Dominion The Black Summer || THUNDERBRINGER [ ME Dominion of Onderon ]

[Nando]

SOLSTICE SANGRA​

Objective I: Stormbreaker – Onderon Jungle Outskirts
Tags: OPEN

Spoiler: Nando’s Loadout

• Supercommando-type Beskar'gam– full-body T‑visored plates, vambraces rigged with weapons, scarred by countless battles.
• HV-37 Squad Repeating Blaster
• Jetpack – jetpack with burst rockets and grappling winch; for aerial supremacy in combat
• Rising Phoenix training – traditional Mandalorian rocket‑pack mastery
• Whistling birds – wrist‑mounted guided beskar missiles that screech before impact
• Wrist‑flamethrower – for pyrotechnic flair in close combat.
• Whipcord launcher – hidden line for entangling foes or dramatic rescues
• Disruptor pistol – high‑power, incendiary sidearm for shock damage.
• Enclave's Herald
• Euk Siha Service Knife
• SM-10a
• Vibrodaggers (pair) – elegant melee blades ideal for dual‑wielding.
• Thermal detonators & tactical grenades – for crowd control and grandiose exits.
• Helmet‑integrated comlink & HUD – for covert signals…and swoon‑worthy battlefield monologues.
• Magnetized boots – tactical grip in zero‑G or metal environments
• Macrobinocular viewplate – enhanced visor for battlefield awareness
• Ammo & utility pouches – filled with field rations, spare whistling birds, RIDD-01 "Rids", and squawk‑worthy love letters.

"I never asked for much. Just a hand to hold… and a battlefield to bleed on."

Nando spoke his communicator. They didn't answer. Again. Maybe they were listening to his voicemails, but something in him knew they weren't going to.

Did he mean it? Any of it? The vows, liking the poetry… the paintings?

Nando's crimson cloak caught fire somewhere around the third impact—one of the Stormguard's frag mines bursting near his right flank. He didn't bother putting it out. It looked better that way.

A brute with a buzz-axe lunged from the fog. Nando side-stepped, sighed, and slammed a boot through the man's knee like kicking in a cantina door. One flick of his beskad, and the foe collapsed in two directions. Blood steamed off beskar.

He said I was too intense. Too distant. Too... Clingy?

A flashbang cracked. Nando's visor compensated in real time, reducing the glare to a dim throb—like the pang in his chest when he re-read the message:

"Don't wait up. We're done this time. For real."

He hadn't replied for the rest of the day. Just pressed his helmet against the bulkhead and let the storm drown his heartbeat.

I wrote him a poem once. About his shoulders, his collarbones. He said it was 'too anatomical.' Why didn't I see it earlier?

Three Stormguard broke cover. Two had modified repeaters. One was screaming something vaguely patriotic. Nando jet-boosted forward in an arc, shoulder-checking the loud one with enough force to cave in their sternum. He landed mid-roll, came up slicing. Their limbs twitched for a moment before realizing they were dead.

He paused, listening.
For the sound of the holocall voicemail box beeping at maximum message length, disconnecting the call.

I shouldn't care. I'm eight centuries old. I've watched suns go out. I've eaten self-proclaimed gods. But it's just not the same alone.

He stepped over a crumpled turret nest, tossing a thermal detonator into its hatch like a rejected love letter into a fireplace. It bloomed seconds later in a shuddering agol'burun.

Manda help me, I meant it when I said I'd leave war behind if he asked.

He never asked. He was kind enough not to put Nando at odds with his oath.

It stung his heart anew to realize it.

Onderon burned, but the battle around him was merely a distraction from his inner wounds.

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

| Location | Onderon, Inner Rim
| Objective | Stormbreaker - Objective I

Khar Zuun. The Black Summer, a name that left Itzhal with more doubts than convictions. As his people once again rose to war, their banners flourished not against a threat that would damn them all, as the sinister call of the grave might have done, but rather an offer of 'wonderful' glory and the promise of trials that could bring both strength and woe to those foolhardy enough to face the challenges ahead.

Under the crackle of thunder and the snap of lightning, Itzhal continued onwards, moving swiftly as they left the protection of the jungle and moved into the city proper. His steps carried him past rows of rubble. The ruined remains of vehicles caught in the calamity that had torn the skies asunder, their scorched frames, told a tale that should have warned those who flew above. Bolts of lightning claimed those foolish enough to defy their new reality as the 'Stormguard' retreated from the outer ring, covered by the hail of rain and artillery shells, the latter as loud as the thunder that deafened the footsteps of incoming Mandalorians.

A tide of warriors, undeterred by a world that had been left to ruin.

With a deep breath that raised the burden of his weighty pauldrons, Itzhal gazed across the devastated city, splattered with craters and the echoes of storms that blackened the skyline of a world eager to share the pain it suffered. Beneath the visor, his eyes settled upon the shattered reflection of a window, a flicker of light from a traversing bolt distorting the plane of glass, as he spotted victims left to scramble in the rubble.

A family of scavengers, left to survive on whatever pitiful goods they could acquire, their fearful faces, now dangerously close to the sudden threat of battle rather than the slow death of starvation. Hesitation would kill them as surely as inaction. Like the blade drawn from stone, Itzhal raised his blaster, a slender weapon settled in his hand with solemn purpose, and with a glance towards the enemy lines, he pulled the trigger and condemned another soul to die.

Their body dropped like a puppet without strings, as the bolt punched through the unarmoured gap around their neck. Hands unwittingly reached for the wound, unaware they were already dead, a distraction to the soldiers beside them, without the thought to aim their blaster and return fire in the few fickle moments that remained. Against more disciplined soldiers, the first shot might have only inspired those who remained; instead, they baulked at such a sudden death, panic ruining what should have been simple shots.

Itzhal cared not for their reasons, only that they provided him a moment to act as the second blaster pistol fired, another foe caught in the crosshairs, their scream rattling out in time with the roar of thunder above. His armour took a bolt in return as he pivoted with the blow that smashed into his right shoulder, a scorch of black against the crimson pauldron, the metal beneath untouched by such a paltry strike even as he returned the favour with a shot that tore through flesh and sinew.

The rest of them, however, did not go down so easily. Itzhal was forced into cover as the next barrage of blaster fire attempted to tear into him, his body covered by the outline of pillars, damaged stonework, chipped away at by a new threat to the once beautiful exterior of a building covered in ashes. With a flick of his hand, he fired another shot, only to hear the resonant sound of beskar, stolen by those who should have possessed no claim to the relic.

Tyrants and thieves. Their exposed faces, twisted with avarice, as their eyes stared upon his armour and hearts filled with the promise of vengeance for those that he had already harmed. They cared not for the civilians that shuffled away from the danger, given a chance to flee in the violence of his assault. Step by step, they revealed themselves, as they pushed upon the lonesome gunslinger in a prize that they would pry from his corpse.

Itzhal allowed them their pride, pushed deeper into the cover of the pillar, feeble as it was, with each bolt that tore deeper and deeper into the foundations as a layer of grime and boiling shrapnel pinged off his armour. Surrounded by numbers, he glanced towards his HUD and the readout of the battlefield, unhindered by his limited viewpoint, as figures in armour, inspired by his kin, neared closer. Their taunts, heralded with the threat of death and the certainty of victory as seconds passed and his eyes lingered upon the tools in his arsenal that could turn the fight.

Yet, he did not reach for the thermal detonators on his belt, nor did he consider the weapons of war that clasped his wrists.

Instead, he reached for something simpler, a comm-link.

"Tra'cyar mav," he commanded, and with a word, his foes died under a hail of blaster fire.

It was not just Mandalorians, though, that responded to his call, as his squad stepped out from their positions behind him; from the enemy's rear, another group stepped forward. Armed with whatever they could acquire in the wake of the planeshift, their armour was a ramshackle mixture of different factions and cultures, primarily from what corporations and armourers had arrived with the Galactic Alliance, yet hints of Mandalore existed from the way some carried many weapons attached to their gauntlets, while a few wore pale imitations of the infamous T-Visor.

Hastati, or at least those who had decided to remain when their people had decided to reach for the stars, unchained by the politics of Onderon and its allegiance to the Galactic Alliance.

At the front of them, stood a single soldier, his armour a deep shade of blue darkened with wear and grime that fell slickly upon his back and the half-cape that fluttered in the wind as they came to a stop not far from a burned-out speeder that would serve just as well as cover as it would a seat.

"I remember you, though I do not remember the name," declared a voice that rumbled like the crack of a mountain before an avalanche. "Tell me, Mandalorian, do you return here to conquer?"

With a glance towards the skies above and the storm that roared over them, Itzhal pondered all he'd heard recently, how his people celebrated after the darkness of the grave... and as the season of war turned the galaxy black with ash. "I fear so. Yet, they would offer salvation with such sacrifices."

Tilting their helmet up, cracked lips against dark skin spat onto the ground between them before they lowered their helmet. "One tyrant for another, then."

"No," Itzhal sighed as his gaze continued across the land and towards the Mandalorian offensive, where the Mand'alor led his forces in battle against the enemy. "If it were so, my choice would be easier. Still, I have chosen, and so, I stand here because it is a better option than to let this world suffer."

In a city at war, their silence stilled the field around them.

"Cursed be the one with good intentions on the path to chaos," a visor much like Itzhal's own glared across the field and those soldiers who stood beside him, then settled upon him once more. "You will remember our actions today."

"I shall," Itzhal intoned with a nod of his helmet, another promise carved upon his soul.

"You're march will darken the stars, but I am damned to love my people, to let this Stormguard remain is an injustice that I cannot tolerate." With a twist and a flourish of a blue half-cape, he turned away from the Mandalorian Protector and those who followed him, "So, I will help you because I cannot stand any other option. Follow me."

His steps carried him towards a war-torn building that loomed like a ghost, its charred remains sparkled with golden flecks, a stark reminder of its former glory. Crumbling walls, once adorned with vibrant murals, were crushed under the storm that rattled above them as specks of rain sought the gaps torn into the once sturdy walls, exposing twisted support beams that reached out like skeletal fingers. A dire welcome and warning in step, unheeded by the survivors that entered inside.

Behind them, Itzhal followed, though his every instinct urged caution as the cracked ceiling left drips of water to seep through onto the floor below as ancient bricks grew slick in the pools of water that seeped into the stonework. Their worn divots and carved lines marked a passage that led them deeper, closer to their target, as the man in front dropped to his knees and wrapped his fingers around a grate that shouldn't have existed. A stream of information was sent to the Mandalorian's buy'ce.

"Rook, send those schematics up the chain." Itzhal stepped past the Hastati that surrounded him as he reached down to help. "Is this what I think it is?"

"Everyone knows what to do when they get caught in a storm, even the stormguard, fools as they may be."

"Oh?"

"Seek shelter."

Tags: Aether Verd Open (Will tag those who interact with Itzhal)​

 

[Delsin Shaw]

OBJECTIVE I: Stormbreaker
Tags: | Aether Verd | Zee Caromed | Zel Sharratt | Dreidi Xeraic | Kuben Woods | Sanguina Krev | Suleiman Lok | Fabula Caromed | Reshim | Aiden Wolf | Camille Cendre | Kayte Toss | Nando | Itzhal Volkihar |

TLDR: Gave a snide remark to Fabula, and flying through the sky on the top of a Transport raining down Lightning Bolts like Thor on their main Compound. Shake and Bake baby!

The Bolts of blue and purple coalesced lightning lanced down into the ground. Exploding with force and testing the Stormguard in how well they may have been fortified. Many attempted to lift arms up towards the sky to shoot down the vessel. Rockets, and Missiles came at me. With a precisely timed throw, the bolts of lightning would strike into the missiles and blow them up prematurely. The Support Guns on the transport rained down upon other emplacements for us to hold still for a moment. Where troops were drops from a higher altitude. Their Jetpacks softening their landing just as I heard a screaming above me.

The Thundercrack of a vessel flying by and a woman upon it looking to me as she passed by. It was almost like time slowed down for her to look at me for that split second. Nodding at me as she brought down one of the Stormguard vessels that closed in upon us. I gathered another bolt within my hands and threw it across the distance to the last one that was closing in. Smacking through the cockpit like a tank round. The vessel exploding from the interior and cracking in half to fall to the forest floor.

After landing, she clearly was using this moment to try and have some of her own form of fun. Just as much as I was. I just shook my head. Muttering to myself.

"Landing like that hurts the knees. She should know better, knees have a better job for women like her."

Once all of the troops had dropped off, I turned to the pilot. Speaking through the comm-link.

"It looks like they are retreating to the main capitol. Bring us in for strafing runs. Hammer down their forces and give our men a chance to close the gap."
"Lets go in Hot!"
"Thats the spirit!"

Previously, the transport wasn't going at full throttle. Holding so many people in there. Now? It was just myself and whatever crew it was to man the vessel. Now? it was zooming through the air. The deafening sound of the wind whipping past my armor and helmet. Keeping our vessel low and fast to avoid any other surviving AA guns. Barely skimming over the treetops. Closing the distance between the front lines that the Stormguard were defecting from, towards their fortified position. As we got closer, I charged more bolts within my hands. Grinning deeply as soon as we broke through the treeline. I began throwing like a mad man.

The bolts slamming into the walled fortifications, hitting targets and just trying to cause as much damage as possible. More anti-air flack came our way. Missiles and bolts of weaponry aimed towards us. My hands moved in front. Projecting a front facing shield where the weapons slammed into harmlessly. Allowing the gap to be passed the rest of the way.

"Book it Pilot! Rain on them as much as we can!"
"Ten-Four!"

The support guns rained down bolts upon the city trying to just strafe what they had set up. I released the shield for a moment to throw more bolts of lightning down upon the city. Hammering them much like an artillery or bombing run would produce. Only, fortified by the force and the Sith lightning that could do so much damage.

 

[Zee Caromed]

Objective 1: Baar'ur morut​

The worst thing you could hear in active combat was the sound of a lightsaber being lit directly behind you. The second worst? Your mom.

Pinned down in the large entrance hall of the civic building by a pair of Stormguard who'd managed to get a drop on him, Zee signaled to two of his men by gesturing with his blaster towards the exit. The two realized what was going on and hammered out a quick game of lizard-toad-snake. The winner pumped his arm in victory and advanced from cover to a closer vantage point, leaving Zee with the loser.

Zee motioned from his helmet to the exit again, insistently.

Frustratingly, she shrugged and canted her helmet to the side as though asking a question.

Zee pantomimed the handlebars of a swoop. Difficult while holding a blaster, but not if you pretended the barrel was the throttle. He even tilted it from side to side to make the message clear.

The Caromed trooper tilted her head to the other side incredulously and tapped her jetpack - giving a helpful thumbs up. She was covered. No bike needed, thanks.

A blaster bolt zipped past Zee's head. He huffed and leaned out of cover, returning fire. "Ne shab'rud'ni! Go steal a bike for her! You're on chauffeur detail until she loses you!"

"Got it, vod~!" The helpful trooper laughed and departed with a salute, jetting off to boost a nice-looking bike for the clan matriarch to use for a bludgeon. And then probably another one for conveyance. They all knew the score by now - most kids from Taris knew how to steal a vehicle, and Zee's team was made of such individuals. Feeding Fabula Caromed as many bikes as was needed to keep her happy and effective was battlefield SOP.

The sudden flare of capability from the Stormguard was unpleasant, but not unexpected. Still pinned, Zee took a couple of quick breaths to steady himself, picture pulling all of himself into a solid core of power. When he sprang from cover, he charged from his position with the aid of his jetpack - closing the distance at frightening speed. He tackled one Stormguard to the ground and broke his jaw with his baton - his team took out the second and began clearing the rest of the building room by room.
​

 

[Athena Faar]

OBJECTIVE II​

Gear: Mobius Steel Armor (borrowed), Mobius Bes'Kad (borrowed), Euk Siha Service Knife, ZV1 Mentor Blaster Carbine, Madrugar Repulsor/Blaster Hybrid Revolver

Tag: Adonis Angelis IV

Athena trailed Adonis as he lead the group beyond the grave site, seeking the violators. The Knight eventuall halted, a jutting stone marking the spot. The Korun warrior drew near the tilted edifice, lifted her hand to brush across the sigil etched in the broken stone. A gloved finger traced it gingerly, as if pausing to honor the ghosts of those who carved it.

The comm in her helmet crackled and Adonis' voice spoke.

"Athena," he said, steady and sincere, "I'm glad you came."

A smile touched her lips behind her helmet. She would have typically quipped a sassy reply, but the weight of the circumstances silenced her sarcasm. "I'm glad you let me join, even without my dragon." She answered. Alright, it was a bit sassy. But it was also sincere. Athena was known as the dragon rider, something she was proud of. But the former Aruetii wanted to be seen as a warrior, fit to fight along side her vod on the ground. A tip of her helmet honored the Knight. She stood nearby as he turned to address the unit.

And then, like a true Mando'ad leader, Adonis spoke, inspired, preparing the warriors to unleash vengeance on the enemy. Athena armed her carbine, then reached back to ensure the bes'kad would unsheath freely when needed. As if on cue, the enemy revealed themselves, fleeing through the jungle.

Strong legs poised for the signal from Adonis, the warriors coiled and ready to pounce upon their hapless prey. A massive explosion further away caused the Stormguard's flight to waver.

Athena didn't watch the quarry, she looked to Adonis for the signal. Then it came.

The Korun warrior surged forward, carbine raised, squeezing off shots as soon as she was in range, picking off the hesitant ones who stood ignorantly still, confused, as if begging to die. Athena obliged them.

But it was when she drew to close quarters, when the carbine was slung and the bes'kad slid free, that the tactical precision of the former army officer shone. The humming blade whirled and slashed, easily finding gaps and seams in ill-fitted, stolen armor. The revolver was drawn in her off-hand, employed in tandem to mix searing lead with the slashing blade.

 

[Nando]

DYNAMIC ENTRY​

Objective - I | Near the Capital
Proximity tags: Zee Caromed – OPEN

Nando's beskad cleaved through the torso of a shouting militiaman before the rest of the sentence left his throat. Jetpack screaming, he rocketed sideways mid-swing, braced low, and fired two shots from his sidearm; one dropped a scattergunner mid-turn, the other tore through a technician trying to make for cover.

Blaster bolts screamed past him, into his beskar'gam. He barely registered them.

Another charge. Another burst. Another pocket of resistance torn open like his broken heart. He didn’t linger. Didn’t look back. Only his mind lingered in the past.

His beskad, long as a claymore for most, spun in his grip like a saber, shearing through armor and limbs with equal indifference. The pistol in his offhand cracked again. Power cell drained. He ejected it mid-step and slammed in another without pause.

He’d left another a message before drop. Probably still sitting in his inbox, unheard. Unanswered. Like the last one. And the one before that.

He exhaled through his teeth. Harder than he meant to.

"No more."
The words reverberated in his buy’ce.

No more soft moments. No more sidelong looks across campfires. No more sweet-voiced pirates or strong-shouldered lovers brushing fingers across his cheek.

I am done putting my heart in the line of fire.

A thud beside him; a wounded Stormguard scrambling to prime a thermal detonator.

Nando stomped it flat with a crushing boot, blast absorbed under the heavy Beskar, and raw strength – a circular blast blowing out from below the sole, leaving the Stormguard as nothing but a charred memory. Nando walked on, smoke wreathing around his shoulders alongside his burning cape. His jetpack belched flame and he leapt again, arcing toward the building ahead, towards the capital.

His HUD blinked: movement ahead. Not enemy signatures, unknown Mando'ade? He must be finally be finally joining kin in the Mand'Alor's call.

A Mando'ad jumped into a group of Stormguard, leading a squad behind him.

He didn’t recognize them, but he recognized the clan colors: Caromed.

It had been decades since Nando heard the call. Too many false Mand’alors. Too many burned banners. Too many distractions which pulled at his heart.

No more will I let love pull me away from duty. I shall never love again.

The jetpack ceased at the peak of his arc – by intention, letting gravity carry him down to the target of his trajectory.

This was not the first time he made such a vow. Not even the among the first dozen.

His boots hit the ground hard enough to make a pulp of the Stormguard he landed upon. He slid along the remains like a hoverboard until it ground to a stop, from which he strode off without missing a step, towards the group of Mando'ade Zee Caromed led.

 

[Dreidi Xeraic]

Objective: 1
Location: Onderon, Jungle Outskirts.
Outfit: Nightsister Outfit
Equipment: Lightsaber, Ichor Sword, Dathomir Energy Bow
Tag: Aether Verd | Delsin Shaw | Zee Caromed | Zel Sharratt | Kuben Woods | Suleiman Lok | Fabula Caromed | Reshim | Aiden Wolf | Adonis Angelis IV | Camille Cendre | Nando | Itzhal Volkihar | Zee Caromed | Athena Faar

The bolt of fire blasted from her palms as Dreidi danced around, using a mixture of her Makashi training with her clan's fighting style. Precise movements with some magical flair that had Dreidi moving from one enemy to another almost instantly with her teleportation. Taking the flames from her ichor blade, Dreidi utilised the fire as a whip, cracking it around the throat of an opponent. Removing the head as she sliced bolts that were coming her way. It was the first time that Dreidi was primarily using her Dathomiri weapons in combat but she wanted to do this as a Spiritseeker and not some Jedi that was working with the Mandalorians.

She was here as a witch and not a Jedi, so to her, she should be able to complete this mission as a witch. And she was more powerful with her magick than the Force.

Hearing the clicks of a rotary cannon, Dreidi cursed and ducked behind pillar in the building. The suppressive fire coming moments later, it was oppressive and would have torn through Dreidi if she hadn't reacted quickly. Leaning against the pillar, Dreidi sighed, "that was too close, should have spotted that target earlier." Dreidi muttered to herself, thinking about the fact she was a few years out of practice in heavy combat fighting. Raising a son had sort out dulled the edge in a manner that she hadn't expected it to. Now, she just had to figure out how to get this guy down without getting hit or getting in the way of others.

Leaning around the pillar to peek around the other side, her golden eyes pierced through the dust and smoke of combat to see several soldiers that stood between Dreidi and the heavy soldier that she needed to take down. Ideas raced through her mind, teleportation was obvious but it was becoming more taxing on her body for that to be viable, the burning sensation was intensifying and Dreidi didn't think she could handle much more. Going invisible would be too draining and there was already tiredness that Dreidi could feel in her body. The fighting had drained her stamina faster than it had before. She really needed to find somewhere to do some more intensive training again to get back to where she had been.

Gritting her teeth, "go big or go home, Xeraic." Dreidi growled to herself as she stepped from the pillar and raised her palm, blasting the soldiers in her path onto their backs. With a flick of her wrist, the ground started to swallow them whole, shifting from solid stone into quicksand as Dreidi buried them into the building. Dreidi then darted forward, pushing off the wall to add momentum as she sliced at the heavy trooper with her blade, slicing his torso in half. The witch panted firmly, taxing but she would push forward, she had to keep going till the job was done.

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

Objective I​

Tag: Athena Faar​

The jungle cracked open.

Adonis advanced through the trees with the others behind him, blaster fire sparking around him as the squad drove forward. The Stormguard had broken ranks and scattered into the brush, but it wasn't a retreat, it felt more like bait. Athena moved ahead of him in arcs, cutting through the chaos with the precision of a seasoned warrior. Her carbine sang in short, lethal bursts and the flash of her bes'kad rose above the brush. She didn't hesitate and neither did he.

He moved with purpose through the dense undergrowth, blue saber drawn low, each stride deliberate. The weapon's hum pulsed against the stormlight, casting long streaks of blue across the rain-slick leaves. He didn't need to waste movement, every swing was exact. The first Stormguard trooper that charged him died on impact, the blade cleaving through chestplate and into the mud. The second didn't even cry out before Adonis stepped past him, striking high and then low in the same breath. His cloak whipped behind him, damp with rain and streaked in mud, his breath even through the filtered growl of the helmet.

Another wave came from the left, clustered too close to fire. Adonis met them head-on, twisting through their line with blade and footwork both, each motion grounded in training and refined by pressure. He disarmed one, impaled another, and forced the third back with a driving kick to the chest. These weren't disciplined soldiers. They were desperate zealots. Still dangerous, and proving themselves still deadly.

And then the air shifted.

A low, heavy tremor rolled beneath his feet, not a detonation, not a charge. It was rhythm, it was intentional and heavy. Trees began to sway ahead, vines pulled loose by something pushing through the canopy. The air went electric, and rain seemed to fall harder. Something massive was coming.

The Stormguard began to cheer.

Then came the voice, not over a comm, nor shouted. It rolled across the jungle with the weight of doctrine, distorted slightly by external speakers mounted to the approaching machine, carried by rain and metal and myth.

"Do you feel it, Mandalorians? That weight in your chest. The crack of thunder behind your eyes. That isn't fear, that is memory."

Adonis froze mid-step, blue saber still lit at his side. His eyes narrowed behind the visor as the words poured through the trees.

"This world remembers what you forgot. It remembers the fire you buried and the bones you left behind. You call this ground sacred, yet you abandoned it to rot. You raised monuments, but not warriors. Graves, but not gods."

The ground trembled again. Adonis looked up as the trees began to part.

"So I claimed them. I took your iron, I took your names, I took your silence and turned it into doctrine."

Branches cracked, rain hissed across ruptured bark...and then it emerged.

The walker moved through the jungle like a resurrected god, twelve meters of rusted war machine, reshaped into something obscene. Its forward hull had been reforged into the shape of a Mythosaur skull, horns jagged and asymmetrical, lower jaw plated in broken armor. Chains dragged from its undercarriage, each link strung with shattered sigils and scorched gauntlets. Hydraulic limbs hissed with each motion, steam rising in waves as it stepped forward like a beast that knew exactly what it was.

"You call me desecrator, usurper, thief. But I am none of those things."

Adonis stepped forward again, eyes fixed on the figure perched atop the machine. The warlord stood draped in black, armor scavenged and stitched together from the dead, his visor reversed and gleaming, faceless. Around his throat, a chain of broken creed-rings swayed in the wind. He raised one arm in complete silence, not to command fire, but to bind it all in meaning.

"I am the storm that survived. The creed that crawled from fire. The hand that reaches, while yours remain clenched in the fists of the past."

The Stormguard didn't retreat. They gathered in its shadow, lifting their weapons and voices together as the machine ground forward through the mud. The walker's cannons clicked into place, and its head shifted slowly toward the Mandalorians.

"Come then! Rise. Bleed. Bury yourselves once more. And I will walk over you as I did your dead."

Adonis said nothing at first. He simply keyed his comm as the blue glow of his saber cut against the storm. "Command, walker incoming. North ridge, warlord mounted. It's coming straight through us." The Mandalorian Knight took a breath before continuing, "We are engaging, no backup requested."

The machine tilted slightly as it aimed.

He looked to Athena. No need for orders, she already knew.

"On me."

His grip tightened. The saber hissed, blade bright in the storm. The figure above still hadn't moved, hadn't flinched. The grave had grown legs, and now it was coming for them.

"The blood is unburied," he muttered, quiet but certain. "The storm remembers."

And with that, Adonis charged into the shadow of the Mythosaur.

 

[Suleiman Lok]

THUNDERBRINGER​

OBJECTIVE I: STORMBREAKER - Jungle Outskirts​

GOAL: Protect Engineers heading to the Ion Spire.

Suleiman’s entourage would move toward their objective. Finding themselves in direct confrontation with enemy forces. Taking on any assistance escorting the engineers was welcome. There was no expectation that dealing with an opposition force would be a cakewalk. The citizens of Onderon were historically known to be some of the hardest fighters regardless if they were Mandalorians or not. A fight was something that a lot of them wouldn’t disparage. Finding honor in combat and death was the expectation.

The walkers marched on as they begat the definition of war onto the defenders. A smug grit emerged upon Suleiman’s face. A major push was going to be needed and they would do all they could to make sure they got to where they needed to get through. Various emotions could be heard through the voices of those here. Many have never experienced this level of combat. Not to mention actual war. They needed to do something. The cover would also have also been nice.

A series of beeps proceeded from Suleiman’s comms through the sounds of the ongoing chaos. “Alor, tanks support inbound,” pierced through the noise of battle. Suleiman would hold his hand up to stop the movement of his squad.

Suleiman looked to the sky as pilots quickly maneuvered their way through the anti-air fire. Three HVA-Mk V tanks detached from the aerial transports as the repulsors engines kept them hovering off the ground. Their engines purred, waiting for direction. One of the tank commanders had opened the boarding hatch on the rear of the tank before Suleiman ran over with his head down. His squad provided covering fire as he moved.

“Rally Master, where do you need us,” the young Cathar woman asked. Their Mandalorian armor gleaming with black and red paint.

Suleiman began motioning with his hands and giving a quick run down on the situation. Open comms were connected to the other armor commanders. A map of the area appeared from his gauntlet to emphasize the AoE. His finger rested in the direction of the engineers before finally stating, “We need to get the engineers safely to the spire. Need one armor as a point. Flank tanks, hit these…“side streets” to choke off any ambushes and collapse enemy resistance where you can. Sync with the walkers and also give them covering fire. Our Mandalorian elements will meet up at Objective Gamma if we get too separated or pinned down. Regardless, a call will be made to make a last push toward the old spire.”

A swift gesture came from the tank commander in the form of a salute prior loading up. The walkers provided by Aiden’s wolf company and the tank squadron were hopefully going to have enough firepower. Either way the more protection, the better in his mind. It just increased the survivability.

“We’re moving out! Follow the tank moving upward. They are leading the way at the front. Loks provide support and stay close!”

Volleys of fire from the walkers and the tanks joined together as the roads began to clear up. Mandalorians and Domarians formed a staggered formation as they took shots toward fleeing elements. Honor swelled within him as they moved forward. Today, they would show off the might and efforts of a warrior people.
​

TAGS: Aether Verd / Kuben Woods / Zee Caromed / Adonis Angelis IV / Athena Faar / Zel Sharratt / Delsin Shaw / Aiden Wolf / Camille Cendre / Kayte Toss + Whoever else I missed

 

[Camille Cendre]

​

Objective 1 – Heading deeper into the jungle
Operating the Kosa Mk-1 (aka "The Coffin")
Status: Rendezvous with Suleiman Lok 's Squad and Kayte Toss 's Engineers.

Inside the Walker:
The heat inside the cabin had worsened, and Camille had stripped off her armor in an unsuccessful attempt to ward off the heat. There was a reason they nicknamed this walker The Coffin, the heat and tight space made for a claustrophobic atmosphere. Yet she was in her element; her fear banished. This was where she thrived, behind the controls of a lumbering metal beast. She could feel the vibrations of scythes travel up the arms and reverberate in the hull; hear the crunch of wood and foliage beneath the heavy feet. The walker felt like an extension of herself.

The crackling of her comms broke her from her reverie. "Sapper crew receiving" Camille said, responding to the hail. "You are to link up with Suleiman Lok's Squad to provide support. An armour detachment is already en-route, so you are tasked with assisting the engineers. Facilitate their entry into the spire in whatever way you can. Double-time". The comms fell silent. Camille hesitated briefly before responding in the affirmative.

A heavy weight began to settle in the pit of her stomach as the fear started to creep back in. The order basically amounted to charging through the jungle and through the enemy. She would be alone, at least until she could rendezvous with the others. She started shouting to the gunners above her "We've got orders to-". She was quickly interrupted. "Yeah we have comms too, Cam" replied Oliver, the younger of the two gunners. They were friends, of a sort, and she was glad to have him along. "Lets just get a move on" came the gruff reply from Stan, the older and grumpier gunner. Camille fell silent. Taking a deep breath in, she once again grabbed the controls.

Outside the Walker:
The Kosa was a slow and ungainly machine, but in the jungle it made good pace. Any underbrush that may have slowed infantry was crushed underfoot; larger trees or rocks that may have stalled a conventional tank were ripped apart by the walker's claws. Camille kept the machine moving at its maximum pace, using all of her focus to keep up speed. When the scythes weren't clearing a path, they were dug into the dirt to help keep the walker balanced. From the outside, the walker looked like a large hunched-over monster tearing its way through the jungle.

A few errant shots from the underbrush prompted Camille to narrow the viewport, however these occasional incidents were quickly dealt with by the gunners atop the walker. Only once did she have to personally intervene, using her claws to tear away a huge fallen tree a squad of Stormguard took cover behind. One was killed instantly as a scythe tore him near in half – another red stain on the blade. She watched on with a grim satisfaction as the rest were mowed down by the turrets. Without missing a beat, she turned the walker away from the carnage and continued on to her destination.

She heard the main force before she saw them. Formations of infantry were dwarfed by the large walkers that rumbled onward toward the objective. She saw the armour detachment that were mentioned over the comms and felt a pang of envy. They were Canderous-Class Assault Tanks, a dream ride for her. She'd much rather be at the helm of one of those beauties than stuck in a hunk of metal. But this was the trial of fire that newbies had to endure apparently. Get in the coffin and see if you survive.

Camille opened the comms and sent out a broadcast to all in the nearby area. "Sappers on-scene, let us know where you need us".

 

[Zee Caromed]

Objective 1: Baar'ur morut​

Crawling room-by-room combat was not one of Zee's strengths, but it was closer to his skillset than fighting out in the open. Combat on Taris usually meant furtive hit-and-run tactics, ambushes, and angling to get the drop on an opponent unless you had overwhelming advantage. The absoluteness of their cause worked to their detriment here - in order for the City Hall to be used as Baar'ur morut, every opponent would need to be cleared out. The building would need to be be fortified against their return. The inability to walk away from the target worked against Zee.

Thankfully, Caromed wasn't alone in their efforts. The Mandalorians fought as one, especially when the Mand'alor was on the field. A handful of other warriors swept through, supplementing their efforts to clear the building.

His boots hit the ground hard enough to make a pulp of the Stormguard he landed upon. He slid along the remains like a hoverboard until it ground to a stop, from which he strode off without missing a step, towards the group of Mando'ade Zee Caromed Zee Caromed led.

An absolute wall of a man surfed a Stormguard that'd very nearly gotten the drop on Zee.

It took Zee a moment to remember how his words worked.

"T-Thanks, Vod." He stammered quickly, glad for a helmet that could hide how embarrassed he was. "Mind watching my back while I start setting up a triage zone?"

Nando
​

 

[Beskar]

THE STORMGUARD FRACTURES​

Inside the belly of the Stormguard’s walker, Chief Lukas sat at the center of a storm that had nothing to do with the weather. His console buzzed with desperate chatter: requests for reinforcements, demands for orders, cries for backup, frantic updates from squads being chewed apart in the streets. The voices came fast and thick, distorted through static and strain. Some were begging. Others were already gone.

Every message carried the same scent. Desperation.

<“Get me a clear signal to Coruscant, now.”> His voice cut through the din like a lash.

One of his officers replied, voice ragged through the feed. <“No response, sir. Atmospheric interference’s too thick. Last signal burst vanished before the first relay. Might not even have left the planet.”>

Or worse. The thought struck cold and lodged deep.

We're being left.

No Alliance ships. No command acknowledgment. No Jedi reinforcements sweeping in to restore order. The Mandalorians had arrived with fury and fire...and the galaxy simply looked away.

He slammed his fist into the console hard enough to leave a crack across its surface. The metal sang with the impact, a dull echo of his growing dread. Before he could speak again, new messages poured in.

<“City Hall has fallen!”>
<“More ships coming in from orbit. They're unloading walkers now!”>
<“We have confirmed visual on Basilisks! Their leader is leading the assault himself.”>

The bile rose in Lukas's throat. His forehead slicked with sweat as the walls began to close in around him. He stared at the console, trembling, his hand hovering over the comms like a man considering a confession.

What if we surrender? he thought. What if I call the Mand’alor, lay down arms, throw myself at his mercy?

But then, the message came.

A video feed. Shaky. Frantic. From the jungle. The desecration made manifest. A walker had emerged from the trees, lumbering forward on hissed hydraulics, shaped like a myth reborn. Its forward hull had been reforged into a grotesque Mythosaur skull...made of beskar.

Their beskar.

It was never supposed to get this far. The desecration of the Mandalorian dead had been a footnote in their rise to power. Lukas never stopped the scavengers. Never told them no. He laughed when the melted armor was poured into mockeries. Raised a toast when the sigils of the dead were turned into trophies. The galaxy belonged to the victors, he had thought. The Mandalorians were relics.

He did not expect the relics to walk.

The moment of surrender passed.

“You!” he snapped to the soldier beside him. “Take the controls. Keep that thing moving.”

“Sir? The walkers, they’ll breach the walls soon! We don’t have the firepowe-”

“Then make them pay for every step!” Lukas barked. “Make them remember that we didn’t just lie down. Hold the line. Bleed them if you have to.”

Outside, the Stormguard batteries thundered back to life. Their cannons pivoted toward the walker escorts bearing down on the engineers and the Ion Spire. E-webs and repeaters along the wall shrieked as they unleashed volley after volley on the Mandalorian ranks. Stormguard troops gritted their teeth and dug in. Some whispered prayers. Others screamed. But none wavered.

This was their final stand.

Inside, Lukas moved with purpose through the fortress’s inner corridors, bypassing wounded, ducking panicked runners, ignoring the pleas of those who now realized the tide had turned. He burst into the vehicle bay, eyes locked on the row of atmospheric airspeeders: light civilian craft, quick enough to vanish into the storm.

He climbed into the nearest one, powered it on. The repulsors hummed to life. The systems booted. The engines began to warm. A tremor rattled beneath his feet as the walker outside exploded in the distance. Time was short. But Lukas could survive. He would survive.

He gripped the controls.

Then, without warning, the cockpit went red with light and pain.

The bolt struck the back of his skull. The impact threw him forward. His thoughts scattered across the dashboard in a spray of heat and matter. The engine whined, sputtered, then cut to silence as his body slumped.

Behind him, one of his officers holstered the weapon.

He didn’t speak. There was nothing to say.

If Onderon was going to burn, then they would burn together. No cowards. No escape. No white flags.

Only thunder.

Zee Caromed , Camille Cendre , Suleiman Lok , Adonis Angelis IV , Dreidi Xeraic , Nando , Athena Faar , Delsin Shaw , Itzhal Volkihar , Kayte Toss , Aiden Wolf , Kuben Woods , Reshim , Fabula Caromed , Zel Sharratt , Sanguina Krev + Open

 

[Athena Faar]

OBJECTIVE II​

Gear: Mobius Steel Armor (borrowed), Mobius Bes'Kad (borrowed), Euk Siha Service Knife, ZV1 Mentor Blaster Carbine, Madrugar Repulsor/Blaster Hybrid Revolver

Tag: Adonis Angelis IV

The Mandalorians reaped their harvest, the Stormguard, reckless in their desperation, flung themselves at the armored avengers. Blaster bolts zinged off of Athena's armor as she waded through the routing soldiers. The repulsor pistol in her left hand made a strange coughing crack as it sent metal rounds punching through stolen armor and a soft bodies. The bes'kad in her other hand cleaved skillfully through seams and gaps in armor to sever limbs and heads.

Athena fed on the anger and indignation of the desecration of Mandalorian gravesites, the pillaging of dead and the violation of Mando'ade structures. But in her focused rage, she felt it too. The shaking of the soft earth beneath her feet.

Helmet tilting up, she could see through the visor how the jungle trees shuddered, and even before they gave way to reveal the monstrosity, a mocking voice echoed through the rain. Then it lumbered out of the forest. A behemoth, corroded, mismatched, its' head a mockery of every Mandalorian who set eyes on it.

As formidable as it appeared, Athena wished Miit'alor could have been there. She would have dived on that arrogant fool atop the walker and engulf him in dragonflame.

As it where, the Mandalorians were poorly equipped to bring the walker down. Athena had drawn closer to Adonis, and heard his comms to command. no reinforcements requested. Athena sighed. But she would fight the thing side by side the vode as Adonis lead them.

She waited for his signal, and as the knight surged forward, Athena joined him. The remaining Mandalorians charged the Stormguards cowering in the shadow of the giant metal beast.

 

[Nando]

T H E  W A L L​

Objective I — City Hall Tags:
Zee Caromed

""Bic akanir.""

He nodded. Just once. Like the stoic protector he imagined in his dream husband. Silent, grim, reliable. The kind of man who could guard a back and break a neck in the same heartbeat.

The Stormguard continued chasing in his wake, and Nando closed the distance on instinct. One swipe of his beskad ended the approach, cleaving mostly through plated neck with an ugly crunch. He stepped over the body like it didn’t matter. Because it didn’t. Not right now.

The younger Mandalorian would have security setting up that triage. The centuries old Goliath would ensure it, but it was an afterthought. Inside his bleeding heart he wept for the eternal woe of forever consigning himself to a life of solitude. Even more melodramatic than the amateur poetry he pondered while he murdered distractedly.

What is a man, if not the ruin of a promise he made with eyes full of stars?

How many necks must one break before they forget the firm muscles of a lover?

The soul of a songbird, trapped in the cage of a warrior. Cursed to protect, to slaughter, to be the very wall that fends off killers and kin alike.

A blaster bolt hissed past as his shoulder pivoted, gauntlet rising just enough to intercept the next shot with a forearm plate. A twist of the wrist, a snap of his elbow, and he sent a throwing knife hurling into the smoke followed by a gurgle through the smoke.

I would pen a ballad, if only I had hands unsoiled by war...

He planted his boot on a ruined table and scanned the rooftops through the recently-blasted hole in the wall.

—a ballad of his lips, and the way he said my name when he thought no one heard.

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

Objective II
Tag: Athena Faar

The jungle had erupited in fire and ruin. Blasterfire carved through the trees as mud churned beneath armored boots, the cries of the dying swallowed by the thunder of falling timber. The Stormguard line had shattered. Mandalorians cut through them with the precision of a war-forged blade, reclaiming honor from thieves who dared wear beskar they hadn't earned.

But Adonis was already beyond the line.

Each step felt etched in fate. The vision from before- the graves, the false warrior crowned in smoke, the storm splitting sky from stone- was no longer some haunted prophecy. It was now. This was his destiny, and he moved not as a soldier, but as its instrument. A force born of vengeance and will, armored in the wrath of the Manda.

A Stormguard broke from the treeline, shouting. Adonis met him head-on, saber raised. Blue plasma howled through armor and sinew, cleaving the man down before his cry could even echo. Another raised a blaster. The Mandalorian Knight surged forward, shoulder crashing into him with brutal speed, blade driving home through his gut and twisting as he fell. A third turned to run. The saber flew from Adonis's grip like a thrown spear, driving through the man's back before arcing back to its master's hand. He never slowed.

Ahead, the walker opened fire again at the advancing Mandalorians. Cannons ignited, ripping through the treetops and flinging dirt and roots high into the air. Trees collapsed like shattered towers, their trunks caught in the relentless arc of the machine's assault. The battlefield was reshaped in seconds. Smoke choked the air, and the ground shook beneath the relentless weight of its stride.

Still, Adonis moved.

One breath, then the leap. His jetpack flared, launching him across the gap toward the front leg. The Force surged through his limbs, sharpening his balance as he landed on the walker's plating, saber igniting mid-motion. With a brutal sweep, he drove the blade deep into the leg joint. Molten sparks erupted. The metal screamed beneath the strain.

For the first time, the machine had faltered. Its gait stuttered, its motion thrown awry. One limb dragged behind the rest now, and the walker's cannons twitched erratically as it struggled to compensate. Adonis clung to the shifting frame, boots slipping across the slick metal until he found purchase. He climbed higher, scaling the monster through smoke and wind, every limb aching with the effort.

A Stormguard raider lunged from the side. Adonis caught him by the collar, dragged him close, and ran his saber through his chest in one clean motion. The body slumped. Without ceremony, Adonis cast it down into the mud below.

He pressed on, hand over hand through rusted chains and burning steel. Above him, the chains clattered, dogtags, shattered clan rings, scorched sigils all torn from the fallen and hung like taunts. His path took him higher, toward the platform near the crown of the beast, and there he paused.

Not for breath, but for a connection.

He reached out through the Force.

Watch the other leg. Wait for my mark.

The message traveled across the bond like a ripple through the storm. Athena would hear it, he knew she would understand.

Then he reached the summit. The warlord waited there. Not the leader of the Stormguard, but the coward who had desecrated the graves. His armor was warped, ceremonial, half-looted and half-forged in mockery of those he'd stolen from. He watched Adonis with a sick sort of calm, as if the confrontation were part of some twisted rite.

Adonis stood tall.

"You built this from the bones of my people," he said, voice like stone cracking. "Let's see how well you ride it down."

Then the Force surged.

Adonis drove his hand forward, and a concussive blast of energy erupted from his palm, slamming into the structure with enough force to rattle the entire walker. Steel groaned beneath the impact. The echo rolled like thunder across the field.

The signal had been given.

The fall had begun.

 

[Athena Faar]

OBJECTIVE II​

Gear: Mobius Steel Armor (borrowed), Mobius Bes'Kad (borrowed), Euk Siha Service Knife, ZV1 Mentor Blaster Carbine, Madrugar Repulsor/Blaster Hybrid Revolver

Tag: Adonis Angelis IV

The avenging warriors charged the Stormguard line. They had been momentarily emboldened by the giant abomination under which they stood. But the Mandalorian onslaught was not deterred, but enraged by the lumbering affront to every vode.

Adonis surged forward like a man possessed, wreaking destruction. Athena charged in his wake, barreling through wavering defenders, a flury of slashing blade and blazing blaster, mingled with a pommel crushing a skull and boot breaking ribs. The enemy was breaking, but the armored beast had not yet spoken.

Then it's cannon's unleashed. Too inaccurate for specific targeting, the more advanced systems inoperable or missing. Nevertheless, the battle field was choked with fire and smoke and chunks of flying debris. Still hot on Adonis' heels, Athena saw his jetpack flair and his armored form rising towards the beast. Through the chaos, his blue saber was clearly visible, sinking into the walker's joint. It faltered.

Her borrowed armor had no jetpack, but Athena would find a way to help fight the metal behemoth. Then a message rang in her head. Not from her helm's comms, and not in voice, not really. Yet, The Korun knew who it was, and how.

Her connection with the Force, the Manda, had been rudimentary. She had begun to learn from Spiritspeakers and Runi about the Manda, and had begun to seek a closer connection. And through it, the Force Knight had spoken to her.

Heeding Adonis' words, Athena wove her way to the other leg, She scooped up a heavy repeater from a dead warrior as she ran, awaiting word and watching the knight as she kept the Stormguard at bay.

 

[Delsin Shaw]

OBJECTIVE I: Stormbreaker
Tags: | Aether Verd | Zee Caromed | Zel Sharratt | Dreidi Xeraic | Kuben Woods | Sanguina Krev | Suleiman Lok | Fabula Caromed | Reshim | Aiden Wolf | Camille Cendre | Kayte Toss | Nando | Itzhal Volkihar |

The mandalorians were closing the gap. Fighting for every inch to assault the city. With the Mandalorians entering, and fighting through every spot they could, the flight and aerial dominance would not be as aggressive. For fear of injuring our fellow man. Pulling one last strafing run, I threw down lightning bolts into the main emplacements deeper within the city. However, that grabbed the attention of many below. A hail of fire was sent at us as we passed. The pilot screamed into the comlink about getting locked on. I had a decision to make. And I did so.

Normally, I would have just left the man to his own devices. However, I had a job to help the Mandalorians. Their war with Gravesong, and now the Black Summer, I had to keep my otherwise tendencies to a low. I turned around to the cockpit. It took a mere blink before I found the crack in the glass. A fault line to break. Slamming my fist, channeling the force into it. The glass broke with ease. The Mandalorian looked up, almost as if I could see the surprise behind his bucket helm. My hand reached in and yanked his ass out of the seat.

Pulling him up, I wrapped my arms around him and threw my back towards the cockpit, just as the missile struck dead on the belly of the craft. Exploding and catapulting us up into the air. The Mandalorian lacked a jetpack, however, I had one. As we began to fall, I kept a tight hold onto him. Falling and feeling the wind whip at us as we came closer and closer to the ground. Waiting every second before I ignited the pack. Softening the landing.

The impact separated us. Rolling down the rooftop and going to head down to the ground. I drew the energy blade, Igniting it into the roof to slow my roll. My off hand lanced out and snagged the Pilot buy the collar and latched onto him. His hands reached up to grab mine and keep the hold. Grunting from the pain of nearly having my arm ripped out of its socket. Twice now, I pulled him up closer to myself. Grunting and groaning in using my physical strength.

"By the force you need to lay off the extra meals."
"You are the one who yanked me out of the cockpit."
"Either I did that, or you went down with the transport."
"Fair enough."

Using the Armblades, he slammed the knife of his forearm into the roof to hold himself there. Using that as a hard point to stand up on the roof. As he did so, a bolt came out of nowhere slamming into the back of his helmet. He fell forward and slammed onto the roof. I reached out and caught him again. looking at his head, a smoking mark on the back of his head.

It didn't puncture. I breathed a sigh of relief only because he was knocked out from the impact. I shut off the energy blade. Both of us slid off of the roof. Down into the street. His body slammed into the ground hard. I winced.

"Goddamn, you take a beating."

I leaned down and threw him over my shoulder in a fireman's carry. My right hand grabbing the pistol and drawing it as I moved inside the building to get cover from this sniper or whoever took a shot at us.

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

Objective II​

Tag: Athena Faar​

The Force thunderclap rolled off Adonis's hand and crashed forward, sending a shockwave across the walker's surface that rattled bolts from their moorings and split rain in midair. But before the echo had even faded, the warlord responded. He raised his hand and sent a blast of his own barreling back, raw, concussive, and laced with hatred. The impact struck Adonis square in the chest, forcing his boots to grind against the plating as he skidded back, teeth clenched against the push.

He regained his footing quickly, saber steady in one hand, breath heaving through the modulator in short, controlled bursts. This was no imposter in a mask or brute drunk on bloodsport. The warlord was a Force-wielder too, and he had power.

Adonis lifted his gaze and opened the channel on his comms, patching his voice through to the rest of the Mandalorians below. He spoke with weight, not fire, but with the gravity of someone delivering truth carved into stone.

"They think we're ghosts. That we've forgotten our dead. They think that they can wear our armor, steal our names, and we'll let them walk away."

He paced slowly now, steps deliberate, saber still lit at his side as the sky rumbled above.

"They forgot who we are. They forgot that beskar remembers. Every weld, every scar, every fallen vod, they live through us."

His voice rose, not shouting, but resonant, laced with conviction. "So remind them. Burn it into their bones. We are Mando'ade. And we do not forgive."

Even as the last word left his lips, he reached again through the Force. This time it wasn't for the battlefield. It was for her.

Athena.

The message moved like a current beneath thought, a silent pulse woven into the very storm. He didn't need to say more, she would feel it. She would know that he time had come.

Adonis leaned forward and fired his jetpack, the burst throwing him across the deck with a streak of flame and smoke. His silhouette blurred through the falling rain, chains whipping past as the wind howled around them. His saber flared brighter as he leveled it forward, not aiming to parry, not waiting to duel, only to strike.

He flew with the full weight of the storm behind him, barreling toward the warlord as the walker began to tilt. Athena would be striking the opposite leg now, and the moment of collapse was near.

He would ride that falll, and bury his blade in the traitor's chest before the beast even hit the ground.

 

[Athena Faar]

OBJECTIVE II​

Gear: Mobius Steel Armor (borrowed), Mobius Bes'Kad (borrowed), Euk Siha Service Knife, ZV1 Mentor Blaster Carbine, Madrugar Repulsor/Blaster Hybrid Revolver

Tag: Adonis Angelis IV

Athena crouched behind the foot of the metal beast. Working quickly as she waited for Adonis' signal, she pried open a panel on the heavy repeater with her knife. She fiddled with the wires connected to the power pack. The knight's words echoed in her helmet comms, spurring on the vode to vindicate the memories of those whose graves were desecrated, the planet itself tainted by the vile scum who had taken control of it.

Then that inner impression came, what she knew came from Adonis. It was enough to let her know it was time. She opened her comm to him alone.

"We will heat our bones upon their empire burning, brother."

She quickly twisted two wires together and then stood to jam the big repeater into the walker's ankle joint. Then she ran like hell.

The overcharged heavy weapon's power source heated up rapidly and as the Korun warrior slid past a Stormguard, separating his helmeted head from his armored shoulders. Then the explotion erupted and tore apart the walker's joint. The strut of the AT-AT's leg was blown off of its heavy metal foot, causing the who abomination to teeter before it began to fall.

She looked up to see Adonis racing towards the foe atop the leaning walker.