Populate The Black Summer || MANDALORE STANDS [ ME Populate of Tandum III ]

[Sibylla Abrantes]

Location: Mandalore - Ronion
OBJECTIVE II: THE VESHOK GROVE
Acier Moonbound
​

“The veshok tree is as much a symbol of Mandalore as the beskar that shields our flesh. From its wood our homes were raised. From its roots our tools were fashioned. It has been the lifeblood of our people as surely as the iron in our veins. Fifty-one years ago, when our strength faltered, the veshok tree was nearly wiped from the Galaxy. In its place, this land was poisoned and defiled. That is what we undo here today.”

With that, he pressed the spade into the soil and turned the earth with a steady motion. He then set the tool aside and lowered to one knee, pressing his palm to the freshly unearthed ground. His helm lifted, gaze sweeping across Mandalorians and citizens alike, shoulder to shoulder in the circle.

“Through this act we finish the work of reclaiming our home. We purge the Darkness. We restore vibrancy to our ground. And we show the ancestors that Mandalore endures.”

He paused only long enough to rest his hand upon the soil once more before lifting his gaze again. His voice came softer now, but carried no less weight.

“Who will plant with me?”

The air carried the scent of freshly turned soil, rich and grounding, and Sibylla felt her chest rise with it, steadying against the weight of all that the ceremony meant. The words of Manda'lor rang clear in her ears, steeped in a history not her own yet strangely familiar. On Naboo, they too told stories of sacred groves, of trees planted in reverence to the cycle of life, death, and renewal. Standing here, she could not help but feel that kinship, the way myth wove worlds together.

SHe lowered her head in quiet reverence, fingers brushing the soft green leaves of the sapling offered to her. It was small, almost delicate, yet she could sense the strength in it, how its roots were waiting to take hold, branches anxious to stretch toward the sky. A smile bloomed quietly across her full lips at the simple joy of holding a living promise. She had never planted a tree before, and in that moment, the act felt profound.

The murmur of voices surrounded her, steady as a heartbeat, each pledge blending into the whole. As she turned, her gaze caught on a familiar figure just beyond the circle. Acier. The young Mandalorian she had met back on Roon. The smile on her mouth softened, and a shimmer of warmth filled her hazel eyes.

Cradling her sapling carefully, the young Ambassador padded lightly across the ground until she stood beside him. The wind caught stray wisps of hair from her braids, tugging them across her cheek.

"Good morning, Acier Moonbound," she said, her voice carrying with it a note of fond recognition. "It is a pleasure to see you again."

She sank to a knee in the soil beside him, the burgundy of her jerkin deep against the earth. Tilting her head, she held the sapling close.

"Mind if I join you?"

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Mandalore - Ronion

Equipment:
Training Jumpsuit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27 | Tic

Sibylla Abrantes​

Ace's eyes widened slightly in surprise. He hadn't expected her to cross the circle, much less kneel beside him. He blinked, just for a second, caught between the dirt on his hands and the warmth in her voice.

"Morning, Ambassador." he said, a little stiffer than he meant it to sound.

He hated using titles, didn't believe in them. But... he respected Sibylla, and wanted to show her that he did. Then, his mouth tugged into his familiar crooked smirk.

"Didn't think I'd see you here, or... ever again. Actually."

Tic's lens clicked brighter at Sibylla, a soft trill spilling out as his head tilted almost comically far to the side. He gave a curious double-chirp, as if scanning her for something Ace couldn't see. Ace tapped the droid's side to hush him, though not before Tic let out one last inquisitive beep in her direction.

He shifted slightly, clearing the soil beside his small bundle of seeds. "Yeah… you can join me." he murmured, softer this time. His dark eyes lingered on her for a moment longer before he averted his gaze "How've you been since Roon?"

As the words left him, he found himself studying her more than he should. The quiet confidence in her eyes, the steadiness in how she moved, so different from the edge and steel of those around them. She was Naboo through and through, shaped by courts and gardens rather than battlefields, yet somehow she didn't feel out of place here.​

 

[Conrad]

Conrad

Location: Ronion, Mandalore | Tag: Acier Moonbound , Sibylla Abrantes , Aether Verd , Runi Kuryida , Aadihr Lidos , Korra Kast

I watch, and I wait. Shadows have all the time in the world.​

Conrad stood at the periphery of the gathering, cane angled lightly before him, three-piece suit immaculate despite the grit of Mandalorian soil. He had chosen his place deliberately, close enough to witness, far enough that no one would mistake him for a participant. His presence was tolerated here, not invited. That fact pressed faintly against the air around him like the static before a storm.

He inclined his head once as the circle of Mandalorians pressed their palms to the earth, their prayers rising with each sapling laid into the ground. A ritual of reclamation, of cleansing, one he had read of but never before seen enacted. The Dark Side clung faintly to the soil, a residue like smoke caught in cloth, resisting even as it was overwritten by the conviction of those gathered. Not purged, Conrad thought, but displaced. Made unwelcome by sheer force of will.

His gaze moved not to the words spoken, but to the details: the slight tremor in a youth's hand as he pressed soil over roots, the absolute steadiness of the Mand'alor's voice as it carried across the grove, the ripple of conviction in the circle as one speaker after another lent weight to the act. Fascinating, how collective belief could shape both matter and spirit.

Yet Conrad did not let his eyes linger only on the sacred rite. Every so often his gaze swept the outskirts, sharp and watchful. Rituals drew more than participants, they drew the curious, the opportunistic, and the hostile. His service to the Mand'alor made him no celebrant, but it did make him guardian of the moment. If something threatened this rite, it would find him waiting.

It was then his eyes found the cloaked figure of the shaman, Runi. She reached into the unseen with gestures that pulled the faint shadows from the soil, drawing them out like thorns from a wound. Where others planted, she excised. Where they prayed, she purified. A mystic, a counterpart of sorts.

Conrad's lips curved into the barest suggestion of a smile, not warm, not reverent, but sly and knowing, edged with wicked amusement. If her gaze met his, he let that smile linger a heartbeat too long, a glint of shadow behind polished civility. A silent acknowledgment: we are not so different, you and I.

He rested both hands lightly atop the head of his cane, a posture of calm dignity, though his mind was anything but still. Quietly, in a voice meant only for himself, he allowed the barest edge of reflection to escape.

"Belief reshapes the ground as surely as fire or blade. Shadows are not destroyed here… merely reminded they have no place."

With his words spoken, Conrad would resume his silent vigil, content to watch, to measure, to wait.

Conrad is quietly observing outside of the ritual proper. Close enough that he can see everything clearly and be seen, but far enough to be out of the way so he doesn't interfere.

 

[Domina Prime]

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

Daiga | Nando | Delsin Shaw | Aiden Wolf | Zayid the Lion

Objective One | Rekali War College​

Domina surged through the swarms of lesser hydra, her axe clenched tight in two hands while the other pair swung her shield with bone-shattering force. Beskar edge crashed into skulls, clearing the path as her five eyes flickered and darted like a predator, tracking every threat. She moved as a storm given flesh. Diving, twirling, and tearing through what had once been the proud halls of the War College.

With a roar, she hoisted the axe high, and with all four arms brought it down in a killing arc, splitting the skull of a hulking beast. As the body collapsed, another came to her side, lightning spilling from his fingers and ripping through the tide.

"I got eight. What you sitting at?" Delsin Shaw called over the chaos.

Domina wrenched at her axe, snarling as it held fast in the corpse.

"Kinda lost count," she shot back, kicking the body free with irritation. "But I think i'm winning!"

No sooner had she spoken than another massive brute stormed into the fray, trampling its own lesser kin as it barreled toward them. Dima braced, claws digging into the stone as her four arms spread wide. The beast crashed into her, horns driving forward, but she seized them in her claws and with a piston-like blast of her knee shattered its snout like glass. With a violent twist she wrenched its head sideways and slammed the monster into a nearby pillar.

The chamber quaked with the impact. The beast flailed, dazed and blinded, until Dima leapt high above it, her body twisting in a balletic arc. She brought her taloned foot down like a hooked spear, driving it through the creature's skull in a single, devastating blow. The floor split beneath the impact, rubble raining down around her as the corpse finally went still.

The fight raged around her, but Dimas many eyes were already fixed elsewhere. On the sealed gate at the far end of the hall. Smaller spawn swarmed her, only to be swatted aside by her claws and tail. With a roar, she smashed her shield through the door, tearing it from its frame. Stone and steel collapsed in her wake, and beyond yawned a staircase plunging deep into blackness. The air that seeped out was foul and cold. Reeking of rot, death, and sorcery.

Her grin widened beneath her mask. She braced her shield against the tide at her back and pointed her claw at three Mandalorians cutting through the enemy with ruthless efficiency. Specifically Delsin Shaw , Hanna , and Nando

"You, you, and YOU!" she barked, her voice cutting over the din. "This spawn doesn't come from nowhere. It crawls from the belly of the earth itself. If there's a pit of hell under this place, then that's where they breed!"

She snapped her tail against the ground, eyes blazing as she raised her shield high.

"Brothers! Sisters! Into the belly of the beast!" she roared, her voice carrying like a warhorn as she stepped into the looming stairway to hell.

The call rang through the ruined hall, a promise of blood, fire, and victory for those bold enough to face the fury.

 

[Vritra]

OBJECTIVE III :: RONION, MANDALORE​

Look at them. A multitude of tireless creatures unified in purpose. Their hard exteriors protect the secret softness within their fleshly carapaces. Something kicks over their domed city and they scurry right back to it, undeterred.

Undeterred, but not undistracted.

A six foot tall woman strode down their streets with ease. She wore the finery of someone accustomed to wealth and taste; thin, silken cloth cut deep down the chest, and a golden headrest that framed the very face of perfection. Plump, rosy lips were a succulent promise to all those whose eyes fell upon her; while her ruby eyes held the passion and zeal of a thousand souls.

She smiled at the hardworking creatures as she pass by. She offered no scowls, no sudden or jarring movements. Her shoulders were relaxed and her steps light upon the Northern realms of Mandalore. Few returned her ease. Most merely stood their ground and stared until she passed unwilling to turn their backs or show any sort of bending their knee. Others pretended not to notice her. The smile grew when her eyes met those of another, and subsided only a little when contact broke.

Sounds of construction work filled the air, along with the cries calling for a hand or more material. And now and again a sharp squeal pierced the air. They drew in volume here or there. One was particular loud as it nearly crossed her path before the waif collapsed to the ground. A gangly creature not yet used to its own new growth. Short in stature, full in face. A child of their kind. It brought the woman to a halt where she slowly bent over and offered a hand to the little one.

The child's hand fell into her grasp before their eyes looked to where they'd leaped. Their breath caught. The smile grew into an amused grin with her fangs just peaking out from behind her fully lips. "Adorable," she cooed as their eyes met. The very young of beasts often were. Sometimes she'd even frozen their growth in that moment so their cherub nature never waned.

Not today. Cute as they were, she hadn't come for a new pet or trophy.

A voice called out from behind the child. "Return to your mother, Child." Subdued laughter followed suit as she straightened up to her full height. The towering horns that sprouted from her head must have been as much a sight as the red eyes or her light blue-magneta skin. What might be a warm smile to a child was a predatory grin of a wolf to their sires.

With a throaty hum, Vritra looked about the buildings under construction. Usually these things put their leaders in the center did they not? Well, so did her kind, but then how else were their loyal subjects to effectively prostrate themselves to their masters no matter where they stood? Well, there was much to speak of with these creatures. Their future. Their fate. With every second their crimes grew.

Jonah | Velda Nar-Donna | OPEN​

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Having a group that accepted her for who and what she was surprised Aren. They were few and far between. The last one had been Darkwire, and they had gone silent a while ago. Aren had continued to live her life, though, and it had brought her here. To number among the Mandalorians, even if she wasn't one of them yet.

One of the agreements she had made when Jonah recruited her was that when they called, she would come. So far, she had done precisely that. Much of the reason for her presence was unknown to the young woman. Only that she was wanted, perhaps one day, she might one day be one of them, but not yet.

A beacon was sent, and she answered. Direction and instruction were given to her, and she walked normally through the streets. She had not yet been here, so could not teleport in. However, she didn't openly walk into where the clandestine meeting was going to happen.

The planet felt alive to her, and she wasn't one to pick up on the natural world very well. Maybe she was changing? Time would tell, but she didn't give it much more thought before sliding into the meeting area. Other than Jonah, she didn't know any of these people and stood near the rear.

Jonah Velda Nar-Donna

 

[Kayla Ordo-Shan]

Objective One: Ronion, Mandalore
Tags: Open, Aether Verd

Kayla stood among the gathered, a silent figure within the circle yet apart in her own way. The soil turned before her drew her gaze, holding it with a gravity she rarely allowed to show. The act was simple, seed to soil. Yet it would carry the weight of generations, and she felt it pressing against her chest as though her own breath was tied to the rhythm of the Mand'alor's hands.

How her father would have loved to see this....

Her shoulders squared, but her helm tilted ever so slightly, betraying the intensity with which she watched. She had seen battlefields burn, cities crumble, and wastelands stretch further with every war, yet this, this quiet defiance against ruin, stirred something sharper than pride. It was a promise made not only to ancestors long buried, but to every child who might one day run across green ground instead of ash.

It gave her hope. A rare feat in these days.

When the Mand'alor asked who would plant with him, her weight shifted forward unconsciously, boots pressing into the dirt as if ready to cross the space. Still she held, watching, caught in the threshold between soldier and witness. She was not one of them, not really, and yet others went about, affirming their commitment to resowing the life of the homeworld.

How could she not do the same?

Kayla stepped forward before hesitation could creep in. Her gloved fingers brushed the pouch at her side, drawing forth a cluster of seeds wrapped in cloth. She knelt opposite him, pressing the small bundle into his waiting palm before shifting her hand to the earth itself.

"The ancestors may watch, but so will our children," she said, voice firm, though her eyes betrayed the weight she carried. "Let them see us not only raise steel, but life. Let them see Mandalore live."

She pressed her hand deeper into the soil, her gaze fixated onto the seeds that she buried, hoping on some account, her own suffering would be eased in part by it.

"May you give hope, where it laid barren for so long....and perhaps, spark that same hope, inside of me." She mutters quietly.

A silent prayer, yet, hope was rekindled this day. At least for Kayla.

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

Acier Moonbound ​

Sibylla settled into the soil beside him, the small sapling balanced in her hands. His stiffness drew a flicker of amusement to her smile, though she kept her tone light.

"I have been well enough," she answered, glancing toward Tic as the droid's inquisitive chirps made her lips curve further.

"Constant travel between here and Naboo, but nothing to troubling." That, however, was more an attempt at casual conversation than the truth -- for the candidacy for the throne of Naboo had shifted with her withdrawal for Sovereign and her support of Aurelian, and her own bid for the seat of Voice of the Houses instead.

"And you, Acier? I see you've kept good company."

She brushed a bit of dirt from her palm, hazel eyes lifting back to meet his for a moment.

"I didn't think I'd see you again either… but I am glad I have." It was a genuine observation, for it had seemed that Acier was just like her in honest attempts at learning more about the Mandalorian Culture.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Mandalore - Ronion

Equipment:
Training Jumpsuit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27 | Tic

Sibylla Abrantes​

Her answer made him huff through his nose. Well enough. He'd heard people use those words before, which usually meant the opposite. His eyes narrowed just slightly, wondering if things weren't as steady for her as she wanted them to sound. He didn't push, but the thought stuck with him.

"Been… drifting, I guess." He said vaguely, eyes flicking down to the dirt on his palms. "One place to the next."

What he didn't say gnawed at him, the good he'd been doing with the Hidden Path, the times he'd stood against the Empire. He wanted to tell her, if only so she'd know he wasn't just some aimless guy bouncing from world to world. But not yet. The Path had to stay secret.

Tic, however, trilled happily at being noticed, rocking on his legs like he was trying to impress her. Ace gave the droid a flat look and nudged him back into place.

"Tic, come on." He muttered, though the corner of his mouth betrayed him with a faint smirk. "I'm glad too, by the way..."

His gaze drifted to the circle, where more saplings were pressed into Mandalore's soil. Aether's voice lingered in his head and the others who'd stepped forward.

"This… it's different. Where I grew up, the ground never had the chance to heal. It was already poisoned, stripped down to nothing. People just learned to survive in what was left. But here..." he nodded toward the planting, "They're--We're choosing to rebuild."

He shifted back toward her, brow furrowed slightly. "What about you? You've read more about Mandalore than I ever did. What's your take on all this?"​

 

[Ladante Mamba]

Rekindling Ronion
​

Several large cargo speeders kicked up clouds of sand as they tore across the terrain and towards the massive dome that shielded the city of Ronion from the unforgiving desert surrounding the city. Their cargo was building supplies. Bags of duracrete, durasteel beams, and more were being brought to Ronion, heralded by Ladante Mamba, alor of Clan Mamba. He sat with pride behind the wheel of the lead cargo speeder, a strong grin on his face. Machines were at work turning the immediate area outside of the dome into habitable space. The empire leading it's people to a brighter future was something no one could deny.​

The convoy was coming up on the dome. A checkpoint had been made to monitor the coming and goings during the rebuild. LAdante slowed down as he approached the gate. As the guard approached, Ladante nodded to him. The guard nodded back and raised his arm, signaling that Ladante was cleared to come in. The convoy was on the move again as they headed inside the dome.

@Open​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

Location: Mandalore - Ronion
OBJECTIVE II: THE VESHOK GROVE
Acier Moonbound​

Drifting?

Sibylla did not need to read far beyond Acier's body language to see there was more to the word than he let slip. Her training in Kinetic communication allowed her to read a few tells, but she wasn't proficient in the language like a true Lorrdian. Still, she chose not to press, respecting the instinct to keep such things close.

However, when he spoke of a world that never had the chance to heal, her interest stirred, soft concern flickering across her heartshaped face.

"It would seem, then, that the people of your homeworld must be remarkably resilient," she observed, the words flowing in a gentle lilt, "if you are any indication of their character. Might I ask which world that is?"

She left the question light, allowing Acier an opening to broach the subject rather than a demand, before returning her attention to the sapling in her hands. Making herself comfortable, she lowered it into the soil, brushing the earth carefully around its roots, and then glanced back at him.

"I should think this is hope made tangible," she continued in a contemplative tone.

"My people have long held that symbols serve when words alone fall short. This feels very much one of those moments." Her thoughts lingered on Naboo's own pantheon, on the virtues of Set and Vere, and the values her people bound to such rites of renewal. How those symbols had burned throughout thousands of years, even now in the present -- every bit as impactful to Sibylla, especially when it came to Set and Vere.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Mandalore - Ronion

Equipment:
Training Jumpsuit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27 | Tic

Sibylla Abrantes​

Sibylla's words gave him pause, the corner of his mouth twitched as if he wasn't sure whether to take her compliment straight or deflect it. His eyes didn't meet hers, Ace stared at the soil beneath them - a thousand yards. Talking about home never brought joy.

"Resiliant's one word for it." He muttered "Bonadan doesn't leave room for dreamers. Just folks stubborn enough to scrape by the cracks the corpos leave behind."

Then he finally glanced at her, expression hardened but his eyes conveyed the opposite. A rare moment of vulnerability.

"That's where I was raised. Doesn't get talked about much outside the Corporate Sector, and that's probably the way they like it. Easier to keep people working when no one's watching." There was a sharper edge to his voice for a moment, but it faded just as quick.

Tic hopped off Ace's shoulder lightly, landing in the soil beside them. He nosed at a clump of dirt with his photoreceptor flickering, nudging it into place around the seeds Ace had pressed into the ground. Ace gave the droid a faint smirk, then looked back at Sibylla as she pressed her sapling into the ground.

"Hope made tangible…" he echoed under his breath, letting the words hang between them. His eyes traced the circle of saplings taking root, the Mandalorians kneeling in the soil. "Never thought I'd buy into that. But maybe you're right. You're a lot smarter than me, I bet."

Naboo. The planet had shaped her. Ace couldn't imagine growing up somewhere like that, where hope wasn't just scraps to cling to but something planted into the ground like a promise.

"I've never been to Naboo." He admitted after a moment, voice quieter. "What's it like?"​

 

[Vritra]

OBJECTIVE III :: RONION, MANDALORE​

Two Mandalorian flanked the door to Ronion's Hall and seat of governance. They stood with their weapons holstered; their helms slowly swept the area. It wasn't that they expected trouble among their own, but they were reclaiming a part of Mandalore filled with roaming beasts and long-abandoned structures. It was in their silent vigil that both visors fixed on a tall figure that strode unerringly through the crowd in their direction. One with a crown of horns that towered over any that stood beside her. One whose presence drew the eyes of those near and seemed to elicited a visceral non-verbal reaction.

Vritra's gait didn't slow as she began to ascend the steps to the door where the Mandalorian stood guard. Her red eyes slid from one to the next. All the while her smile didn't shift an iota.

In tandem, the warriors took a single step toward one another to narrow the gap between them. "Intention?"

"To speak with your leader," Vritra replied calmly as she stopped before the man and woman in armor.

"Concerning?"

"The crimes your people are committing against mine at this very moment." It wasn't that she had to indulge these creatures, but that she wanted to. It amused her. They stood so proud. So tall. Confident they could protect those inside from her should her purpose be criminal in nature.

One turned their helmet slightly to look at the other. The man that spoke grunted. "Do you carry weapons?"

Vritra held out her hands to either side. "None. As you can see." Perhaps they could see a great deal of her torso and long legs. Too much, for some. Or was it the tail that interested them? Whatever the case, the woman had very little room to conceal anything from view on her person.

Not even a weapon for self defense? A knife? A holdout blaster? That was suspicious, but not criminal. "Follow me. Closely," he added after a moment. With pivot on his heel, he left the door to his partner. If the woman were hostile would she come alone? Tolerate their inspection? A Force user, then. They could handle her, but if something went wrong at least his partner could send word.

OPEN​

 

[Ladante Mamba]

Rekindling Ronion

​

The convoy came to a slow halt as they pulled into a decent sized empty lot with several people standing by. Ladante hopped out of the speeder while the others started to unload the contents of the cargo speeders. Several repulsor crats hauling materials from speeder to the lot. Ladante walked up to speak with the waiting builders.

"Good day, my friends. Beautiful day here in Ronion. Glad you all could make it," he said warmly followed by a handsome smile. "We know what we came here to do so let's get started."

​

Ladante brought together everyone in the lot in order to build a new school in Ronion. Somewhere the young can learn in an environment worthy of such. It did not take much convincing of the locals to pitch in when he informed them of his idea. Dozens had come to contribute to the better and brighter future the Mandalorian Empire promised since it's inception.

@Open to any
​

 

[Runi Kuryida]

The Shaman's chin lifted and her hazel eyes met those of Conrad. There was an air about him. A detachment. He did not stand among the group, but watched from outside it. His attire was well managed and proper for someone that did not wear a suit of armor, but a more pliable shell that conveyed its own properties. An outsider would think him better suited for a board room than a Mandalorian Hall.

Runi rose to her full height and quietly drifted in Conrad's direction.

"There are no shadows without light, and no light cast without shadows," she softly intoned so as not to interrupt others as she drew near.

Then Runi turned to look at Conrad directly once more. "Do you wish to join them?" It was one of the talents she often used or held. It was not mind reading, but a sort of resonance that surrounded people. An aura some called it. Knowing a certain emotion or sense of place someone held in relation to the world around them. Why else be a Shaman and not merely a Jedi Master? Outlook was everything.

Conrad | Aether Verd | Acier Moonbound | Sibylla Abrantes | Aadihr Lidos | Korra Kast | Kayla Ordo-Shan​

 

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

RONION, MANDALORE

It did not take long for the Mand’alor’s call to be answered. From the circle stepped Korra Kast, her presence steady as ever, and the sight of her drew a quiet nod from Aether. In recent memory, he had visited the dwelling of her clan, broken bread beneath their roof, and spoken plainly of what his vision for Mandalore truly was. She had listened, challenged, and believed enough to stand with him now. Between them was an understanding that did not need to be named. Korra would voice her thoughts as loudly as she deemed necessary, and he would welcome it. She would keep him honest, not as a rival but as a friend who cared enough to hold him accountable.

He listened as her words carried over the circle, speaking of scars and strength and the promise of new life. When she finished, Aether inclined his helm toward her. “I agree. Today we take back what is ours one seed at a time. We remember the past, honor the fallen, and ensure that we always rise.” His dominant hand rose, closed in a fist, and he tapped her shoulder with a gesture of camaraderie before lowering his voice so only she could hear. “Tell me, how fares your clan? Will you set your roots in the north when the work is done here?”

Before long another answered, this one a face far closer to his own heart. His younger brother stepped from the circle, and Aether’s lips curved into a genuine smile. To say they had grown close since Acier had come into his life was far too small a description. Though a lifetime had been spent apart, there was no mistaking the bond now. Aether watched as the young warrior knelt and pressed his seeds into the soil. He gave him space to work, then, with a flick of his gauntlet, cast a speck of dirt toward him. After all, he would be a poor elder sibling if he didn't mess with him ever so slightly. This was a moment of restoration, yes, but it did not need to be solemn at every breath. “Thank you for coming, Ace. It is good to see you on our homeworld, adding your hand to what matters. We may walk different paths, but listen when your blood calls. More often than not, it calls for home.”

The air shifted then, stirred by the hand of the Warmaster. Aether could feel the shaman’s touch excising what remnants of corruption lingered, as though the very soil gasped with relief. With his own roots laid, he rose and dusted his hands, motioning for the circle to plant freely. And plant they did. Mandalorians and citizens alike moved with purpose. Some bent with spades, others bore vessels of water, and others pressed seeds directly into the earth. The sight filled him with a warmth that pushed against the scars of memory.

It was then that his helm turned, catching sight of Sibylla Abrantes kneeling beside Acier. The young ambassador’s presence was a reminder that allies stood beside Mandalore even in matters most sacred. Her words were for his brother, and Aether did not intrude. Instead, he caught the gaze of his brother, then shifted deliberately from Acier to the Ambassador, then back again, before he offered the young man a slow, exaggerated wink. Perhaps he was reading too much into their closeness, but in that instant it seemed his brother was taking after their father in more ways than one.

Beyond them he saw another familiar figure, Conrad, standing at the periphery of the rite. He was not armored as the others were, nor born of Mandalorian blood, yet he served nonetheless. To Aether, that was what the Mandalorian Empire did best. The Resol’nare was his foundation, but not all who lived beneath their banner professed it. His duty was to all souls within the Empire, and he had long believed that those who did not walk as Mandalorians were not lesser for it. Citizens were citizens, and Conrad’s watchful service was proof of that. Aether inclined his helm in silent gratitude to the man as he spoke with the Warmaster.

Another form stepped forward, one he recognized as Kayla of Clan Ordo. When first they crossed paths, she had been wrestling with her lineage. Now she spoke with conviction of ancestors and children, of life renewed on their homeworld. Aether watched her prayerful planting, and something in his chest stirred. Pride was the closest name for it, the kind of pride a man felt when watching kin take their first steps upon their own path. He stepped closer, resting a hand upon her shoulder, his voice softened for her ears alone. “I am proud of you, Kayla. The ancestors rejoice to see you here, and future generations will one day thank you for what you plant now. I am glad you are finding your way.” His tone held warmth, his helm tilting ever so slightly. “Tell me, how are you faring among the Ordo?”

The circle continued to grow with every voice and every seed, and Aether stood among them with the conviction that this day would echo across generations.​

Runi Kuryida , Conrad , Acier Moonbound , Sibylla Abrantes , @Aadhir Lidos, Korra Kast , Kayla Ordo-Shan + Open

 

[Korra Kast]

Korra straightened under the weight of his words, her visor turning slightly toward him so the others would not see the brief softness in her stance. The tap to her shoulder she returned with a firm nod, a warrior's acknowledgment but also a friend's answer.

"My clan endures," she said, low enough for only Aether to hear. "We've weathered wars. A few scars more will not break us. The young ones are restless, eager to prove themselves… perhaps too eager. But they are alive, and that is more than many can claim."

Her arms folded across her chest as she cast her gaze toward the horizon, as though already measuring the soil, the wind, the promise of what might grow there.

"As for the north—" her head turned toward the distant horizon, where the thought of untamed land seemed to linger, "—it is harsh country, but so were we made. If the Mand'alor's vision takes root there, then we will not hesitate to see it through. Kast steel holds against any storm."

Aether Verd

 

[Aleksandr Kerensky]

The Old Man
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LOCATION: Ronion, Mandalore
OBJECTIVE: III - Establishing roots
Tag: Ladante Mamba , Vritra , Jonah , Velda Nar-Donna , Aren D'Shade , Open

Spoiler: Theme

The old man tugged his officer's cap down against the morning glare and exhaled slowly. The forward engineers had been at it all night, and the landing zone was finally taking shape. Assault droids lumbered across the rubble-strewn streets, shoving aside the detritus of a dead city.

Kerensky had once commanded a ship of the line, a bridge beneath his boots, a crew drilled to the second, the void his domain. Now his command was here, in the dust and ruins of Ronion. Wolf hunted infestations further afield, leaving Kerensky the steadier task: making landfall mean something.

Relief work. Reconstruction. Commerce. Hardly the stuff of campaign medals, but necessary. A fleet couldn't live off grit alone, it needed workshops, trade, homes where men could rest without one hand on their sidearms. And if the Wolves were to endure, they needed more than a fight. They needed roots.

"DETONATION in three, two, one, fire in the hole! FIRE IN THE HOLE!"

The charges went off with brutal precision. The gutted building folded inward with a groan, glass shattering outward before the structure collapsed into itself. Dust rolled over the engineers in a choking cloud, but their line held steady. Kerensky didn't so much as twitch. He only turned to the comms officer at his side.

"Kowalski. Send it."

"Aye, sir." The man keyed his comms. "All flights, Dog One is open. I say again, Dog One is open."

Kerensky's gaze lifted skyward. Dropships broke through the haze, engines thundering as they settled onto cleared pads. Jet wash scattered debris across the streets. Ramps dropped, and the Wolves spilled out — crates, generators, prefab modules, all dragged into place with the efficiency of ants. Assault droids hauled frames upright while engineers strung power lines and coaxed humming life into portable grids.

It reminded him of naval resupply ops, ordered chaos, everything timed to the minute. Only this time, the void wasn't above him. It pressed into his chest, memory by memory.

Within minutes, a command center, storage depot, and prefab staging yard began to rise. Kerensky walked through it all with a steady gait, cap pulled low, hands clasped behind his back. A captain without a bridge. At the holotable, he leaned in, voice quiet but firm as he issued orders: clearance routes, staging points, patrol lines. His words rippled out across the Wolves' net, answered in acknowledgments that felt more like echoes than voices.

"Kowalski."

"Sir?"

"Broadcast to every unit in this AO. The Wolves are establishing a supply depot and relief hub here. This block is our command center. If they need prefab habs, we'll move them in as fast as we can get them stood up."

"Aye, sir." Kowalski bent to his comms again.

Kerensky stared at the holotable. The glow painted lines across his worn features, etched deeper by memory. He'd done this before, too many times. Only then, the map had been alive with red. Mortars, machine guns, orbital fire. Whole perimeters built on blood.

He closed his eyes briefly, as if to push the ghosts away. This time, it would be different. It had to be.

Straightening, he began marking the next priorities. Ferry runs from the Spear. Supply staging. Defensive emplacements. The Dire Wolf was still crippled where she had crashed on Serenno, but the Spear had proven stubborn in her makeshift drydock. She would hold. She had to.

Kerensky adjusted his cap, the faintest sigh escaping him. He was an old Wolf, out of his sea, but the work remained the same: hold the line, build the foundation, keep his people alive.

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

Location: Mandalore - Ronion
OBJECTIVE II: THE VESHOK GROVE
Acier Moonbound​

Sibylla's hazel eyes softened as Acier spoke, catching the rare slip in his expression. There was a weight in his words that she did not dismiss, even if the world he described was one she could only imagine.

"I have only ever known Denon among the Corporate Sector," She paused then added in contemplation, intending no harm but observation, "and even there, I saw that not all who live beneath the shadow of the Corpos are the same. It isn't perfect, but the attempts are there." she said gently, thinking of Dominique Vexx and how she oversaw Denon. "What you endured on Bonadan is no less true for you, Acier. Pain and resilience both leave their mark."

She pressed the soil a little firmer around her sapling, shaking her head at his comment, a faint smile curving her lips. "Smarter? Hardly. We all have our strengths and our blind spots. I am certain there is much you know that I do not."

It was then that a familiar voice cut through the din:

"There are no shadows without light, and no light cast without shadows,"

Runing her head, Sibylla caught sight of the Shaman Runi Kuryida , and she inclined her head in cordial greeting, She mused over the words. Could that be perhaps in reference to the conversation she was having with Acier?

Turning back to Acier, she let her voice carry a note of warmth.

"Naboo is beautiful. Verdant and green, with rivers, waterfalls, and wide lakes. My family lives at Dee'ja Peak, nestled in the Gallo Mountains. The sunsets there... they are peaceful, painted in gold across the stone. You should come see them someday."

Her smile deepened, a rare sincerity glimmering through her composure. "Hope does not only need to be imagined, Acier. Sometimes, it only asks to be witnessed."

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Mandalore - Ronion

Equipment:
Training Jumpsuit | Lightsaber | Modified DL-27 | Tic

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Sibylla Abrantes​

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The flick of dirt caught him square on the arm. Ace blinked down at it, then up at Aether Verd with a half-smirk tugging at his mouth before brushing it off.​

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"You're lucky you're Mand'alor." Ace snickered.​

​

But when Aether spoke, the teasing gave way to something heavier. Listen when your blood calls. More often than not, it calls for home. Ace looked away quickly, pretending to focus on the soil, but the words sank deep all the same. He used to believe Bonadan was all the home he'd ever know. But standing here, on Mandalore, planting in its soil with his brother watching... things were so much different now. He finally held Aether's gaze and nodded.​

​

He noticed Aether's gaze shifted from him to Sibylla and back again, followed by that exaggerated wink. Heat pricked the back of Ace's neck, and he ducked his head fast, pretending to busy himself with patting down the dirt around his seeds.​

​

"Ignore him." He muttered quickly to Sibylla, though Tic chirped like he very much agreed with the Mand'alor's assessment.​

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Sibylla's voice pulled him back. Naboo - Rivers, mountains, golden sunsets. He couldn't imagine a place like that, but the way she said it made it feel almost real.​

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"Maybe..." He began, hesitant "... Maybe you can show me around one of these days."​

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He pressed the soil firmly over his seeds one last time, grounding them in place. When he leaned back, hands stained dark, he let out a slow breath. Between his brother's words, Sibylla's smile, and the saplings sprouting in the circle, this truly felt like a new beginning for Mandalore. And maybe him too. ​

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"Feels like your people and mine see hope the same way." He added after a moment, nodding to her sapling. "Symbols. Roots. Promises. All that noise."​