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

Beskar · Sunday at 5:22 PM

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 · Sunday at 5:42 PM

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 · Sunday at 5:58 PM

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 · Sunday at 6:19 PM

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 · Sunday at 6:39 PM

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 · Sunday at 6:56 PM

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 · Sunday at 7:23 PM

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 · Sunday at 7:27 PM

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 · Sunday at 7:46 PM

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 · Sunday at 8:05 PM

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 · Monday at 4:04 AM

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 · Monday at 4:28 AM

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 · Monday at 12:24 PM

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 · Monday at 1:20 PM

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!“

Adonis Angelis IV · Monday at 7:57 PM

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ADONIS ANGELIS IV
Mandalorian Knight of House Angelis | Risen son of Vaal | Vanguard of the Manda

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Adonis had found himself aboard Vexis Station on business like the rest of the people who didn't live here. Vexis Station wasn't a place you went for fun, it was a place you got sent to. Even the couple times Adonis had been here on past missions, he hadn't stayed long. A place like Vexis Station was a flyover at best.

The Mandalorian Knight had been in a shopping plaza when word broke of what was going on. A Mandalorian child- dead. The youngest of his people were always the most vulnerable. They hadn't yet learned to defend themselves. They didn't have the chance to fight. Swift justice seemed to follow, though,re ports soon followed that a child from the Diarchy had died as well. An eye for an eye. Adonis Angelis IV would blind the whole galaxy if it meant securing the future of the Mandalorian Empire.

"Take this gun. Don't leave this spot until you stop hearing blaster fire." His crushgaunt engulfed the small blaster as he handed it over to a shaking woman. She had offered to help the Mandalorians when the fight broke out, not realizing the scope of the issue until it was too late. There was war at her doorstep, and she froze. Adonis, luckily, was there to calm her and protect her from those who sought to kill any Mandalorian sympathizers.

The Knight then stood tall to leave, his new white modified beskar armor still lacking the usual scorch marks and blaster burns. Though those would come with time and battle. This would be the first real fight the armor saw, and he planned to be a beacon for Mandalorians and civilians alike- a pillar of strength and honor. "We will come back for you," Adonis said simply, before turning on his heel toward the combat.

At his side were his scattergun and his lightsaber. Strapped across his back was a repeating blaster he could use against large waves of enemies. He wasn't far from the fighting when he heard the voices pouring over the frequencies, Mandalorian and Diarchy channels all clashing together, adding fuel to the emotional fire already engulfing Vexis Station.

One voice stood out above the rest, Zayid. He had called out to the Mandalorians and made himself a rally point. The Lion had proven himself countless times within not only the Death Watch, but the Empire as a whole. Adonis had come to respect him greatly, and if anyone could fight back the oppression of the Diarchy, it would be Zayid. So Adonis moved, cutting through skirmishes to reach his vod.

As he arrived, he saw his fellow Mandalorian engaged with a large warrior wielding an even larger weapon. Quickly, Adonis readied himself for combat. Where once the Diarchy had been an ally against Harrow and his forces, they now stood as an enemy. To Adonis, it was black and white.

"You will not take us down."

The warrior's voice carried across the plaza, accented by the ignition of his blue lightsaber.

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Tag:

Zayid the Lion

Merion Oreno + OPEN

Aselia Verd · Monday at 11:35 PM

Armor: [X]
Armament: Full List

Aselia Verd stepped into the chaos, behind Zayid, the snap-hiss of her lightsaber was drowned out but the sounds of combat but the crimson light bathing her armor was unmistakable. She moved slow allowing her systems to calibrate to the environment, the sensors in her armor quickly marked everyone in the immediate area on her hud all the Mandalorians were tagged in green for friendly anyone else holding a weapon were marked red for hostile.

All the red marks, were now marked in real-time for death, threat levels calculated in microseconds. The firefight was already spinning out of control. But Aselia wasn't here for restraint. She moved forward, and her shoulder ports snapped open with a hiss. Nano-rockets fired in a precision burst, each one slamming into hardpoints she marked mid-stride a barricade protecting a sniper, a fireteam pinning down wounded vod, a makeshift turret jury-rigged by some Diarchy loyalist. All of them erupted in synchronized detonations, and Aselia was already across the gap by the time the second wave hit.

The lightsaber was held firmly in her left hand, her right hand reached for one of the weapons magnetized to her armor, drawing her RP-05A Ripper Pistol pointing at the nearest Diarchy soldier and planting the sights right between the eyes before firing.

She had seen war, she had been caught in that crossfire before, even as a child there were those that would have claimed her life, not different than what the Diarchy had done to a Mandalorian child. There would be vengeance, there would be blood. Her audio receptors in her helmet picked up a voice

"TAL PAR TAL! KYR'AM PAR KYR'AM!"

She took a breath before she spoke and echoed the sentiment and she screamed it from her core "Vod bal vod, tal par tal, kyr'am par kyr'am. Gotal'ur etid sada!" (Brothers and sisters, blood for blood, death for death. Make them pay!) Aselia's jetpack flared as she rushed into the fray.

TAG: OPEN

Wrathian Kell · 2025-08-05T01:59:01-0400

Tags:

Aselia Verd
Nearby

Zayid the Lion |

Merion Oreno

Adonis Angelis IV

He'd come to the station out of honor to his friends long lost. Some from war with his old Republic, some from sickness, all from time. Unlike the Sith he'd met, what he found upon Vexis Station was wholly refreshing. The Mandalorians had always come out of conflict better than they were before. Perhaps it was their warrior spirit, that when faced with an affront rose above it. Perhaps it was their pride, that required them to be more than mindless war mongers. Or perhaps it was their sense of honor. Something that Wrathian found to be unique in the whole of the galaxy for these warriors.

A force illusion veiled his heritage, pink-toned skin and absent tendrils presenting a human likeness. Today, he was no prince, no Pureblood. Only a shadow among the curious. He had come to observe, to witness how an empire once allied with his people now stood beneath different banners.

Then tension curdled, perhaps it was that pride, that sense of honor, or the spirit that said to never back down. But a fight broke out, Wrathian couldn't even blame them. The preacher's words strayed beyond her depth, and honor bristled in response. Wrathian scoffed, this was no tragedy, only inevitability. Someone would lose a tooth. Perhaps an eye. It was beneath him.

Then the shot's rang out. His golden eyes locking onto the first child that fell. A Mandalorian child, and a pit formed in his stomach. Not out of worry or fear, but out of knowledge. He could already smell the bloodbath that this station would be saturated with in mere moments. Wrathian took one step before the next shot was fired. A child of the Diarchy fell. Wrathian exhaled. The massacre would be mutual. Blasters rose, fury fueled. Wrathian simply watched, hands clasped at the small of his back. There would be no culprits. Only consequences.

He would try not to take a life today, though doubted that would stay as a conviction. A stray bolt screamed toward a fleeing boy. Wrathian's hand snapped upward, slapping it from the air with contemptuous grace. The illusion peeled away with the motion, his pink skin fading to crimson. Golden gaze fell upon the child, no older than ten. "Go." The small Mandalorian boy ran towards his people as the fighting broke out in earnest.

The pureblood moved through the firestorm like a shadow, on a different plane of existence. He began dragging the wounded from harm and urging the cowardly to flee. This was not his war. Not yet. Princes such as he did not arbitrate the quarrels of children. So this would play out as the universe demanded it.

He saw

Zayid the Lion and

Adonis Angelis IV Fighting

Merion Oreno . And still Wrathian stood still and did not intervene. This was no matter of politics or allegiance. Children lay dead. Blame had no weight here. Only grief. He may have been of the Diarchy, but for a force user and a Sith lord. Stepping in may only worsen the situation with those he'd slaughter.

Then he saw it. The crimson of a lightsaber, not wielded in defense, but in causality. Suddenly, his indifference may not be excused. Was this woman a Sith? A Mandalorian Sith at that? Such a contradiction. He was unsure, but as one of his forces soldiers fell to her gunfire. That was enough. Wrathian began to walk, calm amidst the carnage, head tilted in studied curiosity.

Aselia Verd said:
"Vod bal vod, tal par tal, kyr'am par kyr'am. Gotal'ur etid sada!"

His Mando'a was rusty but he understood the theme. Revenge. "Tal has been paid... Lay daab gar arms... Ba'slanar. Leave this place, we shall do the same" His broken Mando'a cut through the warzone towards the woman with the crimson blade and Fiery hair. Roughly translated, blood was spilt when the other child died, weapons were not needed grief was. However, deep down Wrathian figured the plea would go answered not with words, but an exchange of blows.

He sighed knowing the futility. His hands had been clasped at his back for a time. Now they fell to his side, then to the front of his hip where his own lightsabers sat in golden holsters. He freed only one of the two weapons, no. He'd need both of them. The second saber found his other hand as they came to life in a synchronized Snapp-Hiss. Yet his stance remained regal, back upright, sabers pointed to the floor. "I implore you. Assist me in halting this madness. I will tend to mine, and you to yours. Another duel will not soothe this fractured wound." His philosopher always came out in the moments before violence. His round golden eyes transformed into elliptical slits as he restrained the illusion to just his eyes. Now. He waited for a response.

Lord Mettallum · 2025-08-05T14:38:50-0400

Droid Body: LM Mark III
Weapon: Electro Axe

Lord Mettallum boarded the first transport ship heading to the station with a squadron of 4 other transport ships. As long as the main hanger wasn't lost they should be able to board but going by the reports he was getting the landing was going to be hot. Compared to the chaos on the space station it seemed there wasn't much of a naval battle somewhat due to the fact there were plenty of civilian craft escaping the station. This provided the squadron of transport ship cover from any Mandalorian vessels surrounding the station while also preventing Diarchy vessels from firing on mando shuttles. Lord Mettallum wasn't sure if that would last as all it would take would be one hot headed naval officer to cause the space around Vexis Station to be littered with corpses.

The comment made by

Minerva Fhirdiad caused Lord Mettallum's circuits to heat up and if he had any idea who she was he would make sure she would never be able to insult him as such again. No he must focus on the task at hand and not let little insults made by worms get to him as The Maker will ensure she suffers for her slight.

Finally Lord Mettallum could hear the sound of battle as blaster fire battered the hulls of the transports. His forces needed to act quick once the doors opened up as the hanger provided little cover to protect them. The moment the door opened Lord Mettallum charged into the fray as he doubted the mandalorians would have expected to encounter a 3.2 meter heavily armoured droid. The first mandalorian to be targeted would have a large axe slam right into his chest. While it didn't slice right through the mandalorian the force of the impact would send him flying and most likely breaking most of his bones. Almost immediately a bunch of the mandalorians who were targeting the transport ships switched target to Lord Mettallum giving the rest of his forces enough time to get off the transports without immediately dying. As they exited the transports they would sing a battle Hymn in binary

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The initial optimism of the assault was short lived as the droids found that their blasters were less than effective against their enemies requiring more than an acceptable amount of blaster fire to take out even a single mando removing any advantage the shock of Lord Mettallum's charge would have given them. The only effective weapons they did have were the few droid that brought storm rifles shooting bursts of lightning at their targets which seemed a lot more effective as long as they could stay alive.

Lord Mettallum scanned the battlefield seeing who his next target would be. He did not expect to see the Chancellorate of Commerce in the fray let alone fighting like a frenzied animal fighting against a predator who thought they would have a simple meal, Lord Mettallum would hope that the Chancellorate would survive as he had earned some respect something that Lord Mettallum did not give lightly. Next Lord Mettallum saw a Mandalorian Sith?, last Lord Mettallum had heard before his long slumber was that they had purged any force users in their empire, but then he had been deactivated for over 30 years so things may have changed. His confusion only increased as a Sith Pureblood seemed to confront her on the side of the Diarchy. Scanning ahead Lord Mettallum located the Myrmidons, if they could combined their forces surely the mandalorians could be pushed out of the hanger.

Finally Lord Mettallum's photoreceptors spotted what he just couldn't wrap his head around, a Mandalorian Jedi. It was obvious that his records of mandalorians were woefully out of date and needed to be updated if he were to continue fighting them beyond this station. That was a problem for another time, Lord Mettallum stared directly at

Adonis Angelis IV and pointed the tip of his axe at the mando. If this Mandalorian Jedi was a true warrior than it should be obvious that Lord Mettallum was challenging them to a honourable duel. Lord Mettallum's bodyguards were ready to create a perimeter should the challenge be accepted. If only his cortosis blade wasn't in pieces.

Mentioned:

Ra'a'mah · 2025-08-05T17:44:14-0400

Lifting an eyebrow when she heard the familiar tones of Lord Mettallum speaking of his arrival, she also smiled. It would be nice to fight next to him again. However, she didn't think any of the Mandalorians would heed his words of advice and simply surrender. No, that was not their nature or culture. Blood now cried for blood, and the deaths would be avenged, no matter whose fault it was.

Following the sounds of fighting, it wasn't in the cantina where the shooting originated. It was coming from one of the hangers.

She was dressed for business, not fighting. Knowing where in the galaxy they were, she did have her weapons. With a quick flick of her wrists, her two lightsaber hilts appeared in her hands. Not igniting them, she was ready to. Perhaps she should have turned one of them on to deflect any of the stray blasts that were sent her way. She wasn't yet ready to reveal her position.

Hearing the various calls to fight and battle, eventually, it would find the redhead. Many were heading away from the hangar, and then there were the more foolish, like her, who were moving towards the fight. Crashing through the durasteel doors, her eyes fell on her friend, and if she were allowed, she would move in close to him.

"Lord Mettallum, fancy meeting you here. Ready for some action?"

Hollering above the sounds of blasters and lightsaber hums, she would stand next to the droid she considered a friend and ally.

Drego Ruus

Minerva Fhirdiad

Lord Mettallum

Tarre Priest · 2025-08-05T18:13:23-0400

Zayid the Lion

Haar'chak

Why is it when people start conflicts, it hits those who are the innocent first? The cries of Mandalorians for the lost child of our kin, and the cries of the Diarchy for their rang across the entire station. It took no time at all for the entire station to become a battlefield.

The lives of two children, were quickly becoming the lives of many more. I held in bear hug of a body, another child. I knew not who it was for, who they were, or why they were here. Just that they were innocent people in this skirmish. A blaster bolt pinged off of my armor and ricochet up into the ceiling. Letting debris fall upon my head. The child cried as the Priesthood fired back at the would be attacker. Ending the threat of the individual who was shooting at anyone they saw. Without missing a beat, Vheth closed the distance and came to the other side of the child. Her arms cradling him and taking him from my grasp.

"Get to Zayid. Support his defensive measures on the station. I'll take Witch Boy with me and get civilians out of here."
"Take Esok! He will provide you both support to get the children out."
"Confirmed."

Taking the child, she stood up and carried him away. Pointing to Fang and Esok, I motioned for them to follow her. Looking to my last Priest, I nodded over towards the hangers in which Zayid was providing support as a front line against the Diarchy Forces that were boarding the station. Trying to hold off any reinforcements that could overwhelm the station.

That was when a voice came over the speakers. a voice of some Lord of Metal that spoke of giving benevolence for laying down of arms. A scoff escaped my helmet with the Echani by my side just shaking her head.

"They really do not understand Mandalorians do they?"
"Afraid not."
"You think people will proclaim Tal'galar against them?"
"Without a doubt."
"Then we better get our people out of here before we lose control of the situation. Otherwise, the whole station will become a haven of blood and death."

Both of us started walking but turned into a dead sprint towards the bays. Alysia held hands on the grips of her Echani Vibroswords. Ready to draw them, but held them in place during the sprint. I had already drawn my hand cannon, and was just keeping my finger off of the trigger as I ran. Closing the distance to the Hangar bays. Drawing closer and closer to the fighting. Hearing the sounds of firearms, and a host of screaming and even some chanting almost.

"Zayid, Priest is in route to your location."

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

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S O L

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S O L

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Baroness

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Pilot | Tanker

The Illuminated, Chosen Of The Maker

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The Illuminated, Chosen Of The Maker

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