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

[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's smile lingered at the shaman's words, the suggestion that he might step into the circle like one of their own. For a heartbeat he said nothing, cane resting steady beneath his hands. Then his lids half-lowered, as though in thought, and when they opened again his eyes were no longer the pale, human shade they had been. Black from edge to edge, glossy and depthless, like two pools of midnight ink.

The change was not only outward. In the Force, his presence shifted. Where before it had been concentrated tightly about him, coiled like a shadow held close, now it loosened, stretched, bled into the grove around them.

He saw.

Not only the hands pressing soil to roots, nor the faint light of life springing from each seed, but the echoes woven beneath it all. Scars of violence clung like smoke to the earth. The weight of the Mandalorians' conviction pushed that residue outward, repelling it layer by layer. Threads of strength braided together, belief shaping matter and spirit alike.

"A fascinating symmetry," he murmured, though whether to Runi or to himself was unclear. "Shadows driven to the edges, light pressed deeper into the soil. Not destroyed. Not truly cleansed. But ordered."

For the first time he did not glance sidelong to the perimeter, but allowed his gaze to rest fully upon the rite itself. He could see how Runi's gestures plucked at the lingering darkness, unweaving it thorn by thorn. He could see the ripples of intent in each Mandalorian's movements, feeding the pattern.

Movement at the circle's heart drew him back. The Mand'alor had turned, helm inclined in his direction. Acknowledgment, not mere tolerance. Conrad's lips curved into a smile, not sly this time, nor edged, but genuine in its quiet measure. He returned the nod with the poise of a courtier, the smallest bow of his head, before letting his expression cool once more.

The black pools of his eyes held to the scene, unblinking. His presence, once coiled tight around him, now stretched across the grove. It did not soothe in the way a Jedi's aura might, nor did it unsettle with the jagged edge of malice. It was heavier than that, older, a vast, looming weight that settled over the ritual like a mantle.

Where before there had been scattered threads of unease, now they were drawn inward, subsumed into something singular. Conrad's aura loomed like a dragon stretched across its hoard, not snarling, not striking, but watchful. Possessive. Every ember of shadow and spark of spirit in the grove seemed to fall beneath the span of his gaze, as though he alone had laid claim to them.

And yet, he did not intrude upon the circle. He simply remained, a sentinel at the edge of light and shadow, content to guard what was being planted here, whether any of them realized it or not.

At length his gaze returned to Runi, voice pitched low so only she would hear.
"Your invitation is not unappreciated, Warmaster. I will not join their circle… but I will see that my presence is felt, if only to ensure what they plant here endures."

Conrad is acknowledging the nod from Aether, and exchanging a few words with Runi. He's letting his spiritual presence unfurl a little more around the ceremony that's occurring. This would let any would be interference from any spiritual presences know that if they wish to interfere with this ceremony that it must go through him first.

 

[Hanna]

Location: Rekali War College - Mandalore
Thread Objective: I - The Rekali War College
Mission Objective:

• Secure the fortress.
  
  • Clear out the Graug and Sithspawn.
  • Capture or destroy eggs.

Tag: Nando Daiga Warpriest Prime Zayid the Lion Delsin Shaw Warpriest Prime Aiden Wolf

"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!"

Hanna shifted her attention towards the towering four-armed figure of Warpriest Prime , before cocking her head in acknowledgement. Shifting course, the skater mercenary glided her way around the fray as she moved towards the dip in the courtyard that led down to the fortress’ subterranean depths. All the while, her verpine shatter pistols fired in twin cracks of hypersonic velocity. Two slugs found their mark: the two heads of a charging hydra erupted in a gory mist, sending the multi-ton beast crashing to the floor mid-charge!

“I agree. I’m moving into the depths!” Hanna called out in response. “There should be nests down there that we can take out,” she added.

The verpine shatter pistols pulsed empty, at which point Hanna quickly swapped the weapons out for her out for her disruptor pistols in a swift, seamless motion. As she did, her helmet’s low-light vision activated as the subterranean darkness quickly surrounded her.

That was when she spotted the Graug.

Her disruptors flashed in an instant, unleashing twin beams of pink annihilation. Two of the vibroaxe-wielding Graug were struck down in a split-second, the bodies ceasing to exist from the waist up as the remains collapsed to the floor like marionettes with severed strings. A third Graug turned its rotary blaster on her, but Hanna was already moving, accelerating suddenly to her left in a blur of repulsor-propelled grace as the bolts chased after her. Her reply was a single shot that caught the Graug beside its temple; its head vanished in a cloud of ionized ash, the body swaying a moment before crumpling.

The last Graug fumbled with a large, spherical object. Hanna’s disruptor rose. A bolt lanced out, and the creature dematerialized mid-motion, its form unraveling into nothingness. The Qilin slid to a stop then, repulsorlift skates humming in the darkness.

Realization struck like lightning.

“The Graug are trying to save the Hydra eggs!”

Spoiler: Loadout

• Sparkle Velocity
  
  • Gauntlets and Vambraces
    
    • Modular Weapon Mount (3) - R
      
      • PC-05V Plasma Caster
        
        • Ammunition
          
          • Medium Plasma Gas Canister
      • NML-02VTB Nano Missile Launcher
        
        • Ammunition
          
          • Depleted Baradium-tipped Baradium Nano Missiles (12)
    • Modular Weapon Mount (3) - L
      
      • IceJet Miniaturized CryoBan Projector
        
        • Ammunition
          
          • CryoBan Canister
      • Repulsor Projector
• Hanna’s HB-42 Disruptor Pistols (2)
  
  • Ammunition
    
    • FAE/AM-01-S2 Energy Weapon Cartridge - Ethaerium X Gas and CryoBan Coolant (4)
    • FAE/AM-01-S2 Energy Weapon Cartridge - Ethaerium Gas and CryoBan Coolant (8)
  • Attachments
    
    • 1-5x FAE/S-08 Electro-Sight
• Glitter Roses (2)
  
  • Ammunition
    
    • Extended Magazine - Standard Penetrator: Void Stone Treatment (2)
    • Standard Magazine - Antimatter Explosive: Void Stone Treatment (4)
  • Attachments
    
    • 1-5x FAE/S-08 Electro-Sight
• FAE/MDE-01-S2 Semiautonomous Seeker Thermal Explosive (2)
• Infrared Smoke Grenade (2)

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

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

Sibylla's hands lingered a moment over the earth, smoothing it gently before she sat back on her heels. She hadn't noticed the look pass between Mand'alor Verd and Ace, so his sudden flustered state drew a curious expression from her, especially after Tic gave an amused trill.

Her smile softened, and Sibylla let slip a soft, melodic laugh, the sound lighting her features and lending a luminous grace to the young Ambassador's classic beauty.

"I think you are right," she said instead, her tone thoughtful as she studied the circle of saplings. "Symbols, roots, promises... they bind us to the memory of what was, and the hope of what may yet come."

Those hazel eyes went drifting back to him with warmth radiating in their depths.

"And of course, Acier. If ever you find the time, Acier, I would be glad to show the sights."

 

[Jonah]

OBJECTIVE
Ronion, Mandalore

The first voice to greet him belonged to Velda. Jonah lifted his gaze from the shadows that had pooled across the alley and found her approaching with the same effortless poise she had always carried. In another life she had been mentor, teaching him the subtleties of bending the Dark Side to his will. In this one she had proven to be a confidant in matters far less divine but no less dangerous. Tugging at the threads of the underworld rarely lent itself to companionship, yet Velda was one of the few whose presence he did not question. A half-smile crept across his lips as he gestured for her to come closer, the gesture an acknowledgment of a trust that had been tested and had not yet failed.

"It is good to see you as well," Jonah replied, his tone carrying both warmth and the sharp edge of intent. "Life is far too short to be thinking small, especially when there is so much to gain. Not only for ourselves, but for the family business." His hand swept outward as he spoke, not toward the crates that framed their clandestine gathering but to the greater city beyond. The thrum of machinery, the clang of steel against steel, the cries of workers raising Ronion from ruin...this was the family business he spoke of, Mandalore's lifeblood coursing through every street and dome.

Rising from his seat, Jonah stepped forward, the motion drawing his attention to another figure who had slipped in among the assembled. Aren lingered toward the rear, standing just behind the hulking silhouettes of the Haxion Brood and the watchful Nite Owls. Jonah lifted a hand, beckoning her closer. She was not yet one of them in blood, but she had earned her place through loyalty and through the unique talents she brought to bear. Best she become acquainted with those who would one day fight and scheme alongside her. "Velda," he said, turning slightly to his trusted companion, "this is Aren, a highly capable slicer of the Nite Owls. Aren, this is Velda...an exceptional…agent." He let the word linger in the air for a moment, a glimmer of amusement flickering across his expression before it faded into purpose once more.

When the introductions had passed, Jonah addressed the gathered in full. The Brood remnants shifted, their bulk heavy against the duracrete walls, while the Owls leaned in with attentive silence. "The underworld has not stood still," he began, his voice firm and resonant above the mechanical hum of the reconstruction beyond. "The rise of the Black Sun Syndicate has seen consolidation, and though the Empire maintains a quiet understanding with their leadership, rogue elements are always hungry. They will rise in this sector if we let them. That is why I intend to seize the underworld before they can. The Brood has the chance to rise again, not as outcasts wandering in the dark, but as shadows born from the strength of the greatest fighting force in the galaxy. In doing so, the Empire my brother has forged remains focused on the light, unbothered by what festers beneath. We will tame the dark. And in doing so, Mandalore will stand untouchable… and we will profit."

A low rumble of affirmation spread through the alley. The Nite Owls, steeped in Mandalorian culture, gave their agreement in measured tones, for their hearts were set first upon securing their home. The Brood responded with gruffer voices, eager to see themselves once more feared rather than forgotten, unwilling to fade beneath the Syndicate's shadow. Different in origin though they were, the two groups could find alignment here, so long as the path forward was careful and deliberate.

Jonah's hand motioned once more, this time toward Velda and Aren, drawing them both into the circle of his words. "The first phase begins with establishing a true home for our operation," he continued, his tone inviting but unyielding. "From there, we build our reach. We will need transports to move unseen, conspirators to open doors, and access across systems that do not yet know our name. The foundation must be strong if we are to claim the dark as our own." His eyes swept across the assembled faces, lingering a moment on each before he posed the question. "Tell me, how will you help bring this dream into reality?"
​

Tag: Velda Nar-Donna , Aren D'Shade

 

[Runi Kuryida]

A nod, a faint smile, Runi acknowledged the High Republic Ambassador that often enjoyed participating in their gatherings. She was less bureaucrat and more mobility. One inclined toward new, unfamiliar sights. Fearless and bold.

Runi then regarded Conrad as he spoke, and gave him a slight nod. An invitation was not an invitation if you pressed it upon someone. Much as many did not recognize they belonged with the Manda, some did not feel inclined toward... socializing.

"Even old growth sprouts anew in the hope others might carry its will far," she replied off to the side as though to herself, and not directly to the man that sought to keep their conversation private. No matter how powerful or how old a soul might become, Runi believed all souls should commune with one another. It was why the Mandokarla did not teach of always wearing one's armor. Wear it when facing your enemies -- not your brothers and your sisters in the Manda. That said, not everyone 'communed' the same way; though she hoped, someday, Conrad might feel comfortable being closer to them.

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

 

[Vritra]

OBJECTIVE III :: RONION, MANDALORE​

Vritra stood in the middle of the room, her red eyes were cast down at the desk before her. One hand reached out and idly moved few items aside. Not a single thing before her drew her eye. None of it mattered. Much like everything else in that building, or in this city. Lowly creatures skittered about yearning to be crushed under foot... but they weren't worth the effort. Not yet. It wouldn't be sporting -- or entertaining -- if they perished ignorant and dumb.

So, with some of their so-called leaders in a meeting they wouldn't interrupt for their latest and greatest Guest of Honor what was an otherworldly woman to do? Leave a message, of course. Nothing too elaborate this time. Best to build these sorts of things. Get everyone in the mood. Sadly, these introductory steps -- when they wouldn't cooperate -- were quite tedious. Boring, in point of fact.

Yes, three bodies were suspended in midair, secured to the walls by an invisible force that would linger long after she was gone. Quite dead, of course. They'd gone without a sound. Hardly a struggle. They had the misfortune of being The Message, or she might have offered them service. There was no shortage of their kind, however, so Vritra wasn't beside herself over their expenditure. And seeing how they thought her an arrogant Force User with decorative horns, their little toys intended for a Jedi or Sith hadn't posed a problem.

Which left her with naught to do. Boring.

Vritra turned and thick, inky tendrils of shadow erupted from beneath her feet enveloping her. They plunged back into the nothing of the floor as quickly as they'd come, leaving the carnage in their wake.


Only moments later Vritra reappeared. She leaned off to the side to peer over the shoulder of another. Lips curled upward for a split second. Her words were as soft as a summer breeze, "Everything could be different, if you only had the power." It was a devilish knack knowing when someone with deep desire reflected on it, hungered for it, and could have it if only there were an entity that cared. Vritra cared. Perhaps not in the way most believed or wanted, but one should be accepting of cultural differences. Would Aleksandr Kerensky begrudge her unannounced appearance? Did it matter? He had a need she could satisfy. That should be entertaining enough.

Aleksandr Kerensky | Ladante Mamba | Jonah | Velda Nar-Donna | Aren D'Shade | OPEN​

 

[Aleksandr Kerensky]

The Old Man
​

---

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

Spoiler: Theme

Kerensky set another pin on the holotable, marking an objective, when the air shifted. A pressure. A presence.

He didn't move. Didn't flinch. But the trooper at his side did.

"Karking he-"

A single glare froze the man mid-draw, his hand on the pistol. Kerensky shook his head once. Not now. Not here.

He waited. Patient. If this was the shadow that had haunted them since the Rift, they were already dead, Wolves, settlers, city alike. When the voice finally came, soft and coaxing, Kerensky's mind went back to the Rift.

Nights in a broken vessel. The crash. Men on the run across a world that wanted them dead. The whispers that never stopped. Promises of glory and power one moment, despair and damnation the next. He'd watched soldiers turn on each other under their weight. Watched good men set down their rifles and wander into the wastes, laughing, sobbing, before the things out there tore them apart.

He remembered the lieutenant. Face painted in another man's entrails, eyes wild, laugh shrill, before Kerensky put a round through his skull.

His reply now was cold steel.
"You've no idea the things I've wanted. Or the things I've seen. If you did, you'd know how frivolous your offer is. And considering we're still breathing, you're not the thing that's been chasing us since the Rift."

He tapped the holotable once, knuckle sharp against the surface. Outside, droids stirred. Some raised weapons, lenses trained on the command post. Troopers received new orders, non-combatants out, rifles up, eyes sharp. The Wolves had learned what walked in the dark.

And Vritra would see it: the mark of the Monster.

It was not physically present, no beast, no horned silhouette, but its shadow clung to them all. The men bore it like scars on their spirits, the memory of a predator too vast to name. Hunger, malice, rage: a brand pressed into their souls. To her sight it loomed, red-eyed and endless, draped over the Wolves like a mantle of inevitable death. They carried it with them now, every step, every breath, the bogeyman that had hounded them since the Rift.

Only then did Kerensky turn fully, cap shadowing his lined face.
"That being said… I am Kerensky. Ship's Captain of the Dire Wolves." His gaze was steady, his voice the iron of an old commander addressing a peer, not a monster.
"How can I help you?"

 

[Vritra]

OBJECTIVE III :: RONION, MANDALORE​

A soft sniff. The slight uptick at the corner of the lips. "The bravado of the truly ignorant."

Vritra lifted a hand and gestured upward with a single finger. The shadows at the feet of the surprised guard came to life and swiftly crawled up the length of his body. They'd work their way around to the arm whose hand was connected to the pistol at his hip. All it took was a single jerk to bring the weapon to bear precisely where the man had intended before the countermand order was given.

Red eyes met those of the Ship's Captain, Kerensky, as the pistol discharged not once. Not twice. But thrice. It didn't even matter if the man pulled the trigger or resisted having his finger in the trigger guard; the shadow could do that much, it just needed him as a framework. Not a single bat of her eyelids accompanied the discharges. Her eyes didn't so much as shift in the direction of the bolts. Bolts that had come to a dead halt suspended in midair a foot from her head.

"Duke Vritra. Mistress, if you prefer. I also answer to Queen," she cooed because there was no one to say otherwise, and really at her stratum of existence titles were just there for amusement.

"I like your courage. Creatures like you are the sole reason I bother with this level of... existence. But to see that you're cowed by a mere beast when you're in the same room as myself," Vritra turned her head aside though her eyes never left his, the corners of her lips dipped downward for just a moment, "that disappoints me, Kerensky. To think you'd think more highly of the dog than its master." A sharp click of the tongue followed.

"Well, I suppose there really is no accounting for taste. Which explains why you can't even articulate what it is you want. You creatures do tend to be of a thousand different minds about that sort of thing. Makes establishing a deal such a pain at times. Honestly, you could just ask me to have that beast thrown off your scent -- simple request simply granted. But you won't, will you? Too much pride. I'm sure you'll do fine on your own," she nodded her head as though she understood, but didn't quite agree in their ability to survive.

Aleksandr Kerensky​

 

[Aleksandr Kerensky]

The Old Man
​

---

LOCATION: Ronion, Mandalore
OBJECTIVE: III - A dance with a devil
Tag: Ladante Mamba , Vritra , Jonah , Velda Nar-Donna , Aren D'Shade , Open

Spoiler: Theme

Kerensky listened in silence, face pensive, cold. He'd been in rooms like this before. Face-to-face with things that outmatched him in every conceivable way. He had survived then. He would survive now.

And if he didn't, the thing before him would learn quickly enough that the Wolves outside were not helpless. They had endured zealots, cults, monsters, and the Rift itself. They carried specialized arms, field generators, countermeasures tailored against the unnatural and those powerful in the Force. It wouldn't stop her killing many of them if she chose, but it would make the cost steep. That was how peace was kept between beings like this: the shadow of mutual annihilation.

He waited until she finished before muttering, almost to himself:
"If only it were so easy."

Turning, he keyed commands into the holotable. File indexes, combat logs, old recordings from their time in the Rift flickered to life. His voice, when it came, was level and deliberate.
"Your Highness, I think you misunderstand our position. We're not trying to lose the thing you call a dog. It isn't merely chasing us."

The screen lit with two forms: one massive and bestial, the other smaller, armored, unmistakably kin to the first. Above it, the designation: LUCIFER.

"That 'dog,' as you put it, is the spawn of something we call the Nocna Mora. And our goal isn't to run from it. It's to destroy both it and the hand that forged it."

Another command. The screen shifted to combat footage, a commando's perspective. The Mora rampaging through Wolf positions, fire and claws tearing men apart. And in the background, the titan. Lucifer. The armored shape advanced slowly, shrugging off rifle fire, dragging its weapon behind it like an executioner's promise. Heavy weapons opened up; it moved, blindingly fast, a blur of steel and crimson hunger. The blade's swing vaporized men, leaving nothing but skeletal ash as their life essence was ripped away.

Kerensky let the feed play until the commando was struck down, then froze the image. Lucifer's armored bulk loomed over the fallen man, red eyes burning, jaws bared, massive sword raised for the final blow.

"I've only ever served under two individuals." His voice was quiet now, edged with iron. A fingertip tapped the screen. "That thing? That's what remains of the first. My commander. The founder of this unit and their first leader." He turned back to Vritra, meeting her eyes without hesitation.
"It's our duty to put him to rest."

Kerensky let the silence linger a moment, then drew in a slow breath, adjusting his cap.

"If you truly want to speak of power your Highness, then understand this: you don't hold all the cards here." His voice was quiet, steady, the kind of tone men followed in a storm. "We've bled under worse, and we're still standing. You may find us stubborn, but you'll find us harder to break than you think."

His gaze flicked briefly to the soldier whose arm was still twisted in her shadow's grip, pistol hanging useless in the air. Kerensky's eyes returned to hers.
"Release him. My men don't negotiate at gunpoint, and neither do I. You came here to talk, so talk. Otherwise, this ends before it begins."

He rested both hands on the edge of the table, posture deliberate, the looming specter of Lucifer still frozen on the display behind him.
"Now, if you want to parley, I'll listen. But understand your Highness, survival in this place isn't bought with whispers. It's earned. And the Wolves have paid that price in full."

 

[Vritra]

OBJECTIVE III :: RONION, MANDALORE​

Vritra's gaze slowly shifted from Kerensky to the playback of Lucifer without the small smile wavering for a moment.

When he finished, she lifted a knife hand up to hide her mouth as she yawned. "Gunpoint. As though a single one of you were in danger." A flippant flick of her wrist had the shadow retreat and leave the man free once more. The fired bolts still lingered in midair.

"Parley." Light laughter bubbled forth as Vritra began to move about the command center oblivious to its occupants. "Whispers. Don't worry, I won't bother. You're a paladin on a quest to vanish a beast of legend to restore honor to a fallen comrade. You aren't going to hear a word I say until your command is on the verge of being scrubbed from existence. I could offer to bring that man back to life right now and you would spurn me."

After a slow shake of her head, Vritra turned to look back at Kerensky. "You're rigid. Uncompromising. You see it as a strength, and it'll cost you dearly before it is over." The smile returned in force. "But that's not my problem. I didn't come here to be your guardian angel, Kerensky. I came here because of your need, but since you aren't interested in sating it..." A light tap of her lips followed. "Perhaps you'll still be of some use, yes?"

"I left a message for your Mandalore outside the gathering of your local leaders. See that they get it won''t you? Let them know it was just the beginning. If your kind are 'sturbborn' and think this realm belongs to them, and you'll continue to kill creatures you don't own, then we'll simply have to exact our pounds of flesh." Vritra held her hands out to either side. "If he wants to talk about it, all he needs to do is shed a little blood while saying my name."

"In exchange, I'll depart without killing any of your men." Vritra smiled and looked at Kerensky with wide eyes expecting he'd accept her "offer." The price for delivering the message verbally, which she would pay, was not butchering them. Seemed like a good deal. But just how 'stubborn' was he?

Aleksandr Kerensky​

 

[Aleksandr Kerensky]

The Old Man
​

---

LOCATION: Ronion, Mandalore
OBJECTIVE: III - A dance with a devil
Tag: Ladante Mamba , Vritra , Jonah , Velda Nar-Donna , Aren D'Shade , Open

Spoiler: Theme

Kerensky regarded the being before him with the gaze of a man who had been deceived before. His eyes searched her face not in hope, but in calculation, weighing the likelihood of betrayal with every breath she took. It hardly mattered. The men around him wouldn't lower their guard now, not after what the Rift had carved into them. They had seen too many comrades lost to corruption, too many who had listened to voices beyond mortal understanding. Trust among Wolves was absolute, but none of them underestimated what beings in the Force were capable of.

So Kerensky listened. He watched as she finally released the trooper, and with a glance, told the man all he needed to know.

Stay calm.

Then came the ultimatum. A message wrapped in threat. Talk of creatures that "did not belong" to them, and vengeance to be exacted. Kerensky knew well how his old commander would have answered such words, with fire and steel. But Kerensky had a duty, and pride was a luxury he could not afford.

"Well bargained and done."

He looked to Kowalski and gave a single nod. The man hesitated, then raised his wrist comm to patch into the proper channel. Kerensky, meanwhile, turned back to the holotable, continuing his work even as he spoke.

"A paladin I may be your highness, but I am no fool and no bloodthirsty savage. If peace is possible, I will be the first to defend it. But my men and I will defend ourselves, and we will not abide a peace bought with blood sacrifices." He glanced over his shoulder, eyes steady. "Surely you can understand that."