Dominion &nbsp; The Next Generation || ME Dominion of Bogden

Veyla Krinn |

Vytal Noctura

Veyla's quiet comment drew a grim laugh that was more huff than laughter from Adelle. "Does it like anyone?"

Vytal mentioned the customization and specialization that was often done to smugglers' ships, and the juxtaposition their abandonment posed. It had been a question lingering in the back of Adelle's mind as they wove their way through the tight corridor of the canyon. Siv agreed that suspicion, wariness, was the correct choice.

Adelle felt something a moment before her HUD pinged and Siv's voice came through the comms again.

Siv Kryze said:
"Eyes up, Wolves. The dead ships here aren't dead."

The rumble that followed his words felt entirely different from the usual grumblings of the planet. A sense of dread settled in her stomach.

"I doubt it's renda bears eating ironwithe," Adelle muttered.

Her HUD confirmed what she felt in the Force: three lifeforms moving with purpose. Something like recognition sparked from the group and they began to split up from each other. Adelle followed Siv in formation even as her Basilisk growled electronically.

Siv Kryze said:
"Stay tight. Something down there wants company."

That Adelle could agree on and she could feel the sense of searching coming from the lifeforms. They had moved towards the canyon walls, up and away from the chasm. It set her on edge. The three signatures in the canyon walls left the range of her HUD, thick rock and sediment blocking the sensors. She could still vaguely feel them in the Force.

Still at a pace with them.

"Lost tracking on three signatures in the canyon walls," Adelle reported. "Looked to be moving up to the cliff surface and away from--"

Except now those life signatures were coming back. Rapidly.

Hungrily.

"Evade!"

Her HUD pinged again, nearly too late. She pulled her Basilisk over and down into a nosedive as rock, rubble, and a giant mouth full of teeth made to burrow and swallow whole exploded out of the canyon wall next to her.

Vytal Noctura · Dec 5, 2025

Vytal had been away in the Nether for a time before her return to Dathomir, so her memory of galactic behavior had been rusty. It was good to know she hadn't incorrectly remembered habits of smugglers. They'd been a 'feature' in or around the Confederacy of Independent Systems' space that she and other Knights had to deal with. Especially the fools that tried to plunder Ryloth.

Perhaps she should ask the spirits the tale of the world, but much as Dathomir was meant to be included in the Empire their ways were still those those of Mandalorian warriors. She was here because they had a bond, but it was an opportunity to share the Mandalorian tactics with one another. So, for the time being, she would leave it to their methods and trust in them to survey this pit of refuse.

Just that quickly, Siv announced a reading on the scopes. The Pale Witch looked down at the screen. Casting spells inside of a walking, 'thinking' tin can wasn't exactly her style, and popping a hatch at this point was unwise. They still didn't know what they were dealing with yet.

Just like that Siv sent the troops headlong into the thick of things. Well, a Nightsister wouldn't complain about confronting a threat head-on. Hopefully, it wasn't more than they were geared up to handle.

That's when a Witch's least favorite part of such an encounter began. One hand snapped out against the side as the basilisks began to jerk and jockey about. They might be made to survive orbital drops and tanking enemy fire, but that didn't mean those inside them didn't feel rapid changes in direction. Maybe she should have found the override option to redirect power to the stabilizers that was usually reserved for orbital insertion.

Mandalorians. They always did things the 'hard' way.

"We can see them, how can they see us?" Vytal asked despite being shaken like a can of juice. Vibrations? The Force? Or was it something else?

Adelle Bastiel |

Veyla Krinn

Veyla Krinn · Dec 5, 2025

The canyon seemed to close around them the deeper they flew, the walls narrowing until the sound of their Basilisks' repulsors felt trapped in the stone itself, echoing back as a warning whispered too late. The wind burned hot along Veyla's armor, carrying dust, metallic tang, and the stale breath of wrecks that had no right to be as intact as they were. Her Basilisk responded beneath her with controlled aggression—tail fins tightening, wings angling in disciplined strokes—eager for a fight it sensed long before the rest of them had names for it.

Siv's voice cut cleanly through the comms, that steady Kryze steel she'd come to trust in the same way one trusts gravity—relentless, predictable, impossible to argue with.

"Eyes up, Wolves. The dead ships here aren't dead."

He was right. Her HUD painted the canyon in pulsing signatures—heat where there should have been cold metal, movement beneath what should have been inert scrap. Too precise. Too deliberate. Too knowing.

Adelle's voice followed, taut with the kind of dread that came from sensing something a heartbeat before it wanted to kill you.

And then—The rumble. Not Bogden's usual tectonic growl. This one had direction. Intention. Hunger.

Stone burst outward near Adelle's flank in an eruption of jagged rock and teeth the size of beskad blades. The canyon wall behaved like water around the creature, folding back from it as if it were accustomed to being ripped open.

Veyla's Basilisk jerked under her instinctively, banking hard as debris rained past her visor. Her gauntlet hit the control yoke, and the war-droid dove with a predatory roar, stabilizers flaring against the confined space.

"Shab…" she hissed under her breath, the canyon whipping by in a blur.

Above them, three more signatures broke formation—no, not random movement. Predictive arcs. Pack behavior. These weren't mindless burrowers; they were strategists, circling to cut off retreat.

Vytal's shaken question rattled over the comms: How can they see us? Veyla didn't need the Force to put it together.

Her fingers tightened on the controls as she skimmed dangerously close to a jut of metal, her Basilisk's talons grazing it with a shower of sparks.

Then she spoke, voice firm but edged with the grit of someone who'd spent a lifetime reading how predators hunted: "They don't need to see us." A split second—another signature surged beneath her. "They feel us."

Her Basilisk juked sideways as the canyon floor convulsed upward like something beneath it was about to breach. She grit her teeth, forcing her mount into a tight corkscrew turn that barely cleared the rising wave of stone.

"Repulsors, mass displacement—every time we correct our flight paths, they're reading the pressure shifts and tracking us like prey."

Another rumble followed—deeper this time. Heavier. Wrong.

Veyla lifted her gaze just long enough to catch the fractures spiderwebbing along the canyon wall ahead. The creatures weren't burrowing randomly—they were corralling the Wolves into a kill zone.

"These things have hunted ships before," she added, her tone low and certain. "Smugglers didn't abandon their vessels—they were dragged under."

Then—A tremor hit that wasn't a tremor at all. It was the earth recoiling. Her stomach dropped. "Siv—whatever we just saw? That wasn't their alpha."

The canyon floor buckled. The sound rose—not like a creature emerging, but like the ground itself was being forced upward by something massive beneath it. Veyla's Basilisk roared, wings flaring wide. "Wolves—brace. The big one's coming."

Siv Kryze

Siv Kryze · Dec 6, 2025

.

The Basilisk beneath Siv descended in a smooth, predatory glide, its wings cutting through the ash-tinged air of the Hanging Warrens. The machine rumbled under him like an animal that already sensed the hunt, but Siv stayed centered—calm, controlled, unfazed by the way the canyon seemed to grind and shift around the Iron Wolves as if something deep beneath the rock was waking up to their presence.

Wreckage stretched across the ravine like a graveyard frozen mid-collapse—smuggler hulls twisted into the walls, cargo bays peeled open like rib cages, engines fused to stone by ancient crashes no one bothered to explain. Siv had seen graveyards like this before, but none that felt like they were paying attention.

Veyla's Basilisk kept close to his flank, her presence familiar in the squad formation. Ahead and below, heat signatures pulsed beneath the piles of derelict metal—too regular, too intentional to be environmental. The HUD chimed again. Movement. Slow. Patterned.

Vytal's earlier suspicion still hung in the air between the riders. Siv hadn't dismissed it then, and he didn't now. If anything, the Warrens seemed determined to prove her right.

He angled the Basilisk lower, letting the machine's scanners soak in the shifting field of signatures as they eased deeper into the maze of shattered hulls.

"Vytal wasn't wrong to question the stories," Siv said over the comms, his tone steady, unhurried. "These ships weren't abandoned. Something made crews run without looking back."

A low vibration rippled through the canyon—not the quake of settling stone, but something heavier, more directed. The Basilisk growled under him in response, shifting weight, talons scraping the air like it wanted to drop into a fight.

Siv guided the squad with small, clean adjustments—never barking orders, just laying out the shape of the danger so everyone could find their own footing.

"Keep it slow. Feel the ground through your mounts. There's a rhythm down here, and I want us matching it before we step into whatever's waiting."

The canyon walls narrowed, pulling them into a corridor of darkness where ship plating and rock fused together into jagged shapes that looked too much like teeth.

He let the silence hang for a moment, listening to the wind threading through broken metal, listening to his Basilisk breathe, listening to the Warrens hum like a creature with a pulse.

Calm. Certain. Reading the threat without fear.

"Something under this scrap chose to stay hidden," he said, voice low but edged with readiness. "Which means it knows this ground better than we do."

The signatures tightened on his HUD.

Closer.

More deliberate.

He eased the Basilisk forward another meter, posture steady, tone still friendly despite the tension coiling through the canyon.

"Stay with me, Wolves. We make sense of this together."

Another rumble—localized, intentional—rolled up through the wrecks.

Siv lifted his chin slightly, eyes narrowing as his mount shifted into a combat stance.

"And whatever's down there… it heard us coming."

He led them deeper, calm as ever, guiding the pack into the heart of the Hanging Warrens where the real story waited in the dark.

Tag:

Veyla Krinn

Liin Terallo · Dec 6, 2025

OBJECTIVE: BYOO

The quakes had quieted, but only in the way a creature quiets before it's next breath. Bogden never truly stilled. Heat pulsed up through the fractured ground in faint waves, carrying a metallic tang that clung to the back of my tongue. My tracker stuttered in my palm, it's display flickering as though unsure whether it wanted to function or to surrender entirely. Still it pointed me onward.

I moved carefully between jagged plates of stone, each one warm enough to radiate through the soles of my boots. My little companion clung to my shoulder, wings tucked tight to his sides, pupils narrowed in the glow of the vents. He felt the quakes before I did; every few seconds he tensed, and then settled again. “Almost there,” I murmured; mostly for myself.

The signal sharpened suddenly, the weak pulsing on the display turning into a steady, insistent beat. My heart gave a small jump. I had hidden this cache months ago; before the bounty on my head, before everything spiraled outward like shrapnel. Back then it was simply meant to be a contingency. Now it felt to me like salvation.

I rounded a jut of broken stone and stopped.

A narrow fissure yawned at my feet, wide enough to see the dim glint of the metal container far below wedged between two plates that must have shifted since I buried it. It was so close I could have dropped a pebble onto it… and so far out of reach that any careless move might send it plunging deeper into the planet’s volatile underlayers. “Perfect,” I exhaled under my breath.

The tracker’s light blinked steadily against my wrist. My cache was right there. And it was completely stuck.

I crouched at the edge, testing the stability of the rock with one hand. It groaned faintly like a warning. Using brute strength would be pointless. A tool-assisted extraction would take too long. And any seismic twitch could either crush the container or bury it forever. I swallowed with mind already working through possibilities. I had come prepared for obstacles. Just not this one. Still, I wasn’t leaving without what I came for.

Tag: OPEN

Kandosii Ka'rta · Dec 6, 2025

The Broken Concourse

Equipment: Beskar'gam, JT-13 Multipurpose Jetpack, ENCL-21 Ra'ntisr Heavy Blaster Pistol (x2), Enclave's Herald, Mandalorian Vambraces w/chamber-shot slugthrower, Enclave Bowie Knife, Pack of Fiora Ivory Cigarras
Tags:

Micah

Kandosii heard Micah approaching long before he landed, and couldn't help but chuckle quietly to himself as he heard the telltale scraping of boots on metal that spoke of an inexperienced landing without a word uttered. The younger Mando approached him and kneeled, and the Morellian smirked. "On yer feet, son." He said, jerking his chin upwards as he spoke, then retrieved the aluminum package from his pocket again, flipped it open, and offered it to Micah. He took note of the boy's features, easily seeing past the peach fuzz to see his youth, but clearly he wasn't some trust-fund boy, he had that gleam in his eyes that spoke to Kandosii. And if he was old enough to kill, he was old enough to smoke.

"I've been called a lot of things in my days, but 'sir' ain't one of 'em." Kandosii laughed, then took a drag of his own cigarra. " 'Kandosii' is good enough fer me. How's about you, boy?" Kandosii regarded the boy; young, probably a bit of a rebel judging by that bandana, but not too much of one judging by the kneeling. Funny, the kid reminded him a bit of himself in his early years, back when he was knee-high to a grasshopper back on Morellia. Hopefully this kid wouldn't have to learn his lessons the same way the boy that would become Kandosii did. At least he was on the right side of the law. The fact that the kid didn't seem to have any clan or house insignia markings on his armor didn't escape Kandosii's notice either, but then again neither did his own. He supposed if Micah did have a clan, he wouldn't need to go to a drifter like him for guidance.

He stood casually, his hand hanging loosely on his belt by his pistol as he pondered things; life, the galaxy, the future, his place in them. He had overheard an Iron Wolf mention something about "shatterpoints," and the way he saw it, this job could be a big shatterpoint for the direction of his existence as a Mandalorian. So better not kark it up. "So, what's your story?"

Hubert Starhopper · Tuesday at 10:02 PM

Objective: Watch your Steppe

Tags:

Zel Sharratt

Micah

Aether Verd

Eenia Vahn

Gear: Tool-Kit, Custom Blaster Pistol

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Trust your armor, huh? Great... Huberts eyes trail to their shared destination, a spear, snugly fit into its place of rest with a strange sort of fondness. Like it were a piece to some fairy tale you would tell your children before bed- whimsical, like it always belonged in a strange sort of way. The cigarette meets Huberts lips and hangs from them as he takes a long draw from it, contemplating how this is a team effort. He isn't doubting it, but realistically as far as Hubert can tell, the smartest option would be to send someone with a jetpack after it. However it crosses his mind instantly that it would just make the challenge a moot point.

"Wouldn't suppose y'all have an extra set of armor lyin' 'round would ya'?"

He grins, partially due to his nerves, partially due to the question being rhetorical. Getting thrown into the air with no way of cushioning that impact on the way back down isn't optimal, and neither is getting scorched to death... a long sigh billows cigarette smoke from his nose as he loses himself in thought, his eyes now trying to peel each little scab-like rise in the dirt open as if trying to predict which ones could pop. He may not be a techie, or fantastic in a brawl- but what he is- is lucky. That mixed with survival skills and a decent shot has gotten him this far, should be all he needs to get himself through this...

As he picks a route he feels comfortable with, he begins cautiously taking steps towards the objective, heeding

Aether Verd and his words- waiting for the rest of them to begin their own treks before embarking too far. If he is going to blare through without armor, he isn't doing it in isolation. Another puff is taken, the smoke catching the wind and disappearing almost instantly.

This day is definitely going to be interesting...

Liin Terallo · Tuesday at 10:38 PM

OBJECTIVE: BYOO

The heat rising from the fissures shimmered against my skin as I stepped to the edge of the ravine. The ground rumbled again beneath my boots, a long groaning tremor rolling through the tectonic plates. Bogden never did anything quietly.

A soft fluttering landed on my shoulder; claws light, careful. My companion. His dark wings were tucked tightly against his narrow body, amber eyes scanning the shifting shadows below. “Still with me?” I murmured. He clicked once, a sound that meant yes in this form.

I dropped to one knee and peered over the fractured edge. Far below, caught between two plates grinding slowly past one another was the faint gleam of my container. Pinched tight in the stone’s merciless grip. Too far down. Too dangerous to climb. Too deeply wedged for brute strength.

Another tremor rattled the cliff and the plates clenched a fraction tighter around the metal.

My companion hissed softly, wings shifting against my collar as if preparing to change shape; maybe into something longer, stronger, suited to reaching places that I could not.

“Not yet,” I whispered. “If the plates snap while you are down there, I may lose you too.”

His claws tightened on my shoulder in reluctant agreement.

I placed my palm against the rock and closed my eyes. The synthetic sense sparked instantly; wild, sprawling anf touching everything at once. The molten currents far beneath, the magnetic distortions above, my companion’s small, warm pulse perched beside me. Too much. Always too much at first. I breathed in slowly, centering, narrowing the sensation down to the faint, familiar resonance of Isotope-5 inside the case. A thread in the dark. The spark inside me stuttered, flared, then finally caught hold. The container shifted. A groan echoed through the ravine as the plates resisted. My companion crouched low, wings spreading slightly as if to shield me from falling debris. “Almost,” I spoke through gritted teeth.

The ability snapped once - painfully - but the container jolted loose in that same instant. The plates seized together with a deafening crack, and my companion shrieked in alarm as the metal case shot upward from the force.

I lunged, catching it against my chest as dust rained from above. For a moment, all I could do was kneel there, clutching the warm metal against my ribs while my companion crawled down my arm to inspect it, sniffing the seals as if making sure it had not been damaged. “It is okay,” I whispered while brushing a hand over his scaled head. “We have got it.” He chirped once, satisfied.

Inside was everything that must never fall into the hands of those hunting me - or worse, be used against the Mandalorians. If they ever believed I had created something that could threaten them… even

Jonah would not able to shield me.

I rose, securing the case and feeling the weight of it settle against my side. My companion shifted again, his small form elongating, wings melting into streamlined limbs better suited for travel. Something between a glider and a sleek scout-creature which was perfect for navigating Bogden’s broken terrain.

“Come on,” I said softly. “Let us get out before the next quake tries to finish the job.”

He sprang ahead, landing lightly on the cracked ridge, checking the path with uncanny intuition.

I followed him upward, case held tight, leaving the rattling fissure behind and carrying with me one of the last hidden piece of my work; and all the danger that came with it.

- EXIT -

Adelle Bastiel · Tuesday at 11:54 PM

The Hanging Warrens
Tags:

Vytal Noctura |

Veyla Krinn

Adelle both held on and pulled back on the control yoke, pulling them out of the inital nosedive and into something far more controlled as chunks of stone and boulders fell around her. The flow of the Force felt like a river's rapids, chaotic but manageable. Heart and mind settled into the moment, using all senses to keep her and her Basilisk in one piece. Other eruptions of stone happened over and behind them, massive worms with mouths like sarlaacs twisting and boring into the cliff walls. Adelle nearly flattened herself against her Basilisk war droid, focused on avoiding the falling debris.

Siv Kryze was the picture of composure, leading the formation deeper into the warrens and calling out orders with a friendly calm. Adelle could only aspire to such ease: she grew silent when she was focused, often forgoing the banter and sass she so liked to employ.

A thunderous crack split the air, sounding for all the world that Bogden had finally fully split in two. The ground ahead in the canyon, strangely devoid of starship skeletons began to bulge up.

Veyla Krinn said:
"Wolves—brace. The big one's coming."

They were very nearly on top of it as Veyla's voice came through. Adelle leaned forward and opened the throttle more on her mount, willing it to fly faster over what she could only assume was the alpha worm's burrow. Their formation cleared it just as the giant worm burst out from the ground, the snap of its maw sounding like an explosion.

The worms that had been chasing them slowed and seemed to be tunneling toward the ground, radiating eagerness. Perhaps they thought their alpha had captured their prey. It would buy them some time.

Worryingly, there were still heat signatures on her HUD as Siv's voice came through the comms again.

Siv Kryze said:
"And whatever's down there… it heard us coming."

"Whills, let it be something other than giant kriff-off worms," Adelle muttered.

Vytal Noctura · Thursday at 7:14 PM

Suggestions followed despite distinction. Vytal's dark lips thinned. It would be easier if they flew without using repulsors, but Mandalorians were allergic to ease. So were Nightsisters, but sometimes an easier road was not a wrong one. After all, if the threat ahead proved disappointing they still had the worms to look forward to on their way out -- so a skip now wouldn't deprive them of a hunt later. Presuming they didn't simply want to return to camp after whatever awaited below.

"How atmospheric," the pale Witch said in response to the jagged scenery around them. "Escaped one set of maws to find another." Not that she was complaining. A little danger made a place feel authentic. More so than a graveyard of abandoned shipwrecks with only the pale imitation of ghosts to haunt them.

Speaking of whom, now their motion had settled down with the worms behind them, Vytal reached out to her spiritual companions. Perhaps they would know something about whatever lurked ahead. Not that they perceived the world in the same way, but she'd long become accustomed to the need to translate what they relayed.

Veyla Krinn |

Veyla Krinn · Thursday at 9:36 PM

The canyon narrowed around them like the throat of some ancient beast, and Veyla kept her Basilisk tucked neatly along Siv's flank—close enough to cover him if needed, far enough not to clip wing plates on the jagged scrap rising from the rock. The air vibrated with that strange, teeth-grinding hum Bogden breathed out of the stone. Even the Basilisk under her armor felt it, its metallic muscles tightening with every shift of the canyon walls.

The heat signatures flickering across her HUD weren't environmental. They moved too cleanly, too deliberately. That alone was enough to set every instinct she had on edge.

Siv's voice carried through the channel, calm and certain despite the tension threading through the Warrens. Eyes up, Wolves. The dead ships here aren't dead. The warning sharpened something inside her—not fear, not surprise, just readiness.

Her Basilisk shuddered a split-second before the eruption hit. Rock exploded beside Adelle's mount, and Veyla banked sharply to keep debris from shredding her wing plates. A worm the size of a gunship launched from the wall, its mouth an impossible coil of teeth snapping through empty air where a Wolf had been seconds before.

"Osik—" she hissed behind her visor as the shockwave rolled through her mounts' frame.

Then Siv led them forward again, steady as a heartbeat in the chaos, and Veyla fell back into formation automatically. No hesitation. No question.

The ground ahead bulged.

Wolves—brace. The big one's coming.

She barely had time to breathe before the alpha erupted from the canyon floor, its maws snapping shut with a noise that hit like a detonite blast. Veyla's Basilisk skimmed the top of its rising jaws, plates screeching as she forced the machine into a tight roll that barely threaded through the narrowing gap of open air.

Behind them, the lesser worms dove again—expectant, eager. Thinking their alpha had taken prey. But the HUD still lit with movement. Still tracking them, still following. Veyla steadied her breathing and let her Basilisk drift slightly higher to widen her threat sweep, supporting Siv's angle without stepping into his role.

"Not worms," she said quietly, eyes narrowing at the readings building beneath the metal. "Whatever else is down there is moving with intent."

Not instinct. Not hunger. Purpose. Another tremor rolled through the canyon, sharp and localized. She felt the hairs along her arms lift beneath her armor—an instinct she'd never learned to ignore.

"Siv…" her voice stayed level, though her Basilisk's servos tensed beneath her. "Something under that scrap knows we're here—and it's closing fast."

But she was ready—steady at Siv's flank, every sense honed for what the Warrens meant to throw at them next.

Siv Kryze

Siv Kryze · 2025-12-13T02:48:41-0500

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Siv let the silence sit for a moment, reading the canyon the way he always did—not just with instruments, but with the subtle pressure in his gut, the way the world leaned when something big was about to move. The worms were noise. This wasn't. This was weight. Intent.

"Well," he said at last, tone easy, "good news is the little ones think their boss earned its meal. Bad news is… I don't think it landed the bite."

The stone below them rolled again, slow and deliberate.

He banked his Basilisk toward a mass of wreckage ahead—an old Imperial Star Destroyer, its spine cracked and half-swallowed by the canyon wall, hangar bay torn open like a wound that never healed.

"Alright," Siv went on, "new plan. Temporary plan. Because we still haven't named these maneuvers and I'm not pretending we have."

A brief pause.

"We take cover inside the Destroyer. Big, loud target. The alpha follows, thinks it's cornered us. The smaller ones stay put—far as they know, the hunt's over."

He dropped their altitude slightly, feeling the balance of the moment shift. Debris fell differently now. Angles tightened. He didn't force anything—just nudged timing, adjusted pathing, let falling stone miss by margins that felt earned rather than miraculous.

"That thing doesn't like tight spaces," Siv added calmly. "Built to ambush in open rock. Not to turn corners."

The tremor came again. Closer.

He glanced toward Veyla on his flank, then keyed the channel.

"Once it commits to the wreck, we turn the tables. Someone—" a beat, dry as dust, "—can volunteer to climb onto the alpha and convince it this was a bad decision. Explosives, blades, strong words. Dealer's choice."

A hint of humor slipped through.

"I'll keep its attention at the hangar mouth.

Veyla Krinn , watch the approach.

Adelle Bastiel , trust your hands—you've been flying the ground better than most.

Vytal Noctura …" another pause, respectful, measured. "If you get any warnings from wherever you listen, don't be shy."

The Destroyer's shadow swallowed them as the canyon groaned behind.

Siv's grip stayed steady, breathing even, the world around him settling into something he could carry.

"Alright, Wolves," he said, calm as bedrock. "Let's hide in an Imperial failure and remind Bogden we don't break easy."

Tag: