Populate The Remnant War - Sularen's Folly [ ME Populate of Selnesh ]

[Elian Abrantes]

Objective 3
Charros IV - Fort Hardhome
Tags: Open​

Elian was halfway through the repairs, several hours later, scraping away the charred durasteel, salvaging what components he. Those could be used for backups, new ones would be put into place. Elian didn't deal too much in replacement parts, at least not hand me downs. Not in this line of work, everything would be new, if they wanted it functioning correctly. And he would come by every week to make sure everything was running smoothly. That's what he was getting paid, it wasn't too bad. It was the quiet time that he liked, working with his hands, or well now his one hand. He mused at the thought.

He heard a roar from the wookiee which mean it was almost lunch time.

Elian retrieved his lunch and took a seat right next to the half complete sensor array. He smirked as he took a bite from his sandwich and leaned back against the device. He couldn't deny that this wasn't better than being out there in the field. He partially didn't know what he was doing half the time, he wasn't a soldier, he wasn't ever going to be one. That wasn't him, this is where he excelled. And he was happy to be back doing it. It was making him smile, and it brought a sense of amusment to him.

For it wasn't his family, or anything that he found solace in, but it was in his work.

He reached into his datapad and pulled out his datapad, he stared at the cover for a moment. The cover was a picture of him with his friends. This one was taken in the auditorium. He giggled as he took a deep breath, and even then he couldn't stop the single tear from rolling down his cheek. That was a good day, Elian mused with a smile. He missed them....

"Why are you crying? Are you sad?"

Elian glanced up to the Wookiee standing before him, repeating his question. It startled him just lightly. "No, I'm not crying! I'm just happy. This sandwich is so good, and so wonderfully made, it brought a tear to my eye." Elian spoke as he took another bit, placing the datapad down.

"Really, let me have some?" The wookiee joking reached for his sandwhich.

"Woah! Woah!! You can't have this one!" Elian said as he narrowed his eyes at him. "But I do have another you can have. Here." Elian reached for his second sandwich and handed it to the wookiee.

Elian wasn't expecting him to take a seat right next to him.

 

[Prisoner #36929]

Tags: Mia Monroe​

Beskar'gam, she had called it. Armor. Real armor. Something earned. Something his. For a split second, he pictured it. Himself in beskar, moving through a fight without fear chewing at his ribs. The thought stuck longer than it should have.

Yeah… I'd work for that.

He straightened a little, the faint grin still there before it faded into something more focused. Earning it felt right. Better than having it handed to him. Like it might actually mean something when it was his.

Then her question landed. Mentor. Right. Of course there's a catch. There's always a catch.

He blinked, the confidence slipping just enough to be noticeable. Had he found one? No. Had he even thought about it? Also no. He'd been too busy… drifting.

He rubbed the back of his neck again, a habit he was starting to hate.

"No," he admitted, glancing back at the display for half a second before looking at her again. "I haven't."

He fumbled over his words again before finally saying, "…Where do I find one of those?"

 

[Mia Monroe]

Mia didn't just see the shift in him, she felt it. He suddenly had purpose, something to strive towards and the change in him was dramatic, confidence filled the space that awkwardness had dominated only to falter when he question hit home. Mia almost felt sorry for him, but pity wouldn't help him.

"You're looking at one."

She let the words land as her gaze rolled over him, assessing him again before settling her eyes back on his face, her expression contemplative for a moment before she turned back to the display, reverting it back to its original state.

"Rally Master." she called, one of the mandalorians moving around the edge of the room stepped forward. "Alert me of any significant changes to the battlefield, the moment the line begins to show signs of breaking."

"Yes, Warmaster."

Mia beckoned the foundling to follow, leading them out of the makeshift war room and picking their way through the fort still under construction till they found a quieter open space. "Do you know that muscle has memory?" she asked as she gestured to him to move into the middle of the space as she set about removing her armour, it would be unfair, after all, to face him with it on.

"You don't remember who you are, but your body will remember things that you cannot recall. So lets see if there is something in those memories that can be of use to you here. If you can land a hit, I'll help you find your feet. If you can't, I'll still know enough about you to help you find someone who can."

Prisoner #36929

 

[Prisoner #36929]

Tags: Mia Monroe
Equipment: X​

Prisoner stared at her, of course she was a mentor. She was likely a legend to her people, while he was just a prisoner who had stumbled into the title of foundling. The gap between them felt like a canyon, yet she was already moving, beckoning him to follow. He fell into step behind her, trailing through the half-finished fort until they reached a quiet clearing.

He watched in silence as she began stripping away her armor. The realization hit him quickly: this was a trial. Her talk of muscle memory made sense in theory, but the practical application was daunting. She wanted him to fight her.

"Are... Are you sure about this?" Prisoner asked, his voice wavering.

He glanced around the open space, worried a passing Mandalorian might mistake this for an actual assassination attempt. He didn't want to be crucified because he looked like a traitor or, perhaps worse, a fool. He shifted his weight, trying to find a stance that didn't feel entirely alien. If his body held secrets, they were buried deep.

He raised his hands, though they felt heavy and uncertain. He didn't want to hurt her, but looking at the way she carried herself even without the beskar, he doubted that was a realistic concern. He was the one in danger here...

 

[Liorra]

Well. No one got spaced, and the E-Web was dealt with.

Lio figured that counted as a good day.

She pulled her holocomm up, thumbing through her messages as she slowed to a stop. The glow of the display reflected faintly across her visor as she shifted her lips to the side, grateful, as always, that the helmet hid more than it revealed.

Nothing.

Her chest tightened, just a little.

Had she been expecting something from Mia Monroe? …Yeah.

Liorra exhaled slowly, lowering the device before glancing over toward the others. "Which way, vod?" she asked, looking between Aselia Verd and Adelle Bastiel , the question casual, too casual.

She didn't notice it at first.

The faint glow.

Then brighter.

Her gloves had begun to burn with a soft orange light, heat radiating outward in quiet waves. The same telltale shimmer that had flared before when her control slipped. When something underneath the surface pushed through. She didn't feel angry. Not really.

Just… off. Hurt, maybe.

And that was worse. Her jaw tightened slightly beneath the helmet as she shifted her weight, as if grounding herself might be enough to smother it. It wasn't. A sound echoed from deeper within the ship, metal, movement, something worth chasing.

Lio's head snapped toward it instantly.

"Never mind, I got it!" she called out, already moving.

Better to move.

Better to fight.

Better to let the heat in her hands speak for her than deal with whatever this was.

Mia Monroe | Aselia Verd | Adelle Bastiel ​

 

[Mia Monroe]

Mia tilted her head at the question, a frown creasing her brow at the sudden waver in his tone. She supposed, someone with her reputation might seem intimidating in such a situation, and no doubt he had been one of hundreds watching the Verd’gotten trial.

“I am certain.” she said stepping in the space. She didn’t raise her hands, nor did she settle into any fighting stance, she simply stood, her sapphire gaze watching everything. The tense of his muscles as he lifted his fists and tried to find a stance.

“Unless you’d rather go back to unloading boxes and setting up electrical equipment?” the corner of her mouth lifted in a small smile before she lifted a hand, beckoning him. “Don’t think, just trust your body.”

 

[Prisoner #36929]

Tags: Mia Monroe
Equipment: X​

The idea of returning to hauling crates and wiring consoles felt worse than a beating. That was a slow, mind-numbing grind. If he was going to hurt tomorrow, he'd rather it be because he faced a legend. At least there was dignity in a bruise earned from a Warmaster.

The Prisoner took a deep breath, trying to settle the frantic rhythm of his heart. He grounded himself, focusing on the weight of his boots against the dirt. Mia stood perfectly still, her lack of a stance more intimidating than any aggressive posture.

"Boxes can wait," he muttered, more to himself than her.

He stopped thinking and let his arms lead. He lunged forward, closing the distance with surprising intent. His first strike was a straight punch aimed at her shoulder, followed quickly by a low sweep of his palm toward her ribs. The movements were unpolished and lacked the fluid grace of a master, but there was a ghost of something lethal in the way his weight shifted.

It was as if it was a rough, instinctual echo of Teräs Käsi. His strikes were heavy, pushing through the air with a blunt force that suggested his body knew how to break bone, even if his mind couldn't name the technique. He didn't pause to see if he landed a blow; he simply kept moving, desperate to find the rhythm buried in his bones.

 

[Mia Monroe]

Mia watched him settle, determination settling across his expression as he ground himself in the moment, the mutter drawing a small smile.

Then he moved, his movement sharp as he let his body lead, Mia's stance moved instantly to match his as the punch snapped towards her shoulder, she swept it aside with her forearm, forcing it wide as her other hand moved to do the same with the other strike, slapping his wrist before he could make contact.

She let him push her back, slowly giving ground, using palms and forearms to turn his strike aside. She could feel the weight behind them, the lethality that rested in their shadow. She let him find his rhythm before she began to push back, her hands becoming sharper as she stopped simply turning strikes aside and began to counter.

The first controlled strike came low, a sharp blow beneath his sternum aimed to wind, though it was clear she was holding back. the aim was not to overwhelm him or leave him broken, it was to give him an opportunity to remember something of himself, and for her to see what he could become.

Prisoner #36929

 

[Aselia Verd]

Aselia didn't immediately look at Liorra when she spoke. Her attention had already shifted down the corridor Adelle had marked, tracking distance, angles, and the tightening rhythm of boots echoing through the deck plating ahead of them. The ship was starting to respond to their presence, corridors funneling, pressure building in ways that were familiar enough to read without thinking about it.

"Right," she said, already moving to follow Adelle's lead, her pace brisk but controlled, her focus forward.

The alert came a moment later, her HUD flickered with a spike heat signature climbing, vitals pushing past baseline. Aselia's gaze shifted just enough to catch the edge of orange light blooming across Liorra's gloves, the distortion faint but present as it rolled off her in uneven waves. Aselia slowed for half a step, watching her peel away down the corridor with that sudden, decisive momentum. The sound of reinforcements sharpened at the same time, boots and shouted orders carrying through the metal spine of the ship, closing distance faster than they could afford.

Her head turned slightly toward Adelle, just enough to confirm she'd seen it too, her voice low and even as she spoke. "Her vitals are climbing. Heat signature's spiking with it. No idea what that means, but we'd better get after her."

Another glance down the corridor Liorra had taken, then back to their original path. The calculation didn't take long.

"Let's not chase, we'll cut her off," Aselia said, already shifting her angle, redirecting without hesitation. Her pace adjusted immediately, longer strides eating up the distance as she moved into Liorra's path rather than trailing behind it. Her HUD tracked Liorra's position cleanly, projected path updating in real time as Aselia cut across the corridor to meet her further ahead instead of following the same line.

In the same motion, she slung the rifle from her shoulder, letting it fall back against its harness as her hands moved without pause to draw her disruptor pistols. The familiar weight settled into her grip, one in each hand, held low but ready, better suited for the tighter confines of the corridor and whatever waited around the next bend.

Her gaze stayed forward, sweeping the space ahead, reading corners and sightlines as she moved. The ship felt tighter here, more confined, the kind of place where a single mistake stacked fast. Her movement stayed controlled, deliberate, closing distance with the intent to bring Liorra back into line before whatever she was chasing turned into something worse.

TAG: Adelle Bastiel Liorra
​

 

[Aether Verd]

Wearing:
Beskar'gam - Darksaber​

CHARROS IV - FORT HARDHOME

Mand'alor the Iron nodded.

When both his daughter and his pupil affirmed that they did not have any questions, Aether motioned towards the holoprojector with his dominant hand. As he did, the blue triangles - representing their forces - were highlighted on the projection. "There is a reason that the Iron Wolves have the name they do. Wolves are an easy representation of how Mandalorians fight in space."

"As you can see here, we have the numbers advantage."

He motioned towards the red insignias of the enemy, which paled in number compared to their own. "For every destroyer they bring to bear, we have an answer in numbers. No one fights alone. Everyone moves as a unit."

He then motioned towards the two of them.

"Knowing this, a question. And don't overthink it, I want to hear your gut thought. What is our weakness in this approach?"

Aether's gaze moved from one to the other, his tone easy, but the severity of the lesson hung in the air. The day would come where they would need to know when their tactics are working and when they are coming up against a superior enemy. In which case, he would teach them how to pivot.

Torva Vikar + Kirae Orade

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Eye of Lianna
Tags: Aselia Verd | Liorra

A phantom echo of tension constricted her chest. Adelle’s focus sharpened on her vode beside her. Aselia still gave off the stability of a boulder sat in the middle of a river’s rapids. But fire flickered, flared, and danced in Liorra’s presence. The young Wolf’s hands glowed orange like a billet in the forge and her presence started to vibrate like an instrument’s string strung too tight. Before anyone could say anything, Liorra was off like a shot, running towards enemy movement like she’d found an escape.

"Her vitals are climbing. Heat signature's spiking with it. No idea what that means, but we'd better get after her."

“I could sense something else,” Adelle said. “Something triggered this.”

She ground her teeth and took a few steps after her. If she was as powerful as her mother, this could very easily turn problematic.

"Let's not chase, we'll cut her off," Aselia said, already shifting her angle, redirecting without hesitation.

Highly emotional. Something constricting around the chest. Something tinged with disappointment.

“Go, cut her off.” Adelle started after the young Wolf. “She needs to know someone’s behind her.”

Boots echoed in the corridor as she sprinted after Liorra, one eye on her HUD and tracking Aselia’s movement. Chokepoints increased as Adelle followed the carnage wreaked by Liorra. Turns became tighter, intersections increased, and Adelle could only follow. She swore under her breath and moved faster. There were too many Imps on this vessel and too many things that could go wrong.

She finally caught up with the teenager as a full platoon rounded the corner, Aselia’s signature nearby.

“Liorra! Hey!” Adelle yelled, trying to get her attention. Her lightsaber hummed as she brought it up, moving in to back up the volatile powerhouse. “Don’t just go running off on your own. You’re not doing this alone.”

 

[Prisoner #36929]

Tags: Mia Monroe
Equipment: X​

The Prisoner felt the frustration building as Mia deflected every blow. He was swinging at a ghost. He poured more focus into the movement, letting his limbs take over. It worked. The stiff, awkward motions began to smooth out into a flow that felt disturbingly familiar. He even managed to drive her back a few paces, a small grin tugging at his lips. For the first time since waking up in this mess, he felt a spark of genuine confidence.

The fun ended the moment she pivoted. Her defense sharpened into a counter-offensive, and before he could register the shift, a palm slammed into his sternum. The air left his lungs in a sharp wheeze. He collapsed into a crouch, gasping for breath as spots danced in his vision.

He knew she had held back, but the impact still felt like being kicked by a pack beast.

He stayed down for a second, his mind racing. He could quit here, but he remembered the trials on Kalevala. These people didn't value perfection, they valued the sheer stubbornness to keep standing when the odds were miserable. Mia was the personification of impossible odds. If he wanted anything in this Empire, he had to show her he wasn't easily broken.

The Prisoner stayed low, exaggerating his struggle to breathe to draw her in. Once he felt the timing was right, he exploded upward from his crouch. He threw a heavy, distracting feint toward her jaw before immediately dropping his weight back to the dirt. Using his momentum, he whipped his leg around in a wide, powerful sweep aimed directly at her ankles to take the ground from under her.

 

[Mia Monroe]

Mia watched him for a moment, doubled over and winded by her strike there wasn’t concern in her face, just the same level of quiet assessment she had started this with. When he didn’t rise after a few moments, she moved forward intending to get him up, to push him to keep going. To stop now when the fluidity of his movements was growing with each passing minute.

She felt the shift as she drew in close, muscles tensing before he launched up, his fist flying past her face as she leaned back to avoid it, a grin splitting across her face as her weight set on her back foot. His kick connected hard with her lead ankle hard, taking the ground out from under it, but with her weight already behind her, she didn’t topple.

Instead she stepped out of it, moving back two paces.

“Good!” she said her smile wider as she set herself into a defensive stance.

“Again.”

 

[Mia Monroe]

. ignore

 

[Liorra]

Aselia Verd | Adelle Bastiel​

Rage came fast.

Liorra moved with it, not against it letting the heat in her hands surge outward, no longer contained. Thermokinesis answered her call without hesitation. Metal warped under her will, glowing a deep, angry orange before softening then giving way entirely. Bulkheads sagged. Weapon housings bent. Armor began to fail where it wasn't meant to.

Blaster fire snapped toward her.

Most of it never landed.

She answered with fire tight, violent bursts that tore through the air and splashed across plastoid in searing arcs. Where the flames struck, they lingered. Where they lingered, they melted.

She didn't slow.

The beskad came forward, already wreathed in heat, the blade glowing as it cut. It met resistance for all of a heartbeat before sliding through clean, effortless. The Imperial didn't even have time to react before Lio was past them.

Moving.

Always moving.

If Mia Monroe wanted to ignore her, that was fine. Absolutely, fine.

What do I need her for anyway?

The thought hit harder than any strike, her nostrils flared, hot tears rolled down her skin.

Liorra drove forward, fist slamming into the chestplate of another trooper with enough force to stagger them back. Heat flared on impact, metal groaning under the sudden surge before she followed through her beskad snapping into an exposed joint, punching through with brutal precision.

All she could feel was heat, rage. She didn't want to name the feeling or deal with it instead she let it all burn. Mia was a consort of the darkside after all, what did Lio need with that? She spun around to deck another trooper.

 

[Prisoner #36929]

Tags: Mia Monroe
Equipment: X​

The praise acted like fuel. The Prisoner didn't hesitate, launching himself forward as the adrenaline finally hit his system. The awkwardness was gone, replaced by a strange, surging clarity. This felt more natural than walking or talking. He was relentless, a blur of motion fueled by a sudden, boundless energy that demanded to be spent.

He saw her hands moving, a wall of calculated defense that parried every strike, but he didn't care. He was having fun. The more she blocked, the more he pushed, his mind settling into a deep, focused calm. A flash of memory flickered behind his eyes: a cold, quiet room and the rhythmic thud of his knuckles hitting wood. He saw himself standing over a shattered practice dummy, his hands bruised and bloody, driven by a desperate need to be perfect.

That same determination took hold of him now. He channeled everything into a rapid-fire combination, his hands and feet moving with a precision he didn't know he possessed. As he finished the sequence, he leaned into his final strike, intending to shove her back.

He didn't just use his muscles. A sudden, invisible surge erupted from his center, a physical weight that slammed into Mia's core like a battering ram. Prisoner stumbled back, his hands trembling as his eyes went wide. He stared at his own palms, his heart hammering against his ribs for an entirely new reason. He wasn't sure what had just happened, but the air around them still felt heavy with the aftermath.

 

[Mia Monroe]

He didn’t hesitate surging forward again, his movement had lost all hesitancy, there was no fumbling, no second guessing as he gave himself over completely to the spar. His strikes became harder, faster, pressing every angle of her defence with precision. Mia was no longer simply entertaining him, she settled into the spar properly, no longer assessing, but simply enjoying it for what it was.

She felt the shift in him, the determination that came behind the sequence that began to push into the realm of something she might have been concerned about if this were a real fight as her own hands and feet moved to match him, to deflect when she felt the shift in the force, the split second warning was all she had before the energy slammed into her, driving the wind from her lungs as it connected with her chest, doubling her over. She slid back several feet, anchoring herself with the force to keep herself grounded and upright.

Sapphire eyes settled on his face as she straightened, noting the tremble of his hands and wide eyes. He hadn’t meant to do that, at least not consciously. Mia smiled, rubbing her sternum as she moved back towards him. “Well, that answers some questions.” She came to a stop one pace away from him. “Breathe, ad’ika, you’re okay.”

Prisoner #36929

 

[Prisoner #36929]

Tags: Mia Monroe
Equipment: X​

Prisoner's lungs burned, each breath coming in ragged gasps as the adrenaline began to ebb. The energy he had just unleashed felt like it had been pressurized behind a dam for years. Now that the gates were open, he struggled to find his center again. He wrapped his arms around his chest, physically holding himself together to keep from trembling as Mia approached.

He watched her closely, his mind racing with questions. He wondered what exactly she had seen in those few seconds of violence. To him, it was a blur of instinct and a terrifying, invisible shove, but she looked as though she had just read an open book. If she had found the answers she was looking for, he hoped they were the kind that kept him as a Foundling.

"What is... ad'ika?" he managed to ask between breaths.

The word felt strange on his tongue, unfamiliar yet lacking the harshness of the other Mandalorian commands he'd heard. He stayed rooted to the spot, waiting for his heart rate to drop. He felt exposed, like he had accidentally bared a secret he didn't even know he was keeping.

Despite the shock of what he'd done, a small part of him felt lighter. He had stood his ground against a Mand'alor and stayed on his feet. This was a story he was going to exaggerate for generations to come.

 

[Mia Monroe]

Mia watched him carefully, not wanting to intrude on his space as he wrestled with the after effects of what had happened. He was off kilter but he was still trying to follow her words, still doing his best to focus.

“It means child.” She answered softly. “Or son or daughter. Mando'a is genderless and one word can often mean many things.”

She gestured to his hands wrapped around himself. “Relax your arms and focus on slowing your breathing. In through your nose and slowly out of your mouth.”

Mia gave him a moment, moving away to where she'd carefully piled her armour and beginning to don it again, watching him as she did.

“What you did tells me you are gifted with the force, more than that, you have had training. Even if you cannot access those lessons consciously, your body remembers them.”

She looked up from her the fastenings of the plates on her thighs. “I can help you learn more, but you should know I am not a gentle teacher.”

Prisoner #36929

 

[Prisoner #36929]

Tags: Mia Monroe
Equipment: X​

The Nagai pushed the sting of being called a child to the back of his mind. Whether it was a tease or a term of endearment, he didn't have the energy to dwell on it. He focused on his breathing instead, drawing air in through his nose and letting it out in slow, steady exhales. Gradually, the frantic thumping in his chest slowed, and the galaxy stopped blurring at the edges.

"The Force," he murmured. He had known of such a thing, of course, but he never imagined he was part of them. Not the first thing he thought he would learn of his past self.

The idea that his body held years of training he couldn't remember was unsettling. It made him feel like a passenger in his own skin, watching a stranger fight his battles.

He looked away as she offered to train him, a sudden wave of uncertainty washing over him. He wasn't sure if he was embarrassed by his own ignorance or simply overwhelmed by the weight of her attention. Every time he thought he had a handle on who he was, the floor dropped out from under him again.

Still, he knew better than to turn away from the only person offering him a path forward.

"I don't think I need anything gentle or easy, Liberator," he said, his voice regaining some of its strength. He looked back at her, meeting her gaze with a renewed flicker of defiance. "I can handle it. I think."