Dominion The Future is Mandalorian [ ME Dominion of Uyter ]

[Halvard Monroe]

The hangar was loud as they always were before an operation. Engines cycling through diagnostics. Deck crews moving with practiced urgency. Voices carried across durasteel and vanished beneath the steady thrum of machinery preparing for war. Halvard stood beside his fighter with his helmet tucked beneath one arm, looking not at the ship but at the tactical projection hovering above the briefing table nearby. Riverbreaker glowed in pale blue light. Streets. Defensive positions. Estimated militia deployments. The governor's manor at the center of it all, marked by a cluster of red indicators where the Jedi had chosen to make their stand.

Around him, younger pilots talked through contingencies and predictions. How many Jedi. How long the defenses would last. Whether the locals would surrender once the first lines broke. Halvard ignored most of it. Battles rarely unfolded the way briefings promised they would. The map was useful. The assumptions were not.

"Looks like they're expecting a siege." His voice carried easily despite never rising above conversation. He studied the display for another moment, a Jedi Master. Militia forces and civilians who had already been moved from the streets. Everything was arranging itself exactly where it was supposed to be. The defenders had chosen their ground. Mandalore would decide whether it remained theirs.

He turned away from the briefing and walked over to his fighter, beginning his pre-flight inspection before he climbed into the cockpit. He trusted the maintenance crews; that wasn't a concern. But a pilot should know just as much about their craft as the ground crews, in his mind. A few misguided Jedi and some militia would not hold back the might of the Mandalorian Empire.

TAG: Tessa Monroe
​

 

[Mig Gred]

Objective II
Tags: Veyla Krinn Itzhal Volkihar Kael Varr Bastiel Skirata

Mig looked at Veyla, nodding. “Learned from the best.” He said calmly, looking out at the crowd. He sighed a little, removing his helmet to get a better feel around him. “I know it’s probably not enough, but it’s something.”

He watched as a few people came in, then felt the calm that Kael was able to bring. Battle meditation. He’d felt it a few time working with the Jedi in the past. He was about to say something before hearing Kael’s plan. Run people from the surface to medical frigates, and asking if Leddie could be the one to fly the mission. Mig looked at his daughter for a moment, starting with a simple nod before speaking up.

“If she’s willing, I’d say do it. Get folks the help they need.” He said, trusting to younger Mandalorians to handle things.

 

[Leddie Gred]

Objective II
Tags: Kael Varr Bastiel Skirata Veyla Krinn Itzhal Volkihar

Leddie was surprised when Kael said he wanted her help, and for her to fly his own ship. Yes she’d improved since the early days, but it was still surprising to her. “Wait, really?” She said before quickly getting her head in the game and nodded.

“I mean yes! I can handle the piloting.” She said, ready to go once Kael said the word. He ship after all. But she was ready to go and hopefully help some people.

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

​

| Location | Uyter, Mid Rim Territories
| Objective | II - THE UYTER AIRLIFT

The Lawkeeper's visor glimmered under the harsh spray of the floodlights, distorted by the raindrops that fell upon the earth in a weeping shower, as his gaze swept across the throng of people moving restlessly below.

They looked so small against the inner ring of the stadium, rising towards the empty stands, where soldiers like him stood in silent judgment of a people utterly unprepared for the hardship placed upon them. Their lives diminished to fragile bundles slung over their shoulders, each burden representing dreams, struggles, and hope; ethereal wonders that may never be within reach again. All because Mandalore had turned their gaze upon them, and their leaders had dared to respond in defiance—reason denied in place of violence.

His boots clacked against the rough, grey surface of the stands, merging with the gentle pattering of the rain that danced across his vision, a sharp line in the sweeping waterfall that divided shelter and the muddy field beyond, where ships landed in orderly function. Another step drew him nearer to the precipice of the balcony, where the earthy aroma of rain-soaked soil wafted up, invading the confines of his buy'ce with vivid intensity as he drew in a deep breath, savouring the scent—before the smell of smoke and blaster fire could tarnish it all. His armoured shoulders shifted subtly with the inhale of his lungs, while his gloved hands slid down with the exhale to land upon the cold, metallic railing in front of him.

Would this planet be worthy of the sacrifices made in blood, sweat and tears? Would they?

Waves of people streamed through the evacuation lanes, rushing, crying, screaming, and clutching all they held dear. A human man, a young adult, still not fully grown, caught Itzhal's eye when he stumbled through the crowd, sparse traces of facial hair sprouting across his chin in an imitation of a beard. Another figure, wrapped in a shabby cloak that had grown muddy around the edges, reached out to place a hand on the child's shoulder, offering words of wisdom muffled by distance and the uproar of panicked voices. They must have sensed his gaze. Their face, cloaked in shadow, turned to face him, elderly veins sprouting along the slender stretch of their pale neck and the sharpened line of their jaw, as green eyes blazed through the waterlogged haze.

Movement shifted in the corner of his periphery, a sharp blur that stumbled into the scene with the furious energy of children that didn't understand why everyone else was scared—and a terrified mother, with enough panic for the rest of them.

By the time they'd passed, the figure in the cloak was gone.

Itzhal loosened his grip on the chilling expanse of metal before him, allowing his left hand to gently glide across the stretch ahead until it settled upon the intricate array of buttons adorning the gauntlet of his other arm, still braced against the balcony. With a surprisingly soft click compared to the decisive jab of his index finger, the com-link sprang to life.

"Squad leaders, this is Oath Actual," his voice was steady, measured in a way that transferred none of the turmoil that leaked beneath the surface as his gaze turned hard. "We have suspicious contacts within the crowd. Coordinates of their last sighting should now be transmitted to your HuDs. Those within the quadrant investigate; the rest of you are to continue as normal, treat the situation cautiously if you encounter anything out of the ordinary, but in the meantime, our priority remains the relief efforts."

Tags: OPEN + Veyla Krinn Mig Gred Kael Varr Bastiel Skirata​

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Objective: 2
Mig Gred Kael Varr Bastiel Skirata Itzhal Volkihar

The evacuation site had settled into a rhythm that only looked chaotic from a distance. Up close, Veyla could see the pattern beneath it. Medics moving casualties. Crew chiefs were directing families toward transports. Refugees clutching what little remained of their lives as they shuffled through the rain and floodlights. It wasn't orderly, but it was working.

Kael's proposal earned an immediate nod of approval from her. The logic was sound. The larger transports could move numbers, but numbers weren't the priority when someone's condition couldn't survive the wait.

"Do it," she said. "The faster the critical cases reach proper facilities, the better."

Her gaze shifted briefly toward Leddie, a faint hint of a smile touching her features as the younger Mandalorian quickly recovered from her surprise and threw herself into the task. "Sounds like you've got your pilot." There was no need for further discussion. Mig had already given his approval, and Kael knew what his ship could handle better than anyone present.

Before she could say anything further, a transmission crackled across the local comm channels. Oath Actual. Veyla fell silent and listened.

As the coordinates populated across her HUD, her expression tightened slightly beneath the helmet. Suspicious contacts. Possible infiltrators. In another situation, it might have sounded routine. Here, with frightened civilians packed shoulder to shoulder and tensions already stretched thin, it carried a different weight entirely.

Her eyes swept across the crowd instinctively, following the highlighted sector on her display. Thousands of moving bodies. Families. Volunteers. Refugees. Soldiers. More than enough people for someone to disappear among.

"Copy that, Oath Actual," she transmitted calmly. "I'll keep an eye out while we're moving casualties."

The reply wasn't an offer to take over the search. It wasn't her sector, and it wasn't her operation. But every pair of eyes helped.

Her attention returned briefly to Kael and Leddie.

"Get those patients airborne," she said. "We'll keep the lanes clear down here."

Then she turned back toward the sea of civilians and the rain-soaked evacuation routes, one hand resting near her rifle as she resumed helping direct frightened families toward the waiting transports. The relief effort remained the priority. If someone was hiding among the crowd, they would find them soon enough.

Until then, every civilian that left the surface was one less person caught in whatever came next.

 

[Hanna]

Location: Jedi Enclave, Central City - Uyter
Thread Objective: III
Mission Objective:

• Reconnoiter the Jedi Enclave.
• Infiltrate the Jedi Enclave.
• Recover any intelligence from within the Enclave regarding the Jedi-led resistance.

Tag: Israel Maia Adelle Bastiel

It was an impressive thing to witness the Mandalorians fly their heavily-armed, savage Basilisks with such speed, skill, and—relevant to this particular mission—stealth. Never before had Hanna imagined that such a monstrous war droid could be handled with enough finesse to infiltrate a Jedi Enclave. At least with her repulsorlift skates, concealing her presence was somewhat intuitive. She never needed to make contact with the ground, so she did not have to worry about generating an audible signature via her footsteps. The faint whine of the skates’ repulsorlifts was silenced by integrated sound-auditory dampeners. And then there was speed, which itself could be a form of stealth by allowing her to quickly slip through high-risk areas while leaving nought but a slight gust of wind in her wake.

Taking advantage of the mobility afforded by her skates, the small-statured repulsorlift-skating Death Watch mercenary tailed the Jai’galaar Basilisk of Adelle Bastiel from below, the skater scything through the structured urban terrain as the machine overhead danced around laser fire and weaving fighters. With their rapid pace, it was not long before the Enclave loomed in the distance, at which point Hanna angled into a sharp turn, taking an alternative route to get inside the walls.

It was then that the sensors integrated her bodysuit picked up a trace, which quickly stabilized into a quartet of humanoid lifeform signatures.

Twinned verpine shatter pistols came free of their holsters as Hanna activated her bodysuit’s cloaking device, shrouding her form in warped light and sound. Invisible, the Qilin swerved around the corner, towards a protected rear entrance to the Enclave. Four armed soldiers guarded the junction, their postures alert but unsuspecting.

Hanna kicked out her legs and slid to a sudden stop, before bringing up her pistols and partially dropping her cloak so that she could see the reticule in her HUD. Otherwise entirely invisible, the Qilin opened fire, sending a silenced staccato quartet of slugs lancing through the air at blistering hypervelocity. Each projectile found its mark in a guard’s helmet in a series of sharp cracks of something hard being violently shattered, before penetrating the braincase beneath. The guards dropped in sequence, grey matter oozing from the perforations as thin wisps of steam curled from the holes in their helmets.

Hanna pressed on into the Enclave, quickly arriving near the designated Nite Owl rendezvous point. She glanced up to see the Jai’galaar Basilisk flying overhead, its rider kneeling on the lip of the building’s roof ( Adelle Bastiel ). On her level, she saw a woman with curly auburn hair slipping out from behind a facial covering ( Maia ), then another Basilisk that had landed nearby ( Israel ).

“Hanna reporting present,” Hanna transmitted over the encrypted comm channel, warning her allies of her arrival. A moment later, her form shimmered into visibility as her cloak deactivated. Light once more stabilized around her to reveal her armored form and the distinct horn projecting sharply upward from the forehead area of her helmet.

She lifted her chin, her tone soft yet purposeful. “What’s our next step?”

Spoiler: Loadout

• Sparkle Velocity
  
  • Gauntlets and Vambraces
    
    • Modular Weapon Mount (3) - R
      
      • PC-05V Plasma Caster
        
        • Ammunition
          
          • Medium Plasma Gas Canister
      • NML-02VTB Nano Missile Launcher
        
        • Ammunition
          
          • Depleted Baradium-tipped Baradium Nano Missiles (12)
    • Modular Weapon Mount (3) - L
      
      • IceJet Miniaturized CryoBan Projector
        
        • Ammunition
          
          • CryoBan Canister
      • Repulsor Projector
    • FAE/A-14 Energized Foot Gear - Jump Skates: Mounted
• Glitter Roses (2)
  
  • Ammunition
    
    • Extended Magazine - Standard Penetrator: Void Stone Treatment (2)
    • Standard Magazine - Standard Penetrator: Void Stone Treatment (4)
    • Standard Magazine - Seismic Implosive-Explosive: Void Stone Treatment (2)
  • Attachments
    
    • 1-5x FAE/S-08 Electro-Sight
    • Phase I "Susurration" Anti-Sonic Silencer
• Hanna’s HB-42 Disruptor Pistol
  
  • Ammunition
    
    • FAE/AM-01-S2 Energy Weapon Cartridge - Ethaerium X Gas and CryoBan Coolant (12)
  • Attachments
    
    • 1-5x FAE/S-08 Electro-Sight
    • Phase I "Susurration" Anti-Sonic Silencer
• Mobius Bes’Kad
• FAE/MDE-01-S2 Semiautonomous Seeker Thermal Explosive (4)
• Infrared Smoke Grenade (2)

 

[Israel]

Wearing:
Beskar'gam - Ripper - PDW - Beskad​

OBJECTIVE III - JEDI ENCLAVE

In one sweeping motion, Israel dismounted his faithful Basilisk.

The War Droid, in kind, lumbered a step forward - inclining its "head" towards the Witch before them. The Supercommando knew that the gesture was futile, for this particular woman was not a fan of anything mechanical. Frankly if it wasn't green and in the dirt, it was on her chit list. The thought amused Israel for a moment, but there was business to attend to.

Thus his gaze turned to the fiery-haired Witch.

"And here I thought patience was a Witch's virtue." came his reply. He parted his lips to say more, but a message came over the Nite Owl channel, rattling fresh in his buy'ce. Israel immediately recognized the voice as belonging to one of the Iron Lords. He nodded at the woman's words, saying:

"Good to know we weren't the only ones with this hunch. Let us know if you find anything of note."

Soon, another voice buzzed in on the channel, belonging to one called Hanna. Israel was less familiar with those voice, but took a moment to contemplate the best course of action.

"I'll task my Basilisk with drawing attention to itself and giving us space to infiltrate. Based on our current positions, I'll task it with making noise on the western side of the Enclave. Priority one is finding out the why behind these Jedi. It's known that Jedi love hording their knowledge in dedicated Archives, so see if you can locate that. Stay alert, stay alive."

With thus said, Israel clicked his tongue and his War Droid sprang into action. It leapt skyward, ascending and moving over the Enclave until settling into the Western side. It did not immediately press the attack, giving space if the others had needs before then. As for the Supercommando, he motioned towards the Witch.

"Got my back?"

Maia , Adelle Bastiel , Hanna

 

[Siv Kryze]

.​

​

​

The storm had done little to improve Siv Kryze's mood.

Rain drummed steadily against blue-and-silver beskar as he moved along the upper concourse overlooking the evacuation lanes. Below, thousands of civilians shuffled through floodlit corridors toward waiting transports while Mandalorian crews worked to keep panic from overtaking common sense. It was a different kind of battlefield than the ones he was accustomed to. No trenches. No fortified positions. Just frightened people trying to escape a war that had arrived at their doorstep.

A pair of Nite Owls moved alongside him while several more maintained patrol routes throughout the stadium. Their orders were simple enough: keep the evacuation moving, keep civilians safe, and deal with any threats before they became problems.

Frankly, Siv preferred it this way.

His hand absently drifted toward his left thigh as he walked.

Even now the old injury lingered. The bacta had done its work and the flesh had healed, but some wounds left reminders that never truly disappeared. The Shroud Knight during the Diarchy campaign had made certain of that. One lightsaber strike had nearly cost him the leg entirely. Ever since then, Siv had developed a healthy appreciation for fighting enemies who weren't carrying plasma blades capable of turning years of training into a permanent limp.

"See a Jedi, call someone else first," he muttered over the squad channel.

One of the Nite Owls chuckled.

"Thought Mandalorians weren't afraid of Jedi."

Siv snorted.

"Not afraid. Smart. There's a difference."

The squad continued their patrol, eyes sweeping over the masses below. Families. Farmers. Workers. Refugees. Thousands of faces blurred together beneath the rain and floodlights.

Then his HUD flashed.

A priority transmission.

Itzhal Volkihar 's voice came through clearly.

"Squad leaders, this is Oath Actual. We have suspicious contacts within the crowd..."

Siv's expression immediately hardened as the coordinates populated across his display.

There.

Not far from his current position.

The Warden of Concordia slowed to a stop and studied the highlighted sector below. The crowd was dense enough for anyone to disappear if they knew what they were doing. Refugees packed shoulder to shoulder. Volunteers moving supplies. Medical personnel rushing casualties toward transports.

Perfect cover.

"Copy, Oath Actual."

His voice was calm as he switched channels.

"Nite Owls, we're moving."

Instantly the squad adjusted course.

Siv pointed toward the designated section of the stadium.

"Two with me. The rest spread out and watch the exits. No heroics."

His gaze lingered on the crowd below.

"Could be nothing."

A pause.

"Could be Jedi trying to slip through the evac."

That possibility alone was enough to sour his mood further.

"Either way, we find them before they find trouble."

With that, Siv stepped off the walkway and ignited his jetpack. The familiar roar cut through the rain as he descended toward the highlighted sector, several Nite Owls following close behind.

The evacuation remained the priority.

But if someone was hiding among the civilians, they were about to discover that the Nite Owls were very good at finding things.

Tags: Itzhal Volkihar | Veyla Krinn | Mig Gred | Kael Varr Bastiel Skirata | OPEN​

 

[Kael Varr Bastiel Skirata]

Tags: Veyla Krinn Itzhal Volkihar Mig Gred
OBJECTIVE: II - THE UYTER AIRLIFT
Ship: The Cabur Rekr (The Guardian Wolf)
Armor: Dauntless-type Beskar'gam
Blade: Tal'Alor Beskad
Primary Weapon: Plasma Bow
Secondary Weapon: Paired Beskar Tonfa

Kael nodded to the Alor, acknowledging their orders and the warning coming over the comms. He turned to some of the medics already on scene. “I’m taking the six most critical patients. Prep them for travel.” He pulled out his bow and kept a weather eye over the crowds. “Lettie, please keep your eyes up and that Besbev at hand. The Cabur Rekr is to the south of the stadium, it is a modified J-type Nubian, like a N-1 but bigger, think you can handle it?” He was paying attention to the medics and medical droids gathering the wounded that needed immediate evacuation.

 

[Maia]

UYTER - OBJECTIVE III

The thud of his boots sent shock waves through the earth. Through me.

I grimaced at the Basilisk as it lowered it's head in a grim mockery of conciousness. I hated that thing.

Not in the way one hated an enemy. More like a stubborn parasite that had attached itself to someone you cared about and simply refused to die. It was loud, ugly, smelled faintly of oil and scorched metal, and somehow survived every situation that should have reduced it to scrap. Luckily, Israel pipped up before I had too long to think on it.

A wry laugh trickled from my lips. “Patience is a virtue for other witches. You exhausted my supply years ago.”

The answer came easily. Practiced through years of trading sarcastic barbs with him. Easier than admitting I had been genuinely relieved when I felt the familiar tremor of his ridiculous machine crossing the ground. Before we could speak any further, reinforcements arrived.

One voice became two. Two became three.

Soon enough the comm channel was alive with the familiar exchange of reports and plans. Coordinates. Objectives. Orders. Mandalorians had a remarkable talent for multiplying. Leave two alone long enough and before long there would be twenty more descending from the sky, all armed to the teeth and convinced they were being subtle. The corner of my mouth twitched, but I had promised him I would make an attempt at being friendly.

“Glad to have you with us.” I shot down the comms to Hanna and Adelle Bastiel .

At least these ones were predictable. Joining the pattern I had etched out in my mind seamlessly, but I knew there would be more. Another thread woven into the tapestry. Another stone dropped into still water. Spreading ripples. Complicated things. Prophecy was easier when people stayed home. Unfortunately, people rarely listened to prophecy.

Least of all Mandalorians.

Israel took command with the same impressive confidence that he had displayed since we were children. The same kind that had landed him the role of Super Commando. Laying out a plan that had a clear directive, but left much to chance. I hated chance. I hated the unseen. Though I was willing to admit even my own foresight couldn’t predict what would happen when we managed to breach the gates.

His motion caught my eye, and I cocked a brow in response.

He didn’t need to ask. He never needed to ask. We had been each other’s shadows from the moment memory had begun to form. Him without me and me without him felt as wrong as a moonless night. Worse than a storm without rain. Strange as a tree with no roots, or a mirror without a reflection.

“Got your back?” I hummed, tilting my head as I pretended to ponder the question. “I don't know, it might be getting too big for that.” But as he headed towards the enclave, my steps matched his.

The earth beneath the city was strange. Buried beneath cool white marble and construction, but not dead. Roots still lingered in hidden places. Moss and lichen crept through forgotten cracks. Tiny stubborn things, clinging to life where they weren't wanted.

Their whispers brushed against the edge of my thoughts, murmuring a twisted mess of secrets and directives I could not quite untangle. Disturbed. Restless. Waiting.

A frown tugged briefly at the corner of my mouth. Something lay ahead. I couldn't tell what. Only that the pattern felt wrong. Too many roots growing in the same direction. Too many threads pulling toward a single point.

The sensation passed as quickly as it came. I rolled my shoulders, preparing myself for something that couldn’t truly be prepared for.

"Try not to get shot," My smile returned. "I'd hate to have to explain to your Basilisk that you're dead."​

Israel • Adelle Bastiel • Hanna • Open​

 

[Tessa Monroe]

Tessa’s own nose was so buried in her datapad, skimming the briefing pausing on the image of the Jedi Master that had slithered their way into the minds of Uyter and made them think it was possible to withstand the might of the Mandalorian Empire. She took a breath, exhaling out of her nose, the noise of the other pilots' chattering washing over her until his voice carried over them. Halvard’s words silenced them, settling debates before moving to his fighter.

The rest of them dispersed, moving to their own as Tessa pushed off the crate she’d been leaning on and hopped onto the rungs of the ladder to lean into his cockpit as he settled into the seat.

“Hey, I hate to be the one to break it to you but uhh,” She cocked her head to the side, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she lowered her voice to a whisper, “You sound like Buir.”

She gave him a mocking pat of sympathy on his shoulder, before jumping back down and moving to her own fighter.

“Let’s show these kids how it’s done, ori’vod.”

It had been a long time since they’d flown together, and that alone was enough for Tessa to forget that they were about to rain hell down upon a misguided militia, instead as the canopy of the Cabur closed with a hiss and she slid her helmet on, she felt a trill of excitement.

Moments later, they launched, from the noisy hangar into the quiet of space where Tessa had always felt safest, the verdant celestial body that was Uyter, rising rapidly to meet them as they skimmed past the traffic slowly leaving the airlift and pushed to break through the atmosphere.

Halvard Monroe

​

 

[Mig Gred]

Objective II
Tags: Veyla Krinn Itzhal Volkihar Kael Varr Bastiel Skirata Siv Kryze

Mig heard the transmission, looking down at his gauntlet. He sighed and slid his helmet back on. Always another problem. Felt like his life sometimes when he was dealing with his own people as opposed to the Fleet. Yes, he was Force sensitive. In theory he could track a Jedi even without specific training. Too bad his time was spent on the physical side of the Force and not the mental. At least that’s how he’d explain what he was doing.

“Vode, I’ve just got one warning.” He started, making sure to keep it to local comms, not that he was under any delusion the Mand’alor would hear about this somehow. “For Manda’s sake, evac zones are supposed to be neutral territory, and Clan Gred’s pulled all sorts in our time. You start a fight in here and you’re not going to like the response.” He then sighed, knowing this could go sideways quick. Wouldn’t be the first time he went against a Mand’alor’s orders technically, but this was important by his own measure. Whatever happened here could have him wondering how things would go moving forward. Who knew what the future was about to hold.

 

[Leddie Gred]

Objective II
Tags: Kael Varr Bastiel Skirata Veyla Krinn Itzhal Volkihar Siv Kryze

Leddie smiled, noting his point about keeping her bes’bev ready. Of course she had better options for defense, but still it was nice.

”I learned to fly jayga’buir’s courier, so a J-Type shouldn’t be too hard.” She said before turning to make her way south, looking back as she did. ”Be careful. I don’t think this’ll go sideways, but… you never know.” This was in part after hearing what her father said. She knew him too well to think it was a bluff. She started hurrying through the crowd, tapping her comms.

“V-3, how are things up there?” She soon got back a flurry of Binary about things being boring. Apparently the droid had thought Tsad was here to fight, not “babysit.” She just shook her head. “Quiet’s good today buddy. Oh and I get to fly a J-type.” There were a few surprised and irritated beeps before she cut the comm, snickering a little as she finally saw the ship. She stopped for a second, noting sure what to make of her at first before snapping out of it and heading for the boarding ramp.


She ran through rush checks in her head, quickly following what she needed to get off the ground fast. If she had time she could check more thoroughly, but right now she has to get things ready to fly.

 

[Kael Varr Bastiel Skirata]

Tags: Veyla Krinn Itzhal Volkihar Leddie Gred
OBJECTIVE: II - THE UYTER AIRLIFT
Ship: The Cabur Rekr (The Guardian Wolf)
Armor: Dauntless-type Beskar'gam
Blade: Tal'Alor Beskad
Primary Weapon: Plasma Bow
Secondary Weapon: Paired Beskar Tonfa

Kael used the force to work the computer in his armor, getting the slave circuitry codes set up for a temporary transfer to Leddie. Once the packet was made, he sent it over a tight beam to the other vode. "These should let you temporarily control the Cabur, and they are a heck of a lot more secure than a code cylinder." The orderlies were getting the six critical patients together and transporting them to his ship. Under his, Leddie's, Oath Actual's, and Alor Kryze and his night owls' watch, we managed to get them aboard and safely secured. Kael received a datapad with the six patients' vitals and conditions on it, and so he settled in, allowing Leddie to get the ship spun up and on their way to the medical frigates.

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

​

| Location | Uyter, Mid Rim Territories
| Objective | II - THE UYTER AIRLIFT

Gradually, one by one, his fellow Mandalorians began to report in. Itzhal could almost feel the tightness in his muscles start to ease, the notch across his back lightening as he listened to their reassuring voices crackled through his comms—Veyla Krinn, her voice steady and soothing, reminiscent of that day when she had sat beside a man tormented by doubts about the safety of his own mind, offering nothing but gentle reassurance. Siv Kryze, the indomitable Warden of Concordia, a seasoned hunter of both men and beasts, whose spirit sharpened with renewed purpose and a target to hunt.

His gaze swept over the stadium, watching as his brothers and sisters moved with purpose, their armour glinting in the harsh light of flickering sponsor ads hovering above, still active even when everything else in the stadium had dared to deactivate. A familiar figure descended in a haze of fire, the heat leaving trails of steam in its wake, before his boots landed in the muck, as refugees skittered away from the newest arrival, radiating danger with every step they made deeper into the mess.

Itzhal's eyes tracked the current shifting around Siv Kryze, over the assortment of ragged clothes and repurposed banners—sport teams sheltering their former supporters and rivals alike, with water-logged sheets of fabric that drooped towards the field.

With a swift snap of his fingers, a dense, glistening film of water materialised, clinging to his gloved fingertips like liquid silk. In a fluid motion, he twisted his wrist, sending the shimmering droplets cascading away into the air, leaving nothing but a faint sense of dampness, where his bodysuit was moulded against his skin, seeping into the callouses that dared to complain about the mild discomfort.

Nor were they the only thing complaining today, as Mig Gred made his opinion known—unfortunate for those who wished to sate their bloodlust, though not unexpected—the man had a steadfast moral compass. One only had to look towards their intervention in the events on Lianna to predict their actions here; beyond that, they had a long history of frequent expressions of conscientious objection. His reputation for voicing dissent was as much a part of him as his well-worn armour, and in that regard, today was no exception.

Personally, Itzhal wasn't sure whether to shake the man's hand or give them a Keldabe kiss for the hassle—amusingly, he was leaning towards both.

"Alor Gred, we shall take your advisement under the due consideration it deserves," Itzhal responded, his voice steady as the downpour of rain that fell upon all their heads. "Our people are here to assist in the evacuation of non-hostiles, not to start a fight, unbelievable as that might seem—you'll find that those of such a violent inclination are currently more preoccupied with the events outside this stadium. Do not blind yourself, however, to the fallacy of a polite opposition; if there are people within this crowd who wish to do either us or our charges harm, then we have a duty to identify them, and if necessary, stop them."

Tags: Veyla Krinn Mig Gred Kael Varr Bastiel Skirata Siv Kryze​

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Objective: 2

Itzhal Volkihar Kael Varr Bastiel Skirata Mig Gred Siv Kryze

The steady flow of comm traffic continued across Veyla's HUD as she moved through the evacuation lanes, rain drumming against the crimson-accented plates of her beskar'gam. Around her, refugees shuffled toward waiting transports while medics, volunteers, and Mandalorian warriors worked to keep the operation moving despite the weather.

The alert from Itzhal immediately drew her attention. Suspicious contacts.

Her gaze swept across the crowd as the coordinates appeared on her display. Somewhere among the thousands of frightened civilians, someone had managed to attract enough attention to warrant concern. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it wasn't.

Nearby, she caught sight of Siv and several Nite Owls breaking away from their patrol route to investigate. That seemed a sensible place to start.

Mig's warning over the local channel earned the faintest nod from behind her helmet. Evacuation zones were complicated enough without warriors looking for excuses to start fights. Whatever was happening, she hoped it ended with a conversation rather than blaster fire.

"Let's hope it's somebody lost and not somebody stupid," she remarked over her squad channel, the dry comment aimed at no one in particular.

With that, she continued helping guide civilians toward the transports, keeping one eye on the evacuation effort and the other on the growing investigation unfolding elsewhere in the stadium. If trouble appeared, there were already plenty of capable Mandalorians moving to deal with it. Until then, there were still people who needed to get off-world.

 

[Mia Monroe]

Tags: Adonis Angelis IV Muad Dib Diawl Hynafol Sylor
​

A flash of white and gold shot past her, the ivory clad form of Adonis scattering militia as he landed, charging deeper into the breach she'd made. A roar by the gates drew her eye as a dathomirian she was not familiar with charged for the gates, drawing fire.

“Cover him.” She barked, redirecting a handful his way that settled into cover, picking off militia raining blaster bolts down upon him.

Rain began to fall in sheets, turning the ground slick beneath their boots, shots from the militia started to go wide, their visibility impaired by the downpour. Mia moved behind the initial surge into the breach, eyes constantly watching the battle, her HUD feeding her targets. The Great Heathen Army was more than a match for the poorly organised militia, but they were not Mia's target.

“Make sure the locals know that surrendering is an option, save your blood lust for the Jedi.”

A flash of blue drew her eye as two of her men toppled from ramparts they'd been pushing up, a jedi stood at top, her head tilted with a small challenging smile in Mia's direction. The Warmaster didn't hesitate to meet it, moving rapidly up the stairs as the Jedi back peddled to make room for her.

It didn't take a genius to work out she was bait, but Mia took it anyway, fury coursing through her veins. They should have learned their lesson at Somov Rit. Blaster fire hammered into her the moment she reached the top, but Mia did not slow, one hand reaching to wrench the rifles from the militia's hands, her gaze never leaving the rapidly retreating Jedi whose eyes had widened in surprise.

“Where is your Master?” She asked, flicking the rifles away before surging forward pulling her beskad free as she did.

 

[Sylor]

Riverbreaker
Objective - Provide Support and Cover
Mia Monroe Adonis Angelis IV Muad Dib Diawl Hynafol ​

They pushed through, and then the enemy came.

Sylor moved forward with precision and determination, opening fire on the Jedi and those that sought to fight at their side. Years of warfare, discipline, and relentless training were evident in every movement he made. He fought with calculated efficiency, utilizing every weapon in his arsenal whenever the situation demanded it, often catching his enemies off guard with the sheer range of his attacks.

The only tools he kept in reserve were the Force and his lightsaber. Those were always his last resort.

Engaging his jetpack, Sylor launched himself toward a nearby structure that had been partially torn apart by the fighting. The building offered a temporary vantage point, though he knew it would not remain standing for long. The damage was extensive, and it could collapse at any moment.

Mia had ordered covering fire for the Dathomiri, and Sylor answered without hesitation. From his elevated position, he unleashed a steady barrage against the enemy, suppressing their advance and giving his allies every advantage he could. As long as the structure held, he intended to make every shot count.

 

[Muad Dib]

Objective: 1
Tags: Mia Monroe I Adonis Angelis IV I Diawl Hynafol I Sylor


Time slowed. Five militia were blown from the wall ramparts, killed by a combination of blasterfire and shrapnel from the explosion. Bodies arced through the air, faces frozen in the last expressions they would ever make. Muad instinctively ducked before diving behind a cratered-out vehicle. Flames hissed against the rain that fell onto broiling metal. A muffled sound caused him to look under the vehicle and see two kids, humans barely old enough to walk, cowering by the wall around what must have once been their mother.

Acceptable loss. Collateral damage. These were terms he knew well. Just because he knew them didn’t mean he necessarily liked what they represented. It was just one of the costs of war. But as his eyes adjusted from the most recent explosion, he witnessed something that made his blood boil. Families, kids, and the elderly lined the interior of the wall. Some sat while others huddled, and more than a few were covered by militia guards with blaster rifles.

A misguided attempt at protection? Hide them behind walls and close to your military forces? Even a Jedi walked near the two human toddlers, now orphaned by the battle. But the bearded human Jedi waved his green lightsaber to keep the young children at bay. Further down the line, several of the militia guards flagged the civilians. No, it wasn’t lazy and inept muzzle discipline. The civilians weren’t being protected as innocents but guarded as potential tools—possible hostages.

Which changed things.

He rose with violent intent. As he circled the burning vehicle, he raised his left hand and pointed it at a group of militia prison guards. The flames behind him swirled and flew in a tendril of blue fire to engulf the group of soldiers. They screamed and ran about; the water cascading from the heavens did nothing to soothe their torment. Muad could have killed them, ended their pain and misery. But sometimes mercy was unwarranted. Let the other militia guards see the skin and fur melt off as they choked on the fire that clawed down their throats to roast their lungs. Let them see their own fate if they stay.

Several along the line ran, dropping their weapons in their haste to escape. Not all ran. Two more Jedi joined the bearded one as they sprinted toward Muad. The leader outpaced the other pair until he swung his jade lightsaber to intersect Muad’s purple one held before him. Of course, Muad was less inclined to play with his food this time. Before the lightsabers met, he deactivated his blade, which allowed the green lightsaber to fly by unfettered.

Unfortunately for the bearded Jedi, the blade sprang to life a moment later and caught the Jedi in the midsection. Muad kept walking toward the approaching pair of Jedi even as the sound of the former Jedi’s bowels crashed upon the muddied ground behind him.

The two Jedi retreated into a cleft in the towering wall. Not a cleft, a stairwell. Several militia leaned around them, firing from the protective recess of the stairs. Muad snarled as he stepped first one way then another, the amethyst blade moving into position to block the incoming bolts mere moments before they arrived. His feet created a slurry of mud on the ground, and perspiration began to bead his brow even in the rain showers. Each reflected bolt flew out in search of militia, never failing in their endeavor. Muad knew eventually his position would be overrun. More likely from the dozens of souls heading down the wall into the stairwell. Soldiers with more blasters, blades, and grenades.

Well, technically not grenades. Thermal detonators. Devices with carefully charged and molecularly specific amounts of electrons. Electrons that were easily agitated by the force. His grinning face was the only hint of danger the two Jedi received before a dozen explosions filled the stairwell, shattering the construction and even cracking the hastily erected foundation.

Muad rose from the ground, half a dozen minor wounds across his body oozing blood, thanks to the shockwave and flying debris—a small price to pay. Along the base of the wall, the prisoners stood finally free of captors who were either thrown from their feet or used the chaos of the moment to desert. He pointed to several of the able-bodied.

“Help one another. Grab anyone who can’t get out of here and escort them to a safe zone. And keep your heads down!”

He scooped up the two toddlers with his left arm. Upon closer inspection, he noticed the girl's finely colored hair wasn't blonde but white—an eshani. The boy was blonde. But they clutched each other and Muad’s chest with such strength he figured a pry bar would be needed to disengage them. The woman the pair sat next to was unrecognizable beneath beaten and bruised flesh. It wasn’t the recent fight that caused the wounds. Blood had already coagulated and scabbed over. And the bruising was several hours old.

“The fething shabuir. Hut’uun hiding behind kids. Here, take these two …”

He tried to hand the toddlers over, but their hands were like magnetized ship clamps on his body. And then a new wave of blasterfire rang out, most seeking the backs of the escaping hostages. However, some fired in his direction. With a curse, he slung the kowakian monkey-lizard-like toddlers to his back, where they gripped his neck. Muad escaped the enemy fire by ducking into the ruined stairwell and looked up.

“Fierfek. Only one way to go. You two hold on, keep your eyes closed and … enjoy the ride?”

What the hell else was he supposed to say to a pair of toddlers who most likely watched their parents merc’d by people that they possibly knew. Sounds of approaching fighters echoed from where they entered the stairwell, and fighting echoed from above. Decisions, decisions, decisions. Stay and fight, with no likelihood of friendly assistance, or move his way to the top of the walls, where there was certainly fighting but a greater likelihood of allies.

“Sithspit.”

Muad bent and pulled a Jedi robe from an unalived combatant. He should watch his language and actions around the two kids. Hell, who was he kidding? They’d more than likely already heard and seen his previous actions. It couldn’t get any worse. His hands ripped the robe into long strips to wrap around the three of them, tying the children securely to his back. On a second thought, he tied a strip around their eyes and ears. There was probably going to be a lot more to do this day before he was done.

“Mhi cuyir ner ade.”

With his lightsaber before them, Muad ascended the broken steps to the top of the wall.

 

[Lucero Tzoran]

Tag: Mia Monroe Adonis Angelis IV Muad Dib Diawl Hynafol Sylor

If there was one challenge that Lucero craved above everything else it was to fight the Jedi. House Tzoran prided itself in creating warriors who excelled at hunting the largest and most dangerous prey. What was more dangerous than a Jedi? And if anyone would be able to lead him to his target, it would be a fierce warrior like Monroe.

When she moved, the air practically sang with threat and danger and Lucero followed in her wake.

He did not ask for permission- which was probably going to displease Monroe, but Lucero thought it was worth the risk. If it meant being able to wet his beskar spear in the blood of Jedi quarry.

“Where is your Master?” She asked, flicking the rifles away before surging forward pulling her beskad free as she did.

Rather than respond the Jedi... a Padawan or a Knight, perhaps, withdrew even further. Into one of the fortifications on the rampart itself, more cramped in its environment.

"Perfect place for an ambush, Warmaster." Lucero called out by way of greeting. If she hadn't known she was being trailed, this was going to tell her in retrospect. "How would you like to approach it?"

It was quiet inside the building in front of them. A clear contrast to the shooting storm outside. Even as Luce waited for a response, his danger-sense lit up and without even looking he yanked his blaster up and it roared. One breath later another militia member toppled over from their hiding hole.

"They have made this place into a killing zone for anyone not them." The Serpent commented with interest. "It reminds me of this ambush predator back home..."