Dominion The Future is Mandalorian [ ME Dominion of Uyter ]

[Adonis Angelis IV]

​

Mud. Adonis detested it.

One of the positives about living somewhere arid for half the year was you didn't have to deal with mud. It now covered Adonis's armor from buy'ce to cetare, in cracks and crannies he would be cleaning for months. These Jedi were going to face Mandalorian wrath like they hadn't seen, simply because Adonis was so angry about the mud.

The rain was rapidly affecting the militia's aim, shots that were already bouncing off beskar were now missing completely. The only sign of distress was the odd sound of a sniper, somewhere north-northwest, Adonis cataloged that for later. For now, he stayed near the building, out of reach of the invisible foe. The numbers here were fewer on both sides, Adonis had pushed further than he wanted, now near the back line.

Adonis pressed on, his broadsaber carving space through the militiamen. They were unequipped to deal with the vanguard, let alone those Mandalorians that followed him. None of them were stupid enough to get caught between the swings, and slowly but surely, the blaster bolts slowed down to a halt. The enemies started closing ranks. They knew they were cornered, and in a stroke of genius they dropped their weapons.

"Smart." Adonis said loud enough for them to hear. The massive Mandalorian warrior looked toward the others behind him, nodding to let them know what to do next. "Bind their hands." Adonis stepped forward to give the order.

Then everything went blank for a moment. Something slammed into the side of his buy'ce hard enough to give him a splitting headache. His hearing echoed and that familiar high pitched ring engulfed his senses.

Mud. Rain.

Someone was shouting.

Boots scattered and blaster fire roared toward the sniper's position.

TAG: Mia Monroe Lucero Tzoran Sylor Muad Dib Diawl Hynafol
​

 

[Astrella Verd]

Astrella Verd was not supposed to be here. She was not supposed to be outside Mandalorian territory. Her mother specifically said to stay within the realm so that if anything happened to her. Someone could respond, someone, anyone with the last name Verd. Which to be fair, was quite numerous. She thought she'd take her chances and smuggled herself onto one of the vessels heading out.

That was how she ended up here, but now that she was here...

The rain had found its way under her collar three corridors ago, and Astrella had decided, somewhere around the second locked door, that the Jedi had built the whole place specifically to be annoying.

It made a certain sense. Everything about this place was too clean. Too quiet in a way that wasn't really quiet pale marble that drank the floodlight glow, long colonnades that went exactly where you didn't want them to, gardens still breathing rainwater in the dark. She'd peeled off from the others the moment she'd gotten the chance, because the others were busy and serious and would have made her stand somewhere safe, and standing somewhere safe was not why she'd talked her way down onto this rock with the rest of the House.

"For the record," she informed no one, picking her way along the cloister wall, "this is reconnaissance."

It was not reconnaissance. It was a fifteen-year-old in scavenged beskar'gam and a jade jacket gone dark with rain, sniffing around a building she'd been very firmly told to stay out of, looking for anything worth carrying home. Spoils for the House. That sounded better. She filed it under that.

A door. Locked, of course. She crouched, thumbed a small charge off her bandolier, turned it over in her fingers the way some people worried a coin, and then, without quite deciding to, tried the handle first.

It gave.

Astrella grinned at it. "See, now you're learning." The charge went back on the strip. Her luck did that sometimes, when she wasn't looking too hard at it, handed her the easy thing, the open door, the half-second jump. She'd stopped questioning it. Questioning it felt like the fastest way to make it stop.

Then she stepped inside, and the wrongness hit her.

It wasn't a sound. It wasn't anything she could've pointed at. The room was just an archive, shelves, a reader, dust the rain hadn't reached, but the air in it pressed against the back of her skull, cold and full and watching, like walking into a conversation that stopped the second you arrived. Her stomach dropped. Her ears rang with feelings that weren't hers. For one bad second she wanted, very badly, to be somewhere with her mother.

At home. In the Mandalorian Empire, where she was supposed to be.

She breathed out hard through her teeth and shook it off the way she shook off everything.

"Okay. Spooky library. Cool. Normal." Her voice came out a half-step too bright. "Totally adding that to the list of things that are fine."

She kept moving anyway. She always did.

Because what could go wrong?

Famous last words.

[Open to Interaction]​

 

[Leddie Gred]

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

Leddie was a bit surprised when the code came in, but quickly got to work. She looked out from the cockpit to see Kael came in with the patients. Ok. She made one last check to be sure the engines were good, looked at readouts for the ramp to see when it closed, and the moment the seal set she would begin taking off.

Leddie looked back as she carefully accelerated at first, making sure they didn’t send someone into a wall as the J-Type began to shoot into space. “Alright, we’re away!”

 

[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 activated the wall-mounted tractor field projectors to lock down the patients. Once he had checked all the vitals, he settled himself against the bulkhead, "Good piloting, Leddie." Kael pressed a switch, and a recording of Leddie's besbev performance played through both the cockpit and the cargobay. He used the music to settle his mind and focus on the force, using it to sense what his charges needed before they could show signs of needing it. Pulling up the Cabur's scanners, he pointed out an old Lucrehulk battleship converted to a hospital ship named "The Light of Peace" and sent the proper landing credentials.

 

[Israel]

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

OBJECTIVE III - JEDI ENCLAVE

For just a moment, the Supercommando allowed himself to be amused.

When it came to the Witch, banter was as easy as breathing. That came with the territory of course, as Israel had known the fiery-haired woman for the better part of a lifetime. "Remind me to pick up some on the way back," came his response. The snark was thick in his voice and dripped from every syllable. Yet, the time for standing in place, trading quips quickly passed.

Soon the comm was alive, the Basilisk was airborne, and Israel was on the move.

As he moved, Maia's words about his back size caused his lips to purse from behind his helm. Was she calling him fat? As a seasoned soldier, he had learned ten thousand rebuttals to such words. Yet, she was a lady, so all ten thousand were wildly inappropriate to say in her presence. In fact, they were detrimental to his health all things considered. So, Israel settled for shaking his head.

As they approached the Enclave, Israel clicked his tongue which was the signal his beast was waiting for. From their position, the din of an explosion reached them almost immediately. Shockwave generator rods roared to life, ripping through the fortification like a hot knife through butter. This encouraged the Supercommando to move into a genuine jog. He reached for the magnetic rail on his back and plucked free his Ripper.

He then breached the main entrance and found only darkness awaiting him.

In but a breath, his helm's light kicked on immediately. While he had anticipated that the majority of the Enclave's personnel had gone to fight the "good" fight, he didn't anticipate...this. The condition of the Enclave was sordid - as if they were living in a ruin and not a monumental to the Light. "What do you see?" he then asked Maia. The emphasis on the final word was alluding to truths that the naked eye wouldn't witness.

Truths that her talents could easily unearth.

Maia - Hanna - Adelle Bastiel

 

[Maia]

UYTER - OBJECTIVE III

Tension stilled the breath in my lungs as the distant sound of the Basilisk kicked in. We worked our steady walk up into a jog. Though he was much taller than I, I had become accustom to matching his pace. I took two steps for every one of his, but there was never a moment I wasn't by his side. Then I watched, hesitant, as Israel breached the entrance.

It should have been beautiful here. Everything I’d heard about Jedi was that they displayed their wealth in a quiet sort of way. Fine marble, dominating statues, clean cut beauty.

But it wasn’t beautiful.

Centuries of wind had rounded the once proud stone until every corner had softened into weary curves. Pillars stood fractured like old bones that had healed crooked. Dust lay thick enough to swallow footprints whole, undisturbed save for the occasional trail left by some desperate creature searching for shelter. Yet there was so little life. That was what unsettled me.

Ruin was a living thing. Abandoned places welcomed the wild. They invited it.

Roots should have pried apart the foundations one patient finger at a time. Ivy should have climbed every wall. Moss should have wrapped the stone in soft green velvet until the Enclave belonged more to the planet than to those who had constructed it. Life always found a way to creep back into forgotten places. But not here.

Instead…

The cracks remained empty.

The handful of weeds that had managed to force themselves through the floor grew pale and stunted, their leaves curling inward as though they were ashamed of their existence. Moss clung only to the darkest corners, thin enough that the grey stone showed through its skin. Even the air felt barren. No drifting spores. No sweet scent of damp earth. Only stale dust and old incense that had lingered long after the voices that burned it had fallen silent.

It was like walking through a forst after a wildfire, only there had been no flames. Someone, or something, had taught life not to grow here. The silence pressed against my ears until it became almost deafening. But then, a whisper. Not from the Enclave itself. From beneath it. Tiny roots, buried far below the foundations, twisting away from the heart of the ruin as though fleeing something they could neither understand nor escape.

The Enclave was wrong.

Not because it was abandoned, because it was holding its breath.

Something had frightened the life out of this place.

Israel’s voice broke the silence. “What do you see?”

I knelt beside a stubborn fern forcing its way through cracked marble and brushed my fingers over its dew soaked leaves.

The force answered. The fern bloomed. Then withered. Bloomed again. Withered. The visions came too quickly. A corridor drowned in crimson flowers. Israel walking through it. The flowers turning black. No… the flowers stayed crimson. It was the walls that bled. No. That wasn’t right either.

The images tangled together like vines choking one another. Every time I found the thread, another wrapped around it. Everytime he appeared, the pattern broke apart. I hissed through my teeth as pain bloomed behind my eyes.

Too close. He was too close.

Mother Vyre’s voice echoed from years ago. “Attachment grows weed through prophecy.” I hated when she was right.

My breathing steadied as I forced myself to stop chasing certainty. The harder I reached for the future, the further it retreated. So I settled for what remained. A feeling. The unmistakable sensation of a snare pulled taut.

“I…” My voice faltered, an unfamiliar thing. “I can’t see it.” Frustration crept into the words. “Not clearly.”

I looked past him instead of at him, as though avoiding his face might untangle the vision. “You’re in it.” A beat. “And because you’re in it…” I shook my head. “The roots refuse to tell me the ending.” I didn’t need to say more. He was all too aware of my shortcomings in this area. Though it frustrated me to no end, he knew where he was concerned my sight was no more reliable than the weather.

Silence settled between us. Finally, I reached for the only certainty the sparse flora here had managed to give me. “They’re waiting.” My fingers closed around his vambrace. “Whatever happens,” I swallowed. “...don’t be first through the next doorway. Let me go.”​

Israel • Adelle Bastiel • Hanna • Open​

 

[Siv Kryze]

.​

​

​

The rain continued to fall as Siv and the Nite Owls moved through the evacuation lanes, their patrol slow and deliberate so they wouldn't add to the panic already gripping the stadium. Refugees shuffled past carrying whatever they had managed to save, while medics rushed stretchers toward waiting transports. For the moment, things were working. Siv intended to keep it that way.

Itzhal's warning stayed in the back of his mind as his visor swept across the sea of faces. Thousands of people, all trying to leave, made it easy for anyone with bad intentions to disappear into the crowd. He keyed his comm quietly.

"Spread out. Watch the exits and keep an eye on anyone trying a little too hard not to be noticed."

The Nite Owls broke off without a word, blending into the flow of the relief effort. Siv continued forward, stopping every so often to help direct a family toward the proper transport or move people around a bottleneck before resuming his search. Whatever suspicious contact Itzhal had seen wasn't worth turning the stadium upside down over—not yet.

Mig's warning came across the local channel, earning a small nod from beneath Siv's helmet.

"Agreed," he answered. "We're not here to start a fight. If someone's hiding in the crowd, we'll sort it out without giving these people another reason to panic."

His hand rested near the shaft of the beskar spear on his back, but he made no move to draw it. The last time he'd gone looking for trouble with Force users, he'd walked away with a lightsaber wound that still ached when the weather turned. If there was a Jedi hiding among the refugees, he'd rather identify them first than charge in headfirst. Until then, the evacuation came first, and the Nite Owls continued their patrol, watching the crowd while transports slowly lifted into the rain-filled sky.

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

 

[Leddie Gred]

Objective II
Tag: Kael Varr Bastiel Skirata

Leddie looked over her shoulder, surprised as she started to hear the music playing. She knew it right away. It was her bes’bev playing. Her fingers lightly tapped the yoke of the ship in the same rhythm she’d use to play the song.

“Is that my playing?” She asked as she maneuvered Kael’s ships towards the Lucrehulk. She looked at it for a moment, familiarity flickering behind her eyes.

“Almost reminds me of the Star Phoenix.” She’s comment as she started quickly setting up the connection with the larger ship. “The Light of Peace this is Cabur Rehr. Requesting permission to land and offload critical patients from the evacuation.” Granted, Leddie was already working alternatives out in her mind. Tsad wouldn’t even argue. Yeah the ships AI, one bearing the ships name, wasn’t always happy with the idea, he was basically an oversized cargo crate that could be whatever they needed.

While waiting for the response, Leddie looked at scans of the planet below, trying to rationalize things, and failing. This was admittedly the part she hated. Asking “why” in her head.

 

[Muad Dib]

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


All he wanted was a drink. Just a drink. To ease the thoughts and voices in his mind. Why was that so hard? He didn't need this. Not today. He just wanted a drink. To toast Hannibal and Arabella. Ten years. It had been officially ten years since their ship was hit just as it leaped to hyperspace. He had done the calculations a thousand times. The new trajectory would have sent them into a sun. A big yellow bloody sun.

Ten years and not a blip on any radar. Not a single rumor. Nothing to indicate they survived. He just wanted a drink. Just the wrong place at the wrong time. Story of his life.

He blinked the rain from his eyes as the sounds of battle grew. The stone steps were broken, slabs slipping from their original place to sink deep into the ruined stairwell. The violet blade of his lightsaber hissed as it vaporized the water droplets that fell in its path. Red blaster fire flew in the sky above. War was no time for moments of introspection. It was time to do what he was born to do.

What he was made for.
Death.

He climbed from the stairwell and looked at the militia, huddled below the stone lip, who fired into the mando’ade. His left hand reached behind his back and pulled the beskad from its sheath, and he rose to his feet. A wraith rising from the darkness, sword and lightsaber held in front. A snarl stretched his lips before a roar escaped—a primeval challenge to those who stood in his path.

The first few turned and fired wildly, their aim missing his form as violet and beskar blades hewed through their bodies. Without slowing, he attacked the line, his lightsaber slicing through bodies and blasters, the beskad thrusting into chests and amputating arms and heads with abandon.

“To me! You want blood, I'll give it to you! Happily!”

A Jedi rose in front, blue lightsaber thrust forward at Muad’s midsection. He turned, the blade coming so close his tunic sizzled from near contact. His own blade drove into the Twi’lek’s face. The beskad ripped through as Muad spun, green blood splattering himself and the militia.

Muad didn't stop.

Three militia, faces unseen in the shadow but etched in fear, fired directly at where Muad was standing. Emphasis on ‘was’ standing. The madman leaped up and over to land in their midst, right foot kicking one of the militia from the wall. His scream echoed until he landed on the ground with a thud. Each of the militia wrestled with one of Muad's arms to control the blades he wielded. Unfortunately for the one on the right, he had little understanding of what a lightsaber could do.

Muad deactivated the lightsaber and pulled the man close with his right arm. Face to face, he grinned before he latched onto the militia soldier’s face, teeth biting through the cartilage and severing the man's nose. That one fell away while Muad spat the nose and blood into the third man's face.

They never knew what to do when severed flesh and gore smacked you in the eyes. Definitely shouldn't release the man's arm while he's wielding a beskad. Muad reversed his grip on the hilt and spun, severing his head. On the stone floor of the wall, the last soldier of the trio cried for his mother as hands clenched the wound in his face. The violet lightsaber sprang to life and cauterized the wound with a thrust.

Blood dripped from Muad's chin as he turned toward the line of militia who finally understood what was happening. A wraith from the hells of the Netherworld stalked the walls, bringing death and mayhem. And his appetite was just whetted.

He strode forward and delivered the promise of chaos. Lightsaber flicked one way and the other, redirecting stray bolts back to their originators, who fell dead or wounded. Their cries and screams fed the madness he felt. Slug throwers tossed their metal rounds at him, the beskad blade ricocheting the rounds elsewhere. Another soldier closed the distance, a vibroblade raised, attempting to drive it into the glowing blue eyes of the demonic apparition, tearing through their line.

Muad kicked out with a bicycle kick, igniting the repulsors built into the boot in time to launch the attacker up and over the wall while pushing himself backward. A small gap appeared between the soldiers and the madman.

“You can either stay and die or drop your weapons and jump. I would much prefer you to stay.”

The madman grinned with blood-stained teeth as several members of the militia tossed their guns off one side of the wall and jumped off the other. More stayed, which made Muad so very happy. With another roar, he advanced on the enemy, lightsaber and beskad bringing death with every strike of his arms.

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

OBJ III - Jedi Enclave
Tags: Israel | Maia | Hanna

“Hanna reporting present,” Hanna transmitted over the encrypted comm channel, warning her allies of her arrival.

"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."

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

“Acknowledged.” Adelle went comms-silent after that as the rain picked up again, running in tiny rivulets down the side of the building she’d landed on. She groaned inwardly, anticipating the increased effort she’d have to make to descend safely, and pulled the clingwire hook out of her left vambrace. Adelle breathed in slowly, closing her eyes, and found the stone of the temple, the minerals that made up the stone, and the molecules that built the minerals. The hook slipped into the stone like a bes’kad through butter as she guided the molecules out of the way. Then, when it was sufficiently embedded, she released her manipulation of the molecules, allowing them to return to their previous structures. The hook stayed firm in the stone.

Satisfied, Adelle took the remaining length of clingwire and lowered herself over the edge. Rain slicked the wire but the grip on her gloves stayed secure. Adelle descended to the point of entry closest to her: a balcony flanked by floor-to-ceiling windows in the dome’s only round floor before it connected with the rest of the temple. It wasn’t a long descent but far enough that assistance was necessary. The downpour disguised the soft fall of her boots as they hit the rain-glazed stone.

The arch leading inside opened up into a sparsely decorated room, the chairs arranged in a horseshoe with a brief space between to allow passage to the balcony. A turbolift on the far side allowed descent into the rest of the enclave temple. Adelle instantly recognized the shape: she stood in an empty council chamber. Most of the Jedi would be out in the field, turning choice and conviction into action.

But it was all wrong.

Dust had settled over the chairs and floor. Debris from the outside cluttered the corners where it had been swept in from the balcony. Cleaning droids hadn’t been deployed here in a while. The council room had been abandoned for some time now.

The realization settled like an icy rock in Adelle’s stomach. She crossed the dead-quiet room, leaving behind wet footprints in the dust, and forced the turbolift doors to open. Drafts whistled through the empty shaft. Adelle reached out with her senses, trying to find signs of life. She found unsettlingly few. Taking a deep breath, Adelle stepped into the open air and began a freefall for a second time that night, jetpack primed to slow and stop her descent.

With any luck, she’d find what she was looking for. And the reason behind all of this.

 

[Diawl Hynafol]

​

Objective: Make the Jedi Suffer
Equipment: Beskar Kopis Blades, obsidian and beskar macuahuitl, blaster pistols
Outfit: Mandalorian Armour
Tag: Mia Monroe | Sylor | Adonis Angelis IV | Muad Dib

The Dathomir charged forward building momentum as he crashed into blocked door. Crashing into it with his full weight and the force from his momentum. Diawel grunted hard as the door buckled a little but did not break open in the first hit. Grabbing his macuahuitl, the warrior swung the blade in a heavy arc to bash against the door. Breaking it further as he grunted with the effort. He swore to break this door down and Diawel was not going to surrender the challenge. Instead, he bashed the door in further with a heavy front kick. Repeatedly doing so until it swung wide open. Growling deeply, the warrior felt addictive adrenaline rush in his body, the primal desires to just kill all those who dared to stand in his way. But orders were given and the Warmaster desired them to focus on the Jedi.

He would never dare to cross the warrior on that, sense overrode his bloodlust for now.

Entering the city, the brutal macuahuitl was returned to his back. While he favoured the weapon, in a fight with Jedi, he did not think it would be the weapon needed. They were nimble, speedy and tricky. His kopis blades were much more suited for the task. Diawel lumbered forward with his heavy steps, the red eyes scanning around. Seeing what enemies were around. His heavy steps stopped, some Jedi with a yellow blade in hand. Without sounding a word, Diawel issued a challenge by raising one of his blades and pointing it at his opponent. Diawel was ready for this fight. He was built for fights like this. He was determined to show what his warrior ways could offer the Mandalorians.

A smirk on his lips behind the helmet as he waited for the Jedi to make their move on him.

 

[Halvard Monroe]

Halvard didn't look up immediately as Tessa leaned into the cockpit. His hands continued moving through the startup sequence with the practiced rhythm of someone who no longer had to think about where each switch lived. At her whispered accusation, however, he paused just long enough for the corner of his mouth to threaten a smile. "I've been accused of worse." The pat on his shoulder earned little more than a quiet grunt before he resumed bringing the fighter to life, instrument panels brightening one by one as the cockpit filled with the familiar chorus of status reports and confirmation tones. "Careful," he replied over the rising whine of the engines. "Spend enough years around Buir, and it starts to happen." His gaze followed her as she dropped from the ladder and headed toward her own fighter. "It'll happen to you too." There was no warning in his voice. Just quiet certainty.

By the time their canopies sealed, Halvard had already begun to disappear behind the visor. "Kyr'am to Cabur Two." His voice came cleanly across the comms as the launch clamps released. "Formation until atmosphere. After that, we'll split high and low. Let them commit to one of us."
His fighter surged forward, slipping from the hangar into the silence beyond. The stars stretched across the canopy before Uyter filled his vision, green and alive beneath a veil of white cloud. Civilian traffic climbed away from the world in orderly streams while Mandalorian strike craft descended toward it like falling blades. Halvard watched the planet grow larger without saying another word, his eyes tracing the orbital lanes, the escort patterns, the defensive satellites, the gaps between them. The briefing had given him a plan. The defenders were already writing a different one.

He rolled the fighter slightly to port, adjusting its descent by only a few degrees. "Riverbreaker's watching the obvious approaches," he said calmly over the comm. "Let's not disappoint them." The engines answered with a deeper roar as Kyr'am led the pair into the atmosphere, the first fingers of plasma beginning to crawl across the canopy.

TAG: Tessa Monroe
​

 

[Muad Dib]

Objective: I

Blood and death.
Muad Dib was blood and death.
Again.

He had reached another stairway built into the stone wall. Behind him, bodies lay strewn along the path and across the walls in their final repose. Blood stained his shirt, pants, and forearms even as the downpour from the heavens attempted to wash the gore from his form. Unsuccessfully.

Upon his back, he felt the slight movement of the toddlers in their cocoon of webbing holding them to his form. This wasn't his war. Not his battle. But he was mando’ad, and his people were fighting and dying. How could he pay no heed to his brothers and sisters? He couldn't. And that was why he bore the blood of his enemy.

But the mandalorians breached the gates. The fighters on the walls were falling. And the triumph of the mando'ade on the planet was certain. The spirit of his people lived strong in the warriors. The need for a single warrior was now negligible. He had kept the Resol’nare. He was at peace with his part.

Carefully he sheathed the beskad in the sheath upon his back and deactivated the lightsaber. The sounds of battle still rang forth all around, but Muad Dib was finished. Quietly he eased down the stairs, one hand running along the interior wall. He stepped over the fallen dead which littered the ground.

He eased from the entrance on the bottom floor and crept along the wall. Mud tried to cling to his boots as he eased along. The silver hilt in his hand was gripped tightly. Just because he was done with the battle didn't mean the battle was done with him. For the sake of any who encountered the mad man, he hoped it was.

They neared the city's buildings built against the outer wall, and he slowly moved to an open door. From the smells, he figured it was a dinner. But inside he sensed the presence of four beings. Also force users. His lips parted in a grimaced grin. Jedi. And yet there was fear within them. His eyes half-closed as he probed the minds within.

Fear. Confusion. Uncertainty. One of them felt his mind pressing against hers and erected a psychic shield. Lightly, he pressed and felt the inner construct of the Jedi crumble. The other three were unaware of his probe. Jedi, yes. Knights? No.

He pondered the situation and made a quick decision. Muad entered the closed establishment and quickly stepped from the doorway. Rule one is don't stand backlit while potential enemies are hidden in the dark. But now he, too, was cloaked in shadows, except for his glowing blue eyes.

Four green lightsabers ignited to life. Consular colors. The blades bathed the interior of the dinner with an emerald hue, almost a sickly ambiance. Muad's grip on his hilt shifted imperceptibly; his thumb hovered above the activation button. It would take little effort to cut them down. Two Bothans, a Kel Dor, and a human. Young. Too young for him to blatantly kill and not have more ghosts haunting him.

“Stand down. Otherwise I will be forced to put you down.”

The stench of their fear burned his nostrils. Their grips tightened on their hilts as the Bothans and human looked to the Kel Dor. So now he knew the de facto leader, even if the female Bothan was stronger in the Force. Muad moved deeper into the room and watched all for retreat, two of whom were against the back wall. Poor strategy. His thumb caressed the button, and his purple lightsaber sprang into existence.

“See? Not a Sith. It's not my life mission to slaughter Jedi. Unless they threaten me and mine. You four, padawans, right? No need to confirm. I can feel your youth and inexperience. Now you can stay, and the next mandos you meet will kill you. You can attack me, and I'll kill you. Or you can choose option three. Ditch the robes, drop the lightsabers, and come with me to my ship, and I'll get you out and back to your Jedi order. Kel dor, you must choose. I have trained with the sages, and that means you should know that when I say something, I speak the truth. Now choose, and do so quickly.”

In the Force, he stretched out and brushed his mind very lightly against the Kel Dor. He expressed himself with the genuineness of his offer and a memory of training with Baron Do on Dorin. A nearby explosion shook the building and dust drifted down from the ceiling.

“Time’s up, kel dor. Choose.”

A weighted pause hung in the room. Three padawans looked to the fourth. Finally, the kel dor deactivated his lightsaber and dropped the silver cylinder to the ground, followed quickly by his robe. The other three quickly followed suit. With a nod, Muad deactivated his blade and nodded to them.

“Stay on my six. Get low. Be silent. Obey me without question.”

He strode through the room, navigating the empty tables and chairs, and pushed through a door into the kitchen. Stealthily, he found the rear door and pushed it open on well-oiled hinges. Smoke filled the back alley, most likely from the fire at the bar. Not his problem. He eased out and kept close to the walls of the buildings as he led four Jedi padawans and two toddlers strapped to his back out of the combat zone.

His shuttle wasn't far. If he was lucky, maybe they would escape without any more confrontations.

 

[Sylor]

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

It was a good position, and from there blaster fire continued to rain upon those caught unaware. Every shot was quick and precise, each finding its mark with practiced efficiency. They fell with alarming ease. Sylor felt for them, not for the Jedi, but for those who followed them. They obeyed their orders without question, only to be led to needless deaths.

Then the rubble came without warning.

His jetpack roared to life, propelling him forward as a mid-sized slab of debris crashed through the space he had occupied only a heartbeat before. The veteran warrior landed hard upon the shattered concrete and immediately unleashed a volley of blaster fire toward the Jedi who had turned their attention to him. Before they could return fire, he was moving again. His jetpack carried him sharply to the side, denying them a steady target and preventing any opportunity to regroup. With every leap, a different weapon came into play, forcing the Jedi to constantly adapt and keeping them off balance.

He would remain behind to cover their flank, ensuring that nothing slipped past him to strike at his fellow Mandalorian warriors as they pressed forward to eliminate the remaining Jedi.

 

[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

"The Light of Peace" permitted us to land in one of the great Lucrehulk's arms. As Kael felt the ship slow, he began checking his passengers again. Thankfully, things were stable, for now.

Once Kael had offloaded the passengers and given his report, he made his way back to the cockpit. "Leddie, that was amazing. Now let's make another run. I'll man the weapons and keep an eye on the sensors; you worry about getting us back to the planet in one piece. The battles seem to be heating up out there."

 

[Tessa Monroe]

It would absolutely not happen. If there was one thing she vowed to never become, it was their mother. But whatever her thoughts on the matter, the moment they left the hangar Hal shifted from her brother into the pilot, not that their connection ever faded or lessened, it just took a different shape once they were in the air.

Tess adjusted instinctively as Hal did, the timing between each movement they made so minimal it was almost as if they were moving as one, some of it came from Tessa’s connection to the force, but most of it came from years of flying together. For all intents and purposes they were of one mind in the air.

Plasma peppered them as atmosphere made their hulls glow, the fighter shuddered beneath her and a small smile tugged at her. The moment they broke through, Tessa rolled away from Kyr’am, answering the incoming fire with a stream of her own as she dipped low treetops skimming her hull,shifting power from the rear shields to the front.

“All yours, Kry’am.”

Halvard Monroe

​

 

[Halvard Monroe]

"Kyr'am copies." Halvard watched Tessa fall away beneath him, her fighter disappearing into the lower atmosphere exactly as planned. He never followed her with his eyes for long. He never needed to. Tessa had earned that trust decades ago. His own fighter continued climbing. The city unfolded beneath him in widening detail. Riverbreaker sat like a stone at the center of cultivated fields and winding waterways, its defensive emplacements already coming alive as sensor returns multiplied across his display and targeting radars searched for the incoming strike package.

There. Several contacts detached from the city's defensive perimeter, accelerating hard to intercept. Quick reaction. He eased the stick back only a fraction, allowing the closing vector to develop instead of rushing ahead. They were coming to him with all the confidence of pilots who believed altitude belonged to the defender. It only belonged to whoever understood it better.

His targeting computer chirped once. He ignored the firing solution. Instead, he watched the spacing between the approaching fighters their lead aircraft surging a little too far ahead of the others, eager to secure the first engagement while the wingmen compressed to maintain formation. A familiar mistake. "Kyr'am engaging interceptors."

He rolled inverted. Gravity became a direction instead of resistance as the fighter fell toward the formation, engines remaining almost idle for a heartbeat before roaring back to life. The sudden burst of acceleration transformed the descent into a controlled dive that cut diagonally across the enemy's approach rather than directly into it. The first exchange lasted less than two seconds. Green lances crossed the sky with measured precision — one fighter erupted into fragments before its pilot had fully committed to the turn, a second lost an engine and spun away, trailing flame and debris toward the forests below.

Halvard was already gone. His fighter slipped between converging streams of return fire in a shallow roll, carrying him above another attack pass before he climbed once more, reclaiming the altitude he had willingly surrendered moments before. The remaining defenders reacted immediately, breaking formation to pursue. Better. Disorganized pilots were easier to predict than disciplined ones. Kyr'am settled back into the climb with the same steady composure he had launched with, drawing the surviving interceptors upward and away from the city. Away from Tessa. Exactly where he wanted them.

TAG: Tessa Monroe
​

 

[Leddie Gred]

Objective II
Tag: Kael Varr Bastiel Skirata

Leddie smiled a little, sticking in the cockpit and checking scans from the outside.

“V-3, everyone’s keeping distance right?” She’d hear a few Binary calls come through the comms. “I know no vode should be that nuts, but you never know. There’s a reason you’re in a brick with a massive hanger and wea…. Gotta go.” She swapped the comm back over to standard as Kael went in, surprised by the praise. She chuckled a little, flipping a few switches as she prepped for takeoff.

“Oh! It’s not that cra…. Thanks.” She said as she cut herself off before swinging the J-type around and slipping out of the hanger before gunning it. She knew the battle was heating up, and she’d look back at Kael before speaking up.

“So…. What’s the plan if things get heated when it comes to the evac?” She didn’t exactly say why, but Clan Gred’s reputation preceded it, and the chances her dad would look the other way were pretty high. She noticed on the amphibious transports had taken off, quickly racing up and likely prepping to the land back at Tsad. She took a breath, eyes looking everywhere just in case.

 

[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 settled back into the co-pilot's seat. "You focus on flying, I'll handle the tacticals. All else fails, we make like a scalded gundark for your father's Tsad. I helped design this ship, and I know exactly what she can and can't do. If it comes to that, I may not be overly talkative, but I will have comms open. I will be able to hear you, but if I go into my meditation, I'll be controlling the ship's systems through my armor and the force. You just make sure we aren't blown out of the stars. I have full confidence in your piloting capabilities."

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

OBJ III - Jedi Enclave
Tags: Israel | Maia | Hanna

The doors to a turbolift exit opened with a soft groan, Adelle using the Force to open and shut the unpowered mechanisms. She could sense more life down here, feel the presences of other Jedi, but they were few and far between. Her HUD identified this floor as the residential wing—the lack of Jedi presence here made sense but only here, did it make sense. A marker pointed the way to the dorms of the masters and knights here. After that, it was going to be a slow search finding the one room she really wanted.

Her quiet footsteps echoed in the halls, the wing as silent as a grave. The wrongness of it all increased with each passing minute. The temple felt abandoned long before it had been physically abandoned, the residual Light faint and fading. Adelle switched on her nightvision as she walked, only slowing when she reached the area designated by her HUD. The currents of the Force swirled gently around her, calm, until she found the current she needed. It pulled her along, guiding her down the corridors and rows of dorms. She didn’t need her HUD to tell her that each room was empty and had been for a while.

Adelle paused momentarily when she felt a presence ahead, a flare of Light in her path where the current had been leading her. It felt young, uncertain. A Padawan, most likely. She resumed her journey but slowed her pace to something casual and made sure she stepped quietly. An Umbaran girl in her teenage years leaned against one of the closed doors, arms folded over her chest. Interestingly, the door the young Jedi stood in front of was the only one Adelle had seen that was powered.

The padawan hadn’t noticed her presence yet. Adelle came to a stop within conversational range.

“Do the Jedi of Uyter usually leave their padawans unattended in abandoned temples?” she asked softly. The padawan gasped and immediately pushed herself upright, grabbing her lightsaber hilt and holding it in front of her. “Or are you waiting for your Master?”

“Back off Mando!” the padawan shouted. The lightsaber hilt remained unlit however. “Get out!”

“Easy there, ad,” Adelle said gently, raising her empty hands. “I’m not here for a fight.”

“Then get off our planet!” The Light flared briefly but wavered.

Adelle tilted her head to the side, considering everything. Her training with Quinn gave her even greater insight than just the Force and her empathic abilities alone. In spite of the projected defiance, in spite of the Shii-cho opening stance, in spite of her words, the Umbaran padawan was uncertain. Young, alone, and waiting in an empty hallway in front of an empty room. With her master nowhere to be seen. The wrongness in the Force practically vibrated here.

She was going to get to the bottom of this, one way or another.