M A N D A L O R E
THUNDERBRINGER
"The Black Summer calls. Mandalorians answer."
Onderon had screamed.
Not in voice, but in every breath of its air and every quake of its bones. The Planeshift had struck like a myth given form, tearing across reality in ways no chart could predict. Other worlds had seen cracks, rifts, aberrations. Onderon had waited. And when its time came, the rupture did not split the sky but the soul of the world itself.
The planet's magnetic poles flipped violently in the span of hours. Gravity buckled across entire regions. Thunderheads thick as mountains boiled across the skies, collapsing biospheres and setting entire jungles ablaze with erratic lightning. Swaths of land were consumed by seismic chasms that birthed new fault lines and crushed cities beneath their own bedrock. Rain no longer nourished the soil. It stripped paint from steel and carved wounds into armor.
The death toll defied recordkeeping. Local governments were the first to fall, their systems shorting out beneath the sheer violence of the atmosphere. Evacuation plans failed when the skies began to shred any ship not shielded beyond standard regulation. Those who could flee did. Most could not.
In the chaos, a coalition was born. Not of mercy, but of control.
The Stormguard.
Once police, private guards, backwoods militias, and stranded mercenaries. Now, a regime. When communications failed and the storms cut Onderon off from the wider galaxy, they filled the vacuum with brutal certainty. Resources were hoarded. Shelter was rationed only to those deemed “worthy.” Those with power decided who would live and who would be left to the rains.
Their blackened banners now flew over shelters and fallen strongholds alike, marked with a crude storm sigil, half lightning and half eye. They wore stolen armor and ruled with scavenged tech. They called it order. It was survival, nothing more.
Above, the stars offered no comfort. But they did offer presence.
The Mandalorian Empire had arrived in orbit.
Their ships lingered just beyond the storm line, steel gray against the seething clouds. They bore the sigils of clans and the iron authority of the Mand’alor himself. Onderon had always been kin to Mandalore, green of jungle and red of war. To let it fall was unthinkable. To let its people suffer under false rule was unacceptable.
And so the Khar Zuun was proclaimed.
The Black Summer. A season where glory was won through hardship and strength tested by calamity. Mand’alor declared it not merely a campaign of liberation, but a proving ground for the clans. A call to those who sought to be worthy of legend. The storms of Onderon were not a curse. They were a challenge. The kind that shaped Mandalorians into something more.
And the warriors descending now, one drop at a time through fire and tempest, came not as saviors but as heirs. They came not to weather the storm, but to break it.
Not in voice, but in every breath of its air and every quake of its bones. The Planeshift had struck like a myth given form, tearing across reality in ways no chart could predict. Other worlds had seen cracks, rifts, aberrations. Onderon had waited. And when its time came, the rupture did not split the sky but the soul of the world itself.
The planet's magnetic poles flipped violently in the span of hours. Gravity buckled across entire regions. Thunderheads thick as mountains boiled across the skies, collapsing biospheres and setting entire jungles ablaze with erratic lightning. Swaths of land were consumed by seismic chasms that birthed new fault lines and crushed cities beneath their own bedrock. Rain no longer nourished the soil. It stripped paint from steel and carved wounds into armor.
The death toll defied recordkeeping. Local governments were the first to fall, their systems shorting out beneath the sheer violence of the atmosphere. Evacuation plans failed when the skies began to shred any ship not shielded beyond standard regulation. Those who could flee did. Most could not.
In the chaos, a coalition was born. Not of mercy, but of control.
The Stormguard.
Once police, private guards, backwoods militias, and stranded mercenaries. Now, a regime. When communications failed and the storms cut Onderon off from the wider galaxy, they filled the vacuum with brutal certainty. Resources were hoarded. Shelter was rationed only to those deemed “worthy.” Those with power decided who would live and who would be left to the rains.
Their blackened banners now flew over shelters and fallen strongholds alike, marked with a crude storm sigil, half lightning and half eye. They wore stolen armor and ruled with scavenged tech. They called it order. It was survival, nothing more.
Above, the stars offered no comfort. But they did offer presence.
The Mandalorian Empire had arrived in orbit.
Their ships lingered just beyond the storm line, steel gray against the seething clouds. They bore the sigils of clans and the iron authority of the Mand’alor himself. Onderon had always been kin to Mandalore, green of jungle and red of war. To let it fall was unthinkable. To let its people suffer under false rule was unacceptable.
And so the Khar Zuun was proclaimed.
The Black Summer. A season where glory was won through hardship and strength tested by calamity. Mand’alor declared it not merely a campaign of liberation, but a proving ground for the clans. A call to those who sought to be worthy of legend. The storms of Onderon were not a curse. They were a challenge. The kind that shaped Mandalorians into something more.
And the warriors descending now, one drop at a time through fire and tempest, came not as saviors but as heirs. They came not to weather the storm, but to break it.
OBJECTIVE I: STORMBREAKER
Location: Jungle Outskirts, Kalavar Ridge Settlement
The Stormguard made themselves kings in the ashes.
They rule with stolen weapons and rationed mercy, hoarding what remains of Onderon’s medicine, power, and protection. Their leaders claim the storms chose them to survive, and that only the strong deserve shelter. Any who resist are exiled into the lightning and left to rot.
Now, the Mandalorian Empire has come to answer.
This is the Khar Zuun: the Black Summer declared by Mand’alor himself. A season where glory is forged in calamity, where war and nature both become proving grounds. To conquer the wrath of Onderon is to honor it. To break the Stormguard is to restore what was stolen.
Strike teams descend through the maelstrom with a single mission: destroy the regime that strangled Onderon’s breath. Cut through their barricades. Shatter their command. Bring their leaders to heel. At the same time, a second force races to the old Ion Spire to install a stabilization device that may still the magnetic upheaval and quell the worst of the storms. If they fail, Onderon may not live to see the next season.
Steel meets steel in burning streets. Tempest winds scream above. And the world holds its breath.
PvE | Combat and Tactical. Expect vicious urban and jungle combat against entrenched militia fighters, makeshift warlords, and desperate survivors twisted by survivalism. The clock is ticking. Neutralize the threat and stabilize the region before the storms return in full. The storm is the trial. Victory is the offering.
OBJECTIVE II: WRITE YOUR LEGEND
Bring Your Own Objective
You bring the mission. Mandalore brings the Storm.
They rule with stolen weapons and rationed mercy, hoarding what remains of Onderon’s medicine, power, and protection. Their leaders claim the storms chose them to survive, and that only the strong deserve shelter. Any who resist are exiled into the lightning and left to rot.
Now, the Mandalorian Empire has come to answer.
This is the Khar Zuun: the Black Summer declared by Mand’alor himself. A season where glory is forged in calamity, where war and nature both become proving grounds. To conquer the wrath of Onderon is to honor it. To break the Stormguard is to restore what was stolen.
Strike teams descend through the maelstrom with a single mission: destroy the regime that strangled Onderon’s breath. Cut through their barricades. Shatter their command. Bring their leaders to heel. At the same time, a second force races to the old Ion Spire to install a stabilization device that may still the magnetic upheaval and quell the worst of the storms. If they fail, Onderon may not live to see the next season.
Steel meets steel in burning streets. Tempest winds scream above. And the world holds its breath.
PvE | Combat and Tactical. Expect vicious urban and jungle combat against entrenched militia fighters, makeshift warlords, and desperate survivors twisted by survivalism. The clock is ticking. Neutralize the threat and stabilize the region before the storms return in full. The storm is the trial. Victory is the offering.
OBJECTIVE II: WRITE YOUR LEGEND
Bring Your Own Objective
Onderon bleeds, and Khar Zuun is not only for warriors of war.
While the Stormguard are being engaged and the effort to stabilize the planet rages on, the rest of Onderon teeters on the edge. Entire settlements are buried under collapsed canopy and stone. Clanless wanderers vanish in lightning-lit forests. Temples of old Mandalorian reverence remain unopened in the storm's shadow. This is the moment to act with purpose: to find meaning in the chaos and carve your story into the bones of the world.
Perhaps you bring medical supplies to an orphaned settlement under siege.
Perhaps you recover the dog tags of a fallen vode left behind during the first descent.
Perhaps you uncover a shard of history buried beneath the mud and ruin.
Perhaps you stand watch over a sacred tree until the last child makes it out alive.
Your mission is yours to choose. Let the storms test you. Let the world remember how you stood beneath their fury.
While the Stormguard are being engaged and the effort to stabilize the planet rages on, the rest of Onderon teeters on the edge. Entire settlements are buried under collapsed canopy and stone. Clanless wanderers vanish in lightning-lit forests. Temples of old Mandalorian reverence remain unopened in the storm's shadow. This is the moment to act with purpose: to find meaning in the chaos and carve your story into the bones of the world.
Perhaps you bring medical supplies to an orphaned settlement under siege.
Perhaps you recover the dog tags of a fallen vode left behind during the first descent.
Perhaps you uncover a shard of history buried beneath the mud and ruin.
Perhaps you stand watch over a sacred tree until the last child makes it out alive.
Your mission is yours to choose. Let the storms test you. Let the world remember how you stood beneath their fury.
You bring the mission. Mandalore brings the Storm.
Alara Ordo
Minerva Fhirdiad
Aadihr Lidos
Azurine Varek
Kayte Toss
Lynn Caromed
Fabula Caromed
Is'ekapi Rex
Dreidi Xeraic
Grym Lok
Skye Mertaal
Zee Caromed
Rheyla Tann
Haken Ralo Bolt
Ginjako Brorai
Maiz Tor'val
Xasin Dyst
Sanguina Krev
Svidur Galaar
Vaux Gred
Mig Gred
Edrick Aethelred
Tarre Priest
Cerar Vizsla
Kassandra Beskar'ad
Kad'irk'Ra
Janous Ryss
Liorra
Tyr Mereel
Conrad
Aren D'Shade
Zel Sharratt
Korra Kast
Whottoomuzz Chantin
Reshim
Red Mobius
Emilia Locke
Athena Faar
Thalira Kiing
Vulcan Krayt
Delsin Shaw
Montello Deshra
Adonis Angelis IV
Siv Kryze
Jaikell Wyrvhor
Itzhal Volkihar
Valah Hagen
Vytal Noctura
Suleiman Lok
Kyrida Verd
Jiriad Galaar
Kandosii Ka'rta
Manti Wyrvhor
Mia Monroe
Ladante Mamba
Raef Malstadt
Ciri Jade
Lunara Azure
Kirae Orade
Ro'talius Emanti
Alora Vizsla
Zhulghua
Kalðr Ísbjørn
Cordelia Malkavian
Drego Ruus
"Templar"
CT-312
Tomaj Eldar
Rhys Swynol
Lysara Rynn
Nephthys Nardithi-Verd
Hanna
Siae Andronike
Zlova Rue
Runi Kuryida
Ren Ashbridge
Aliza Vale
Thram Drokor
Sagan Verd
Ze'bast Verd
Vyse de Valorous
@Varuun Rekaal
Kuben Woods
Valeria de la Vallée
Lyra Scarlet
Talohn Atar
Incitrix
Klavatora Verd
Aselia Verd
