward—neither leading nor following, but weaving the path between.

Alicio Organa – Open to others
​

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Blasters | Lightsabers

The hiss of steam rolled across the marsh, and with it came the low thrum of repulsors overhead. A dropship descended carefully between the broken spires of old structures, its silhouette blurred by ash drifting through the air like snow.

Valery stepped out the moment the ramp lowered, boots sinking slightly into the spongey moss. She paused just at the base, eyes scanning the jungle. The air here didn't move, it pressed in, heavy with rot and tension. Even the Force felt twisted, like something breathing slow beneath the soil.

She adjusted the hilt of her lightsaber on her belt and started forward, her stride confident but silent. It didn't take her long to find him.

"Aadihr," she greeted, her voice low, her expression unreadable as she approached where he stood near the shattered transmitter. "The scouts?" Her gaze flicked to the bones and relics half-buried in the soil. She already knew the answer, but asked anyway.

A breath passed between them.

"Any signs of movement?" she asked again, her eyes narrowing at the jungle beyond. "Or are we just waiting for the forest to make the first move?"

Aadihr Lidos ​

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

A Shadow With Teeth

Outfit: Field Attire, Earring, Bangle Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike | Slugthrower Rifle

The Force whispered—but not to him.

It whispered around him. Slithering between roots. Curling through gaps in wreckage. Flickering through presences that should not exist here. He didn’t feel minds—he felt the absence of them, as if thought itself had been scraped away to make room for something more efficient. More ravenous.

He stood beside Valery and listened, gazing distantly, tracking the swarm.

“They’re already here,” he said quietly, his voice stripped of its usual grace. “Moving in numbers too large to hide, but still unseen.”
The rustling was not wind in the trees.

And then he saw through the sparkling canvas of spirit and movement. A flash-forward, glimpsed as if refracted through the swamp’s warped pulse. In the thicket behind them, masses moved like submerged tendrils. Dozens. Hundreds.

A swarm.

They slithered through fungus-choked canals and hollowed pipelines, fanning out across the jungle floor with uncanny coordination—until suddenly—
They broke formation.

And curved.

Not toward him.
Not toward Valery.
Around them.

No.
No, no, no.

They weren’t hunting Jedi. They were avoiding them for easier prey.

“They’re not coming for us.” His words came like a knife through air. “They’re splitting. They’re circling—going for the dropships. The troops. The younger-”

The realization hit like a bolt through the heart. He turned on instinct, snapping his pike from his back with both hands. The brilliant blue of the pike roared to life with a sharp hum.

There was no time.

He broke into a sprint—moss pulling at his boots, half-tripping on roots that hadn't been there seconds before. His shield glimmered weakly to life at his wrist as he pushed off into the dark.

“They're going around!” he shouted back.

He wasn’t going to make it.

He saw others already in conflict — Drystan Creed , Gavin Restur — they may be able to hold off on side. Aadihr prayed they held the line.

Valery Noble | @OPEN​

 

[Vera Noble]

Crakull

​

Tag: Jackson Lesan

​

The sky above Crakull wasn't really a sky at all.

Just low, sickly clouds stretched tight like bruised skin over a wound. The air was dense. Every breath tasted like old spores and metal rot. Vera wrinkled her nose behind her rebreather as she stepped off the transport ramp, boots sinking slightly into the spongy ground. A ruined spire twisted in the distance like a snapped bone, half-swallowed by moss and fungus.

This was where the Alliance wanted to rebuild.

"Looks like a place straight out of a nightmare," she muttered, slinging her pack higher on her shoulder and narrowing her eyes at the mist crawling between the trees. "And we're the cleanup crew."

Her voice was dry, but her hand was steady on the hilt at her side. She hadn't activated her saber, but she could already feel something out there. The remnants of Lugubraa infestation hadn't been sighted near the landing zone, but that didn't mean much. Things moved fast in this place. And quiet.

She turned toward Jackson, a flicker of familiarity softening her expression beneath the mask.

"Can't believe your dad let you come here," she said, tilting her head slightly. "Then again... Mom didn't say no either." There was a hint of something unspoken in her voice. Not quite nerves, not quite bravado. Just the weight of expectation. Of legacy. Of being someone else's kid in a place that didn't care who you were.

"The Croke say there's something important buried in the old capital. A memory chamber or something. We're supposed to find it before the Lugubraa do."

She glanced back to Jackson, her tone lightening just enough to cut the tension.

"You take point. If something jumps out of the dark, I'm tripping you and running for the shuttle."

She was joking. Mostly.

​

 

[Livia Rehn]

"Woe to the vanquished."

Tags - OPEN



The first scream was torn away by the wind before it reached her ears.

Then came the second—raw, gurgled, and human—and that one did reach her. It rose above the symphony of chaos around her like a broken instrument, jagged and discordant. The sky above Crakull was choked black, lit only by the relentless flicker of muzzle flashes and bioplasmic detonations in the distance. Livia Rehn's HUD flickered as static swam across her field of vision, the commlink buzzed with a dozen voices trying to scream over each other, and the ground beneath her boots trembled with the weight of the war effort.

And yet… she was calm.

Cold.

Calculating.

Sergeant Kade Hurn slammed into the cover beside her, his breath ragged through the filter on his helmet. Ichor splattered his shoulder pauldron, sizzling where it struck exposed plastweave. His left arm hung limp at his side, blood matting the sleeve.

"Rehn—status!" he barked.

"Squad's split. Eren's down, two others unresponsive. We're seven meters from Bravo's fallback perimeter. This position won't hold."

He snarled, a wet sound of frustration. "No shit. We've got swarm movement in the trench shadows. Lugubraa are flanking low, fast. We hold or we get rolled over."

Livia didn't nod. Didn't react.

She just reloaded.

The clack of the fresh mag was crisp in the storm of noise. Her eyes scanned the breach ahead—dozens of flesh-horrors slithering forward, their shapes somewhere between slug and nightmare, bones protruding like coral, eyes blind, jaws screaming. The trench they had just cleared was now repopulating itself with new birth-pods—sacks of translucent slime bulging with chittering spawn.

"Hurn—watch left."

The words were barely audible, just enough to shift his gaze.

Livia was already moving.

Her body pivoted into a tight crouch as a skittering drone burst from the fungal wall to her right. She didn't aim—there was no time. Her rifle dropped to her sling as her hand found the hilt of the dagger strapped low to her thigh.

The blade whispered as it cleared its sheath—dark, hungry, vibrating faintly with a presence not of this world. She moved like she'd done this a thousand times. Because she had.

Steel and sinew met in a flash of black and red. The Lugubraa's shriek was cut short as the blade found the gap beneath its thoracic plate, plunging deep. She twisted. The thing shuddered, spasmed, and collapsed in a flailing heap.

"Where the hell did you learn to move like that?" Hurn muttered. He didn't sound accusatory. Just baffled.

"Lucky," she lied without missing a beat.

She wiped the blade on the creature's remains, but did not resheath it.

Another wave came—not from the front this time, but above.

Spitter-types—gliding mutants with elongated limbs and toxic sacs bulging from their throats—descended from the fungal canopy. One of them unleashed a gout of acid that struck the barricade two meters from Livia's position, eating through metal and concrete in seconds.

"Mortars are out, Bravo's falling back! Rehn—radio Sigma for overwatch or we're stuck!" Hurn shouted, raising his carbine and blind-firing into the sky.

Livia didn't need to be told twice.

Her voice came calm, precise over the comms. "Sigma, this is Alpha-Three. We need suppressive cover now—sky and trench. Immediate. Five seconds to be overrun."

There was a pause. Static. Then: "Confirmed. Sigma to cover in ten seconds. Danger close."

"Danger's already here," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

Then she turned to Hurn. "On my mark. We clear this breach and fall back under Sigma's guns."

He hesitated, eyes flicking to the swarm. "You sure?"

"No," she said. "But I'll be in front."

The timing had to be perfect.

She holstered the dagger—not out of sentiment, but necessity—and raised her rifle again. Her HUD counted down from ten, then nine. She peeked from cover. The swarm was surging now—hundreds of them, ranging from slithering worms to towering centipede-like brutes. She watched their movement. Listened to their rhythm. Calculated.

Four seconds.

"GO!"

She vaulted the rubble, rifle raised, and ran into the chaos. Hurn was half a second behind her, gritting his teeth as he dragged his half-functioning arm behind him. They didn't run in straight lines. They weaved, darted, used broken cover and fallen shell husks.

The ground shook.

Then the world exploded.

Sigma's mortars fell like vengeful gods, pounding the field with kinetic force and thermal death. Columns of fire erupted in the trenches. Lugubraa bodies were launched skyward—some flailing, some twitching, all burning. The earth cracked. The sky wept acid and smoke.

Livia didn't look back. She could feel the concussion waves behind her, taste ash in her mouth, feel the microtremors through her boots.

Then—solid metal.

She slammed into the Bravo perimeter, boots skidding, breath steady.

Hurn crashed beside her, armor scorched, breathing like a dying engine. "Tell me we're clear."

"For now," she said.

They looked back together.

The trench was gone. Just slag, ruin, and fire.

But she knew it wouldn't last. The Lugubraa never stopped. They were a tide—without thought, without fear, without limit. And behind them, always… something older. Something worse.

"Rehn."

She turned.

Hurn's face was smeared with ash. His expression was strange—half admiration, half suspicion.

"Back there. That blade. That move. You undercover for the SIA?"

She met his eyes.

"Would it change anything if I said no?"

He stared a moment longer… then gave a dry, humorless chuckle.

"No," he muttered. "Guess it wouldn't."

He walked off, armor clanking.

She waited until he was gone before drawing the dagger once more.

It pulsed faintly.

Livia Rehn ran a finger along its edge. She could feel something growing inside the blade.

Oh, how useful these creatures will be...

She smiled.

Just slightly.

And slipped the dagger back into its sheath before continuing onward.

 

[Gym Halpern]

LOCATION: Rishi Maze
TAG: Open

BYOO​

Personal Report
Fleet Captain Gym Halpern
Kenobi Class System Defender
ANS Indomitable.

“Conn - Sensors… Hypergate Kamino in range.”

Acknowledged. Helm, drop us to maneuvering thrusters and then hold position when in weapons range.

“Sir???” This was not “The Indomitable” he was used to, and all but Lt. Commander Altan, his Tactical Chief were new. So this was not a surprise.

The Fleet Captain's voice was steady, his gaze fixed on the viewscreen. Helm, you heard the order. Tactical, prepare a firing solution but hold your fire until I give the word.

The crew exchanged uneasy glances, but nobody questioned the command. Gym smirked.

We’re not firing on anyone unless it is in return. It is a tactical move against potential criminal element, such as pirates. Remember, the Croke Reach looked to us for help, it’s even if small, a possibility that somehow there are those looking to assist the Lugubraa. We’re keeping it a fair fight by blocking this gate. If they want to come in they have to do it the hard way.

It was not a quick process, but this seemed to quell much of the potential opposition to his order. Flight, open outer doors and launch fighters. I want A, and B wings establishing “No Fly Zones” over Kamino in the contested areas as Stealth Y’s look for targets of opportunity and shuttles carrying reinforcements down.

Tornadoes patrol over Lao-Mon with Wolf X’s and Y’s assist Croke Reach. Let’s do this people.

Commander Ocatini, the Executive Offcer did not like those who were looking to him for guidance. “You have your orders! Let’s go!”


TLDR- assisting all objs