Dominion The Gravesong War || Silence the Song [ ME Dominion of Myrkr ]

[Aether Verd]

SILENCE THE SONG
"The Force has many enemies.
Today, we stand with one of them."​

MYRKR

The Resolute Dawn broke through the clouds like a silent knife.

Its shadow passed over withered trees and splintered vines, the dense canopy of Myrkr offering no warmth in return. What had once been green was now gray. The forest below festered. Even from orbit, they'd seen the rot—spores in the wind, entire sections of jungle collapsing beneath their own decay. This was not a natural sickness. Something had come here, uninvited, and made war against the balance.

Mandalore had taken notice.

Aether Verd stood at the helm, visor fixed on the scarred horizon. His warriors moved behind him in silence, checking weapons, adjusting armor, donning specialized packs designed to carry the last of a dying breed. Ysalamiri. Creatures that could carve out sanctuaries from the Force itself. Lifelines in a war now tainted by necromantic arts.

But those lifelines were vanishing.

“Make no mistake,” Aether said to the gathered Mandalorians. “This isn’t just a recovery op. It’s preservation. It’s survival. Harrow has turned the Force into a weapon against us. These beasts—these Force-blockers—may be the only shield we have left.”

Outside the viewport, the landing zone approached—a fungal-choked clearing barely large enough for the ship. Scans had shown Vornskr activity nearby. Too much of it. Too big. Too fast.

He tightened his grip on the rail.

“Touchdown in sixty. Keep your heads on a swivel. No one wanders off alone.”

A pause.

“And if one of those things tries to bite your pack?” His voice sharpened beneath the helm. “Bite back harder.”

The Resolute Dawn descended, engines flaring as it met the rotted earth.

The hunt was on.​

Spoiler: Map

Spoiler: Objectives

OBJECTIVE I: ROOT AND SCALE
Location: Ysalamiri Colonies, Great Northern Forest

The Ysalamiri are dying.

Not all—but many. Their once-clear veins now blacken like oil under the skin. The sickness is fast. Aggressive. Unnatural. If it spreads unchecked, the galaxy may lose its greatest weapon against Force manipulation.

It is suspected that this is Harrow's handiwork. And with his necrotic grip tightening across the stars, Mandalore cannot afford to lose the Ysalamiri.

Scouting parties are tasked with sweeping the Great Norther Forest for surviving Ysalamiri. Healthy specimens must be secured and transported to containment units. Infected creatures are to be tagged for study—if possible—and destroyed only if containment fails.

Expect nests guarded by territorial fauna. Expect fear. Expect rot.​

Exploration/Recovery | Creature handling, biomedical strategy, anti-Force tactics, and delicate decision-making under pressure.

OBJECTIVE II: THE TEETH IN THE TREES
Location: Great Northern Forest

The Vornskr have changed.

Once predatory, now monstrous, the native Force-sensitive hounds of Myrkr have grown to unnatural proportions—bloated muscle, bone-spiked limbs, and eyes burning with malice. Their howls carry the weight of something older than hate. Something touched by necromancy.

They hunt not only the Ysalamiri—but the Mandalorians.

These mutated creatures, now called Blight Hounds, are spreading through the jungles like fire through dry brush. If left unchecked, they will erase the very creatures we came to save.

Strike teams have been ordered to push into the jungle, thinning the Blight Hound population wherever it takes root. Movement is difficult. Visibility is poor. But make no mistake: these forests are not quiet. They are waiting.​

PvE | Jungle survival, large-scale beast combat, horror stalking elements, and coordinated tracking operations.

OBJECTIVE III: INTO THE ROT
Location: The Great Northern Forest...and Beyond

The forest holds secrets.

Some ancient. Some new. All dangerous.

Whether your mission lies in studying the source of the plague, testing Force-dampening gear, or recovering lost clansfolk from the mist-choked wilds—your path is yours to choose.

Just remember: Myrkr is not passive land. It resents intrusion. And it never forgets.​

BYOO/Wildcard | Myrkr is yours to explore! Let the wilds shape your story!

Spoiler: Tag

Montello Deshra
Adonis Angelis IV
Siv Kryze
Farris Kettefre
Jaikell Wyrvhor
Itzhal Volkihar
Valah Hagen
Khairam Tal
Vytal Noctura
Suleiman Lok
Kyrida Verd
Sari'la Kandosii
Jiriad Galaar
Adenn Vizsla
Kandosii Ka'rta
Manti Wyrvhor
Mia Monroe
Ladante Mamba
Raef Malstadt
Ciri Jade
Lunara Azure
Kirae Orade
Ro'talius Emanti
Alora Vizsla
Zhulghua
Yolaghun
Tomaj Eldar
Lorcan Nanu
Michio Shingai
Kalðr Ísbjørn
Cordelia Malkavian
Drego Ruus
Rhys Swynol
"Templar"
CT-312
Lysara Rynn
Nephthys Nardithi-Verd
Hanna
Siae Andronike
Zlova Rue
Runi Kuryida
Ren Ashbridge
Aliza Vale
Thram Drokor
Sagan Verd
Tarw Rhyfelwr
Ze'bast Verd
Vyse de Valorous
Varuun Rekaal
Kuben Woods
Lyra Scarlet
Talohn Atar
Incitrix
Klavatora Verd
Aselia Verd
Athena Faar
Thalira Kiing

 

[Suleiman Lok]

OBJECTIVE II: THE TEETH IN THE TREES​

TAGS: Aether Verd + Open

Map Position: (Landing Zone) -> (E,6)

Knowing they were deploying to Myrkr, a dense and unpredictable jungle world, brought a subtle sense of satisfaction to Suleiman. This was the kind of environment he thrived in. Wild, unstructured, full of danger. Just the way he liked it.

Still, Mand’alor’s words rang in his ears. Commands given not just in authority, but with weight born of vision and conviction. Suleiman held them close. This mission wasn’t one to be taken lightly. He’d seen enough warriors fall. Victims of arrogance or indifference—to know that underestimating the unknown was the surest path to death.

With matters secured on Gargon, he hadn’t planned on standing idle. It was time to move. Time to offer more than just the influence of his holdings. Now, he would serve directly, boots on the ground, shoulder to shoulder with those forging the Empire’s future.

Fieldwork was where he belonged. He was an infantry cat, through and through. Space battles might capture the holovids, but wars were still won in the dirt—where iron met flesh and will was tested. The battlefield had always been his proving ground, and this was no different.

Upon landing, he wasted no time. He gathered his fellow Rebuilders, calling to any others willing to join their sweep. Gear checks completed, he raised a knifehand and gestured southeast. His rifle settled into a low-ready position as he took point, eyes scanning through the green haze of the jungle.

He preferred walking and talking. Momentum mattered.

“Shatual Squad, we’re moving south. Clear a path. Eyes up. Weapons hot.”

The jungle closed around them fast. Thick brush, hanging vines, and root-ridden terrain made movement slow and treacherous. No way to get vehicles through here, not without risking becoming bogged down or ambushed. Incendiaries were tempting, but the risk of igniting a forest fire was too great. He would settle for precision and persistence. They needed to cull the rot.

Exiting the LZ, his weapon lifted to high-ready. The stillness broke.

“Contacts. Twelve and nine!”

Blaster fire and slug rounds erupted in tight, disciplined bursts. Suleiman dropped three beasts with center-mass shots as more emerged from the brush, weaving through trees and undergrowth. They were fast. Coordinated and pack-like.

More would come. That much was certain.

But Suleiman stood firm, just as he always had. The jungle was thick. The enemy was relentless.

And he would not yield.
​

 

[Delsin Shaw]

OBJECTIVE II: The Teeth in the Trees
LOCATION: Landing Zone, E-6 Square
EQUIPMENT: Armor | Mask | Murasame | Soothsayer
TAGS: Suleiman Lok | Open

Landing down with multiple Mandalorians all fit for combat, ready and on the hunt. Why was I being brought along? Biological data and research into the change of a well known force sensitive species of the Vornskyr into these things that the Mandalorians were calling Jathida Pe'nr. Otherwise known as Blight Hounds. Infected with this new strain of necropsy that spread like an illness and infection. Not wearing armor for this would have been deadly as hell. But now, having to capture or kill whatever came across our way in order to understand and study the way these things were being taken over was of a vital necessity.

Holding onto the hilt of Soothsayer, As soon as we landed I stretched my presence out into the planet. Searching and feeling for anything that was close to the landing zone. Searching for whatever may be coming our way. A Feline species of Mandalorian was leading the group for this incursion. Holding weapon ready but not active, he seemed to be a man of getting into the action as fast as possible. Preferring to not mince words or to settle on small steps. Which I respected.

Moving further into the jungle of the planet, I could start to feel something. Strange, foreign and dark. My eyes snapped up to the spot where jewels in the forest shone with a strange light. It was then that he called out to strike. They lept forward and it was very clear, we were not alone here. Smaller ones. Clearly young or those who attempted to lead packs to hunt. Investigating who we were. Bolts and slugs flew through the air.

With a loud snap and a deep hum of the energy sword, I moved to stand in front of the group. Those that moved quickly and avoided fire attempted to strike at the closest thing. Myself. Which I was well prepared for. A swift change of foot placement, somersaulting over the first one with a cleave through its back, landing down and mask snapping at the next one. Commanding the ground beneath it to sink into the ground. Tripping over itself into my range. A swift strike saw the decapitation of the creature as it rolled past me.

I hadn't seen the dark flesh of a second right behind it. Leaping up to close the distance. Pouncing upon me, The weapon knocked from my grasp. I set myself a frame. Throwing my forearm into the maw of the beast. Letting the armor do its job to protect me. The creature bit down on the plate with force. Feeling the pressure on my arm.

"Grah!"

My hand reached up to its head and using a thumb to jam into its exposed eye. Hearing it howl in pain before calling the energy sword back to my hand. As soon as it slapped into my hand, it ignited into the chest of the beast. Rolling over to it to cut its fore-legs off and stand ready for the next one. Under my breath, breathing heavily speaking only to myself.

"Come on frackers, lets dance."

 

[Aselia Verd]

​

Objective: 1
Location: D7, Securing LZ

The Resolute Dawn wasn't the only ship cutting through Myrkr's rotted skies.

Trailing behind and descending with unmistakable Mandalorian aggression came the Tracyn Krayt. Sleek and deadly, its crimson hull slashed through the mist like a vengeful blade, black accenting its angular frame like a shadow clinging to it, the ship was no stranger to chaos and from the moment it breached the canopy, it made its purpose clear.

Twin forward cannons flared with heat and precision, saturating the LZ with a curtain of fire. No finesse. No subtlety. Just a clean sweep clearing ash-choked undergrowth, fungal blooms, and blight hounds in one swift purge. The Kom'rk did its job well.

In the cockpit, R4-Z9 wailed in binary protest as the repulsors adjusted for high-speed hover. A loud, insistent woop of complaint echoed down the main corridor, followed by a furious stomping of metal feet against the deck.

Aselia didn't look up from her harness as she tightened the last strap on her gear.

"You're doing great, Zee," she called back dryly. "Try not to crash until we're out of the ship this time."

R4 emitted a long, low bloooorp, which even without a vocabulator translated very clearly to insulted silence. The Tracyn Krayt didn't so much land as strike dropping into grid D7 with repulsors flaring hard at the last moment.

"Aw come on Zee you know I love you. Gotta run though." she said simply as she stepped over one of the now open hatches, tucking her arms across her chest as she fell through the opening and into the air below

Aselia was first out, jetpack flaring for half a heartbeat as she dropped into a crouch. The air was full of rot, mycotoxins, sulfur. The ground was still steaming from the barrage. Her HUD flared with motion blight hounds, already reforming their packs around the smoke.

"Move," she barked. "Secure our perimeter, if its sick tag it for the scientists if it looks dead, shoot it."

One lunged from the left Aselia stepped into it, lightsaber in hand, the crimson blade ignited in an instant as she drove it back with the weight of her momentum. It died gurgling. Another from the rear her squad caught that one mid-air with overlapping fire.

She toggled her comms.

:: "Suleiman. Aselia, We're in at D7. LZ is clear. You've got movement heading your way. We are moving northeast toward the colony ." ::

The Tracyn Krayt rose again, engines flaring overhead, its crimson hull vanishing back into the sky.

But Aselia and her squad? They advanced into the rot moving northeast. Inside her helmet all sorts of tactical data was being displayed, at the core a tactical layout of the region. The zone they stood in was ever expanding area of green, another portion of the map where the squad at E6 was located was marked in blue, again with an ever expanding circle.

Red dots, high confidence of hostiles. Yellow dots possible threats. Both permeated her display with a few green dots sprinkled into the mix. Her eyes moved quickly, the hud tracking the movement as she navigated the interface patching her into the Tracyn Krayt's sensors and overlaying the data with her hud painting quite the detailed picture.

"Alright lets move."

TAG: Aether Verd Suleiman Lok Delsin Shaw + OPEN

​

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

MYRKR
OBJECTIVE II: The Teeth in the Trees
LOCATION: Jungle Drop Zone, D7
TAGS: Aselia Verd Aether Verd Suleiman Lok Delsin Shaw​

War had reached its fingers into yet another corner of the galaxy, curling through soil and root, sinking into bark and bone like a sickness without a cure. It always found a way in. Always rotted from the inside out. This time, it was Myrkr. A world of ancient forests and older instincts. A place where even the Force held its breath. Now it stank of necrosis and fire.

And it was Harrow's doing. Again.

Adonis Angelis IV stood in the ship as the drop team prepared, the scream of thruster fire above drowned out only by the quiet in his mind. That quiet before the burn. That stillness before the fight. He hated how familiar it had become. The memories of Taris never left. Not the fires. Not the ash. Not the smell of seared flesh stuck in his armor's filters long after the fighting stopped. And now this jungle stank the same.

His gaze swept across the strike team, settling on the one at the front- Aselia Verd. Another of the House. Sharp. Tactical. Uncompromising. He didn't know her well, but he knew of her. And in war, reputation could hold as much weight as armor. He was new to House Verd, adopted under Jonah's watchful eye. Still felt like a stranger among vod. Still earning every wave. Still finding where he fit. But fire had a way of melting down the unwanted edges.

Below, the jungle burned. Fungal blooms went up like dry tinder, ignited by the Tracyn Krayt's strafing run. Fire licked at the canopy, sending plumes of black smoke rising through a sky that looked as sick as the soil beneath it. But the things down there didn't run from the flames. They waited in it. Fed on it. Harrow's beasts. His rot. His echo.

The ship began its descent. Adonis positioned himself at the rear, not because he lagged, but because momentum mattered. He'd become known for his entrances. Loud. Direct. Relentless. Some said it was reckless. He didn't care. He adjusted the seals on his helmet and jumped.

Midair, his lightsaber snapped to life, a blue streak of plasma igniting the haze. He dropped like a hammer, Force crackling through his limbs and erupting outward on impact. The shockwave blasted fungus and rot away from him, leaving a crater of scorched earth and broken undergrowth. Several Blight Hounds- hulking, spined, wet with disease, were sent sprawling into the muck.

Adonis rose from the blast zone slowly. Steam curled off the shattered ground. The saber's glow painted his silhouette in defiance. The mutated Vornskr regrouped quickly, circling just outside the reach of his blade. Intelligent. Pack-minded. Their breath was fetid. Their eyes burned with old hunger. They were not animals. They were weapons. Born of something twisted and cruel.

He rolled his neck once, grounding himself in the damp loam. He gripped his saber in both hands and dug his heels in. He didn't speak. Didn't posture. There was nothing to say. These were not things to understand. They were symptoms. Of Harrow. Of the Dark Side twisted out of shape. And if these things were his plague, then Adonis would be the cure, delivered through flame and steel.

These abominations would die. Harrow would die. And anyone who stood against Mandalore would be buried alongside them, in smoke and soil and silence.

One strike at a time.

 

[Lliara Daeva]

Objective III: The Rot
D5 -> E6​

"Really, now," a bemused voice radiated outward from the swept wings of an ancient Inquisitorial helm, "bite back? This is precisely why you need a doctor like myself on this safari." She'd turned to follow the Mand'alor out of the craft once it had set down. The dark figure and slipped in close to privately remark about the Mandalorian desire for strength, unity, and an indomitable will.

Honestly, to think the Clans had sent their warriors to investigate and treat the Ysalamiri. "I look forward to well-equipped, beskar-armored men and women chasing little lizards through the forest. As for me, I think I'll find the rot. If there really is necromancy at work it'll make for a fascinating research project."

The black cloak attached to her shoulders flared slightly as she began to strode purposefully into the wild. A few moments later she came to a halt, and flicked her right arm out to the side. A gloved hand pointed true. "There's one now," Lliara cheered before she resumed walking. A slender needle had been left embedded in a lizard's neck leaving it incapacitated, but quite alive. The things you could do with the right sedative or neurotoxin.

She waited until out of the immediate vicinity of the landing zone to avoid entanglements. Then she stopped to collect a few samples of spores and rot from nearby plant life. "I do hope it had infested the Vornskr. It will make for an easy comparison of biological samples." A low chuckle followed. "And a rousing skirmish." Having been here before, comparing before and after should prove suitably easy. In fact, perhaps she should offer her services to these intrepid warriors. Doubtful they had many cloners in their service.

Benign samples collected, she resumed her trek into the putrid world with the only care taken not to get any of it on her uniform.

Aether Verd | OPEN​

 

[Reshim]

OBJECTIVE I: ROOT AND SCALE​

Map Position: (D-7)

TAG: Aether Verd / Aselia Verd / Delsin Shaw / Adonis Angelis IV / Suleiman Lok

Reshim touched down on the landing zone via Aselia’s ship, her company proving to be far more animated than what he’d grown used to during his time among Sith Imperials. In truth, if he had to be surrounded by anyone in a scenario like this, he was glad it was Mandalorians. Their presence—disciplined, grounded, unflinching. It offered the kind of assurance he had come to respect since training under Clan Deshra.

Though not born Mandalorian, he had chosen to remain a Domarian, contracting his service to the military structure under the Writ of Iron. The creed suited him and his situation. He wore their armor with pride, wielded their weapons with skill, and moved with the tactical flow taught to him. In fact, the armor was the safest thing he’d ever worn in his life—its reliability felt like a second skin.

Inside the helmet, his HUD streamed mission data and terrain readouts—intel he had uploaded himself prior to departure. The scrolling feed halted as the Kom’rk banked low and opened its bay. He keyed a command into his gauntlet, ending the feed just before his jetpack roared to life.

Twin SM-10a pistols flashed from their holsters in practiced motion. He descended into the treeline, knees bent on landing, the weight of his dart rifle shifting slightly across his back. Without hesitation, he fell in step beside Aselia’s squad. They were strangers to him, but he would treat them as brothers in arms. Whatever orders she gave, the former commandant intended to follow.

He wasn’t afraid. Not tense. What coursed through his veins was pure, focused curiosity. An eager mind dissecting every movement, every sound. The theories he’d drafted before deployment flickered through his thoughts, driven by excitement more than adrenaline. The opportunity to study Ysalamiri firsthand was rare, almost unheard of for someone of his ilk.

One of his pistols barked—high-powered, controlled, accurate. Each shot struck true, and one of the Blight Hounds collapsed with a distorted screech that trailed into silence. A smirk tugged at the edge of his mouth beneath the helmet. The beasts were grotesque things—sickly, twisted. Had they not been so unstable, they might have made for compelling specimens. But Reshim wasn’t about to risk infection for scientific indulgence. Curiosity has its limits.

He reminded himself: Domarian or not, he was no bystander.

He had no intention of playing the part of a fragile academic. His pride wouldn’t allow it. Reshim had started his military career as a grunt, an Imperial Marine before he ever held rank. He wasn’t about to be mistaken for someone needing protection.

He would fight. He would study. And above all, he would earn his place.

​

 

[Jonah]

OBJECTIVE
Coordinates: (E,6)

The hiss of the drop ramp was swallowed by the jungle’s breath.

Rot. Smoke. Blood in the air.

Jonah Verd hit the earth like he meant to crack it. Boots slammed down in the muck behind the lead squad, shoulder brushing a younger Mandalorian who flinched, then nodded as Jonah passed. No time for greetings. The jungle was already screaming.

He didn’t draw the blade first. The blaster barked in his left hand, rounds slamming into one of the smaller Vornskr harassing the line Darren and Suleiman had begun to carve. The thing dropped, twitching in a puddle of black, foaming blood.

“Keep tight!” Jonah barked over the comms. “Don’t let them circle!”

His visor pinged motion near Adonis’s crater. Blue light danced through the smoke and spores, and the familiar shape of his brother's latest protégé stood tall amid a pack of snarling death. Jonah huffed through his helm. Loud. Flashy. But the kid backed it up every time.

“Good landing!” he called, cutting down another beast that lunged his way. The vibroblade in his right hand snarled as it bit through flesh and sinew, carving a brutal path through the underbrush.

Then the jungle went quiet.

Too quiet.

Jonah’s head lifted just as the treeline shook. Something massive forced its way through the foliage with all the subtlety of a tank.

The first thing he saw were the eyes. Six of them, three to a skull. Then came the maw, jaws splitting wide across three snarling heads, each more grotesque than the last. Venom dripped in ropes from its jagged fangs, hissing against the earth where it landed. The thing moved like a predator but carried itself like a siege weapon. Broad-shouldered, hunched, and loping forward with horrifying intent. Each head snapped and twisted in a different direction, scenting, tracking.

Blight Alpha.

“Frak me,” Jonah muttered, leveling his blaster. He squeezed off a burst that punched into the beast’s flank with no effect. One of the heads turned and locked onto him. The other two kept scanning.

“Heads up!” he roared, both over the squad channel and aloud. “Big ugly inbound. Three heads and twice the hate.”

The monstrosity surged forward.

Jonah dropped the blaster and reached for a concussive charge on his belt.

“On me!” he called. “We drop this bastard together.”

Because if this was what Harrow was unleashing, then it was time the jungle learned how Mandalorians roared back.​

Tag: Adonis Angelis IV , Delsin Shaw , Suleiman Lok + Open

 

[Aether Verd]

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

OBJECTIVE II
Coordinates: Landing Zone → D7

The jungle shifted under steel.

Behind Aether Verd, the Resolute Dawn rumbled as a new sound entered the forest: low, metallic, and rhythmic. His Basilisk War Droid stepped onto the rot-choked earth, its frame looming in the haze. The creature's broad back bore a reinforced cargo crate, not for munitions, but for containment. Nutrient frames. Bio-seal tanks. Lure systems for safe transport.

This was not a beast of war today. It was a vessel of preservation.

He paused only briefly at the foot of the ramp, visor sweeping the treeline.

Lliara’s voice carried, dry and amused, from nearby.

"Bite back? This is precisely why you need a doctor like myself on this safari..."

Aether glanced toward her, helm turning just enough to acknowledge.

“You misunderstand,” he said, voice steady and low. “Mandalorians have been gathering Ysalamiri since the end of the Darkness. No one knows how to track, trap, and transport them better than us. This will amount to more than skittering about. We preserve what matters. We fight for what remains.”

He turned from her then, giving the signal to move.

The Supercommandos fell in alongside him, moving with calculated precision. Their armor had been modified for the mission—lure canisters attached to their belts, nutrient frames secured in their packs. They were ready. And so was he.

“Push northeast,” Aether ordered. “We link with the team at D7.”

Through the rot and ruin, the party advanced. With each step, his boots sunk slightly into soft, fungal-spored soil. Yet the Mandalorian line did not waver. They made for the red markers on his HUD—the rendezvous zone where Aselia’s squad had landed and where the first perimeter had been drawn.

He toggled the encrypted comms, voice crisp in his sister’s ear.

:: “Aselia. I’m en route with nutrient frames and bait spray. We’ll link at D7. Direct any stable samples to the Basilisk. It’s equipped for containment.” ::

A moment passed. Aether paused beneath the twisted canopy, eyes scanning motion in the trees.

“Let’s finish this sweep,” he said to his warriors, weapon still lowered, “before the forest decides we’re prey.”

And into the rot they marched.​

Aselia Verd , Reshim , Lliara Daeva + Open

 

[Delsin Shaw]

OBJECTIVE II: The Teeth in the Trees
LOCATION: Landing Zone, E-6 Square
EQUIPMENT: Armor | Mask | Murasame | Soothsayer
TAGS: Suleiman Lok | Adonis Angelis IV | Reshim | Jonah

Blaster bolts flew past me into the line of the small fry Blight Hounds that charged into us. While others were holding back and making sure the Landing Zone would stay uncompromised, Myself and the Feline Mandalorian started to form the line in the sand. Others joined. Firing weapons and adding their strength to the fray. Which only made me smile. There was a major offensive thought in my mind that to take the fight to the enemy. However, we needed to hold the line. Should enemies draw too close and break it, I was staying as the first physical line of defense. Ranged weapons were holding many of the back, but there would always be a couple that were too fast or a bolt had missed.

What surprised me was the sudden relaxation of the assault. The pack seemingly held back. Oh I knew something bad was about to show its face. Much like a Tsunami. Drawing back the waves to such a degree, and preparing itself to come back with a vengeance and wrath that could level islands. I smiled deeply as the Alpha creature showed its face.

Looking over my shoulder to see Jonah barking commands to keep ourselves all on the same task. We needed to team up together to make sure that we wouldn't be injured or killed by attacking this alone. A tank of a Blight Hound. The hum of the energy blade died. Almost gingerly being put onto my belt as it charged towards us.

I breathed deeply and softly. Exhaling heavily to center myself. Reaching down to my hip. Pulling up the Saya of the sword upon my hip. Left hand holding it at the Fuchi, a thumb lightly pressing against the Tsuba of the blade. Lowering my head, breathing in and out. In and Out. Eyes closed and just focusing on the force. Letting the sounds of blaster fire, roars and growls fade away. My right hand gently placed upon the grip, Breathing in and out. In and out.

A flash of light exploded from where I stood. Arcing lightning enveloped me like an armor of the gods themselves. Lancing with a speed no normal eye could likely follow. An extremely practiced form of Iado. A smooth drawing and slash in one fluid motion through the beasts left flank. Standing behind it now, The leg fell from its place. Removed just at the knee.

Then again, a second flash, Moving just the same but to the right front leg. Slicing cleanly through the bone and flesh. Removing it once more from the knee. Aiming to hinder and disable it so that the others could more easily strike the killing blow.

Murasame was a deadly blade. With the force, It could cut anything. A unique connection to the weaknesses within any body or formation. A power some Jedi dared not to use due to its potential. Shatterpoint. The blade itself could slice and pierce through any defense should the wielder be powerful enough to break that smallest crack in any armor. As it so happened, that armor were the now removed legs of the Alpha creature.

 

[Whottoomuzz Chantin]

Spoiler: Whottoomuzz Chantin Combat Loadout

Shyran Dol: Chantin Heirloom Armor

Melee Weapons
• MagnaGuard Electrostaff – Charged melee weapon effective against Force-users
• ZX Wrist Flamethrower – Cone of high-heat fire for crowd control
• Double-Bladed Vibrosword – Heavy melee weapon for cleaving and sweeping

Ranged Weapons
• DLT-19 Heavy Blaster Rifle – Suppressive long-range firepower
• A280 Blaster Rifle – Armor-piercing rifle for general infantry use
• Ion Rifle – Disables electronics, droids, and shields

Heavy Weapons
• E-Web Heavy Repeating Blaster – Tripod-mounted anti-infantry cannon
• RPS-6 Rocket Launcher – Homing, high-yield warheads
• Personal Energy Shield – Wearable generator for temporary defense

Gadgets & Tools
• Life-Form Scanner – Detects biological entities through walls
• Scomp Link – Terminal hacking tool
• Jetpack – Short-range vertical mobility
• Stealth Field Generator – Temporary active camouflage
• Electro-Grappling Line – Tether that stuns and restrains

️ Deployables
• Probe Droid – Recon and support drone
• “Gonk Bomb” (Modified GNK Droid) – Walking explosive payload
• Portable Energy Shield Projector – Ground-deployed stationary defense field

Consumables
• Stimpack – Emergency healing injection
• Power Cells – Refuels weapons and gadgets
• Smoke Grenade – Obscures line of sight
• Ion Grenade – Disables droids and shields
• Thermal Detonator – Devastating high-yield explosive
• Fragmentation Grenade – Anti-personnel shrapnel blast

The dropship groaned as it breached Myrkr’s cloud cover It didn’t broadcast IFF. No permission was asked, It simply came.

The moment its hull slammed to the jungle floor, spores curled back and vines split under its heat. The hatch hissed. The wind went still.

Then he emerged. A moving citadel in gold and black, carved from the bones of empires past and worn by his ancestors. The ancestral armor of the Chantin Kajidii.

The engraved snout of Shyran Dol’s helm turned toward the horizon, scanning for targets – the comms chatter had indicated those he needed to find were here. A bit of exercise for the Hutt would certainly help the armor fit better as well.

Turrets adjusted along his back. Heavy weapons pulsed heat. Something growled deep in the trees. He growled in return.

The first blast came from over his shoulder.

A bark of red plasma tore through the treeline, followed by the staccato scream of a second turret tracking in perfect harmony. Branches exploded. A fungal-slick hound—once canine, now grotesquely twisted with necrotic bloat and armored bone—was bisected mid-pounce before it ever scented blood.

Another charged from the right. Whottoomuzz didn’t turn to address the creature, as the second shoulder-mounted repeater whined to life with a vibrating brrrt of sustained fire, walking molten bolts through underbrush and flesh in a trailer of sparks. It howled only once.
The jungle began to move. Not just a pack, a veritable swarm.

Blight Hounds poured from the dark in every direction—snarling, twitching, bubbling with rot and unnatural muscle. Dozens. More. They leapt over roots, crashed through the undergrowth, bounding in distorted gaits that no living creature should manage.

And Whottoomuzz slowly approached to meet them.

The double-bladed vibrosword came free with a vibration that hissed through air and fluid alike. The first swing carved a cleft through three hounds in a single arc, their acidic blood spraying across the gold-engraved armor like an amateur crimson graffito.

He advanced, slashing into any beast unfortunate enough to get close enough through the heavy shoulder mounted turrets. Each movement deliberate and powerful.
A creature leapt high, only to be bisected.
Another came low—snapping jaws clamped around his torso plating, failing to even scratch it.

He didn’t swat it off.

He slithered forward and crushed it undertail with all the resistance a steam roller would have rolling over an egg.

Another got close. Too close.

The blight-riddled beast lunged for his side—and that was its mistake. His free hand caught it by the skull in a motion so swift it seemed impossible with his size.

There was a moment of resistance.

Then—

KRAK

The skull imploded between his fingers with sickening finality. No servos aided him. No crushgaunt. Just the raw, monstrous pressure of centuries-old muscle turned to war.

Black ichor hissed against his vambrace. He dropped the husk and kept moving.

More were coming. Good.

Let the rot taste steel. Whottoomuzz needed the practice.

@OPEN (drop pod from Yacht into A4)​

 

[Lliara Daeva]

The Mirialan was none too happy there was a band of hunters carving a path through the jungle in her area. It wasn't that they were slaughtering beasts, or that they were warriors. They just didn't know or notice the dark figure that sought to keep their distance, and so a rogue blast or two was flung in her direction. If the reports hadn't indicated the most captivating of samples wasn't in this direction, Lliara would have changed course without a moment's hesitation.

To keep from being trampled over by frantic beasts or aggressive hunter alike, Lliara had taken to the trees. And it was there she beheld the sway of dense foliage from afar.

The helmet tipped downward for a second before it rose again. Whatever it was, it was moving quickly and would be on the Mandalorians soon. "Contact, one o'clock," she dropped on the comms. Probably unnecessary. One of them, Jonah , already seemed to be looking in that direction. Well, at least they couldn't say she didn't try to be part of the 'team.'

Hand on the trunk, Lliara squinted as the ground and her perch trembled from the monster's approach. She bent her knees to lower her center of gravity as the tree swayed. If this wasn't the sample she was searching for then this planet held some truly terrifying beasts.

Jonah | Adonis Angelis IV | Delsin Shaw | Suleiman Lok | OPEN​

 

[Red Mobius]

It was an old ship, but still counted as a base of operations...

Her base of operations, in stable orbit above a dead planetoid. She had found it adrift once while exploring Enclave space a long time ago. She had been more than happy to share the benefits with her Clan, who had staffed the ship. She had hauled many of the raw materials for the Dha'Parjai to the shipyard that had built it in this ship

Much of her forge work was done here in the past. She had it hidden in an uncharted system. Some of her more private equipment had been moved here just before whatever had caused her to wake up on The Dha'Parjai battlecruiser. She was hoping it was still intact.

A battered Lambda shuttle she had taken from a bunch of Black Sun thugs approached the Class Five Transport . Red carefully piloted it into the hangar after transmitting landing codes. No life support active. Her heavily damaged Mobius Steel Armor, having a few haphazard repairs, automatically activated it's internal oxygen supply as she stepped into a vacuum. She had one hour to work and figure out whatever was wrong with this vessel.

Her Omnitech Model 1 clinked on her belt as she readied her Mandalorian Blaster Pistol. She walked, realizing the artificial gravity still worked. Minimum power was still feeding the systems. Knowing where she had to go. Red headed immediately for the engineering deck to inspect the powerplant, using emergency release levers to open the turbolift shaft and crawl down the emergency ladder to reach that deck. It took a long time but she eventually reached it, opening the emergency releases to the deck itself.

She cautiously proceeded in, night vision systems in her helmet kicking in as she moved through the empty deck. No signs of hostiles.

No signs of anything. She saw signs of discarded tools, dropped weapons. No blood. Everything had just been...powered down.

It was deathly silent. Still not lowering her guard, Red went to the main console and powered it up, then started full boot-up process for the reactor after readouts showed everything was perfectly functional. Only life sign was her own.

The lights went up and the reactor powered up fully. Red leaned back and slid down the wall in relief, dropping her pistol, removing her helmet and breathing in stale air as life support was restored.

Two hours later...

No sign of any members of her clan, anywhere...

Red had searched the place from top to bottom. Even the quarters. All abandoned. Pristine, almost. No hostiles. No sign of fighting. It would have creeped her out less if there had been a corpse.

After rebooting the main computer on the bridge, Red had strenuously searched its records, trying to use it to restore some of the blanks in her memory. But nothing. All records were wiped blank.

Enraged, she had nearly smashed her fist through the monitor, but then forced herself to calm down. She decided to head towards her own quarters aboard the vessel.

As she walked, the passage to her quarters stretched out impossibly long and she started hearing whispers. She clutched her head, confused as the passageway transitioned into a jungle that looked like it was dying. She saw dead Ysalamiri everywhere. And some sort of horribly mutated Voxyn that noticed her and started running towards her at high speed. And everywhere around her were Mandalorians...

The vision ended and she was somehow in her quarters, a large space with a cryo forge, and her personal, hand made armors on display behind transparisteel cases.

And there were her war hammers. She had been trying to diversify her weapons skills, had started using them less. But seeing them again...

...it brought tears to her eyes that she forced away rather than let them slide down her face. She couldn't afford weakness. Not now. Not when the fate of her clan was still unknown. She had to find them. She had to save them.

She took off her broken down armor and switched to the supplies of loose clothes still in storage.

Shields were up. Life support going. Engines were good. She had taken care of the ship, so that had helped...she was thanking The Oversoul that some meteor hadn't struck it.

But she was alone. Alone in a way she hadn't been since her birth parents had died at Nar Kreeta when the Bryn'adul had invaded.

Red lay on a plastic covered mattress, trying to figure out what to do next. She looked at her hand made armors. She dared not wear them. Any Beskar'gam made by her for her own use tended to increase the strength of her visions as well as the frequency. Even the scavenged armor she had used to survive, inferior as it was, was preferable to the hell she'd bring on herself to put on her own personal iron skins.

She blinked and she was once more in the rotting, diseased jungle, surrounded on all sides by the vicious, mutated monsters...

Red jumped up in surprise...

...and hit the cold deck of her quarters.

Red lay in a fetal position, clutching her head in fear and shock...

Present...

When the call of the only recognized Mandalore came about, Red had answered, though she was still off balance. Alone in this Mandalorian Empire.

The armor she had been forced to wear was deemed to risky for Myrkr, so she had gone with a remnant Beskar'gam she had acquired from before her and her clan's disappearance.

This particular cuirass from the long fallen Enclave was a deep, dark red set of plates with a black armor weave body glove, though there was still a bit of white around the helmet.

She had needed to be able to move through this jungle, so she had taken with her one of her clan's sacred relics, the Doom of Ulmarah with her, along with her trusty tri-barreled lupara, and another relic of The Enclave, a Telescopic Vibrospear.

She had come in her old fighter, a barely serviceable Aftermarket Z-95 called the Umbral Vision. It was an all black color with red tinted windows as she set down in the landing zone next to other, much more impressive ships. Red realized things were already kicking off. Monsters everywhere...

Just like her vision...

Red decided to not waste time, heading towards the group of Mandalorians closest to her, hammer in hand watching as said group, led by Jonah (though she didn't know his name at the time), engaged a particularly large beast.

But Red already had her hands full, literally as she swung her powerful hammer into one of the lesser beasts and caved it's skull in.

She whipped that hammer hard into another group of beasts that tried to close in on the group attacking the larger one. Lots of vets around here. Might as well make a good first impression. Gore-covered Mando gets the Beskar, and all that.

Her tri-barreled shotgun, The Herald demolished one of the lesser beasts with a single blast that fired all three barrels at once, followed but quick, brutal swings of her hammer into the body and face of another, brutally bringing the weapon down on its resilient body again and again until it died.

In this swinging of her war hammer, she had a semblance of the old purpose she had felt working her forge for her clan.

She focused on keeping the beasts away from her people. sticking closer to the group led by Jonah, guarding waiting for more of the quickly approaching monsters to attack...

Delsin Shaw

Suleiman Lok

Adonis Angelis IV

Whottoomuzz Chantin

Reshim

Lliara Daeva

 

[Aselia Verd]

Objective: I
Location: D7, Moving Toward Aether's Squad

The jungle writhed, diseased and smoldering, as though it hated them for existing.

Aselia Verd watched it all, visor pulsing as data swept in through a hundred micro-feeds. HUD symbols flickered IFF tags, heat signatures, terrain overlays, environmental readings all scrolling with precise, The wolf sigil on her pauldron marked her as Verd, but her stance said everything else:

:: "Confirmed, Aether. Coordinates solid.." ::

Her voice on comms was clipped, crisp fluent in the brevity of war.

The perimeter burned in controlled arcs. Fireteams rotated in triangular sweeps, pushing back against the tide of fungal overgrowth and corrupted creatures that had once been native to this forest. She watched Reshim land hard and clean, moving like someone who knew the line between scholar and soldier wasn't so wide after all. His integration was seamless. Efficient.

Good.

Aselia didn't offer him a greeting she didn't need to. Her HUD already flagged his heat signature, matched it with his file, and noted his efficiency with a curt green ping.

Elsewhere, Adonis dropped like a thunderbolt. Her HUD barely caught him before the shockwave hit plasma flaring, rot splintering, Vornskr bodies flung like ragdolls. She watched them scatter and reform, watched the Jedi hold the line with the kind of fury they so rarely claimed.

Instead, she swept her eyes along the front, through the smoke and haze. Each fighter was known. Each movement catalogued. She wasn't worried about their performance. They were Mandalorians. If the jungle bit, it would lose teeth.

And yet, Aselia felt the tremble of something else beyond flesh, beyond flame.

The Force whispered wrong here.

It wasn't loud. Not a shout. Not an ambush. But the kind of silence that curled under your skin and sat behind your eyes. The kind that warned of pressure building. The kind that reminded her of Harrow.

Her visor darkened slightly against the firelight. She lifted one hand, flat and decisive.

"Forward line, push. Scan for sick. Anything with too many limbs or too little light in its eyes gets dropped. No hesitation. Ysalamiri stay breathing."

She didn't need to shout. Her voice carried in every helmet synced to her channel.

"Reshim. Stay behind me If the lizards are sick tag them. Anything else we'll put down. We are going to shift south to link up with Aether"

Her boots stepped forward, scorched moss curling beneath her weight as her squad shifted with her. Blaster rifles and scatterguns moved in concert. No chaos. Just momentum.

TAG: Aether Verd Reshim + OPEN
​

 

[Aether Verd]

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

OBJECTIVE I
D7 → First Colony Perimeter

The jungle was growing louder behind him.

He could hear it in the distance. The weapons. The roars. The churn of fireteams tearing into the rot like a scalpel into infection. But that wasn’t what made Aether Verd pause. It was the sudden streak across his HUD. A drop pod. Fast. Sharp. And wrong.

There was no IFF.

No transponder ping. No Mandalorian tag. Not even a whisper of ally or enemy.

He swore under his breath.

“Unmarked pod,” he said, switching to an open broadcast in Basic as the jungle began to shift around him. “Identify yourself immediately. This is Mandalorian space. Declare your presence or be treated as hostile.”

No answer. Just wind. Just static.

His jaw clenched beneath the helm.

He toggled back to the encrypted comms, voice calm but firm.

:: “Aselia. We have company. Unknown. I’m pushing forward to the colony. Meet me when your sweep is complete.” ::

The line clicked off.

Aether turned to the Basilisk.

“Go.” he ordered.

The droid rumbled forward, engines humming low. Every step left a soft indent in the decayed soil. The canopy above thinned slightly as they moved closer to the colony perimeter, the distant screams of Blight Hounds still echoing through the trees behind them.

Aether did not turn around.

He heard the movement before he saw it. A rustle of rot. A flicker of motion at the tree line.

Then came the beasts.

Blighted Vornskr. Three of them. Skin blistered and thick with necrosis. Eyes burning low.

Aether stepped aside as the Basilisk raised its guns.

Rotary cannons erupted. The air hissed with heated metal. The hounds dropped before they could charge. The smell of burning corruption followed.

Then came the quiet. The jungle stilled.

Aether stepped forward, eyes scanning the shadows.

And stopped.

He felt it. That weight. That absence. Like breath being stolen from his lungs. Like a hand pressing against his chest from within. The Force had always been with him. Always there, even in silence.

Now it recoiled. Now it shrank.

He did not reach for it. He would not show weakness.

Instead, he dismounted.

The Basilisk crouched beside him as he unlatched one of the nutrient canisters and pulled free a sealed spray vial. Slowly, carefully, he moved to the nearest trunk and marked it with bait. Then another. Then a third. His gloves were steady. His steps deliberate.

He returned to the Basilisk and unloaded two containment pods, each calibrated for safe, short-term housing.

Aether placed them on the ground with care.

“Gentle,” he reminded himself aloud. “They do not survive panic.”

He did not rush. He would wait. They would come to him, if any still lived here. If the sickness had not touched them.

And if they did come, he would see them home.​

Aselia Verd , Reshim , Whottoomuzz Chantin , Lliara Daeva + Open

 

[Jonah]

OBJECTIVE II​

Jonah saw it before he believed it.

One second, Delsin stood quiet, still as a statue. The next, lightning danced across his body like a living shroud and he vanished into motion. A flash of silver. A blur of light. Then the Alpha screamed as both hind legs were carved clean from the joint, the limbs crumpling beneath its weight with a sickening thud.

Jonah blinked. His jaw dropped just a little behind the helm.

“How the fuck did you do that?” he said aloud, eyes wide. “Hell of a strike, vod!”

The beast didn’t appreciate the compliment. Its roar tore through the trees, a sound soaked in fury and venom. Literally.

A jet of putrid fluid spewed from its middle head, fangs flaring with the effort. Jonah dove hard to the right, rolling into the muck as the venom sizzled against the bark and earth. Steam hissed in his ears. The air turned sharp with chemical bite.

Then came the chorus. Dozens of smaller hounds surged forward, drawn by the Alpha’s rage. The treeline broke like a dam as rot-covered bodies crashed toward their line, too fast, too many.

But before panic could rise, a hammer fell.

Bone shattered. Skulls split like ripe fruit. A woman clad in old Beskar moved like she was born for it. Each swing was a judgment. Each shotgun blast a promise.

Jonah saw the blur of red and white and smiled beneath the helm.

“OYA!” he roared, voice cutting through the haze. “Whoever you are, you’ve got great timing!”

No time to be shown up entirely. Jonah pushed to his feet, armor slick with mud and ash. He tapped the side of his vambrace and pulled up a screen, fingers flying across the interface. Then he held his wrist high.

Four sleek drones launched skyward, wings slicing through the canopy. They shot into a diamond pattern above the beast’s exposed back. Each rotated, locking angles. A hum followed. Then a flash.

Crimson light gathered between them, bright as fire, hot as rage. The beam lanced downward, focused and brutal, slamming into the Alpha’s spine like it had been struck by a god.

Flesh seared. Bone split. The rib cage lay open now, blackened and raw.

“Keep up the pressure!” Jonah shouted. “We bring this thing down. Now!”

He did not wait for a reply. He charged again, blade drawn, blaster hot.

Because this was how Mandalorians answered monsters. Together. Relentless. Unshaken. Unbroken.

Tag: Red Mobius, Delsin Shaw , Adonis Angelis IV , Suleiman Lok + Open

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

MYRKR
OBJECTIVE II: The Teeth in the Trees
LOCATION: Drop Zone D7, Jungle Perimeter
TAGS: Jonah | Delsin Shaw | Red Mobius | Lliara Daeva | Suleiman Lok | Reshim


The earth had gone still. That was the first sign.

Not the screams. Not the blaster fire. Not the steaming bodies that twitched and steamed where he'd landed. The quiet was what made Adonis lift his head.

His saber hummed low at his side, blue glow slicing against the rising mist as his armor steamed from the impact crater. His boots pressed deep into the soft jungle floor, pulse still pounding from the drop. He had barely registered Jonah's voice in his comms- Good landing!- before the stillness rolled in like fog before a storm.

Then the treeline cracked open. What emerged was not a beast. It was punishment made flesh.

Three snarling heads, each more grotesque than the last, dragging a hunched, muscle-split frame forward with all the grace of a siege engine. Its eyes, six of them, burned through the haze. Fangs like spears. Venom hissing against the earth.

Blight Alpha.

Adonis didn't speak. He didn't flinch. He just braced.

The jungle came apart. Jonah fired. Delsin vanished in a burst of lightningL a god in motion. One stroke. Then another. The Alpha's legs buckled beneath it, severed at the joint. The Force reverberated through the ground like a snapped cable. Even through his visor, Adonis's brow furrowed. The precision. The control. It wasn't just impressive, it was surgical.

Not like him.

Adonis didn't cut. He broke.

The Alpha shrieked, flinging venom from its central maw. The spray hit the ground nearby with a sound like boiling meat. Bark melted. Steam burned the air. Adonis twisted out of the way, rolling hard behind a felled tree as the chemical mist kissed his armor with a sizzling hiss. He came up fast, teeth gritted, saber raised.

Then came the wave.

A surge of smaller Hounds broke from the treeline, called by the Alpha's agony. Dozens, all muscle and ruin, jaws snapping, claws tearing through the undergrowth. They weren't just coming for the Mandalorians. They were coming for him.

Adonis didn't run. He charged.

His saber cut the first in half, the Force coiled around his momentum, slamming the second back into a tree with bone-snapping force. A third tried to pounce- he met it with his shoulder, crushed its ribs, and pinned it down long enough to drive his saber straight through its skull.

He fought like a warhead with a soul. Controlled detonation. Measured fury.

But even fury had limits. And they were still coming.

Then, red armor, gore-slick and relentless, smashed into the line. A woman Adonis didn't know- Red, though the name hadn't reached him yet, was dismantling the beasts with terrifying ease. Her hammer caved skulls. Her shotgun obliterated. It was beautiful in a way only Mandalorian violence could be.

Jonah's voice came through the comms again, clearer this time, "OYA!", followed by a sudden sharp hum above. Adonis glanced up.

Drones. Four of them. They hovered into a pattern, then pulsed as one. The beam came down like divine wrath.

It hit the Alpha's spine dead-on, cracking it open in a burst of blistered tissue and exposed bone. The roar that followed was more than pain. It was challenge.

Adonis didn't hesitate.

He called on the Force and sprinted, not at the beast's legs, but at its heads.

He leapt, the jungle floor falling away beneath him as he arced through the air, saber overhead. One of the Alpha's heads turned toward him too late. Its fangs bared, ready to strike.

But he was already falling.

He brought the saber down in a two-handed blow, driving it straight through the skull with a furious roar. Bone split. The creature thrashed, but Adonis held firm, his boots slamming into its chest as he landed atop it. The saber hissed deeper, carving through the rotted brain behind the eyes.

One head down. Two more to go.

"Now!" Adonis shouted through the comms, eyes burning beneath the visor. "While it's exposed finish it!"

Because Mandalorians didn't wait for mercy.
They didn't give monsters second chances.

They brought the end.

 

[Whottoomuzz Chantin]

Spoiler: Whottoomuzz Chantin Combat Loadout

Shyran Dol: Chantin Heirloom Armor

Melee Weapons
• MagnaGuard Electrostaff – Charged melee weapon effective against Force-users
• ZX Wrist Flamethrower – Cone of high-heat fire for crowd control
• Double-Bladed Vibrosword – Heavy melee weapon for cleaving and sweeping

Ranged Weapons
• DLT-19 Heavy Blaster Rifle – Suppressive long-range firepower
• A280 Blaster Rifle – Armor-piercing rifle for general infantry use
• Ion Rifle – Disables electronics, droids, and shields

Heavy Weapons
• E-Web Heavy Repeating Blaster – Tripod-mounted anti-infantry cannon
• RPS-6 Rocket Launcher – Homing, high-yield warheads
• Personal Energy Shield – Wearable generator for temporary defense

Gadgets & Tools
• Life-Form Scanner – Detects biological entities through walls
• Scomp Link – Terminal hacking tool
• Jetpack – Short-range vertical mobility
• Stealth Field Generator – Temporary active camouflage
• Electro-Grappling Line – Tether that stuns and restrains

️ Deployables
• Probe Droid – Recon and support drone
• “Gonk Bomb” (Modified GNK Droid) – Walking explosive payload
• Portable Energy Shield Projector – Ground-deployed stationary defense field

Consumables
• Stimpack – Emergency healing injection
• Power Cells – Refuels weapons and gadgets
• Smoke Grenade – Obscures line of sight
• Ion Grenade – Disables droids and shields
• Thermal Detonator – Devastating high-yield explosive
• Fragmentation Grenade – Anti-personnel shrapnel blast

A new wave crested the treeline—more blight than beast, sprinting in a frenzy of exposed rib and horn.

Whottoomuzz turned.

One of the shoulder turrets swiveled first, clicking through target locks. Then the other. Twin streams of blaster fire lanced outward in rhythmic pulses, carving a corridor of kinetic fire through the swarm.

But still they came.

His A280 roared from his primary harness, its muzzle flash illuminating snarling jaws. One bolt found a hound’s throat, another its eye. They dropped, but two more leapt into their place.

He let the rifle fall on its sling.

The electrostaff snapped outward from his backplate with a satisfying shunk, igniting with a humming corona of lethal current. The baroque grooves of Shyran Dol’s gauntlet flared gold as he spun the weapon, burying it into the charging hound’s torso with enough force to lift it off the ground.

It didn’t scream, but it did burst. A gout of corrupted tissue and snapping vertebrae sprayed across his armor.

Another beast struck from the left. Whottoomuzz pivoted—not fast, but inevitable. The weight of centuries turned behind his strike as the electrostaff slammed into the side of the hound’s skull, detonating its rotted eye socket with a wet crunch.

More skittered beyond. But then—He felt it. Not with the Force. No—he was blind to its games.

But Shyran Dol’s systems detected a field disturbance. A pressure. Something carving absence into the corruption like a blade into cancer. The repulsors of a Basilisk. A signature of power and measured movement.

He paused, chest heaving like a furnace.
His helm tilted toward the source.
The armor readied its turrets for pivot.

"Choba."​

The command escaped his lips in Huttese, ordering his automatic armaments to halt. The turrets slowed. They hissed into standby mode.

“Unmarked pod,” he said, switching to an open broadcast in Basic as the jungle began to shift around him. “Identify yourself immediately. This is Mandalorian space. Declare your presence or be treated as hostile.”

Whottoomuzz raised his blood-slick electrostaff and pointed it toward the woods where the signal emerged, replying in Huttese.

The jungle still burned.

Smoke twisted above twitching corpses. The turrets cooled. His breath did not.

From within the helmet of Shyran Dol, Whottoomuzz toggled the external vox to wide-band—low, deliberate. His voice rumbled through it like rust scraping a warhorn. “E chu ta...” he began, frustration with operating his own comms evident by the tone of the curse - directed at his own helmet.

A pause.

Then—

“Me doth choba. Hoohah naga cay uba kai bah bu mando’ade.”

(I will stand down. The Hutt comes to you to bleed like a Mandalorian.)

His Basic was much too rusty for a situation like this, another means by which he had grown soft with complacency. No longer keeping slaves nearby to translate would be difficult.

Then he turned back toward the swarm.
They did not stop coming.

Good. Exercise. He left the turrets disengaged with the electro staff and twin-edged vibroblade in either hand.

Aether Verd @Open​

 

[Red Mobius]

Red was too busy fighting for her life to hear the "OYA" chant from the others. The beasts surged with maddened vengeance as the Alpha neared it's end at the hands of the others.

Her hammer swung more fiercely than ever. Barbarian swings crashed through skulls and rib cages the ignition ability of the hammer activating and setting some of them ablaze as she bashed swarms of the fearless monsters in, venting her rage at what had been taken from her into the swarm that now attacked her from all directions. But she attacked even more ferociously and animalistic than they did, the silver hammerhead flinging some away even as they were set on fire.

Red seemed to enter a violent frenzy as she sought out more crowds of feral beasts, incorporating her Enclave Armor's jet pack into her fighting style, torpedoing into a crowd of the beasts, the curved spike on top of her hammer smashing into their chests as she defended the group attacking the Alpha, taking arms and heads clean off the beasts with murderous swings. She had other weapons on her gauntlet to be sure...but she was really, really good with hammers.

(Random cutaway of MC Hammer dancing)

Red grabbed one by the neck and snapped it. Only an enrage tackle by one of the beasts made the hammer tumble from her grasp, making her use the jetpack to escape the attempted dogpile as she dislocated her attacker's jaw before snapping its neck mid air, drawing her telescopic vibro spear and pierced the spine of one of the beasts, letting the dying animal slide down the shaft while she loaded her shotgun, this time with explosive ammo, and *obliterated a pack of the mutants near her hammer before ripping the spear from the animal that had slid down it and charging into another pack, thrusting and swiping it's tip violently into skulls and hearts before retrieving her hammer from the ground.

The beasts, which had shown absolutely no fear before, began to hesitate even as they prepared to attack her once more as Red put her spear away and readied her hammer...

Whottoomuzz Chantin

Aether Verd

Jonah

Adonis Angelis IV

Reshim

Aselia Verd

Suleiman Lok

Delsin Shaw

Lliara Daeva

 

[Suleiman Lok]

OBJECTIVE II: THE TEETH IN THE TREES​

TAG: Jonah / Delsin Shaw / Red Mobius / Lliara Daeva / Adonis Angelis IV

It was one of those moments where restraint spoke louder than chaos. The battle had briefly lulled—not in silence, but in tension. A deceptive stillness hung in the humid air, a heartbeat between clashes. They had downed a few of the creatures already, but the remaining ones didn’t behave like mindless predators. They moved with unsettling coordination—like they were testing the lines, searching for weakness. Harrow’s abominations were definitely tough.

And then it came—it.

A monstrous thing, like something conjured from the bloodstained pages of Mandalorian war myths. An alpha. Larger, smarter, and seething with a primal energy that felt almost unnatural. Its very presence clawed at Suleiman’s senses, as if the Force itself recoiled from it. He instinctively knew. This thing would have torn through the researchers like paper. Better it met warriors.

It would be a worthy kill. A fine trophy, perhaps. But he wouldn’t dare bring a piece of that thing aboard any vessel. The malevolent aura it radiated made the very air feel heavy, its breath like rot and ozone. The sensation lit something in his chest. It was not fear, but a fire. The hunt was on.

Suleiman’s grip shifted on his blaster rifle as the beast let out a roar, bile launching from its maw. He sprang into motion—legs empowered by the Force and honed by his Cathar bloodline. He broke formation, darting with feline agility toward its flank, eyes locked on a vulnerable gap beneath its shoulder.

His beskar-forged spear snapped from its magnetic clamp, called to his hand through the Force. Without hesitation, he hurled it with precision, aiming for the exposed ribs—an attempt not only to pierce, but to anchor the monster to the swampy forest floor. One clean strike could shift the momentum.

Mandalorians fought best in coordinated fury. They could bring this thing down with relentless precision. Their ancestors—those old warlords who tamed myth and storm alike—would have approved.

“Jate!” he bellowed through grit teeth, voice carried like thunder. “We’ve got it where we want ‘em!”


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