Populate The Gravesong War || Benediction [ ME Populate of Empty Hex & Serenno ]

[Aether Verd]

BENEDICTION
"The dead will answer to Mandalore."​

MORIANA ONE
Local Time: 0900 Hours

The station was a carcass in the dark.

Drifting at the rim of known space, Station Dazac had once served as a mining platform, its hull scarred by forgotten wars and orbital debris. Now, it was a husk: a labyrinth of rusted corridors and unlit chambers where the cold seeped into the bones of the metal itself. The only light came from the distant stars and the steady pulse of decay in the Force, a vibration like a dying breath that the Mandalorian Knights and Spiritspeakers had traced across the black. It was here that the trail ended, and the waiting began.

The Gravesong War had carried the Mandalorian Empire across the galaxy, battling the undead in trenches and cities, deserts and voids, never yielding. The Crucible had been their latest enemy, slavers twisted into a weapon by Harrow’s command, throwing bodies and machines at Mandalorian lines in the mad god’s name. Each front, each clash, had led here. One final confrontation with the jester himself, the architect of this plague, who dared to test Mandalore’s resolve.

The fleet arrived in force, steel breaking through the darkness, engines burning bright like fallen comets. The Resolute Dawn, the Fury of Sundari, the Iron Tithe were each warships that carried Mandalorians who had bled and survived. Each soul aboard was ready for the reckoning. At their upper decks, the Knights and Spiritspeakers stood in formation, chanting rites that tore at the veil between life and death, pinning the Netherworld in place. There would be no escape for Harrow this time, no trick, no spectral retreat. The jester would die here, or be bound in the void.

The station woke.

Shadows peeled away from derelict hulls, merging with the metal, consuming it, until ancient ships shuddered to life and opened fire on the Mandalorian fleet. Cannons glowed with unnatural light, each blast fueled by darkness that defied the grave. Within Station Dazac’s corridors, scanners lit up with the presence of movement. Shapes shifted in the dark, some human, some twisted into beasts that should not exist, each one an extension of Harrow’s will. His Troupe had come to dance one last time, and they would not fall quietly.

Now the Mandalorians prepared to board.

Beskar boots strike metal walkways, rifles raised, blades drawn, each warrior knowing what is at stake. No more running. No more hiding. The Troupe would be cut down, the rot carved out, and the jester’s final laugh silenced.

This is Mandalore’s answer. Fire and steel. No quarter.

Let the final hunt begin.​

STORIES REFERENCED:
Crucible
Before the Storm
Ashes of the Undying
Echoes of the Gravesong
Silence the Song
Hall of Banners
What Are You Doing in My Swamp?
​

Spoiler: Objectives

OBJECTIVE I: INTO THE MAW
Location: Exposed Hangar Bay, Station Dazac

The fleet arrived with thunder, but the station’s silence is a lie.

Dropships punch through the darkness, Basilisks soar between drifting wreckage, and Mandalorian boarding teams descend into the maw. The hangar is choked with debris and the stink of rotting flesh, its shadows crawling with sithspawn, Netherworld beasts, and Crucible slavers twisted by Harrow’s will. Each step forward is a battle, each breath thick with the promise of violence.

They say the jester waits somewhere beyond the smoke and blood, laughter hidden in the shadows as the station wakes around him. Mandalorians answer with beskad and blaster, cutting a path toward the Bridge: the beating heart of the storm.​

PvE | Combat-Focused. Expect brutal hangar assaults, close-quarters corridor fighting, and waves of corrupted defenders. Cut through the madness and clear the path toward the final confrontation.

OBJECTIVE II: VOIDFIRE
Location: Space Above Station Dazac

This is what the war has led to.

The undead legions, the Crucible’s conscripted soldiers, and the restless spirits haunting Mandalorian worlds...all have been the jester’s tools. Now, Harrow’s Shadow Fleet stirs, ancient hulls alive with abyssal fire, moving to sever the Mandalorian advance before the blade can strike true.

The Great Heathen Army rises to meet them, warships and starfighters surging forward, determined to hold the line. Dogfights bloom like fireflowers in the void, turbolaser fire crossing the darkness as Mandalorians fight to keep their kin alive on the station below.

Your mission: Break the Shadow Fleet. Hold the line. Do not let Harrow’s madness claim the void.​

PvE | Space Combat. Starfighter dogfights and capital ship clashes against Harrow’s spectral fleet. Prevent the Mandalorian boarding parties from being cut off, ensuring the hunt within the station can continue.

OBJECTIVE III: WRITE YOUR LEGEND
Bring Your Own Objective

Station Dazac is a tomb of secrets, and not all who come here seek Harrow’s end alone.

Perhaps you hunt an echo of a fallen clanmate’s spirit, hoping to free them from Harrow’s grasp.
Perhaps you search the wreckage for lost technology or ancient beskar to return to your House.
Perhaps you follow a vision from the Force, seeking a truth older than the war itself.
Perhaps you are here to settle a blood debt, claim a trophy, or discover what the dead station hides.

The jester’s laughter will end, but your story is yours to write.​

You bring the mission. Mandalore brings the reckoning.

Spoiler: Tag

Skye Mertaal
Zee Caromed
Rheyla Tann
Haken Ralo Bolt
Ginjako Brorai
Maiz Tor'val
Xasin Dyst
Sanguina Krev
Svidur Galaar
Vaux Gred
Mig Gred
Edrick Aethelred
Tarre Priest
Cerar Vizsla
Kassandra Beskar'ad
Kad'irk'Ra
Janous Ryss
Liorra
Tyr Mereel
Conrad
Aren D'Shade
Zel Sharratt
Korra Kast
Whottoomuzz Chantin
Reshim
Red Mobius
Emilia Locke
Athena Faar
Thalira Kiing
Vulcan Krayt
Delsin Shaw
Montello Deshra
Adonis Angelis IV
Siv Kryze
Jaikell Wyrvhor
Itzhal Volkihar
Valah Hagen
Vytal Noctura
Suleiman Lok
Kyrida Verd
Jiriad Galaar
Kandosii Ka'rta
Manti Wyrvhor
Mia Monroe
Ladante Mamba
Raef Malstadt
Ciri Jade
Lunara Azure
Kirae Orade
Ro'talius Emanti
Alora Vizsla
Zhulghua
Kalðr Ísbjørn
Cordelia Malkavian
Drego Ruus
"Templar"
CT-312
Tomaj Eldar
Rhys Swynol
Lysara Rynn
Nephthys Nardithi-Verd
Hanna
Siae Andronike
Zlova Rue
Runi Kuryida
Ren Ashbridge
Aliza Vale
Thram Drokor
Sagan Verd
Ze'bast Verd
Vyse de Valorous
Varuun Rekaal
Kuben Woods
Valeria de la Vallée
Lyra Scarlet
Talohn Atar
Incitrix
Klavatora Verd
Aselia Verd

 

[Harrow]

BENEDICTION
"The Madness ends when I SAY SO."​

MORIANA ONE

The viewport framed the oncoming storm with cruel perfection.

From the bridge of Station Dazac, Harrow reclined upon the command throne, the cracked leather groaning beneath the shifting weight of his rag-wrapped limbs. Beyond the reinforced transparisteel, the Mandalorian fleet advanced with predatory purpose, engines flaring against the darkness, formation after formation breaking the cold quiet with the promise of violence. The sight pulled a grin across ruined lips, amusement bubbling in the hollow of his chest as he raised a hand.

It would be a fine day for a game.

With a flick of his fingers, he reached for the veil, ready to tear it open so that fresh horrors could slip through, eager to taste blood and silence the drums of war pounding in the Mandalorians’ chests. Yet as the Nether rippled at the edge of his grasp, it wavered, flickered, and with a sickening finality, it died in his hand before the rift could bloom in full. Harrow’s smile faltered, his withered eyes narrowing as the realization crawled over him.

There, within the depths of the Mandalorian fleet, the blasphemy revealed itself. It coiled around the veil like rust on a blade, choking it closed, pinning the grave shut in defiance of the order he had carved across the galaxy. The realization curdled into fury, searing bright and absolute, a storm without reason or restraint. Harrow’s scream ripped across the bridge, echoing against bulkheads and rust-stained steel.

“How dare you.” he shrieked into the dark. “How dare you try to put me in a cage!"

The station shuddered as if in fear, conduits crackling with dark energy as Harrow’s fury settled into something colder, a promise whispered to the stars themselves. He swore that he would break them. He would pull down the sun and let it bleed across their desert world until the sand turned to glass and their children screamed beneath a sky of ash.

With a thought, his will rippled through the dark like a thrown blade. The Shadow Fleet obeyed, ancient vessels stirring from dormancy, engines burning with the dark fire of the Nether as they turned to face the Mandalorian line. Turbolasers came alive, striking at the predators who thought themselves the hunters of this cursed place. Aboard the station, his horde answered in kind, clawed fingers and sharpened blades ready to greet the beskar-clad intruders with the teeth of the grave.

Harrow settled back upon his throne, fingers drumming against the armrest as he watched the chaos unfurl across the void, the station groaning with life it should not possess. The Mandalorians had chosen to place him in a cage, thinking themselves clever for forcing him to stand and fight. Let them. Let them come with fire and faith, thinking themselves saviors at the gates of the abyss.

They should have known better.

Animals, when cornered, bite.

And Harrow would show them just how deeply he could sink his teeth.​

Mandalorian Empire + Open​

 

[Ze'bast Verd]

Benediction​

OBJECTIVE I: Into The Maw - Station Dazac Hangar

Silence once again filled the Kom’rk class transport as it moved through the darkness of space. Ze’bast stood standing with his arms crossed. The Supercommando Warmaster leaned against the wall of the modified dropship. His heavy beskar’gam fit snug and his gear was operable. Even from the silence within the sealed space of the ship, he could feel the distant nethercraft warping and moving like tentacles through the void.

The usual calm that went unstirred within him was brimming with excitement for combat. Being able to crush foes of the Mandalorian Empire was enough to fuel him. Any reasonable use of force he could use would be implemented against their foes if he had anything to say about it. First, they needed to punch a hole for the others to land within the Exposed Hangar Bay. A strong vanguard the Supercommandos were, and a strong opening they would provide.

Station Dazac could be seen within a small window of his HUD from the ship’s forward facing camera. His eyes slowly opened as the space station approached from his feed. The station would become a coffin for their enemies. A mass grave to seal away the station’s horrors forever. That was what he hoped. It was what he was planning to do.

Ze’bast adjusted his comms for all of his commandos to hear. Not that he thought he needed to. It would be good to give some words before they stepped closer to the warmth of Manda.

“To all Supercommandos, this is your Warmaster. Each centimeter we take results in honorable conquest. So let's make sure we clear the way for our people. Give no quarter. Kill all that attempts to muster against the will of our liege. Glory to Mandalore.”

The commando shuttles would arrive close to their designated spot as each pilot checked in. A single order was given to them all.

“Begin landing procedures. Fire at will!”

The shuttles began opening fire as they moved into the exposed hangar. Rockets and ship armaments cleared an open space for the Supercommandos to land. Ze’bast unshackled his HV-37 Squad Repeating Blaster from his rear holster as the shuttle floor opened up. Jetpacks roared to life as the elite units dropped into the fray. The weight of their boots and their spirits were instantly felt upon arrival. Blaster fire erupted as they would make quick work of the hordes that charged in toward them.

This was their Song. The Supercommando Battle Hymn.

TAGS: Aether Verd + OPEN

 

[Zee Caromed]

OBJECTIVE I: Into The Maw - Station Dazac Hangar​

Caromed was not a large clan, and never had been. Mostly surgeons, nurses, and craftsmen, they nevertheless answered the call of the Mandalore. Most of the triage would happen at a field hospital somewhere further behind the spear tip of the incursion, but Zee planned to be right behind the commandos in the forward team.

Leading up a trio of combat medics, The son of the clan leadership - Zalke. Blooded, but not seasoned. Honorable, but not distinguished. The slender young man took up a position behind the point with his rifle at the ready, his dull-colored beskar'gam distinguished only by the symbol of his clan on the pauldron.

The four medics discussed among themselves for a moment. Some of them had lost siblings, lovers, friends to the menace. All had lost fellow Mandalorians - A price too high to be acceptable. Plans were made. How supplies would be distributed, who would handle what tasks, what specialties each had. It was not a long discussion. They all knew each other, and all spoke the efficient language of pure necessity. For his part, Zee's blood ran cold with the same anxiety he felt whenever he was too near to a fight and not in control of the violence. People would die. He couldn't save all of them, maybe not even most of them.

If they pulled this off, though, death would be the end of it. Restoring finality to death was worth bleeding for.

As the supercommandos launched from the shuttles, Caromed's bravest were right behind. Blaster at ready, Zee fired controlled bursts into the hordes of monstrosities that sought to swarm them. "Controlled bursts! Don't waste charge!" He warned his team. "We've got a lot of shooting to do!"

Honestly, it was worth being in the back line just to get the best possible view of the supercommandos at work. Firepower and purpose in full accord. Beautiful.
​

 

[Hanna]

Location: Outer Colony Perimeter - Station Dazac
Thread Objective: I - Into the Maw
Mission Objective: Secure the hangar bay.
Tag: Ze'bast Verd Zee Caromed

The Supercommandos fell on the hangar’s defenders in a symphony of roaring engines, whizzing blaster fire, and howled war cries. All the while, Hanna moved amongst them—an outlier in rhythm but equal in lethality. Her repulsor skates flared as she zipped into the hangar bay from the dropship, pistols barking a lethal staccato of hypervelocity projectiles that ripped into the ranks of twisted Varzigs meeting the Mandalorian advance. One best came leaping through the air before crashing to the floor, a slug having reduced its skull to a pulp. Another was cut down as it climbed over the body of the decapitated beast, projectiles ripping through its shoulders before blasting apart its skull like an overripe fruit.

Three more Varzigs were cut down while Hanna carved a path along the flanks, hypervelocity slugs tearing steaming, gaping holes into their chest cavities. Then, shifting her weight backward, the Qilin flared her repulsors to bleed momentum, before pivoting around and accelerating back in the opposite direction. In the same motion, she mag-locked her Verpine shatter to her thighs before swapping them for her disruptors. The Qiliin narrowed her gaze and squeezed off a burst of magenta-hued disruptor bolts into the ranks of the snarling Varzigs, atomizing three of the hapless beasts in less than a second.

It was then, just as Hanna snapped off another shot to vaporize a Varzig in her path, that something massive pounded in her ears. What followed was the feral, bestial roar of a beast from a dimension distinct from realspace, its towering, armored form casting a long and terrible shadow over the entrance to the hangar bay!

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
• Hanna’s HB-42 Disruptor Pistols (2)
  
  • Ammunition
    
    • FAE/AM-01-S2 Energy Weapon Cartridge - Ethaerium X Gas and CryoBan Coolant (4)
    • FAE/AM-01-S2 Energy Weapon Cartridge - Ethaerium Gas and CryoBan Coolant (8)
  • Attachments
    
    • 1-5x FAE/S-08 Electro-Sight
• Glitter Roses (2)
  
  • Ammunition
    
    • Extended Magazine - Standard Penetrator (6)
    • Standard Magazine - Seismic Implosive-Explosive (2)
  • Attachments
    
    • 1-5x FAE/S-08 Electro-Sight
• FAE/MDE-01-S2 Semiautonomous Seeker Thermal Explosive (2)
• Infrared Smoke Grenade (2)

 

[Ladante Mamba]

Ladante sat alone in his quarters aboard the Crimson Kestrel, clad in beskar marked not only by battle but by bacta stains and scorched medpacs. His emerald sash was the only clean material on his person. The room was dim, lit only by the buzzing lights situated near the top of the walls. His helmet sat on the durasteel desk before him, facing him like a silent challenge.

A low thrum of rhythmic drums and hard bass played from the radio on his desk, a fire meant to steel the soul before battle. But Ladante wasn't just a warrior. He was a doctor. A contradiction wrapped in beskar. He saved lives as often as he took them. And today, he was prepared to have to do both as he has done so many times before.

The war was nearing its end. Their enemy—a twisted horde of mutated Sithspawn—was on the brink of collapse. One final strike. One last charge. The Mandalorian clans had bled for this moment. And so had Ladante, in ways no armor could protect.

He exhaled through his nose, sharp and controlled, then stood. The plates of his armor shifted with quiet menace. He picked up the helmet, running a thumb along the edge of the T-shaped visor. Faint smudges remained—fingerprints of the wounded he'd carried, and the dying he hadn't been able to save.

He walked to the door, but stopped just short. For a moment, he simply stood there, cradling the helmet in both hands, head bowed.

"Strength is for others," he murmured—an old proverb from Anteevy.

Then, with a practiced motion, he slid the helmet on. The seal hissed. The HUD flickered to life.

War called.

Mandalore was here to answer.

​

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

Objective I​

Tag: Ze'bast Verd Zee Caromed Hanna​

The work the Mandalorian Knights had put into tracking down Harrow had been long and extensive. While Adonis wasn't on the forefront of the discovery, he was apart of the Knights, and when one struggled, all struggled. The Mandalorians were a tight knit group of warriors. While he was with the Knights while they searched for their mark, he would also be with them to celebrate when they severed Harrow from this life and the Nether. Sealing the fate and legacy of The Mandalorian Empire for Mandalore, and further, for all Mandalorians. Adonis Angelis IV was very proud of his vod.

As the ship approached their destination, a million thoughts raced through Adonis's head. He flashed through himself becoming a man among the Mandalorians, even in the short time he had been there, he had seen the entire thing through with his brothers and sisters. He may have been a legal adult before this, but nothing matures you faster than watching those you are supposed to be protecting die over and over again. It hardened something in him, locking away his immaturity and reinforcing the strict moral code he proudly sported. Then he thought of the future, and what the Mandalorians would be doing after this, restoring their worlds to their former beauty, burying the dead, and hugging their loved ones. The last thought as he locked his focus onto the task before him was the thought of peace, after all this time, a chance for rest.

Before rest would come the storm, however, and he would have to fight and kill- again- before he was able to sleep a wink. One of the things Adonis had done as the war progressed was upgrade his armor. He had started in ceremonial armor of House Angelis, equipped with the blazing eight pointed star etched into the chest piece. Over time, that armor had more holes than could be patched, and he would need to remake it. That would require going back to Vaal, and that was something that he wasn't able to do until they burried Harrow. So for now, he was equipped in a standard loadout of heavy armor for a Mandalorian. The only difference was he also had his lightsaber on his hip, ready to go for close combat warfare.

Slung across his hip was the heavy repeater that the Empire had given him, and on his back was a heavy backpack filled to the brim with ammunition. The loadout was quite heavy, but Mandalorians were never weak. Adonis had become quite the muscular man during his time at war, leading to him being able to bear the weight of the loadout more easily than some. He wouldn't be able to run around forever, but he had a good control of his body in the armor.

As the Mandalorians ripped through the defenses of Harrow's ship, Adonis prepared himself for what was about to go down. The entirety of the Manda would rain hellfire down upon this cretin. Adonis and his brothers and sisters would drive the blade into the serpent's heart, and end this unholy war once and for all. Or he would die trying. Mandalorians of all houses and rank poured out into the ship, each hitting with the weight of a thousand suns. Adonis was no different, standing next to his brothers and sisters, spraying the horde down with bullets, clearing room for the others to advance. This was where he was meant to be, this was where he was forged.

 

[Vaux Gred]

Tags: Open​

Ships: Agitator (Agitator-class Artillery Cruiser), Void Guard and Squall (Shield-class Escort Cruisers), 2x GF-4 Stinger squadrons (24) (Including a re-equipt Talyc squadron), 2x HB-1 Hssiss Heavy Bomber squadrons (8), 2x DF-1 Scarab squadrons (48)

Vaux sat in the Void Guard's hanger as the small Gred detachment exited hyperspace. She was in her GF-4, Tal'Galaar II, waiting for the call to launch. Painted blood red, just like the old TwinTail she use to fly. She then got the call in for Agitator's AI, Agi.

"We're about to exit hyperspace. Active flak on engage, and watch for the walls on takeoff pilots." Vaux smiled, switching her comm over.

"You heard him! Watch the hail on the way out. We may not've been here to start it, but we can help finish it!" As if on cue, the cruiser force left hyperspace, and puffs of black smoke and shrapnel filled the space ahead. Fighters, bombers, and drones flew out from the escort cruisers, flying under the flak wall as they prepared to engage. At the same time, the main cannon of the Agitator charged, sending a high speed particle bolt into the first detected enemy ship.

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Objective III
Allies: ME
Enemies: Unknown

There were places Aren was meant to be, and there were places she wasn't. Among these men and women, she was accepted even if she was not one of them. They welcomed her, used her skill, but did not exploit her. Everything she did was paid for, and they were gaining her respect as she hoped she was gaining theirs. The floating husk of the station was in front of her as she joined in the movement of people.

Each of them had their place and mission here. She brought her desire to know more and her tools to break into the dead system. Without power, it might make things difficult for some, but not for Aren. She didn't need that to gain access to the components that enabled this station to be operational.

What was waiting for her? She would know soon enough.

 

[Zahran Khaldun]

O B J E C T I V E II
V O I D F I R E

Zahran looked over the details of the Writ of Iron. Harrow and his 'Shadow Fleet' were a threat to this new Mandalorian Empire. A handsome payment was guaranteed from the Writ, provided by Mand'alor himself. It was not the reward that Zahran was after, but the reputation and glory. He needed this to be entered into the annals of history. So he brought his 'Crescent Fleet'. Four retrofitted Ubrikkian frigates painted a cream ivory color. Commodore Kahldun's flagship, the Dark Crescent, along with Sable Grace, Chain of Providence, and the Serpent's Mercy.

The four Ubrikkian frigates came into real space in perfect formation. On the Bridge of the Dark Crescent, Khaldun stood at the prow, looking at the Shadow Fleet as if he were a statue forged of bronze. His Ivory colored uniform, which matched the uniforms of his officers and men, made him look like he just stepped out of some history book, straight from a lost Gilded Era before the time of Jedi and Sith. They would be the vanguard on this attack.

"Launch the fighters!" He ordered, not turning away from the viewport as he spoke.

The frigates, ancient-looking, ivory colored, and rusted, birthed entire wings of fighters ready to meet the enemy. Matching the color of the frigates, the Ivory colored interceptors and fighters emerged from the belly of these ancient ships, leaving large trails of black smoke behind them. Quickly, the squadrons called in.

"This Commodore Khaldun of the Crescent Fleet, all squadron leaders report in!"

Commodore, this is Mirage Leader standing by.
This is Dagger Leader standing by.
This is Baron Leader... standing by.
This is Scimitar Leader standing by.
This is Gilded Leader standing by.

Khaldun listened as each of the fighter squadron reported in. He turned to the officers on the bridge. "Have the Sable Grace flank to the left and the Chain of Providence flank to the right. Dark Crescent and Serpent's Mercy, along with the fighter squadrons, will launch a direct front assault."

The Crescent Fleet surged forward towards the Shadow Fleet. Khaldun raised a gloved hand. The Dark Crescent's prow opened like a fanged blossom. Ion and laser fire lanced out from the side of the ships. Ivory colored fighters rushed in to intercept any enemy fighters and launch their missiles at enemy bridges.

 

[Runi Kuryida]

OBJECTIVE I: INTO THE MAW

"Knights, hold back the scourge from our vod and tear through the enemy ranks," their Warmaster broadcast from one of the ships separate from Aether's so Harrow wouldn't have an easy time of taking out Mandalorian Command. Runi had briefed them ahead of time she would not personally lead them on the station. The mystic barrier created to contain their quarry to this region and level of space required careful attention. She couldn't coordinate spiritual defenses if she were busy grappling with physical threats -- and there would be plenty of those to keep the Mandalorians from reaching Harrow.

They were skilled warriors. Runi would reward them with exploring their abilities and its history once they finished here.

Those that checked in would receive direction as needed, of course. Runi wasn't the only one in the control center to help coordinate such a massive strike. None needed their dropship or boarding vessel to collide with an over eager Supercommando. Direction would also be needed to avoid the awakening enemy fleet as well. To say nothing of friendly firing solutions.

Yes, the sector was about to get quite hot.

"No quarter. For Mandalore. For the Manda. For our People!" With ships setting sail, Runi ended the transmission and checked on the spiritual net cast over the region. Quite a large number of Knights and Spiritspeakers were pouring energy to keep it in place against such a powerful adversary. It might have been slightly easier had Vytal Noctura not decided to join those in the field; but the Dathomiri woman felt it important someone be there when Harrow was felled to verify the deed was done before their trap was removed. The longer it took to verify the kill, the more likely some of their own would be killed believing the fiend dead.

Ze'bast Verd | Zee Caromed | Hanna | Adonis Angelis IV | Mandalorian Knights​

 

[Vytal Noctura]

OBJECTIVE I: INTO THE MAW
​

"Go!" Vytal shot through the hatch and to one side to get out of the way of the Mandalorian warriors that'd been behind her on the ship. Fingers splayed open, the Witch drew upon the lifefire of the cosmos to set one and then another monstrosity ablaze. "Keep moving!" she shouted. Most of them were experienced enough not to need told what to do -- by a Nightsister no less -- but it need said. The more of their number out of the ship and laying down fire the fewer the enemy there would remain. Some of them knew Vytal was no stranger to the battlefield, but not all. Nonetheless, they were all professionals and there were enemies to be put down so no time to worry about trivial matters.

Her role wasn't to lay waste to the enemy single handedly. Vytal was there for Harrow. Until they found that putrid monster, however, she would keep an eye out for his machinations. They might have him cornered, but Harrow was not of the living as his adversaries were. Perhaps, in time, he thought it worthwhile to crush the entire station in the palm of his hand like a tin can? Take all of them with him. It wouldn't be the first time a monster thought as much, and Harrow seemed the type -- victory at any cost. Against that the Nightmother was there to counter such table-flipping moves so the Mandalorians could crush their enemies in whatever way they knew best.

Ze'bast Verd | Zee Caromed | Hanna | Adonis Angelis IV | Harrow | OPEN​

 

[Sanguina Krev]

Objective III - Constrain Harrow

Tag: OPEN

Aboard the Resolute Dawn, while the dropships spilled from it's hangers, a chamber off of the bridge remained sealed. Out of its single transparasteel portal, the derelict station hung in space, a deceptive husk. But there were those who knew it was a lie, they felt it.

While some of their kind accompanied the vod storming the station, like Runi Kuryida and her Knights, and the Nethermancer Vytal Noctura , others gathered near the bridges of the main capital ships. They strove to hamstring Harrow, to leave him bereft of his precious Nether minions.

Sanguina had spent days preparing. Seeking, divining, gathering. Many vod donated their own blood, Mandalorians who's vitae carried the generations of Mandalorians within it, tied to the unified spirits of the glorified dead that was the Manda. Even some who's blood was not rooted in Mandalorian history, like Athena Faar , who's blood carried the midichlorians of her jungle-dwelling ancestors on Haruun Kal. Their gifts would help weave strands of the net the Spiritspeakers would cast over the enemy.

With a few others, Sanguina worked in silence, only the muttered incantations of the Spiritspeakers was heard, each in their own way. The blood shaman had cut open her own palm, dipping the pad of her thumb in it to smear a ritual smudge of blood on her chin and forehead. Like sanguine channels for the spirits of her ancestors, Sanguina's cryptic syllables summoned their otherworldly power to aid them in hemming in Harrow's power.

But that was only the anchor. Poured from one vessel into another, the vitae of her donors would be the conduit for innumberable ancestors, Mandalorian, Korun, and others. Through the crimson fluid of the living, the dead would lend their power to the shaman's magic. She, in turn, would layer hers upon that of other elders, knights and initiates, until a multi-faceted quilt of magick was cast over the battle, a metaphysical binding that each shaman, witch, druid and sorcerer would have to struggle to maintain against the hate-filled might of their enemy.

Already, beads of sweat gathered on her smooth brow, even in the cooler air of the temp controlled chamber. Sanguina no longer peered out of the portal, her fight was not out there. Her eyes slid closed as her mind's eye traveled the metaphysical strands of magick, of the Force, even of darkness. Seeing the strain, the slack, the flailing, the failing, reaching to bolster, to bind, to reinforce where necessary to deny Harrow his Nether reach.

 

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

OBJECTIVE I - INTO THE MAW

The weight of the Gravesong War pressed on Aether as the Basilisk dropped from the hangar of the Resolute Dawn, engines screaming against the pull of the void. The virus of the damned had seeped into every corner of the galaxy, crawling from the grave and clawing at worlds with the promise of endless rot. Mandalore had bled for this. Clan sons and daughters fell in deserts, forests, aboard starships, and within the iron halls of their own cities. No world was beyond the reach of the dead, and if they did not end it here, the entire galaxy would one day share that cold fate.

As the Basilisk roared into the abyss, Aether felt the pulse of the ritual held steady by the Spiritspeakers and Knights aboard the Dawn. Sanguina’s blood rites and the layered discipline of Runi and their peers spread like a net across the void, a silent covenant with the Manda itself. In the drifting layers of that net, he sensed the burning focus of Vytal Noctura, the Nightsister’s fire pressing against the darkness with the quiet promise of retribution, a vigilant flame ready to catch should the abyss try to swallow them whole.

He reached into the Manda, the breath of his will brushing against theirs with a wordless promise of fortitude and gratitude. They carried the burden of holding Harrow in this place, and for that, Mandalore would remember.

Fire lit the dark as the Shadow Fleet raked the sky, but the Basilisk shifted between debris and twisting flak, its claws gripping onto the hull of Station Dazac before leaping clear into the hangar below. It landed heavily behind the line of Supercommandos and Caromed warriors, the deck groaning beneath its armored mass. Aether’s visor swept over the battlefield, seeing Ze’bast and the Supercommandos cutting a path of ruin, a vanguard worthy of every song yet to be written. His voice crackled over the comms, firm and filled with the steel that had carried Mandalore through every trial.

“Well done, brother. Well done, all of you! You have opened the way!”

Blaster fire echoed as he advanced, the Basilisk’s cannons belching red-hot bolts into the creatures that dared rise against them. Beside him, the determination of Adonis burned bright as the young Knight brought death to the rotting thralls. Zee Caromed’s medics moved with precision, rifles steady even as they pulled wounded clear, the spirit of service as sharp as any blade. Hanna’s weapons roared, cutting down twisted Varzigs with speed and finality, her skates dancing across the ruin with lethal grace. Aether keyed a command to one of his own warriors to keep the channel clear, ready for any who might need a medivac from the Warrior-Doctor Ladante.

The hangar floor shuddered as a fresh wave of undead clawed their way from the shadows, joined by twisted beasts stitched from flesh and darkness, howling with unholy hunger. The Basilisk’s turrets turned, unleashing torrents of plasma into the horde as it advanced, crushing limbs and shattering bone. Aether rose from the saddle, twin blaster pistols barking in each hand as he fired into the tide, cutting down abominations with each disciplined pull of the trigger. Red bolts scorched the dark, bodies falling in pieces as the Mandalorians pressed forward.

His voice rose above the roar of engines and the screams of the damned, carried across every channel.

“Warriors of Mandalore, push forward! Let the dead know who holds the blade! For Mandalore! For the Manda!”

The Basilisk roared as it surged ahead, and the warriors of Mandalore followed, fire and steel crashing into the darkness, carrying the promise of an end to the Gravesong once and for all.​

Sanguina Krev , Vytal Noctura , Runi Kuryida , Zahran Khaldun , Aren D'Shade , Vaux Gred , Adonis Angelis IV , Ladante Mamba , Hanna , Zee Caromed , Ze'bast Verd

 

[Harrow]

MORIANA ONE
"You think you understand war??? Let me show you the truth!"​

The Force coiled around Harrow like iron chains, biting into his essence as the net of the Mandalorians tightened with slow, deliberate cruelty. It was not only his freedom they sought to steal but the fullness of his power, the vast reservoir of the Nether pressed and pinched until each breath of his will came harder than the last. Mirthless laughter, sharp and venomous, crackled from his throat as he sat within the cold light of the bridge. They thought themselves righteous, daring to bind him in the dark that he had mastered before their ancestors had even crawled from the dust.

Harrow lifted a hand, and the shadows responded with eager hunger. Before him, a projection of pure shadow bloomed into shape, a living tapestry of the battle unfolding outside. The clash of his Shadow Fleet against the Mandalorian lines played out in shades of black and crimson, each vessel a piece upon the board that only he could truly see. He moved a single clawed finger, and the dance began.

The Gred fighters and bombers surged forward with a warrior’s courage, only to be met with the merciless bite of his fleet’s flak and point-defense batteries. Trails of fire marked the void where ambition collided with cold reality. The Agitator’s main cannon roared, slamming into the hull of one of Harrow’s ancient warships, cracking steel and tearing rents into the vessel’s side. Yet the shadows crawled across the damage, knitting metal and flesh together until the wound was nothing more than a memory, and Harrow’s lips twisted with quiet disdain. Two blighted Imperial Star Destroyers turned their colossal guns, and streams of green fire reached for the Agitator, promising to test the resolve of those who thought they could challenge the dark.

Elsewhere, Zahran’s Crescent Fleet cut forward with calculated precision, the ivory hulls of his retrofitted frigates marking them as relics of another age. The initial strikes of ion weaponry rattled shields and left starfighters drifting dead in the void, but Harrow’s fleet was tireless, and the game was only beginning. Fighters and interceptors surged forward in a fresh wave, black wings cutting through space as two escort cruisers adjusted their headings to lay down focused fire upon the Dark Crescent. The dance of squadrons began, a deadly spiral of missile trails and laser fire, each pilot an ember burning bright before it was snuffed in the cold expanse of the void.

The projection shifted, flowing with his will as he extended his sense across the station. Within the labyrinthine halls of Dazac, shadows shifted around the intruder who dared to slip into the belly of his realm. Aren might have thought herself unseen, moving through the dark with her tools and her resolve, but the darkness was his, and Harrow saw her as clearly as if she stood before him, each breath marked, each heartbeat counted. He did not unleash the jaws of death upon her yet. Let her move. Let her see what she wished to see. Knowledge, after all, carried its own price.

He stood from the throne, shadow projection gliding after him, suspended by the leash of his will alone. If the Mandalorians wished to trap him, to force him into a cage built of faith and fire, then he would teach them the price of such insolence. His steps carried him down through the bowels of the station, the shadows parting as he advanced, rallying the beasts that stalked the dark and the undead who had sworn their service to the silence of the grave. They gathered around him, chittering, snarling, their claws and fangs gleaming in the flickering lights of the failing station.

The Gravesong began to sound.

A hellish din like a twisted accordion burst through the Force, reverberating through every skull and mind, a song of madness that clawed at the edges of reason. It was a reminder that this was his world, a reminder that the rules here were his to command. The music of the dead carried with it the cold promise that if the Mandalorians wanted war, then they would find it, not in the clean lines of fleets and the honor of blades, but in the shrieking madness of a god of the grave, dragging them inch by inch into the abyss.

As Harrow descended toward the hangar, his laughter echoed through the corridors, joining the Gravesong in a symphony of coming slaughter.

Sanguina Krev , Vytal Noctura , Runi Kuryida , Zahran Khaldun , Aren D'Shade , Vaux Gred , Adonis Angelis IV , Ladante Mamba , Hanna , Zee Caromed , Ze'bast Verd​

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

Objective I

Tag: Ze'bast Verd Zee Caromed Vytal Noctura Runi Kuryida Hanna Aether Verd

The hangar thundered beneath his boots.

Aether's voice cracked through the comms like a blade striking an anvil. "You have opened the way." Adonis surged forward, the heavy repeater braced at his waist, its recoil bucking against him with each controlled burst. Another wave of rotters screamed out from the shadows, twisted limbs, hollow sockets where eyes should have been, jaws slack with hunger. He cut them down without hesitation, muzzle sweeping side to side as he advanced.

The Basilisk roared ahead, tearing through the enemy line as Mandalorians flooded in behind it. Ze'bast and the Supercommandos hit like a meteor strike, their formation tight and unrelenting. Behind them, medics pulled the wounded clear of the fray without pause, their rifles barking between triage. The line moved, and the enemy buckled. No one waited for silence...there would be none. Not until Harrow was dead.

Adonis felt the pressure building in the Force. Something unnatural clawed at the edge of reason. He didn't need to be a mystic to sense it- every breath felt tighter, every heartbeat louder. The net they'd cast was holding, but the thing it held was straining. Vytal's flame pulsed through the storm. The Spiritspeakers held the barrier with grit and blood. The Manda itself thrummed with tension.

Then came the Gravesong.

Not music. Not truly. It crept behind his thoughts, slithered through the cracks in his focus. It whispered in a tongue made of grief and hunger. It didn't scream, itt invited. Beneath it all was the slow, dragging pull of surrender. His HUD blurred, but before he could blink twice it cleared.

He opened his comms. "Bal kote, darasuum kote, jorso'ran kando a tome. Sa kyr'am Nau tracyn kad, Vode an."

The words came rough in his mouth, his accent not quite native, but the conviction behind them was unmistakable. A warrior's promise, spoken like someone who had bled enough to mean it. It was an excerpt from the Vode an, a Mandalorian battle cry that Adonis had learned on the front lines.

He slammed a fresh power pack into the repeater, barrel scorched and trembling. Shadows moved again in the distance, but he advanced, steady and unflinching. "Stay close, tight angles. No hesitation."

Red bolts lanced into the dark as the Mandalorians pressed forward. Armor scraped armor, rifles hissed, blades flashed in flickers of light. The tempo had shifted. They were not just holding, they were winning. Harrow could feel it. Adonis could feel him.

His hand hovered near the lightsaber at his hip. Not yet, but soon.

"For Vaal," he said under his breath. "For Mandalore."

Let the void come.

They would burn its name out of history.

 

[Siv Kryze]

​

"The dead will answer to Mandalore."

The void welcomed him with fire.

As the Dreadwolf burst from hyperspace, its stealth systems were already cycling, hull shimmering like heat off a forge. No triumphant arrival. Just the ripple of mass and grav-wake disturbing the battlefield's edge.

In the distance, the fury of Mandalore was already in full bloom.

The Agitator's ion core flared as it released another salvo, its AI barking out targeting data across encrypted channels. Crescent Fleet, with its regal, ghost-white hulls, had closed ranks and loosed squadrons like birds of prey. Smoke and blood traced the path of Vaux's fighters, sharp and fast, weaving death beneath the flak lines.

Siv stood at the edge of the Dreadwolf's bridge, gauntleted hands resting on the rail before the smartscreen. He said nothing at first. He only watched—his gaze locked not on the chaos, but on the pattern beneath it.

The Shadow Fleet had awakened. Harrow's monstrous vessels moved with a puppeteer's precision, guided by something more than instinct. Something wrong.

The Mandalorians had pushed forward.

Now it was time to bleed their enemies from the shadows.

"This is Kryze," he transmitted across the Mando fleetwide secure band. His voice was calm, clipped, unmistakably Mandalorian. "Dreadwolf has exited hyperspace. Engaging under stealth."

He left it at that.

No orders. No grand plan. Let the others do what they did best. He was not a commander in this moment. He was a knife. A reminder.

The Direwolf-class cruiser pivoted low beneath a drift of wreckage, ghosting past the ruined shell of a GA frigate—now just scrap and forgotten bones. Siv traced the wake of a Shadow destroyer attempting to flank the Squall. Its weapon banks were building charge, preparing to punch a hole in the escort line.

Too slow.

The Dreadwolf emerged from behind the wreck, cloak dropping just long enough. A single spread of stiletto torpedoes launched from the prow, cutting across the destroyer's spine in a clean surgical arc.

By the time its shields failed, Dreadwolf had already vanished again.

Siv leaned back slightly, adjusting the view on his interface. The HUD fed him heat traces, flight paths, squadron trails. Enough to read the tempo.

"Let them dance," he murmured.

He walked back toward the CIC without looking away from the screen, the whisper of grav-boot steps lost beneath the hum of the ship's low orbit drift.

Harrow would know he was here.

But not from his voice.

From the silence that followed.​

 

[Zee Caromed]

OBJECTIVE I: Into The Maw - Station Dazac Hangar

GRAVESONG.

Harrow's call was enough to split Zee's skull, and it was only by virtue of stubborn armor and the warrior beside him that he did not fall to a knee as the Song tore through his mind. Force trained but not powerful, cultivated by someone who freely made use of the Dark Side and had not equipped Zee with the tools to fight off the call of oblivion and fury, he was poorly suited to this specific issue.

It was his first time encountering Harrow's Gravesong. How foul it was, to come across somebody who treated the sacred rest of death as cruelly as he did the precious gift of life.

Shaking his head to clear away the cobwebs, Zee launched himself forward just in time to stop one of his medics from being marauded by a zombie - bringing his rifle butt down on the monstrosity's head to drive it back, followed by a burst into center mass. When that failed to finish the job, the svelte medic hopped backwards, slung his rifle, and brought his fists up into a tight boxing stance. A swift cross on the jaw, a jab between the eyes, and then a spinning kick sent the zombie further back - where thankfully a commando finished it off.

Zee didn't have time to be satisfied. He helped the healer beside him to his feet, and then resumed pushing forward. The wounded and dead would not be left to Harrow, Zalke decided. Should the worst happen and they failed to end the threat - the least he could do would be to grant the fallen the gift of eternal rest, free of slavery.


​

 

[Vytal Noctura]

​

Vytal flowed through the throngs of warriors as they took positions in the hanger to lay suppressing fire on the enemy. In short order they advanced into the enemy's ranks, and they in the Mandalorian's. Nether energy lanced and sliced into the horrors to sever their connection from Beyond. The close quarters made wide-spread effects extremely difficult, and with the hanger an absolute mess there was no time for her to conjure an intricate weaving. Not that the warriors would have thanked her for annihilating the enemy -- one couldn't hone their craft against inanimate corpses.

Once Harrow reached out with its mind-grating 'song,' however, the Nightmother switched from aiding in combat to monitoring their spiritual well-being. Her hand would tap a warrior's shoulder or back with a quick glance to make sure her counter-charm helped those that struggled to find their footing under the assault. Not all of them needed it, but not all were versed in spiritual pressure either; Vytal would be there for those that needed it.

Adonis Angelis IV and Zee Caromed were among those that hadn't needed her help. They'd struggled under the initial pressure, but found a place to stand and took the next step forward. They were a testament to their people. Aether Verd she hadn't even looked for amidst the chaos of battle. She knew of his personal training, and how he'd handled Harrow's influence previously. His stalwart presence would inspire the host while Adonis and Zee would hold that line.

The pale woman stopped and turned. She tapped the commlink on her belt as her emerald eyes stared. "Enemy Commander in motion." It wasn't certain yet, but it seemed he was headed in their direction as well. Perhaps their conflict would reach its crescendo sooner than expected.

Adonis Angelis IV | Ze'bast Verd | Zee Caromed | Hanna | Aether Verd​

 

[Ze'bast Verd]

Benediction​

OBJECTIVE I: Into The Maw - Station Dazac

A firm determination continued to grow within the supercommandos. What once was a crowded hangar became more manageable as time passed. All that came before them sank to the ground as polish for their boots. Each step one more toward their adversaries' damnation. Their weaponry spoke a familiar language all Mandalorians knew well…death. Not one of necromancy, but of a language they wove into their symphony. If their enemy was just going to throw bodies at them, they would surely give them final rest.

The voice of the Mand’alor cut through their mics as it broke through the sounds of war. A smile spread across his face. If he could be anywhere in the galaxy, he was glad that he was right here supporting his vod. All his life training and experiences had brought him right here where the Manda wanted him. That alone was enough to be appreciative of where he stood. Leading the way for others was what he was more than happy to do. Even more so, he did it from the frontlines.

Blaster bolts would land like a hammer to hot iron fresh out of the smelter as they cleaved flesh from bone. Undead and sithspawn fell to the ground one after the other as he kept his eyes on the prize. They were getting ever closer. Ze’bast’s squad repeating blaster began to overheat from all the friction from the projectiles that passed through it. There was no time to let it cool. A quick movement with his hands would have the weapon sheathed on his back.

“We’re almost there! We need a big push. Rush their lines!” he called out over the comms to his siblings-in-arms.

A lightsaber was called to his hand through the Force. The deep orange blade ignited as the group of supercommandos crashed into the line of enemies within their grasp. Delivering carnage was what they were good at. Arguably, he wanted them to be the fiercest warriors within the Mandalorian Empire.

Only if it were that easy.

A familiar song played that was not of Mandalorian making. The Gravesong rattled within him as he squinted as a reaction. Reaching deep down for the familiar feeling of the Manda’s comforting embrace, Ze’bast would shield his mind from the song’s effects. He vigilantly moved across the frontlines cutting through their enemies. The orange blade cutting through those attempted to force themselves upon “his” vanguard. The man was a warrior first and foremost. Deep secrets within the force weren’t something he completely relied on as much as how fast he brutally swung his blade.

Losing anyone of the vanguard wasn’t something he desired. Today wasn’t a day he was willing to let such a thing happen. Many of them were pushing through their own pains and struggles. At least, he could give them more of a fighting chance than they already had.

TAGS: Vytal Noctura / Aether Verd / Adonis Angelis IV / Zee Caromed / Hanna