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

[Kuben Woods]

"When all hope is lost… send me."
​

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OBJECTIVE I
LOCATION: Station Dazac – Hangar Bay
OBJECTIVE: Neutralize primary threat; reinforce Mandalorian line
Tag: Vytal Noctura , Adonis Angelis IV , Ze'bast Verd , Zee Caromed , Hanna , Aether Verd

Spoiler: Theme

​

Kuben sat in silence, unmoving, staring into the face of his helmet as the dropship shook and rattled. Outside, debris scraped across the hull, muffled impacts of missed shots thudding against the deflectors, or the pilot throwing them into evasive maneuvers to reach their landing zone. None of it registered.

His eyes lingered on the red spot painted on the helmet's forehead, a mark of burden, of sin, a warning to keep others at arm's length. He was not like the men around him. They laughed, traded boasts, checked weapons in an eager rhythm born of brotherhood. Kuben remained still, apart. A monster made for war.

And in the depths of his mind, it laughed.

A low, rolling chuckle, coiling in his skull like smoke. The voice knew, whatever waited inside that cursed station, it felt it too. It was waiting, grinning.

This isn't like the other times, is it? Not the skirmishes. Not the close calls where you clung to your precious discipline. This is different. You'll break.

The sound of the intercom barked him back into the moment.

"Two minutes!"

Kuben turned the helmet in his hands, then locked it into place with a hiss of pressurizing seals. His visor flickered to life, crimson light cutting through the dimness of the dropship. Slowly, he looked to the men behind him. Eager faces. Some familiar, most not. All soldiers. All vod.

Victory today would not be secured by gods, magic, or the Force. It would come from the strength of these warriors, their unity and their resolve. Kuben's words were quick and sharp.

"Brothers, our comrades hold the landing zone with blood and iron. Even now, they battle the enemy that has beset your homes, your families, our people. This foe is tough, cunning, but not invincible. Stick together. Watch each other. Fight like your lives depend on it because they do. Do this, and we'll see this day won."

The ship lurched, repulsors firing hard as it dropped into the hangar. The hull shuddered violently as they slammed down, a hiss of hydraulics marking the ramp's release.

Kuben walked into the storm; not with haste, not with fury. Each step was deliberate, measured. Smoke curled around his boots as crimson light burned in his visor.

"Mando'ade, forward!"

His voice cut through comms like steel as the double column advanced past him, blaster fire blazing into the chaos. Squads split off in disciplined lines, taking up firing positions across the battlefield. Kuben's orders came sharp and precise:

"First squad, frontline. Support Adonis and Ze'bast. Second squad, protect the medics. Third and fourth, reinforce the flanks."

The hangar was a nightmare: fire, smoke, and the shriek of the Gravesong gnawing at the edges of every warrior's mind. Even Kuben could feel its clawing touch—but for him, it brought something worse. The shadow in his mind laughed louder now, feeding on the darkness that drenched the air like a poison fog.

Such delightful pain. Such exquisite suffering. And this tune, oh, it's beautiful. I suggest you hurry, Kuben… before I decide for you.

His eyes flared. He was on a ticking clock, but he would not let fear guide him. To give in was to be lost, and Mandalore needed its monsters alive, not consumed.

His gaze swept the battlefield until it found the creature. A massive, otherworldly beast lumbering toward the center of the Mandalorian line. It was an anchor, a wedge that could break their advance if left unchecked. Kuben moved, each step matching the beast's pace as he closed the distance, a determined walk would ensure that he arrived at Adonis's side before it did. He didn't wait for Aether's orders. He knew where he was needed. The claws on his gauntlets slid free with a metallic hiss. Shadows coiled around his frame, licking at his armor as his eyes burned like the fires of hell.

The voice in his head whispered eagerly. Take the power. End it in fire. Show them all what you are.

But Kuben didn't yell a challenge. He didn't curse the shadow circling in his skull, tempting him with absolute power. Instead, he remembered the words of his old drill sergeant:

"When all hope is lost, when we're out of ammo, weapons, reinforcements, and everything else is gone… who shall go forth for us? Who shall I send?"

Here I am. Send me.

 

[Aiden Wolf]

Return of the Prodigal Son
​

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OBJECTIVE II
LOCATION: Station Dazac – Hangar Bay
OBJECTIVE: Neutralize primary threat; reinforce Mandalorian line
Tag: Ladante Mamba , Vaux Gred , Zahran Khaldun , Siv Kryze , [OPEN]

Spoiler: Theme

On the edge of Mandalorian sensor ranges, a disturbance rippled through the void.

A hyperspace rupture.

Four ships emerged from the darkness—a battered flotilla slipping back into realspace like ghosts. Two gunboats led the formation, flanked by a pair of cruisers whose hulls bore the scars of countless battles. Their livery was faded, the gold, silver, and violet trim barely visible beneath the carbon scoring and patchwork repairs. Once, these ships must have been majestic. Now, they looked… tired.

But not broken.

Two emblems still shone defiantly against the darkness:

On one cruiser, a golden eagle edged in silver and royal violet.

On the other, a snarling black wolf's head, crimson background bleeding like a wound.

Aboard the wolf-emblazoned cruiser's bridge, the air vibrated with controlled urgency. Klaxons wailed softly as crew donned battered combat suits, sealing helmets with the hiss of atmosphere checks.

Two figures stood apart from the flurry of activity:

One wore the insignia and uniform of a ship captain, a scar running across his jaw.

The other, a man in a black jumpsuit and a helmet marked by a glowing red X across its visor, remained still, silent, hands clasped loosely behind his back.

"This is where we tracked the signal?" the man in black asked quietly.

"Aye, Commander," replied the captain.

"Mandalorians…" The word rolled off his tongue with a faint, unreadable edge before the sensors screamed.

"Contact! Same waveform signature as the Rift."

The captain's jaw tightened. "General quarters. All hands to battle stations. Black, Red, and Gold squadrons, launch immediately."

Crew nodded crisply, moving like a machine of flesh and steel long-practiced in these routines. Fighters screamed down launch rails, catapults hurling them into the void where Shadow Fleet vessels loomed like carrion birds. Missile trails and laser fire flashed in rapid staccato as the mercs fell into a defensive screen, their formation ragged but disciplined.

On the bridge, a young tech murmured into his headset. "EWAR reading a large waveform spike from the station, Commander. It's… bad. Our shielding's holding, but those poor bastards down there—"

A faint curse escaped the captain. His eyes flicked to the man in black. They both knew this song.

The Rift hadn't let them go. Not fully.

"Kerensky, you have the con," said the man in black at last. His voice was low, calm, and carried a weight that settled across the bridge like lead. "Communications, open a channel. Broadcast on wideband."

"You're squawking in the open, sir."

"I know." He paused before speaking into the comms, gathering himself before addressing anyone who might be listening.

"This is Commander Aiden Wolf of the Dire Wolves Mercenary Company. To any living forces in the area… do you require assistance?

 

[Hanna]

Location: Hangar Bay - Station Dazac
Thread Objective: I - Into the Maw
Mission Objective: Secure the hangar bay.
Tag: Ze'bast Verd Zee Caromed Adonis Angelis IV Runi Kuryida Vytal Noctura Aether Verd Harrow

The Mand’alor’s Basilisk arrived just as the hulking Iron Demon entered the hangar bay proper, its towering form looming over the snarling Varzigs, undead, and twisted monstrosities of various types that made up the bulk of the defenders. Hanna sped into cover with her skates, at which point the Basilisk’s cannons unleashed searing lances of crimson fire into the teeming hordes, ripping through flesh, sinew, carapace, and bone in the process.

Clearing a path through the chaos for Hanna to attack.

The beast gave a pained, feral roar, as it charged to meet the vanguard of Supercommandos. Disruptor fire cratered its flanks, vaporizing chunks of ultra-dense carapace out of its resilient hide. Hanna zipped around it in an arc, repulsorlift skates propelling her at blistering pace as the monster rose from its compromised position before turning around to face her.

Then, came the Gravesong.

Hanna screamed as the song pulsed in her awareness. It wasn’t sound. It was violence given voice—a twisted, shrieking chorus that tore at her mind. Her world fractured into prismatic shards, exploding into bursts of color and half-formed monstrosities. The Qilin crashed to the deck, tumbling until the hangar bay’s wall slammed into her ribs, driving the wind from her lungs.

Gasping, she clawed at the floor. Her vision swam, her skull a drum for the Song’s malignant rhythm.

The Iron Demon loomed.

Its maw split in a grin of jagged bone as it closed in, each step shaking the ground.

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)

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

Objective I​

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

Adonis slammed another power pack into the repeater, chamber steaming as it hissed against the metal casing. The Mandalorian line was holding, slowly carving its way forward through wave after wave of undead, and the rhythm of fire and movement had settled into something brutal but familiar. His muscles burned from the strain, armor scuffed and heavy, but there was no thought of slowing down, only the next step, the next shot, the next threat.

Then Hanna went down.

He saw her just as the repulsorlift skates cut out beneath her. One moment she was arcing around the edge of the fight with perfect momentum, the next she was slamming into the hangar wall, motionless, gasping for air. The Iron Demon turned toward her like it had been waiting for the moment, its hulking body shedding smoke and ichor from disruptor wounds that hadn't even slowed it down. It raised one massive claw, ready to crush her like an insect.

Adonis didn't hesitate.The repeater hit the deck behind him with a clang as he surged forward, the Force pulsing through his body and amplifying every step. His boots struck hard against the floor, closing the distance with speed that blurred the space between heartbeats. The Demon's strike came down just as Adonis reached her, and he took the blow full to the chest with both arms raised and armor braced.

The impact was devastating, a thundercrack that sent him skidding across the floor and into a pile of debris. His back hit first, shoulders locking against the crates as pain shot through his ribs, but he didn't fall. He planted his foot, forced himself upright, and met the beast's seven eyes with a glare that didn't waver. It saw him clearly now, not as a distraction, but as prey. Or worse, as competition.

It was drawn to him, pulled by something deeper than the Force. Pride. Not the empty kind born from ego, but the quiet, dangerous belief that he could stand between this thing and the people it wanted to destroy. The Demon felt it like a scent, and it started toward him again.

Adonis didn't move until the last possible moment.

The lightsaber snapped to his hand in a flash of blue light just as the claw came down again. He stepped into the arc, close enough that he could feel the beast's breath, and drove the blade up through the palm of its outstretched hand. The lightsaber cut slow through its armored hide, searing flesh and bone as the creature howled in pain and tore its arm back violently, thick black blood hissing where it splattered the deck.

Using the momentum, Adonis extended his free hand and shoved the Force outward in a concentrated burst, slamming into the demon's center mass and forcing it backward just enough to create distance. It staggered for the first time, not far, but enough.

He turned immediately, dropping into a crouch beside Hanna as he offered a hand and kept the saber angled defensively. His voice was calm but tight with urgency. "Come on. I've got you."

Behind them, the Iron Demon was already turning back, smoke still curling from the wound in its hand. The air felt heavy, like gravity itself was watching.

Adonis stood his ground, saber humming low and steady in his grip as he positioned himself between Hanna and the advancing beast. He wasn't planning to die here, but if that thing wanted to get through, it would have to go through him first.

 

[Vaux Gred]

Objective: II

Vaux held tight as she lead the manned squadrons around the fray of flak. Kark it all! They were smart too.

“Get the drones after those enemy squadrons! We need to get the bombers…. Kark! Ok. Tango Squadron, stick with the bombers! Talyc Squadron, we’re helping the drones paint the black red!” This wasn’t some glory hog call from Vaux. Tango had flown more cover missions, and Talyc had flown more assaults. The Agitator meanwhile would continue its own assault, the main cannon being joined by the cascade or other cannons.

“This is Agi, AI of the Agitator. Please tell me that fleet fried my scanners and a ship didn’t brush off an HPC shot!” How did it do that. How did it…. “Calm down Agi. All weapons focus down one ship. Any other fleets in the area, I’d suggest trying the same. Over burden whatever’s keeping them operational.” The captain, a spacer human, looked ahead. They needed to hold up fire.

Meanwhile, the pair of escort cruisers saw the fighters coming in, a wall of flak soon thickening between the cruisers and fighters, while the drones and Stingers began to pour in too. The bombers and their Stinger squadron would attempt to position to fire off and a full salvo of munitions into one the ships. They had to hold the line here.

Harrow Zahran Khaldun Siv Kryze
Aiden Wolf

 

[Aether Verd]

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

STATION DAZAC

The Gravesong slammed into him like a hammer to the skull.

Aether staggered a half step as the psychic howl tore across the hangar, rattling through his helmet and clawing at the edges of his mind. His offhand rose instinctively, clutching the side of his helm as the world blurred, vision fracturing into shadows and shrieking light. His teeth ground together, breath heavy behind the visor, but he did not fall. He would not fall.

Because the Darkness had dared to touch him.

It stirred the Manda within, roused it from its vigilant slumber. He had always wielded the Will with discipline, with focus, keeping his anger caged, his strength tempered. That control had served him well in war, had let him lead not as a tyrant but as a storm made steel. But this...this intrusion, this poison threading into his soul?

This was different.

He thought of the Ram’s Skull emblazoned on his pauldron. He thought of his bloodline, of House Verd. Of the drills beneath twin suns, of bruises and blood and brothers who never rose again. Of the fire that made him, and the will that never let it go cold.

He let it rise.

The snarl that tore from his throat was feral, guttural, and wholly unbidden. Behind the visor, his fangs bared, jaw clenched tight as the Manda surged outward like a flood loosed from ancient gates. The Gravesong didn’t just fall silent: it recoiled. It screamed. And he did not stop there.

Aether fed.

The power that spilled from Harrow...the rot, the agony, the corruption that stained the air and puppeted the dead...it became his. He tasted the bitterness, savored it, and broke it apart with the hunger of something greater. Through the Manda he reached out, silent and unseen, seeking the threads between the necromancer and his fleet. One by one, those connections strained under invisible pressure. And then they began to fray.

Every ounce of energy Harrow spent to command his fleet became fuel. Every scream of the grave, every whisper of the dark, became fire in Aether’s blood. He could feel it. With that power in his belly, he could move mountains. He could break the very bones of this station.

And yet, while he hunted, one of his own had nearly been claimed.

Hanna.

The Demon had risen above her like a god of violence, a colossus wreathed in death. But Adonis stood in the gap. The young Knight hurled himself into its path without hesitation, weathering its wrath, striking true, and dragging her back from the edge. They lived because he refused to let them die.

Aether’s focus snapped back into the present. He realized the advance had surged ahead of him. Zee and Ze’bast were already driving the frontline forward, Kuben reinforcing their hold with fire and command. He cursed low under his breath and pressed forward, bootfalls heavy against the steel.

“Zee. Ze’bast. Kuben. Adonis. Vytal. You have my respect. That line holds because of you.”

Then his visor locked onto the Iron Demon.

It had dared.

His hand opened and closed. In that motion, lightning bloomed inside the beast’s chest, a single spark igniting deep within the mass of hide and bone before it ruptured like a sunburst. The creature screamed, limbs flailing, stumbling back as smoke billowed from its frame. Aether gave it no quarter. He surged forward, hand outstretched, the storm at his command. He struck with fury, with judgment, with the vengeance of every Mandalorian lost to this cursed war.

When it fell, there was nothing left but ash and a memory.

He turned from the corpse, gaze lifting toward the encroaching void. He could feel it...something worse was coming. The storm had not yet peaked.

Aether keyed open the comms.

“Commander Wolf, welcome to the hunt. Continue your assault on the enemy fleet. We need that Shadow line broken now.”

His voice rolled across the Mando fleet channels next.

“All vessels! Press your attack. Do not relent. Do not give these specters time to regroup.”

And then, to the hangar:

“All warriors, tighten your formation. The worst of the storm is nearly upon us. Check your blades. Check your barrels. Hold the line.”

The Mand’alor raised his pistols, firelight dancing across his armor as he advanced through the haze. With each step, the weight of the Manda surged behind him.

They were not done yet. But soon…the enemy would be.​

Zahran Khaldun , Siv Kryze , Aiden Wolf , Adonis Angelis IV , Hanna , Ze'bast Verd , Zee Caromed , Runi Kuryida , Vytal Noctura , Aren D'Shade , Ladante Mamba + Open

 

[Harrow]

THE SHOW BEGINS
"The end comes, beyond chaos."​

MORIANA ONE

It was not supposed to be difficult.

At the height of his power, the paltry resistance of Mandalorian fleets would have been swept aside like sand in a hurricane. Their starfighters would have withered beneath his will, their ships broken upon the teeth of his Shadow Fleet with the elegance of inevitability. But now? Now the net held fast. That cursed ritual had bound him like iron. Its weave choked the abyss, clawing at the edges of his dominion, and worse, limiting him.

The Gravesong had once shattered armies. It had unraveled minds and rewritten the battlefield in his image. He had expected it to rend this war party into screaming ruin. But when the Song rose… they stood. When the notes twisted through the hangar, they did not fall. They howled back. Warriors who should have crumbled instead took another step forward. And the Nightmother...her flame flickered in their midst, shielding them from his touch.

And then he struck.

The King in Iron. The Mand’alor. Harrow felt him not only resist the Song, but drink from it. The darkness that bled from Harrow’s soul was being devoured, siphoned into something ancient, something hungry, something Verd. Threads of power that once bound Harrow to his fleet began to fray and snap beneath that unseen consumption, as if pecked apart by unseen carrion birds.

Fury bloomed in him like rot.

He turned his gaze to the stars as pain pulsed through his thoughts. One of the Shadow Fleet’s destroyers shuddered violently. A sudden surgical strike had pierced its ribs. He felt the pain. He felt the dying breath of the vessel. The Dreadwolf. That damn knife in the void. The destroyer had only remained functional because of his will alone. And now that will was being siphoned.

He shouted a wordless command across the field of his mind, turning the cannons of his fleet toward the Agitator. Its persistent, focused volleys had driven holes through his vanguard. The Shadow Fleet responded, but the tempo had changed. His formation stuttered. His advantage faltered. The Dire Wolves arrived, trailing ghosts and scars, and added to the confusion. He had no choice. He tightened the perimeter. The hangar would be sealed behind a wall of burning wrecks and defensive lines. No more aid would come from orbit. The rest…he would handle personally.

The jester laughed as he stepped into the light.

His form, at first, was almost pitiable: a frail clown with pallid skin and ribbons of flesh clinging to old bones. His painted face cracked in a smile, and that smile bloomed into madness. Then the darkness took him. It surged upward from beneath his feet, swallowing his shape in a column of shadow that pulsed like a living thing. From its depths, something else emerged.

Harrow was no longer merely a man. He was an abomination, a creature stitched from hundreds of broken lives. Arms and torsos protruded from his warped frame, faces locked in eternal anguish. Eyes blinked in every direction, mouths murmured half-formed hymns to the grave. His steps thundered across the deck, and with each movement, the Force trembled.

He laughed again.

Then he attacked.

One of his many limbs snapped forward, hurling wet, rotting masses of flesh into the Mandalorian line. Midflight, they writhed, twisted, and reshaped into demonic creatures with broken wings and chattering teeth. They hit the ground running, screaming as they charged the front. Harrow followed behind them, dragging a pair of limbs that reshaped themselves into hooked blades.

He came down on the Mandalorians with a violence born not of strategy, but of rage. His bladed arms slashed through the air, carving through armor and sending sparks into the haze. He slammed his limbs into barricades, bodies, and deck plating alike, cackling with every impact. Each step radiated malice. Each breath pulsed with hate. The Gravesong wasn’t distant now. It wasn’t lingering at the edges.

It was here.

And it wore a face of horror.​

Zahran Khaldun , Siv Kryze , Aiden Wolf , Adonis Angelis IV , Hanna , Ze'bast Verd , Zee Caromed , Runi Kuryida , Vytal Noctura , Aren D'Shade , Ladante Mamba + Open​

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Aren hadn't made it farther than the hanger and had gotten hung up on trying to advance. She had yet to find a place or her real role with these people. Except for a couple of people, she didn't know anybody very well. When they got out of this mess — if they got out of it —she would have to reach out to others.

So as it began to get dicey in her area, she used the Force to teleport as far away from this spot as she could. Yet, she still wanted to watch what was happening. Jumping away was the best choice she had made in a while, and she pulled up a crate and sat down.

She wasn't a trained fighter; she was a hacker and slicer. There was not a lick of help she would be able to do in this instance. With a slightly grumpy huff, she crossed her arms and watched the battle unfold.

 

[Kuben Woods]

"When all hope is lost… send me."
​

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OBJECTIVE I
LOCATION: Station Dazac – Hangar Bay
OBJECTIVE: Neutralize primary threat; reinforce.... KILL HARROW
Tag: Vytal Noctura , Adonis Angelis IV , Ze'bast Verd , Zee Caromed , Hanna , Aether Verd

Spoiler: Theme

Kuben held his pace as he strode forward, eyes fixed coolly on his chosen monster. He watched as another horror lunged for the Mandalorian flank—only for Adonis and Aether to intercept, their blades flashing in perfect sync to shield Hanna from death.

Adonis… so young, yet unflinching. A purer heart than most.

Kuben envied him.

It reminded him of a time before.

Before he'd been crippled, before his legs were reduced to lifeless metal.
Before he'd sold his very soul for another chance to stand, to fight, to serve.
Before....

Before you had me, the voice chuckled, coiling in the corners of his mind.

Kuben growled low in his helmet, forcing the sound out through gritted teeth. Shadows curled tighter around his frame, drawn to the Gravesong's malice like moths to flame. The Song had been a gift to the thing inside him, a chorus of pain, anguish, and hatred for it to feed on. Where Kuben had once barely kept the monster caged, here… he knew it was inevitable.

As he reached the front, the great beast paused. Its many eyes fixed on him, regarding him not as prey, but as another predator.

The Mandalorian did not flinch.

Crimson light flickered across his armor as he loosened his grip on the thing within. Just slightly. If the darkness wanted to lend him power, then he would use it, better to turn that strength on their enemies than let it spill onto his brothers and sisters. The world seemed to tighten, flexing like a coiled spring around him as he crouched low.

He remembered his training, not from the clans or the "Schoolhouse", but from his old master. The Emperor had been a cruel teacher, but as effective as any drill sergeant. Kuben gathered his rage, his pain, all the raw power surging through him until sparks of lightning crackled across his claws.

The air vibrated with tension.

And then he moved.

The sound alone was like a cannon blast.

Kuben launched forward, a streak of beskar and fury slamming into the beast with the force of a mass driver round. Lightning discharged on impact, arcing violently across its hide as it staggered back with an ear-splitting roar.

He didn't care about the cost. He felt bones crack, muscles tearing, the sickening heat of organs burning under the strain of channeling this much power. His regeneration fought to keep pace and failed. But he didn't stop.

His visor couldn't contain the fiery red glow of his eyes as he roared and struck again, faster now, a blur of motion too quick for unaugmented eyes to follow. Each blow landed like a meteor, shaking the deck, each strike answered in kind by the beast's massive claws. The hangar floor cracked beneath them as titans clashed, lightning and shadow vaporizing any smaller creatures unlucky enough to stray too close. This wasn't a fight.

It was war.

And Kuben would not yield.

The creature faltered, its guard breaking for a single, fatal instant.

Kuben struck.

He darted past a sweeping claw and slashed his talons across its neck in a blur. The beast froze, its monstrous form locking for a single breathless moment before it toppled. Kuben drove his claws deep into its spine and unleashed a final surge of force lightning, frying it from within.

Both combatants steamed as silence fell over that section of front line.

Kuben stood atop the corpse, armor battered and broken, visor shattered to reveal burning cores of fire where his eyes should have been. He raised his head and let out an animalistic howl of victory, a sound that echoed through the hangar.

And then it came.

Harrow.

The air thickened. The shadows twisted. And before Kuben could react, the first mass of rotting flesh slammed into him like a freight train. He caught it instinctively, hurling it over his head before carving down two more with blinding strikes. He took one step forward—

—and his legs refused to move.

A familiar voice howled with laughter inside his skull.

YOU. ARE. MINE.​

Kuben's body seized. The darkness surged, red and black smoke billowing from his frame as the monster inside him broke free. It wrapped around his armor, twisting and writhing, until it slammed into his helmet like a blade finding its sheath.

His claws retracted. His stance shifted. His will was crushed beneath an ocean of malice.

The figure straightened and laughed, a low, rasping sound that sent shivers across the deck. Debris vibrated as Kuben's form convulsed once, twice, and then rose into the air.

A hand reached upward. The veil of reality parted just enough to let a rod of black metal and stone slip through. A blood-red blade hissed to life with a scream of plasma.

A Sith's lightsaber.

The possessed warrior reached up and tore the ruined helmet free, tossing it aside like trash. He stepped forward, each movement graceful and savage in equal measure.

The first monster lunged at him. He sidestepped with fluid ease, his blade carving it in two without effort. The second he struck down mid-leap.

The third never reached him.

Kuben's hand rose lazily. The beast froze mid-charge, lifted into the air, and crumpled inward like paper until it was no larger than a stone in his palm.

The Sith smiled.

Leveling the crimson blade at Harrow's massive form, the voice spoke, deep and mocking, loud enough for every warrior in the hangar to hear:

"I'll have this dance."

 

[Aiden Wolf]

Return of the Prodigal Son
​

---

OBJECTIVE II
LOCATION: Station Dazac, in the space surrounding the station
OBJECTIVE: Neutralize primary threat
Tag: Ladante Mamba , Vaux Gred , Zahran Khaldun , Siv Kryze , [OPEN]

Spoiler: Theme

Readouts scrolled across the tactical display as Aiden and Kerensky studied the unfolding battle. Red and Gold Squadron were performing with ruthless efficiency, weaving their fighters into tight formations and striking with surgical precision. It was a dance honed in the Rift, born from necessity. There, even a single isolated pilot meant death, formations ripped apart, and men slaughtered by the dozen.

The grim lessons of that hell had prepared them well for this fight.

Massive cannons boomed as pre-programmed fire vectors lit the void, scattering, annihilating, or herding larger enemy fighter groups. The cruisers and gunships picked off the stragglers with disciplined fire, while the fighter screen darted in and out of combat, covering gaps and launching devastating counterattacks.

When Aether's transmission came through, the bridge flickered with new priority markers as enemy vessels were highlighted across the tactical map. Specs and classifications from old repositories populated the screen, giving the Dire Wolves' crew everything they needed to hunt.

The flotilla had jumped in on the Shadow Fleet's exposed flank. It was the perfect angle for a kill.

Kerensky glanced at Aiden for the order.

"Tell the Spear we'll take point. Have the gunships hold the flanks and set our course to intercept the Dreadwolf. Black Squadron clears a path, bombers hit them with everything they've got. Prioritize escorts; the Dire Wolf and Spear will bring our main guns to bear on their flagship."

"Aye, Commander," Kerensky replied crisply, already relaying commands.

Across the bridge, the crew moved like a single organism. EWAR operators isolated targets, gunnery chiefs adjusted solutions, comms officers directed squadrons with precision, and flight crews prepped more small craft in the hangars.

In the blackness of space, the Dire Wolves began their charge.

The flotilla oriented toward the Dreadwolf, engines flaring hard as weapons screamed to life. Missiles streaked across the void, followed by the thunderous boom of the axial cannons firing its first salvo. A 1.6-meter round streaked toward its target at impossible speed, tearing through a Shadow Fleet corvette and ripping it open like a tin can.

Behind it, the bombers surged forward. Their magazines brimmed with anti-ship cruise missiles, and as one, the squadrons released their payloads. Hundreds of warheads burned white-hot trails across the void, slamming into the Shadow line with bone-rattling detonations. Enemy destroyers reeled, formations fractured, and for the first time in this battle, the Shadow Fleet began to turn.

They'd noticed the Wolves.

The Dreadwolf lumbered about to face its attackers. Its pockmarked hull seemed almost alive as turbolasers ignited the black, vomiting green fire toward the oncoming flotilla. The massive vessel dwarfed the Dire Wolves' cruisers, and its guns spat death with mechanical malice.

Aiden and Kerensky watched in silence from the Dire Wolf's bridge as their own shields flared and buckled under the barrage. Sparks burst across console panels. Even at this distance, they could feel the raw weight of the Shadow vessel's presence pressing against them.

But the Dreadwolf had made a mistake.

It was alone now.

And Wolves hunted in packs.

"Gunners," Kerensky growled, "keep hitting that ship until it rolls over and dies."

The reply came not in words, but in fire.

The axial cannon roared again, another massive round punching through the Dreadwolf's armor and exploding deep inside its hull. The Dire Wolf and Spear split formation, forcing their prey to commit to one or risk being ripped apart by both.

Turbolasers and short-range missiles shredded the Shadow titan's outer decks. Its return fire battered the Wolves in turn, shield readouts flaring red as energy bled into the cruisers' hulls. Each impact sent a low rumble through the decks. This was no longer a battle of elegant gunnery. It was a brutal close-range brawl, one where there would be no retreat.

Aiden's hands gripped the console rail as the Dire Wolf shuddered. His voice was calm, measured, carrying across the command channel with steel:

"This day, we do not break. We do not scatter. We finish this."

And in the darkness, the Wolves bit down.

 

[Vaux Gred]

Tags: Aiden Wolf Aether Verd Siv Kryze Zahran Khaldun Ladante Mamba Harrow .​

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)

"No offence Mand'alor, but don't need to tell a Gred twice to keep pr....." That's when shots ran out and hit he Stinger. "Osik! Got one on my six! Rattletrap you better be...." She was cutoff by the need to swing and try to keep the fighters off her own tail. Even while escaping she managed to send a burst of particle fire into enemy.

"You'll have to hold tight CT! They managed to split you off!"

"Karking..... If anyone can get these rotting hanger queens with guns off my six I'd owe you a drink."

As Vaux continued to dart, the other Stinger squadron and their bombers began to swing around from their first salvo, a fighter getting caught in the fire, and a bomber being damaged, before beginning to slip around the Dire Wolf bombers to deliver launched proton bombs as a finishing blow on any destroyers that still held to life. At the same time, the Agitator began to take volleys of fire. The shields and ablator held for now, but this kind of fire wasn't great.

"Void Guard, Squall! Try to ramp up those jammer and see if they mess with these things at all!" The ships captain called out as the two cruisers quickly sent a set of frequency patterns to the other friendly ships. They would add some supporting fire as well, and take whatever knocks came their way. Agitator's hull turned to take aim at another Shadow Fleet ship. This time one close to the station as the HPC charged and fired one again.

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

Objective I​

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

Aether's wrath left silence in its wake, not peace, but the breathless hush of something ancient breaking. The Iron Demon had fallen, slagged and scattered beneath the fury of Mand'alor's blade. Smoke curled upward in sacrificial spirals, and for a brief moment, the weight of the battlefield seemed to shift. Even death appeared to pause, watching with reverence.

Adonis rose from the scorched deck, bracing his arm against his knee as he forced himself to breathe. Each breath caught sharp beneath the ribs, where something had cracked earlier in the melee. The pain burned deep, not enough to stop him, but enough to remind him just how close he had come to being left behind. And yet the ache steadied him, anchoring him to the moment, as if his body refused to let him forget the cost of what came next.

Ahead, the nightmare still stood.

Harrow.

What faced them now bore little resemblance to a man. He was something else entirely, stitched from agony and rot, bloated with the memories of those he'd consumed. The Gravesong bled from him in waves, more than sound, less than thought, threading into Adonis's skull and dragging the world toward madness. Darkness pressed against the corners of his vision, not from exhaustion but from something worse, something older, like the Nether itself had begun to fray the edges of reality.

It wasn't just pressure. It was gravity. He felt as though he were being pulled into the core of a black hole, where even the light of the Force bent inward and died. That singularity had a face now, and it watched them all.

He moved anyway. Saber drawn and ribs screaming, he pushed into the line, carving through the creatures that poured like bile from Harrow's corrupted form. Each kill offered no reprieve, only more rot, more motion, more song. He struck low and fast, blade cutting down a limping husk before pivoting to drive it through the open chest of a snarling wretch. Another leapt at him from the side, and though the impact knocked him off balance, he twisted with the momentum, slashing upward and breaking free of its grip.

His breath came ragged, the cracked rib grinding like gravel, but he refused to yield. Something grabbed him from behind, claws raking against his plating, and he spun to meet it, cutting through flesh and bone in a single motion. The kill wasn't clean, but it was final. Blood, black and steaming, splashed across his boots as he stepped forward again.

Each motion felt heavier now, like walking into a storm not made of wind, but of gravity and shadow. The Gravesong thundered inside his skull, shaking loose half-formed fears and visions, and still he pressed on. He could no longer tell where the battlefield ended and the Nether began. The sky above had vanished, replaced with shadow-choked air, and the hangar's lights had dimmed beneath the weight of so many dead things moving in unison. If it weren't for Vytal Noctura, Adonis likely would have fallen victim to its tune.

A roar split the haze nearby, and Adonis turned just in time to see a towering brute crash toward him. He barely deflected the first blow, but the second struck his side hard enough to send him tumbling across the deck. When he came down, something in his chest gave way completely. The pain was white-hot, jagged and immediate, and he tasted copper when he tried to breathe.

He forced himself up. One hand on the deck, saber in the other, blood in his mouth, and that awful pressure still pulling him forward.

Ahead, he could see Kuben, or what was left of him, wielding a Sith's blade as if possessed by something even more ancient than the song. Further still, beyond the writhing tide of rot and shadow, stood Harrow. Not near, not yet. But no longer distant either.

Adonis tightened his grip.

He didn't know if Mand'alor would be the one to end this thing. But when that final blow came, he would be close enough to see it land.

And if the abyss swallowed them all, he would be there to strike one last time.

 

[Vytal Noctura]

​

The pale Dathomiri woman turned her burning, emerald gaze in Hanna's direction. Adonis and taken position to shield the afflicted woman from the beast that threatened to take advantage of the moment. They were both too far out of her reach, and the press of Harrow's beasts on the Mandalorian men and women would not relent. There were many private wars waged in the pandemonium of survival. All the more apparent when Harrow itself stepped onto the field in a way that brokered no time to intervene on Hanna and Adonis' behalf.

She scowled when Kuben Woods ' monster revealed itself. Vytal's green eyes narrowed to emerald daggers. Sith alchemy. Sith magick. Whatever they wanted to call it, Vytal knew its stench. The Nightsisters knew similar arts, but there was something perverse about the ways born of the Sith heritage -- much as it was an insult to the Sith species to say as much. And the thing had the audacity to claim Harrow as its personal plaything.

With a hiss, the pale woman in crimson armor darted forward. The green ichor flowed over her forearms as she raced across the deck. A roar erupted from the lithe witch's form as she brought an arm up to deflect one of the horror's bladed limbs. Vytal stepped back under the massive weight behind the fiend's blow, but just as quickly stepped forward once more. "Reform the line. Keep its foul creatures back!" The rank and file Mandalorian wasn't going to take Harrow on head-to-head. Perhaps Kuben would have his fun. Perhaps the Mand'alor would intercede. Either way, Vytal would form a field to keep the twisted wreck of a soul from carving straight through their number.

Teeth bared, Vytal scowled in Harrow's face. "You won't crawl back to whatever corner of the Nether you crawled out from." Another blow had her stumble several steps to the side from the sheer momentum alone. Large slashes of green had formed the ethereal 'blade' that had held back the blows, yet the force behind the blow alone still translated through into her body.

Arms numbed, she prepared to call forth the magick of creation to forestall the beast until the Mondalorians slew it. Her presence alone should hold Harrow's attention for at least a short while. The burning fury in its eyes said as much.

Aether Verd | Harrow | Adonis Angelis IV | Hanna | Kuben Woods​