Skirmish The Day the Stars Wept || ME vs. DIA

Beskar · 2025-08-03T17:22:09-0400

THE DAY THE STARS WEPT
"On that day, it was not warriors who paid the price. It was the innocent.
And for them...we became Monsters."

VEXIS STATION
Neutral Territory

There were better places in the Galaxy. Cleaner. Quieter. But Vexis Station had something they didn’t.

Positioned delicately between the Mandalorian Empire and the Diarchy, nestled along the fractured edge of an asteroid belt, the civilian outpost had long been a crossroads. Cargo ships refueled. Merchants made deals over caf. Families stretched their legs in artificial gravity. Travelers from both nations passed through daily, and for all the pride and history they carried, peace endured here longer than anyone had expected.

It wasn’t perfect. Pride has its own orbit. Mandalorians and Diarchy citizens alike brought their opinions with them. Words sometimes turned to fists. Fists sometimes turned to bruises. But the station’s walls held firm, patched with good intentions and economic necessity. No one really wanted war on Vexis. Not where they traded, not where they rested.

That was true...until today.

It started like so many days before it. A Diarchy preacher in a worn officer’s coat took to the center of a local eatery and raised her voice to anyone who would listen. She spoke of unity. Of peace. Of prosperity beneath their twin monarchs. She painted the Diarchy as the Galaxy’s guiding hand. A few heads turned. Most stayed fixed to their drinks. It was routine. It was tolerable.

Until it wasn’t.

Her finger swept toward a nearby table, toward warriors clad in the unmistakable hues of the Mandalorian Clans. Her words cut deeper this time. Taris, she said, had burned because of them. Taris, she claimed, was a tragedy born of Mandalorian incompetence. Under Diarchy leadership, such carnage would never have occurred. It was barbarism, she said. The Mandalorians were the problem.

What followed was not unexpected. Chairs scraped. Voices rose. Pride flared hot in the throats of those who had buried brothers beneath the rubble of Taris. They had fought through the Gravesong. They had watched cities fall and refused to let the dead have the last word. The preacher knew nothing of that hell, and so her condemnation felt like a desecration. Insults were hurled. Cups flew. It was not the first fight this station had seen, and by all accounts, it should have ended the same as the others.

But this time, someone reached for their blaster. No one knows who pulled first. Not truly. Maybe it was the preacher herself. Maybe it was one of the Mandalorians. Maybe a bodyguard, a hothead, or a bystander. The bolt flew, and in the next heartbeat, the eatery was consumed in fire and confusion. Tables shattered. Civilians scrambled. Shouts turned to screams.

And when the dust settled, the real horror began.

The first to be found was a toddler, her body slumped beside a weeping mother who had only stepped away for a moment. The child had been waiting outside with her, oblivious to the storm inside. She had come to the station with her father, a Mandalorian who had needed a break from the stars. Now? His world was broken.

Not far away lay another child, no older than five, clutching the remains of a toy starfighter. He had wandered near with his father, unaware of the danger beyond the eatery doors. His mother, the preacher, had just left them to buy toys whilst she gave her speech. Now? Her world was destroyed.

Two children. Neither armed. Neither warned. Neither given a choice. One was Mandalorian. One was Diarchy. Both were gone.

What followed was no longer a matter of patriotism or political pride. It was grief. Raw, roaring, and uncontrollable. Blasters were raised once more. This time not in warning, not in self-defense, but in vengeance. The fight consumed the station. Calls for aid echoed across every comm channel. Mandalorians cried out for justice, for brothers and sisters to rally against those who had taken one of their own. The Diarchy responded in kind, calling for loyalists to strike down the butchers of their future.

And so Vexis Station, once a beacon of balance, now trembled under the weight of war. The stars outside did not change. They still burned. They still spun. But something in them seemed different now. Dimmer. More distant...

They say the stars wept that day.
Where will YOU stand?

Elira Verd
@Viera

Nando

Tin

Liorra

Conrad

Reshim

CT-312

Nephthys Nardithi-Verd

Hanna

Vyse de Valorous
@Varuun Rekaal

Zayid the Lion · 2025-08-03T17:42:46-0400

V E N G E A N C E

Vexis Station - Neutral Territory

The comms erupted with chaos.

Static crackled over the local channel, broken only by the sharp bark of blaster fire and the furious voice of a vod. Zayid, already on patrol in the local system, snapped his head toward the signal as the message came through, hot and ragged with rage. One of their own was shouting over the gunfire, demanding backup, declaring that the Diarchy had gone too far. His voice trembled, not with fear, but fury. A child, he said. A Mandalorian child. Gone.

Murdered.

Zayid’s vision narrowed as his heart began to thunder in his chest. He leaned forward in the cockpit of his Kor’mk, hands curling into fists before settling back on the controls. He closed his eyes and drew breath not to calm himself, but to summon the storm within.

He offered a prayer to the Manda. Not a gentle whisper, but a warrior’s vow. He prayed that the fallen child would be met by their ancestors in the afterlife, carried high by those who had walked the Resol’nare before them. He asked that the soul know peace where the living knew grief. But more than that, he prayed for fire. He prayed for strength. He prayed for righteous fury to course through his veins and the arms of every warrior who would ride beside him.

With one hand he opened the channel.

“This is Zayid. Lion of the Death Watch.” His voice was steel. “The Diarchy has spilled Mandalorian blood. A child has been taken from us. I call to every son and daughter of Mandalore: Join me! Let us repay the debt in kind. Let Vexis remember who we are.”

The Kor’mk screamed as he pushed the throttle to its limit. The asteroid belt loomed ahead like the jaws of a beast, but Zayid did not flinch. He wove through the floating debris with practiced precision until Vexis came into view, a civilian station now crackling with gunfire and smoke. His landing was not gentle. The ramp lowered before the ship had fully settled, and he was already moving.

Blaster in his left. Beskad in his right.

The clash greeted him like an old friend. Civilians ran. Sirens blared. He did not look for explanations. He did not search for signs. Those who wore the iron of Mandalore were not his targets. Those who fled with terror in their eyes were not his enemies. But the rest? The ones firing at his kin? The ones foolish enough to draw blades in this sacred storm? They would not leave this station standing.

Zayid surged into the fray, a war cry tearing from his lips as he struck. The Manda would be praised today.

And the Diarchy would be buried.

Open for Interaction!

Merion Oreno · 2025-08-03T17:58:53-0400

Zayid the Lion said:
The ones firing at his kin? The ones foolish enough to draw blades in this sacred storm? They would not leave this station standing.

Merion Oreno was tired beyond his calendrical years and mileage put together. Had been since...when? The Hapes raid, maybe, and all it accomplished and didn't? He'd taken leave and come to Vexis to meet a friend from Eshan, one of the few, and found only the news that the friend was two days dead — a casualty of the Galactic Empire. Eshan was close to the front lines now. Go back a couple of years and Merion had felt passionately that the Alliance's long peace was making his people weak. He believed that today more than ever, but without the condescension and under a veil of misery. Working for a death cult worked better in the abstract, but he said his remembrances and wrapped his cocoon-shroud tighter and thought about the attitudes of older Isopterans, those who stared down the cult's observatories not for transcendence but to make sense of everything.

All that to say, when the situation broke out, Merion was in no mood. He wasn't even armed but for his cultic ceremonial polearm, an ornate black thing of impractical length. He presided over the Diarchy child's memorial, said a few words about the Diarchy's promise to its people and what it meant when that promise failed, and got called out.

Out to the hangar where a Mandalorian ship disgorged warriors. Diarchy loyalists and a few rushed-in soldiers were setting up positions but needed time. Merion had rank only within the Chancellorate of Commerce - no role in the armed forces - but was a known face around here. Someone tried to defer to him, loop him in. He moved past and headed for the nearest Mandalorian, who called a war cry and whose armor gleamed red-gold, intrinsically or by firelight. A body was burning.

Merion answered with an Echani war cry and broke into a charge, shroud flapping heavily.

Varlo Finnall · 2025-08-03T18:19:01-0400

Varlo had come to Vexis station to keep an eye on the propaganda agent. Reign had warned Varlo on how volatile this situation could become.

“Damn kid.. volatile is an understatement”

he said to himself. As they buried the youth, Varlo called in everyone he could. Starting with the Emberborn, the first cohort of the Myrmidons, who were never far from their commander. Meeting them in the hanger, conflict had already broken out.

Reinforcing their positions, Varlo and the Myrmidons fought to secure the hanger, taking shots as the Mandalorians exited their ships. And securing a beach head for the arriving Diarchy reinforcements.

Tags: OPEN TO ALL

Zayid the Lion · 2025-08-03T18:39:59-0400

V E N G E A N C E

Vexis Station - Neutral Territory

The sounds of war echoed through the corridors like the song of the Manda itself.

Zayid advanced through the chaos with measured fury, each step punctuated by the staccato rhythm of blasterfire. His own weapon sang with purpose, bolts streaking through the smoke to meet Diarchy loyalists who dared to stand against Mandalore’s wrath. Some fell like stalks before the scythe, still raising their weapons. Some breaking into retreat, reinforcing further away. None earned mercy. None were owed it.

Around him, the air danced with screams and alarms. Civilians wept behind cover. Fire licked the corners of the once-pristine hall. Somewhere nearby, a body burned. Zayid did not know if it was friend or foe, only that the flames mirrored the heat rising in his chest.

Then came the cry.

It pierced the madness...not Mandalorian, not Imperial, but something else entirely. Refined. Accented. Zayid’s head turned as he tracked the source, just in time to see the shroud-flanked figure rushing forward, polearm in hand, cutting through the smoke with purpose.

A grin touched Zayid’s lips behind his visor that held no joy. It was the smile of a predator, of a warrior who had found someone worth the iron in his blood. He surged forward to meet the charge, the air between them collapsing with every thundering step.

His blaster barked twice as he closed the distance, bolts aimed center mass. Then the beskad came down.

The arc was heavy and aimed to shatter rhythm and weapon alike. His curved blade sought to crash through the polearm’s defense and send it skittering from its master’s grip. Zayid drove his weight into the swing, armor groaning under the strain, heart roaring with the names of the fallen.

Let the Diarchy send their chosen. Let them send priests and soldiers alike!

He would answer them all.

Merion Oreno + OPEN

Merion Oreno · 2025-08-03T18:56:19-0400

Zayid the Lion said:
His blaster barked twice as he closed the distance, bolts aimed center mass. Then the beskad came down.

One shot thunked a smoking pit into the reinforced fabric of the shroud; the other, Merion caught on the polearm's haft. He brought it up and, wary of a compromised weapon at multiple points, caught the heavy beskad chop at the place where the shot had hit.

The polearm split into a short staff and something like an axe, but his stance held.

He dropped the staff down between them as an impediment and used his off hand to gather his shroud across his chest, wary of flamers and similar things. With the axelike, poorly balanced top half of his ceremonial polearm, he began hacking at the Mandalorian without finesse.

Ra'a'mah · 2025-08-03T19:23:59-0400

This was a new area for Ra to settle in and start making business connections and contacts. With several new options out there, she sat at a table in one of the establishments on Vexis Station. Her eyes glanced at the preacher woman, and she wanted nothing more than for her to shut up. The atmosphere was tense, and it only grew worse as she droned on about her fervent belief in the Diarchy. While Ra couldn't entirely disagree with what was said, she didn't want it to come in the way of her business contracts.

Luckily, just before the shots were fired, her meeting wrapped up. Shaking their hands, she felt the air shift and remained seated.

"I would suggest you go out some sort of back door, friends."

A second later, the first shots were fired, and chaos broke out. How so many of the Diarchy people came to be aboard at the same time was unknown to the redhead, and it didn't matter. Now, punches and blades were being thrown and drawn.

Drawing in a breath, she made her exit quickly, only to find out what had happened. A child on both sides was dead. Almost but not quite crying, her anger rose, and she punched at a table. Not yet close enough to be involved in the actual fighting.

Drego Ruus

Minerva Fhirdiad · 2025-08-03T19:27:27-0400

Another ship entered inside one of the hangar bays and opened a furious barrage on those who were shooting at the Mandalorian arrivals. This lasted another minute before the ship descended. Inside the cockpit Minerva jumped up and ran out of it, drawing her dual pistols.

The warrior and former Alliance commando had been absent from known Galaxy doing covert jobs in the unknown regions and Wild Space when she had learned about the Mandalorian Empire. Granted she is still cautious, remembering how the Enclave turned out to be and the Protector twisting into the Neo Crusaders and the use of the term empire was suspicious. But the more she learned about this state, the more curious she became and truthfully her soul was aching to be with her people again.

Hence her decision to leave the Galactic Alliance's services and see for herself. But instead of going straight to Mandalore, she learned of what happened at this station and chose to answer the call.

"Death to cultists." She whispered as she came down the ramp that was opening as the chaotic firefight continued to erupt.

Minerva Fhirdiad stormed out with a roar gunning down one defender. She dodged a hostile volley before flying up firing bolt after bolt, killing two more and wounding another. The helpless civilians she will spare but not those shooting back.

I'm not part of the empire yet but it does not right now. Flying around the hangar she bellowed in Mando'a

"TAL PAR TAL! KYR’AM PAR KYR’AM!"(Translation: BLOOD FOR BLOOD! DEATH FOR DEATH!)

Daiga · 2025-08-03T19:46:23-0400

Daiga

LOCATION: Vexis Station
OBJECTIVE: Don't get killed
TAGS: Open

"The dead cannot cry out for justice. It is a duty of the living to do so for them."

As Daiga stared at the broken and shattered bottle in her hand, a single thought echoed through her mind.

Why can't I just have one drink?

She hadn't cared what the preacher had been spouting. Nonsense about the Diarchy. Political Kriff that didn't mean much of anything to Daiga. The Mercenary just wanted to drink her sorrows away. Looks like today was not going to be that day, as blaster fire erupted. Whilst most might have considered Daiga lucky for getting through the original scrap unharmed, she was not one of those people. Instead, something more precious had been destroyed. Her drink.

At first, she had no clue what had happened. The aftermath of life lost. The innocence lost. Not until she heard the yells. The commotion happening. Killing children. It was not something Daiga would stand for herself. Yet...in this moment? The scales were equal. Both sides had lost an innocent, and Daiga belonged to neither. So she had planned on not siding with any.

"Shame those bucketheads don't cover their young in those shiny buckets of them, eh? Well, ain't like the kid was going to go anywhere. Once a buckethead, always a-"

"You don't talk ill of the dead."

Daiga's voice came out as cool. Calm. Yet her actions proved otherwise, as the spectator's throat was slit, letting a crimson river flow.

"Especially children."

If anything, Daiga had made her choice now. A side. She could not preach her own neutrality after taking a life like that. She wiped her vibroblade against the leg of her armour before looking over towards the spectator's associate, tilting her head at him.

"...If you want to fight, we can go at it. Otherwise, I'm going to go where I can help."

The Associate glanced around for a moment, looking towards the exit and then towards the blaster held at their hip. As soon as their hand went for the weapon, they did not feel their hand grip around the cold durasteel of the blaster's handle. Instead they fell, as a distinct hole formed through their chest.

"Don't let people say I didn't give you a choice."

Unsheathing her other blaster, Daiga jogging out of the tavern. She was no Mandalorian, far from it. But...right now? She'd rather throw herself in with them than the Diarchy.

Gear: Dual vibroblades | Dual Blasters

Maiz Tor'val · 2025-08-03T20:05:40-0400

The Diarchy. Maiz knew little of their kind. Perhaps they were not so different than others she'd encountered. There was much in common among these outsiders, and much she still did not understand.

Even the Mandalorians remain a strange people despite Elamsha apparently falling in their domain. A warrior culture she could conceptualize, but some of them never took their armor off -- and that, to her, was very unusual. It wasn't because their women instructed it as they too wore the armor. They were all armored warriors.

Except for the 'Witches.' They seemed a people that Maiz had something in common with, but many of them were not open to outsiders. If they could be found. They apparently were not a force to be reckon with in the galaxy. To her, magick or the Force was common place; and yet among the stars so few seemed to possess the ability let alone the awareness of it.

Yes. A very strange place her world had been unceremoniously dumped. The goddesses must have had a reason though. It would be revealed in time.

And so, the Priestess of Elamsha found herself on Vexis Station when hostilities broke out. What had happened? Why? No one around her seemed to know. All Maiz knew was people often fled where Mandalorian and Diarchy met on the station now.

In fact, she'd run into one such encounter a few minutes ago and had been forced to conjure a shield to block errant blaster bolts. If this were a sane galaxy she would have demanded they put down their weapons, and a Daughter of the Goddesses' words alone would have ended matters. It was not, however, a sane galaxy. Maiz had already learned that elsewhere and so she spared herself the effort.

Unlike others, however, Maiz didn't seek to avoid the conflict. If anything she sought it out to understand it and those part of it.

OPEN

Camille Cendre · 2025-08-04T04:04:48-0400

Vexis Station - Back Alleys
Equipment: Civilian Clothes
Status: Hiding
Tags: Open

Her back ached from the burn of the blaster bolt; her hands stung from the glass shards. Yet she dared not make a sound, instead gritting her teeth and biting her tongue. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. She could hear the thud of those who followed her, the diarchy soldiers who had killed Oliver. Soon she could see their feet too, from her vantage point underneath the dumpster. She'd almost gagged when she'd first hidden underneath, desperate to escape her pursuers. Yet her gambit paid off as she watched the three pairs of feet disappear and the sound of footsteps slowly fade away.

She'd been in the eatery when the incident occurred, getting some R&R after her time on Onderon. She hadn't served on Taris but her teammates had. Stan particularly seemed furious, so much angrier than she'd ever seen the older man. So she had backed them up, roaring just as loudly as it escalated.

Camille scraped her way along the cool concrete and pulled herself out of the dumpster's underside. Her blaster burn brushed against the edge of the bin as she maneuvered, and she let out a low whimper as tears ran down her face. Once she was out, she cautiously peered back down both ends of the alley but saw no one.

She leaned a shoulder against the bin with a sigh and pondered her situation. She was unarmed and unarmoured, not to mention wounded. Oliver had a blaster, but he had been killed shortly after the fighting had started. She would be dead too, had he not taken brunt of blaster fire while she fled. Her stomach squirmed with guilt, but she pushed the feeling down.

She started to slowly make her way deeper into the alley, away from the main street. She was disorientated after so much running and wasn't entirely sure where she was. Stan had taught her that plans could always be made on the move, that staying still would get you killed. But he was probably dead too. Her last sight of the older Mandalorian was shortly after they found the children dead. He had charged into the fray, armed only with his fists.

The sound of a shuttle taking off nearby shook her from her daydreaming. If only I could somehow get to my ship, she thought. But the hangar was far from the eatery, and presumably far from wherever she was. Nevertheless, she continued further into the alley. Any plan was better than no plan.

Lord Mettallum · 2025-08-04T04:28:04-0400

Location: Space enroute to Vexis Station

Lord Mettallum cared not for the lives lost according to the latest report for apparently some station not even in Diarchy space had a barfight turned bloody yet before he could close the report he got an alert. Apparently despite his initial assessment that this station was worthless his droids were requested to help deal with the situation as the barfight apparently had expanded into a proper battle between Mandalorian forces and a small contingent of Diarchy forces. While Lord Mettallum still did not see the benefit of defending this station he saw this as an opportunity to prove to the Diarchy that droids not enslaved to primitive programming could combat even the mighty mandalorians in battle.

While not his preferred type of vessel Lord Mettallum would commandeer a NZ Hammer II. Within its hold stood his personal legion of battle droids, Each one decades old with each one having spent their years fighting the enemies of the Metal Lords in Deep Space giving them the experience of fighting in the tight confines of space ship hulls and space stations and some even stood active during the 30 year slumber guarding the ruins of Lord Mettallum's old ship before his reawakening, but now after a deserved break and maintenance hanks to the Diarchy they were ready to fight again and help show that even old droids could still fight.

Yet for the time being Lord Mettallum was too far from the station to enter the battle so all he could hope for was that the Diarchy forces on the station weren't overran yet and that there would be a hanger secured for his forces to land for while he had no doubt once on the station he could defend it, if there was no secured hanger he would lose a lot more droids than he was comfortable losing. The most he could do was try and improve the moral of Diarchy forces currently in battle to let them know they were not alone so a message was sent to Diarchy comms channels

"To all loyal forces to the Diarchs I Lord Mettallum am arriving with a holy legion blessed by The Maker. Hold strong to your beliefs in The Diarchy and ensure the hangers of the station are secured for reinforcement. Our enemies will be unable to defeat us as long as WE DO NOT FALTER TO THEIR BARBARISM"

Lord Mettallum would then send a message to open comm channels directed at the mandalorians

"To the enemies of the Diarchs I Lord Mettallum have come to enact their justice and the justice of The Maker. Those who understand their sins and surrender will be granted the Maker's Mercy but for those who continue down the path of treachery and sin shall be purged with their blood being used as lubricant for our droid forces. This shall be the only chance I Lord Mettallum give you to lay down your weapons"

Drego Ruus · 2025-08-04T12:24:40-0400

Tag:

Ra'a'mah

It always started like this. Wars, battles, bar fights. It was always some damned fool who threw the first punch out of rage.

Drego was never that man. No, he was always the one to finish the fight, never start it.

But a Mandalorian never went anywhere unarmed. The moment the first shot was fired, Drego was already ready within the transport. He had come alongside his on and off girlfriend

Minerva Fhirdiad to enact what he had been craving for a long while.

His job as the head of the Mandalorian Police Force under

Aether Verd was...immensely boring most days. Breaking up spats between mandos, dealing with those who didn't honor Mandalorian sovereign space, it was all routine.

But days like this?

This is what he craved.

As soon as the ramp opened, he was already sprinting. Damn near 20 miles an hour as he opened open with a slamfire barrage from his shotgun, 10 buckshot rounds right into a set of diarchy troops.

As far as he was concerned now, anyone not wearing armor was a hostile.

"Mandos! Light 'em up!" The call went out from outside the hanger, as Diarchy Optios rushed in to try and quell the horde coming in.

They were cut down by a frag grenade from Drego's underbarrel.

"Minvera, moving in. Clear the hanger." Drego said over the radio, before rushing forward.

Minerva Fhirdiad · 2025-08-04T13:20:55-0400

Drego Ruus said:
Tag: Ra'a'mah

It always started like this. Wars, battles, bar fights. It was always some damned fool who threw the first punch out of rage.

Drego was never that man. No, he was always the one to finish the fight, never start it.

But a Mandalorian never went anywhere unarmed. The moment the first shot was fired, Drego was already ready within the transport. He had come alongside his on and off girlfriend Minerva Fhirdiad to enact what he had been craving for a long while.

His job as the head of the Mandalorian Police Force under Aether Verd was...immensely boring most days. Breaking up spats between mandos, dealing with those who didn't honor Mandalorian sovereign space, it was all routine.

But days like this?

This is what he craved.

As soon as the ramp opened, he was already sprinting. Damn near 20 miles an hour as he opened open with a slamfire barrage from his shotgun, 10 buckshot rounds right into a set of diarchy troops.

As far as he was concerned now, anyone not wearing armor was a hostile.

"Mandos! Light 'em up!" The call went out from outside the hanger, as Diarchy Optios rushed in to try and quell the horde coming in.

They were cut down by a frag grenade from Drego's underbarrel.

"Minvera, moving in. Clear the hanger." Drego said over the radio, before rushing forward.

Tag:

Drego Ruus

Ra'a'mah

She hears Drego's voice through the comms as she reloaded her pistols. Minerva couldn't help but playfully smirk and she answered in a similar tone. "Loud and clear." Without hesitation she flew around in a semi-circle blasting three more hostiles. However a missile nearly hit her as she was forced to evade and it exploded.

The force of the blast threw her off course but at the last moment she managed to ascend before she also crashed.

"I have known blind Gungans can shoot better than that!" She taunted, not knowing nor caring if the foe who shot that missile at her.

After years of self-imposed exile from most Mandalorians and being forced to fight a number of them a few times to defend innocents but now to truly fight alongside brethren made her heart swell with pride. Switching to her rifle Minerva hopped from a set of metal crates to the wrecked shuttle as she fired in three controlled bursts, eliminating two more enemy shooters.

Soon enough she heard

Lord Mettallum issuing his ultimatum through the public comm channel to surrender. Minerva raises an eyebrow. A droid preaching?! The very thought of it and the surrender demand caused Minerva to laugh out loud as she took cover behind the wrecked shuttle as she was put in another energy cell.

"I thought droids were supposed to be logical! He should know we don't take kindly to the idea of surrender. He must be out of his circuits."

Subsequently she shouted reply on the open channel. "Bring it on ya preaching clanker! I'll sell what's left of you as spare parts to Jawas!"

Spotting a heavy gunner preparing to shoot at Drego from the side and she flew up again and fired four bolts into the gunner's side and he dropped sideways. Without further delay she descended next to Drego, advancing alongside him and bantering as she fired three more bolts before then reloaded.

"I would say ya owe a drink Drego but fighting with you is a lot more fun!“

Skirmish The Day the Stars Wept || ME vs. DIA

More options

Beskar

M A N D A L O R E

Zayid the Lion

S O L

Merion Oreno

Space oddity

Varlo Finnall

Character

Zayid the Lion

S O L

Merion Oreno

Space oddity

Ra'a'mah

Baroness

Minerva Fhirdiad

Character

Daiga

Character

Maiz Tor'val

Character

Camille Cendre

Pilot | Tanker

Lord Mettallum

The Illuminated, Chosen Of The Maker

Drego Ruus

Pillar of War

Minerva Fhirdiad

Character

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