Invasion This is the Way || ME Invasion of DIA-held Yaga Minor

[Korda Veydran]

Korda ducked behind the shattered wall of a ruined building, boots digging into the ash and rubble. The AA battery loomed just ahead, still operational, its barrels swiveling lazily as if scanning for the next target, but beyond that, Korda didn't know what else waited. He could see the streets leading to the corner buildings, but the enemy within them remained hidden. Not yet his problem.


He exhaled slowly, letting the weight of the descent, the trench fight, and the nest clearance settle for a heartbeat. Then he shifted his focus to the squad beside him. Four Mandalorians, battered but alive. One of them, the leg wound from earlier, was slumped against the debris, helmet off. Korda crouched beside him, assessing the damage.


"Leg looks worse than it is?" he asked quietly.
The wounded Mando shook their head. "I'm good… still good to fight."
Korda didn't reply with words. Instead, he made a decision. "Stay put. Sit. Breathe. Don't try anything until I give the word."
The injured one nodded, letting Korda work without fuss.


He rose slightly and turned to the other three, moving down the line as he checked their armor, joints, and blasters. Plates were scratched, one shoulder servo had taken a spike but nothing critical. Weapons were loaded, safety switches clicked, and barrels free of debris. He nodded. "Good. Stay sharp."


Then Korda crouched, pulled the Ashen Maw from its mag-lock, and twisted the fuel canister free. Flamer attachment slid into place with a satisfying snap, the weapon hissing softly as it recalibrated. He checked the ammo drum, counted rounds, and ran through the remaining explosives strapped to his harness: standard charges, a few custom modifications of his own design, and three that were… more theatrical than practical.


He tapped one lightly, almost joking. "Think this battery likes things extra spicy?"
The other three Mandalorians laughed quietly, the tension easing just a fraction. They gave him thumbs up as they finished checking themselves and their blasters.


"All systems ready," one reported.
"Confirmed," said the second.
"Clear," said the third.


Korda looked back at the wounded Mando. Helmet off, face pale but eyes alert. He crouched again, fingers brushing the edge of the armor, checking straps and servos.

Korda crouched beside the wounded Mando, assessing the leg wound again. "You're staying here," he said firmly. "Don't try anything. I'll cover you, I promise."
The injured Mando nodded, trusting him completely.


Korda rose slightly and turned to the other three, scanning their armor and weapons one last time. Plates were scratched, servos working, blasters loaded and free of debris. He nodded. "Good. You're ready."
He slung the Ashen Maw back onto his shoulder, vibroblade mag-locked at his side, then motioned for the three to gather close. Quietly, he began, voice low and steady.


"Kad Ha'rangir, watch over us. Bless our weapons and guide our hands. Keep us safe as we strike the heretics, and let our blows honor the path of our people."
The three Mandalorians murmured their assent, hands brushing their helmets in salute, voices joined with his in the prayer.
"Give us courage," Korda continued, "and clarity. Let us move as one. Let the Destroyer watch over the fallen, and grant mercy to those who survive this day."


The prayer ended in silence, the sound of distant AA fire and the rumble of war filling the void. Korda's eyes swept the streets ahead, the ruined buildings at the corner, and the AA battery still in the distance.


"Alright," he said finally, voice low but sharp. "Weapons ready. Explosives counted. We move as one. Kad Ha'rangir watch us, and let the Destroyer guide our steps."

He slung the Ashen Maw firmly, checked the harness, and gestured to the squad. Silent acknowledgment passed between them. The prayer was complete, but the hunt was only beginning.

Tags: Norbert Oro

 

[Norbert Oro]

The Angels of Meu
Allies - Diarchy and Lilaste forces
Support - Friendly FOB 1km away
Current Objective - Restore LO-25/AA battery, down the road
Location - Objective 3 City Ruins
Manpower - 20 Elite Infantrymen
Equipment - LO-20D, LO-44 MKII, LO-RPG20, LO-12S, LO-22S, Beskar Vibro-Bayonet, T9-XO Exo-Suit
Ammunition - LO-AP 19, LO-AVM 1
Current Element Status - All 20 Alive

The Angels watch the Mandalorians from the shadows. They hold their weapons, tightly against themselves, ready to attack when the order is given. As the Mandalorians march up the street Norbert tells his men to hold:

"Exspecta..."

"Signum exspecta..."

"Nunc!"

With the order given, the Angels pounce from behind cover, with their guns held outside the windows. It seems as if the world stoped. Then, they open fire. The platoon's weapons unleash in unison. Many rounds are true, others bounce off of, or ricochet off Beskar and concrete. The rounds that do make contact, pierce and imbed themselves in the Beskar armor. The sacred armor holds against most of the impacts, the metal catches rounds and trap them within its surface or deflect them away in showers of sparks. The sheer impact and force from the hailstorm of bullets stagger their targets; though many rounds may not literally hit skin, every round is felt.

One unlucky soul felt the most of the assault. 5-6 infantry unintentionally shot at the same Mandalorian.

All of their LO-44s were aimed at the Mandos head. The rounds that struck, began to crack and break the Beskar helmet. The helmet is shattered like glass; part of the visor from the helmet shatters and reveals the face of the Mandalorian. The impact of each round is louder than the last and eventually, debris from the helmet and sprawl from the ammunition imbed themselves into the head of the Mandalorian. No round directly pierced the skull, but, whether or not they are dead or alive, they have sustained a life-threatening injury to the head.

Tags: Korda Veydran

 

[Dreidi Xeraic]

​

Objective: 3 - Yaga Minor
Outfit: Nightsister Armour
Equipment: Lightsaber, Ichor Sword and Dathomiri Energy Bow
Opposition: Zinayn

Dreidi took down three Diarchy soldiers, there was no joy in the action. She didn't think that there was ever going to be joy in removing a life in war. There had to be better ways to sort these disputes but at the same time, she could not allow the lives of her own people to be at risk. Her golden eyes locked with the red of a Chiss. There was a tilt in her head as she looked over to him, there was a clear aura of the Force that surrounded him. Something that indicated he was a Force User. Which likely made him more dangerous to the Mandalorians since while they had some technology and experience in fighting Force Users, it was never usually good enough for a one on one style fight.

Looking swiftly around the area, Dreidi took a couple ideas of where the best to move with her abilities. Firing her arrows towards the Chiss, seeing how quick his reflexes were going to be. Then she teleported into a green mist, appearing thirty feet away in a new direction, firing several more arrows towards him. The ruins and current terrain leaned into Dreidi's favoured tactic of ranged attacks while also being in constant movement. It was tiring work to constantly do it but for a short burst, Dreidi could utilise the tactic to overwhelm and test the level of skill that she was coming across.

There were no words that came from her, no attempts to negotiate a peace or understand the opposition. Something she had explored doing in the past when fighting. But things had changed over time. Dreidi had changed over time and she was focused on keeping safe that which she cared about. It was why not even Grisial came with her on this mission. The Vulptex had learned some fighting techniques but she could not shake the idea that there was no guarantee in his safety if she pursued that course of action. Instead he remained home and a colder Dreidi operated the battlefield. One that could move with speed and a level of agility that few could match.

Holding the bow, Dreidi pulled on the energised string, ready to let loose another series of arrows.

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

​

| Location | Yaga Minor, Outer Rim Territories

Explosions erupted across the sky—above, below, everywhere that one looked—vibrant bursts of light cascading like fireworks in full display transformed the darkness of night into the light of a thousand miniature suns, each rippling with a kaleidoscope of colours and thunderous noise that was barely dampened by the Buy'ce that Itzhal wore.

"Get us close," He ordered calmly, his voice contained to the confines of his buy'ce and the comm-signal that he shared between himself and the beast of war beneath him.

With a shriek that rattled the Morellian's bones and poured fire into his soul, the Basillisk descended, spiralling downwards in a mad dash that thrummed with the momentum of sublight engines that tore the distance asunder. His hands braced around the controls, as another twist yanked on the straps attached to his sides and back.

Seconds later, the durasteel walls of the tower consumed his vision, the sky on either side growing smaller as they neared their objective. He grunted under the strain as a wave of force slammed into his shoulders and chest, reduced by the inertia dampeners that prevented his body from turning to a goo, barely contained within the confines of his bodysuit.

Unable to breathe for a second as the pressure held him in its merciless grasp, panic battered against a wall of iron will that slammed down upon it. It would find no purchase here.

Metallic hands forged in the mantle of war descended upon the outer plates of the space elevator. With twin shrieks from both droid and structure, they were ripped apart, durasteel tearing like pieces of clay beneath sharpened nails, scrambling for purchase within the now-exposed layers.

Itzhal gasped, his lungs burning for the relieving gust of air that was injected into his buy'ce with a soft hiss of the internal machinery.

Information flooded Itzhal's visor as a single crucial figure emerged amidst the chaos: Local hull integrity at 23%. Behind that glowing data point, the tensile strength of the detected materials lining the Space Elevator's walls flickered, measured side by side with the pressure exerted by the Jai'galaar-type Basilisk War Droid he piloted. Its relentless assault, unfazed by the burst of pressurised air from the torn open plates and screeching sirens that rattled exposed metal limbs, stretched out in the sky, holding flashing red lights that flickered in the darkness. Subsystems integrated between the structure's plates, glowed beneath Itzhal's visor in a dizzying array of calculations and hypothetical assumptions, strategic targets and pressure points, all leading to a final purpose.

Desolation.

Glinting knives—shaped by uncaring hands—descended from the heavens in senseless waves of death and destruction. A bloody ruin, for those who dared to hide at the base of their staircase to the stars.

Tags: Diarch Rellik

Assets: Standard Basilisk War Droid​

 

[Korda Veydran]

The first shots hit like a thunderclap.
"CONTACT! COVER!" Korda barked, already moving as rounds slammed into his armor. Each impact rang through beskar and bone alike, a brutal percussion that staggered him back behind the ruined wall. Sparks danced across his visor as he hit the ground hard, breath forced from his lungs.


The Angels had waited well.
Korda rolled, dragging one of his Mandalorians down with him as fire shredded the street they'd just crossed. He felt it all, the force of every round, the way even beskar remembered being struck.


Then he saw it.
One of his squad, out in the open, took the full weight of it. Too many rifles. Too much focus. Korda's breath caught as the Mandalorian went down, armor ringing, body collapsing hard against the street.


"No!" Korda surged forward instinctively.
Strong hands grabbed him from behind.
"Hold!" one of the others snarled. "You'll die out there!"


Korda fought them, teeth bared behind the helmet, rage flaring hot and immediate. He could see the fallen Mando twitch, hear the sharp, broken sound of pain through the comm.
The gunfire didn't stop.


Seconds dragged like hours.
Then, just for a heartbeat, the storm faltered. Reloads. Shifting fire. A gap.
Korda tore free.


He sprinted into the open without thinking, rounds cracking past him, armor screaming as he skidded to his knees beside the fallen Mandalorian. The helmet was ruined, broken, useless, but Korda didn't look at that. He hooked an arm under the warrior's shoulders and hauled them back toward cover with a strength born of fury and desperation.


They collapsed behind the rubble together.
The Mandalorian was alive. Barely.
Korda pulled them close, one arm braced around their back as the other pressed against their chest plate, voice low and urgent. "Stay with me. Stay with me."


The reply was faint. Broken. But there.
Then it wasn't.
The weight in his arms changed.
Something inside Korda snapped.


He stayed still for a long moment, helmet bowed, the battlefield noise fading into a distant roar. With shaking hands, he reached up and marked the body for recovery on his HUD. A silent promise. I will bring you home.


He gently laid them down.
When Korda rose, he was no longer shaking.
He turned toward the buildings.
"You," he said, pointing to one Mandalorian. "With me. We take the left."


The other stepped forward without hesitation. "I'll take the second building alone."
Korda hesitated, just a fraction of a second. Then he nodded. "Don't be a hero."
The Mandalorian tapped their helmet. "Never am."


Korda drew the Ashen Maw as he moved, the weapon heavy and eager in his hands. He crossed the street at a dead run, hit the door shoulder-first, and kicked it open.
"TIME TO DIE HU'TUUNS!" he roared as he surged inside, Ashen Maw leveled, rage finally unleashed.

Tags: Norbert Oro

 

[Norbert Oro]

The Angels of Meu
Allies - Diarchy and Lilaste forces
Support - Friendly FOB 1km away
Current Objective - Restore LO-25/AA battery, down the road
Location - Objective 3 City Ruins
Manpower - 20 Elite Infantrymen
Equipment - LO-20D, LO-44 MKII, LO-RPG20, LO-12S, LO-22S, Beskar Vibro-Bayonet, T9-XO Exo-Suit
Ammunition - LO-AP 19, LO-AVM 1
Current Element Status - All 20 Alive

The Angels continued to try to suppress the Mandalorians, but, in the middle of reloading, they blitzed through a gap in the gun fire. Before they could even react, the first building was already breached by Korda and his men. The two closest to the door were completely vulnerable to Korda, still looking outside when he attacked.
On the second floor, Norbert watched as they ran in. He instinctively jumped off the second floor and dug into the walls of the building, leaving indents in the walls and getting some leverage; he intended on drop kicking Korda as he was rushing in. Ramiel jumped after him yelling:

"Oro, imprudens!"

She didn't leap after anyone, instead she just jumped down.

Meanwhile the other still on the second floor look at each other and decide to go down stairs. One of the men go to the stairs, however, another spoke:

"Sequimini me, fratres—breviorem viam novi!"

The man who yelled this, proceeded to punch a hole down to the first floor, from the second. He then used the rest of the Exo-suits weight to bash his way down. The second one fell after, and the third watched this. He then ran down onto the stairs and tried to get a shot on whomever was breaking in.

The second building was breached, however, the two at the door were expecting this. They tried to hold the Mando back at first, to give time for the other three to make it down stairs. The Mandalorian may be able to fight them back, but he'd sure have to try. The Exo-suits they wore enhanced their physical strength significantly. One of men yelled out over the radio to the second floor:

"Irrumpunt! Descende huc statim, Sariel!"

Tag: Korda Veydran

 

[Zinayn]

OBJ 3
Engaging: Dreidi Xeraic

His opponent locked eyes with him, and in that moment a series of calculations went through his head. She looked to be light on her feet, a mobile fighter, based off of her slender build. Zinayn didn't expect her to pack a severe punch, but looks could be deceiving. From what he knew about Dathomiri witches, their magick could tip the scales of a large engagement like this, making it all the more important that he won this fight, or at least occupied her full attention for a time. Through the Force, he sensed her presence, a burning star amid a horde of lesser lights. She did not radiate the consuming anger of the dark side, but a calm surety about her goal here.

Zinayn took note of the various spots of cover that were spread all around like tombstones, remains of buildings that still stood or chunks of roof that had been blown off by explosions. They would be useful if the witch relied more heavily on her bow, which he expected. The Force flared in warning, a plasma arrow shooting through the air towards his face. The Chiss stepped to the side, letting the arrows whiz by and dissipate against the duracrete behind him.

A burst of green fire obscured his enemy for a moment, and more arrows came from a different angle. Zinayn slid to take cover behind a broken piece of a manufacturing plant, peering over the cover to spot her standing a distance away. If he stayed at a distance, there would be a stalemate, which he could not allow. It wouldn't do for the witch to get bored and decide to wreak destruction on the rest of the Diarchy troops defending the elevator. He had to close the distance.

Zinayn dashed out from safety as another volley of arrows came in, splashing against stone. It was only a matter of time before his enemy resorted to whatever magick she possessed to attempt to end the fight quicker. Close quarters combat was his friend.

Unwilling to reveal the extent of his speed and agility yet, the Chiss came out of hiding in what could be called a casual manner, eyes fixed on the witch. His senses in the Force were tuned in towards her in the event of another teleportation so that he might not be caught off guard by a sudden appearance elsewhere. She drew back her bow again to let loose another arrow, and Zinayn continued walking towards her, confident in his ability to either move out of the arrow's path or use his outer robes to block.

Zinayn was counting on using all of his abilities in close quarters to overwhelm and surprise her before she could use any sort of Dathomiri magick. Encountering such a force for the first time in the middle of a life-or-death scenario was not optimal.

 

[Warpriest Prime]

​

O B J E C T I V E | Objective III
L O C A T I O N | Yaga Minor Shipyard Port
G E A R | Gjallerhorn | Crown of Blades | Dovahdrake

Aether Verd | Adelle Bastiel | Korda Veydran | Aselia Verd | Itzhal Volkihar

Diarch Reign | Gavin Vel

O P E N​

The void welcomed her like a cathedral without walls.

Azura cut through the black on vast, patient wings, starlight crawling across his armored scales as Mandalorian warcraft tore past in disciplined chaos. Basilisks burned contrails beside him, carriers vomiting squadrons into the dark as the Diarchy's defense grid clawed upward to meet them. Fire blossomed everywhere. Ships spun and died in elegant, violent spirals around the colossal spine of the Star Elevator, its vast length spearing from planet to sky like a god's accusation.

And then they saw her.

The only thing in the heavens that was not steel.

Blaster fire stitched the darkness behind Azura as Diarchy fighters peeled off formation, hungry and incredulous, locking onto the impossible silhouette of dragon and rider. Azura dipped and rolled, his wings folding tight as Dima yanked the reins and dragged them into a screaming corkscrew toward the planet below.

She laughed behind her helm.

The Star Elevator loomed closer. Dima pulled Azura tight against its surface, orbiting the structure in a vicious spiral. The enemy hesitated. Heavy munitions died unsent in launch bays as pilots balked at damaging their precious monument. Their restraint was admeriable.

Dima did not exercise restraint.

Atmosphere seized them in a roaring embrace, heat screaming across Azura's scales as they plunged. Clouds swallowed everything. Sensors lied. Targeting broke. And at the last possible moment, Dima hauled back on the reins.

Azura stalled.

The two fighters screamed past them, blind and committed, bursting through the cloud cover below.

Dima came down out of the white like a curse remembered too late.

Azura snapped.

Jaws closed around one fighter's wing, metal folding and screaming as the craft cartwheeled away toward the city far below. Dima wrenched the reins again, dragging Azura upward in a brutal climb as Basilisks slammed into the remaining Diarchy craft from the flank, missiles and cannons finishing what panic had begun.

They punched back up through the cloud layer, tearing free of atmosphere as Azura surged on burning wings. Above them, the shipyard crown of the Star Elevator sprawled like a mechanical halo, turret towers vomiting fire at Mandalorian transports struggling to breach the docks.

Dima extended one claw.

She hissed a incantation that had never belonged to any sane language and pointed at a turret as if her finger were a pistol. "Spjót endaloka, er kenndi konungum at lúta. Af eiði ok beini, kom heim. Lát hásæti minnast ótta~"

Spectral steel sang.

The crown of blades bloomed around her, translucent and wrathful as Haskorn, the Crownsplitting Thorn, answered her call. She bent her thumb with theatrical care.

"Bang~"

Haskorn screamed forward.

The weapon twisted into a spiraling lance of energy and force, punching into the turret at impossible speed. The explosion tore the emplacement apart in a blossom of fire and shrapnel, its death feeding the greater chaos as Dima hauled Azura into a low, savage flyby.

Ionized plasma spewed from the drake's maw, detonating across radar arrays and communication spines along a boarding port. Systems died screaming as the port went blind.

Dima did not slow.

She drove Azura straight into the force field.

The barrier screamed as dragon and rider slammed through, momentum bleeding off in a shower of light as Azura skidded across the threshold and into the hangar beyond. Fighters were still spooling up. Crews were still shouting warnings that no longer mattered.

"Burn 'em, Zuzu~" Dima crooned.

Azura inhaled.

Azure fire flooded the hangar.

Ships melted in place. Wings folded and failed. Pilots died before they could scream. Azura lashed out with claw and tail, swatting one fighter from the air and crushing another against the deck before Dima leapt free, boots hitting the floor in a roll of sparks and flame.

She smacked Azura's flank affectionately.

The drake snapped up a half-cooked soldier in passing and launched back toward the breach, vanishing into the void to wait for her call once more.

Dima rose through the inferno.

Blaster fire met her and broke. An invisible halo shimmered into being, spectral blades flashing into existence for heartbeats at a time to turn bolts aside before vanishing again. She walked forward unhurried, fire curling around her armor like incense.

"Port Eleven is being secured," she voxed calmly. "You are clear to land~" Aether Verd

The defenders broke.

She felt it before she saw it. Fear collapsing into retreat as Diarchy forces pulled back toward the central elevator shaft, deeper into the station where they hoped distance and bulk might save them.

Dima exhaled, pleased.

She spoke again, another incantation sliding from her tongue as the Glyphscript Anvil formed in her hands, heavy and absolute. She advanced through the burning wreckage, a walking sermon of flame and iron. "Verð endr smíðaðr."

The gods would feast well today.

 

[Avast Verd]

Tyr Mereel

Avast felt the clamps bite through the deck before the indicator chimed. She always did. The Force pull through her awareness like a tensioned cable, humming when metal kissed metal, a soft yesssss settling deep in her bones.

A second later, the Pathfinder unhooked from the bulkhead, rolled her shoulders, and cracked her neck. Hooded eyes stayed half-lidded as the ship settled. Red wash turned armor and faces into warnings. Fine. Warnings save time, sasa.

<< Contact confirmed, >> she said into the squad net, her rich tone carrying a faint island curl at the edges. << Hull dhensity reading Santhe-Sienar standard, yeh. Reinforced ribs every twelve meters. The first cut go shallow, then we walk it nice an' easy, Vod.>>

Gloved fingers move across the slate, corridors lighting and dimming as she listened with more than eyes. Paths bloom, collapse, re-form. Not guesses. Probabilities. The Verd chose the cleanest lie and trusted it like gravity.

Avast took her place near the ramp, boots braced, senses sliding forward. The shipyard loomed just beyond the skin of durasteel in a busy blind mess, but bloomed in her mind like a nav map snapping into port alignment. She glanced once toward the gargantuan Tyr, a small nod shared between Vod.

<< On green, >> she murmured softly. << I take us through de noise, hold fast. >>

Then the ramp locks hissed.

 

[Tyr Mereel]

Avast Verd | @OPEN​

Location: Santhe-Sienar Orbital Shipyards, Yaga Minor

The hiss of the ramp locks carried through the troop bay like a held breath finally drawn in. Tyr felt it through the deck plates, through his boots, through the quiet tightening in his chest that always came just before the door opened and the galaxy tried to kill them.

He released the overhead rail and stepped forward a half pace, turning so his visor swept across the compartment. Red light painted the supercommandos in hard angles and shadow, men and women who had bled together, trained together, and understood exactly why they were here without needing it explained.

Still, words mattered. Not for courage. For alignment.

“Listen up,” Tyr said over the squad channel, his voice low and solid, carrying without force. “Beyond that ramp is a shipyard that’s fed fleets for too long. They think steel and distance keep them safe. Tonight, we prove otherwise.”

He paused, letting the hum of the dropship fill the space between sentences.

“We cut clean. We move fast. We watch each other’s backs like always. No one chases glory, and no one gets left behind.” His helmet tilted slightly. “We’re not here to die for Mandalore. We’re here to make damn sure the Diarchy remembers what it costs to build against us.”

A few armored heads dipped in acknowledgment. No cheers. No theatrics. Exactly right.

Tyr turned then, his massive frame angling toward Avast’s position by the ramp. He lifted one gauntleted hand and made a short, precise gesture, two fingers forward, then a fist, signal simple and unmistakable.

“We’re stacked and ready,” he said calmly. “On your cue, Vod. Call it, and we drop.”

He settled back into position, feet planted, grip tightening as the last seconds stretched thin. His visor fixed on the sealed ramp, every sense sharpened, waiting not for the hiss of decompression, but for her word.

 

[Korda Veydran]

The kick slammed into the doorway, dust and shards of concrete spraying up like fireworks. He saw the drop kick about to happen, he dodged it at the last second. Korda ducked behind the fractured wall with a grunt. Sparks from dented metal and shattered wood rained across his visor. "You're going to have to do better than that!" he shouted, voice cutting over the roar of his Ashen Maw.


The weapon responded instantly, a controlled eruption of rounds and heat tearing into the room ahead. Furniture splintered, walls groaned under the blast, and smoke coiled into the corners. The defenders froze for a heartbeat, caught off guard, staggered by the sudden, overwhelming force.


Korda's visor tracked movement on the stairwell: one of the exo-suited soldiers was trying to advance. He fired a short, controlled burst. The soldier stumbled back, armor ringing from the impact, forced to the ground. he threw a piece of rebar he found on the ground, it speared the solider to a nearby wall, right through their chest. Korda's eyes flicked to his only squad mate beside him, blaster sweeping in a precise arc to cover the flanks.


"Flash! do we have a flash?" he called, voice sharp and urgent.
The squadmate, kneeling behind a chunk of wall, fumbled into their harness and pressed the detonator into Korda's hand. "Do it… make them pay," they said, eyes bright with determination despite the chaos.


Korda's rage coiled like a live wire inside him. He slammed his shoulder into the fractured wall to gain momentum, vibroblade drawn, and surged forward. Flames and rounds from the Ashen Maw filled the doorway and the room beyond, turning dust and debris into a searing storm. He moved with the precision of a predator, every step measured, every motion controlled, but infused with the raw, unbridled fury that had been building ever since his squadmate had fallen.


Then a shot rang out. Korda's squadmate went down hard, staggered by a glancing round. They hit the rubble, coughing, arms braced against the broken floor. Not dead, but out of the fight. Korda's chest tightened as fury snapped through him, white-hot and precise. He dragged them behind the nearest rubble, pressing them low, giving them cover. "Stay here," he growled. "Just stay with me."


A crackle of radio static drew his attention. The lone Mandalorian in the second building was alive, voice strained but steady through the interference:
"Korda, Vod! Stairwell's a mess! three exo-suits pushing hard! I can hold them a little longer, but you need to suppress from your side, do you copy?"
"Copy," Korda barked. "Keep them pinned. I'll handle this floor."


He slammed the Ashen Maw's shoulder stock against the rubble, flames hissing to life, and charged forward. Each step sent shards of concrete scattering, his boots kicking up dust and sparks. The room ahead was a haze of smoke, heat, and splintered wood. Korda's visor caught every movement, the flick of a helmet, the glint of an exo-suit servo, the shimmer of a raised weapon.


Another defender surged from behind cover. Korda pivoted, striking with the Ashen Maw's flamethrower mode. Heat and light blasted across the doorway, forcing the soldier to retreat, staggering back into the wall. Korda didn't pause, he pressed forward, vibroblade ready at his side. Every motion precise, every advance calculated, but driven by the searing rage coiling inside him.


The radio crackled again, the lone Mandalorian's voice tense but determined:
"Korda! Vod! I'm holding the left corridor, two of them are trying to flank me! Keep pushing, I can't hold them forever, push! Push! PUSH!"
Korda's teeth clenched. "Copy. Holding nothing back..."


He advanced through the room, each step measured yet unstoppable. His squadmate, though out of action, kept one hand braced on the rubble, watching, giving silent encouragement. Korda caught their eyes for a brief moment, nods exchanged, unspoken trust.


A beam of sunlight slashed through a cracked window, catching the glint of metal from an exo-suited soldier charging down a hallway. Korda fired a short burst from the Ashen Maw, forcing the enemy back, then vaulted over a broken wall fragment. Dust and heat clung to him like a storm as he swung the vibroblade in a wide, controlled arc, clearing his path toward the stairwell.


The room shook from distant impacts, debris raining down, but Korda moved through it all with laser focus. His HUD marked the squadmate behind the rubble as "protected," the lone Mandalorian's radio feed alive in his ears. Rage sharpened every sense, sound, motion, heat, light, and turned it all into lethal precision.


The stairwell ahead loomed, partially shattered, the next wave of defenders poised, but Korda didn't hesitate. He slammed his shoulder into the ruined wall, fire and smoke licking the ceiling, vibroblade ready, Ashen Maw flaring, and surged into the next room. The prayer to Kad Ha'rangir still echoed in his mind, giving him purpose even as rage sharpened every reflex.

Tag: Norbert Oro

 

[Morta Izanami]

​

[]

Disobey - by ODDKO

​

Location: Vjunhollow, Industrial - Capital of Yaga Minor
Objective: When We Reach for Heaven
Tag: Open
Allies: DIA
Enemies: ME

Smoke crawled along the cobbled streets like a living thing, carrying the ionized tang of blaster discharge and the sharper, older scent of fear. Lady Izanami stood half in shadow behind a well positioned barricade, hands folded loosely at her back, watching the Mandalorians surge into the street in disciplined wedges of beskar and fire. The defenders answered with stubborn precision; overlapping fields of fire, barricades improvised from duracrete and now broken speeders and other vehicles, medics dragging the wounded back by their collars.

It was valiant, diligent work, the kind sung about by poets who never had to bleed for it.

She leaned closer to the soldier beside her, a young thing, armor scuffed and visor cracked, and spoke softly, mockery laced with silk. "Now, I'm no military genius," she said, tapping her temple with a black-nailed clawed finger, "but a genius all the same." Her eyes tracked a Mandalorian flanking maneuver with lazy amusement.

"But it appears to yours truly that it's not looking good for the good guys." Blaster fire flared, a barricade fell, and her smile widened. "Here," she purred. "Watch and learn."

The necklace at her throat, a lattice of silver beskar links clasping a black opal that drank the light, grew warm upon her touch. Space folded with a sigh. The world lurched, and she was suddenly behind three Mandalorians mid-advance, their attention fixed forward, confidence hardening their spines. She moved like a thought completed before it was spoken.

The first died without understanding; the Force crushed his spine inward, a neat, silent collapse. The second turned just in time to meet a bloom of shadow that seeped into his visor and filled his thoughts with night; his own blaster betraying him, the spell evaporating off the corpse. The third fared worst; she was upon him, ripping his helmet off quickly and methodically, fingers like steel clamps at his throat, fangs flashing as she drank not just Anima but heat and resolve, leaving him a cooling shell.

The spell tugged again, patiently, and the her world swapped places.

She reappeared beside the defender as if she had never left, smoke still curling, blaster fire still screaming. The vampiric witch adjusted the necklace with a satisfied hum and glanced sideways, eyes alight with playful cruelty.

"It's all in the element of surprises and jump scares," she said taking a bow, playing to her audience. Then, with another tilt of her head and a smile sharp enough to cut fate itself. "Do you have one of these? If not, I can make you one."

Then, without warning, a blaster bolt snapped through the air and took the soldier clean in the head. "Mm, perhaps not."

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Aselia Verd | Opp: Null 7 | 'Sentinel' Janius Everwall

"The first thing I want is people to start disappearing."

The words from the transmission echoed in her head as they made planetfall. Even with the shock-absorption in her Basilisk and her beskar’gam, the landing was jarring. Adelle slipped from the Basilisk’s seat, small clouds of dust blooming upwards where her boots hit the ground. Debris rained from the sky into the city. Her HUD pulled up a map of the city section they’d landed in. The Space Elevator towered several klicks away. Several alerts flagged defensive positions forming as the response began to entrench themselves.

"I want the people of the Mandalorian Empire to live in fear."

Adelle checked her weapons one last time, more out of habit than actual need. Aselia and her Basilisk landed nearby, the distinct red beskar’gam as much an identifier as her presence in the Force: focus and steel, a blade ready to strike. Adelle moved to fall in step with the Verd, HUD pulling up various routes with assorted threat levels. Her Basilisk trailed behind her just enough to not crush her in its march.

“They reacted faster than I thought,” Adelle said, almost conversationally. “Paranoid or scared, do you think?”

They worked methodically through the streets, quick and precise. Adelle had trained with Aselia enough that working with her, fighting alongside her, was practiced and efficient, if not perfect. But Adelle hated this. She hated war. Her twisted partial-Caamasi DNA ensured that and she found herself questioning again why she’d joined this offensive.

"If possible, take entire world populations off the board."

Memories of her more recent rotations in her hospital on Contruum came to the fore. The morgue stacked with cadavers. Patients in triage for emergency services falling over, dead before anyone could get to them. Autopsy reports showing patterns of a particular spice. Wildfire running rampant through whole worlds.

Wildfire did not discriminate. Wildfire did not target. Every soul on every Mandalorian world was susceptible to it.

Every. Soul.

Adelle grit her teeth and kept pace with Aselia. She didn’t believe in hate. She didn’t believe in revenge. She’d been there, done that, got the scars.

But the Diarchy had escalated things beyond tolerance.

She felt the chaotic tides of the Force shift a moment before her HUD flagged a hostile force nearby. Adelle moved for cover, not so blindly confident in her armor to stand in the open like a sitting target. She stretched out her senses, trying to get a better read on the hostiles moving nearby. People packed within small spaces, others moving around freely at a distance. Flickers of something, life signs maybe, moving at a further distance—it was hard to tell.

“Small platoon, armored transports, and something interfering with my Force sense,” Adelle said quietly through their encrypted channel. Aselia probably already had a plan. “I’ve got your six.”

Spoiler: Equipment

• Owl-type Beskar'gam
• Single blade, single phase lightsaber. Permafrost crystal. Biometric panelling along handle.
• 785MK Firepuncher-X sniper rifle
• Ori Sidaki "The Big Ripper"
• WESTAR-34 blaster pistol
• Beskad
• Euk Siha service knife

 

[Hanna]

Location: Santhe-Sienar Shipyards - Yaga Minor Orbit
Thread Objective: When the Sky Falls
Mission Objective: Disable the sensor and tractor beam control station.
Allies: Jonah Tessa Thayne Siv Kryze
Enemies: Trace Xyston
Direct Engagement: The Shroud Knight

Hanna waited for Siv Kryze just outside the airlock, repulsorlift skates suspending her inches above the floor. Once the Mandalorian arrived, she offered him an acknowledging nod before leading the way through the juncture, verpine shatter pistols held at the ready.

Having stealthily breached at a ventral airlock near the center of the shipyards, Hanna wasn’t surprised to find that the corridor just past the airlock was clear. Thus, gesturing towards Siv to indicate that it was safe, she activated her suit’s sensor jammer and glided into the station proper. She knew that with the ongoing Mandalorian assault, the civilian employees were likely in the process of evacuating or hunkering down in safe rooms. Although their safety wasn’t her concern, for the sake of everyone, she hoped that they would remain out of her way.

If it came to direct civilian interference, she had been given sanction to do whatever was necessary to see to the completion of her mission.

“Sensor and tractor beam control station is close to the administrative spire.” Hanna said to Siv, her tone low as she glanced at the schematic overlay in her HUD.

“Let’s move!”

Spoiler: Loadout

• Sparkle Velocity
  
  • Gauntlets and Vambraces
    
    • Modular Weapon Mount (3) - R
      
      • PC-05V Plasma Caster
        
        • Ammunition
          
          • Medium Plasma Gas Canister
      • NML-02VTB Nano Missile Launcher
        
        • Ammunition
          
          • Depleted Baradium-tipped Baradium Nano Missiles (12)
    • Modular Weapon Mount (3) - L
      
      • IceJet Miniaturized CryoBan Projector
        
        • Ammunition
          
          • CryoBan Canister
      • Repulsor Projector
• Glitter Roses (2)
  
  • Ammunition
    
    • Extended Magazine - Standard Penetrator: Void Stone Treatment (2)
    • Standard Magazine - Standard Penetrator: Void Stone Treatment (4)
    • Standard Magazine - Seismic Implosive-Explosive: Void Stone Treatment (2)
  • Attachments
    
    • 1-5x FAE/S-08 Electro-Sight
• Hanna’s HB-42 Disruptor Pistols (2)
  
  • Ammunition
    
    • FAE/AM-01-S2 Energy Weapon Cartridge - Ethaerium X Gas and CryoBan Coolant (12)
  • Attachments
    
    • 1-5x FAE/S-08 Electro-Sight
• Mobius Bes’Kad
• FAE/MDE-01-S2 Semiautonomous Seeker Thermal Explosive (2)
• Infrared Smoke Grenade (2)

 

[Amelia von Sorenn]

WHEN THE TWO MEET IRON​

​

ATTIRE: Warden-type Beskar'gam​

EQUIPMENT: DSP-17 | DSP-11 | Echani Virbosword​

[ME]: Renn Vizsla ​

[DIA]: Laphisto | Edwards ​

​

​

In space, you are omnidirectional. There is no up, no down, no left, no right. To think that a wall of stations could stop the Mandalorians was to think in terms of gravity. It was a lesson that the Diarchy would learn soon enough. ​

​

Space did not announce the woman. It remembered her as a rumor, as a ghost, as a story whispered and believed dead. It was a story whispered in the corridors of power through the galaxy and repeated as truth. That story had blinded the Diarchy. And now, it would unmake their certainty. ​

​

The Stone and Sky loomed first - a Kandosii-type Dreadnaught of unique scale, its angular lines a silent promise of destruction. Around it, the fleet unfolded like a living constellation. Two Sundari-type Battlecruisers flanked the vanguard, their turbolasers dimmed to avoid detection; a Darasuum-class Dreadnaught anchored the center with four additional Kandosii-type Dreadnaughts positioned in staggered vectors to mask the fleet's true depth. Hukaatir-type gunships danced between Ara'nov-type Frigates, while the heavier vessels - two Jurir-type Fleet Carriers, ten Kyramud-type Battleships, and a Duraanir-type Guided Missile Cruiser - occupied secondary arcs to create false approach vectors for any sensors scanning for threats. ​

​

The shadow of the Mandalorian Empire stretched across the void, but it was not a shadow she cast - it was a question. ​

​

From the bridge, the woman's visor reflected the stars, her posture calm, impervious, betraying nothing. Each of her fingers brushed against the tactical display in a quiet cadence. Every ship, every squadron, every gun had been positioned with the singular purpose of confounding the expected. Her eyes, reflected in the darkened visor, traced the holographic displays that mapped hundreds of starfighter squadrons - Scyk-type Interceptor Squadrons armed with laser and ion cannon, concussion missiles, and proton torpedoes. Kimogila-type heavy fighters and formations of Firespray gunships. Gunships, assault ships, patrol craft, carriers - each positioned to strike from angles the Basion Curtain could not anticipate. Each waiting. Silent. Inevitable. ​

​

The Stone and Sky advanced along a vector unanticipated by Diarchy Sensors. Its escorts and fleet carriers formed deceptive arcs, clusters of ships appearing where none should, vanishing where the enemy's eyes expected them. Every ship, every squadron, every gun was poised to confound expectation. Decoy formations suggested vulnerability in one sector, while hidden dreadnaughts and corvettes aligned along veiled vectors in the shadows of orbital platforms. It was a ballet of menace - an omnidirectional trap waiting to close. ​

​

No announcement was made. No warning salvo was fired. There was no hesitation in movement. The Bastion Curtain had learned to anticipate, to breathe, to respond. She would force it to panic. Her voice cut through encrypted Mandalorian channels - calm, unyielding, precise. "All wings, all squadrons, maintain formation. Engage only on my mark. Let them wonder where the Mandalorians might strike next." ​

​

Sensors across Yaga Minor's orbital defenses flared. The first indications of anomalous movement appeared. Clusters of ships seemed to vanish and reappear at impossible angles. The Lucrehulk had served its purpose; the ghost-ship slammed into the Bastion Curtain - and though it was met with a withering salvo of mass drivers, it had provided the very opportunity to place the Mandalorians into optimal firing positions. The woman did not need fury. She had the advantage of surprise and the advantage of expectation. Her fleet would not charge; it would dance in three dimensions, bending and weaving through orbital vectors in ways no gravity-bound mind could anticipate. ​

​

Her finger hovered over the activation console. She did not give the order to strike yet. First came awareness, followed by confusion and the dread of not knowing which threat would appear where. Only then would the Mandalorians act. Only then would the Bastion Curtain be forced to breathe unevenly. The first ripple of movement - the subtle repositioning of interceptors and light cruisers along vectors previously unmonitored - passed unnoticed. That was intentional. Her fleet would not charge in, not when the Mandalorians had the advantage of mobility, and she intended to wield it ruthlessly. ​

​

The woman's visor reflected nothing but stars and steel, but beneath it, her mind raced with calculations and contingencies. Every vector of attack, every fallback, every countermeasure would be accounted for. Her anonymity was her weapon, her fleet her argument. She was both ghost and hammer, waiting for her moment. Across the void, the first faint flickers of engagement began - sensor readings blinking in impossible patterns, decoy arcs giving the illusion of presence, strike craft moving in vectors that bent expectation. The Diarchy would come to understand the danger of thinking in two dimensions, of trusting walls and shields instead of adaptability and perception. ​

​

She stepped back, hands clasped behind her armor, the ghost of a smile beneath her visor. The Stone and Sky - and all that followed it - was ready. The silence was a prelude, the calm before the storm. And as the stars shifted in the void around Yaga Minor, one truth became undeniable. ​

​

The Mandalorians had brought a Galaxy's fury with them. ​

​

​

​

Spoiler: Fleet

Flagship: The Stone and Sky​

• Aggressor-type Battlecruiser
• (2) Sundari-type Battlecruisers
• Darasuum-type Dreadnaught
• (4) Kandosii-type Dreadnaughts
• (6) Ajuur-type Light Destroyers
• (2) Jurir-type Fleet Carriers
• Susulur-type Countermeasures Ship
• (2) Duraanir-type Guided Missile Cruisers
• (4) Keldabe-class Frigates
• (4) Arquitens-type Light Cruisers
• (2) Birikad-type Cruisers
• (10) Kyramud-type Battleships
• (2) Chakaar-type Dungeon Ships
• (10) Ara'nov-type Frigates
• (4) Vengeance-type Frigates
• (10) Jehavey'ir-type Assault Ships
• (6) Gozanti-type Light Cruisers
• (16) Hukaatir-type Gunships
• (6) Shaadlar-type Troopships
• (10) Baatir-type Corvettes
• (6) Crusader-type Corvettes
• (4) Alor'uus-type Corvettes
• (10) Aranar-type Corvettes
• (10) Kom'rk-type Combat Transports

Spoiler: Starfighter Squadrons

• (10) M5-A Scyk-type w/ Laser Cannons - 200 total
• (10) M5-A Scyk-type w/ Ion Cannons - 200 total
• (5) M5-A Scyk-type w/ Concussion Missiles - 100 total
• (5) M5-A Scyk-type w/ Proton Torpedoes - 100 total
• (10) M15-A Kimogila-type - 40 total
• (14) M42-A Krayt-type - 14 total
• (20) Firespray-71 - 20 total
• (15) Firespray-61 - 180 total
• (10) Firespray-51 - 40 total
• (10) Firespray-41 - 40 total
• (20) Davaab-type - 320 total
• (20) Shereshoy-type - 20 total
• (20) Teroch-type - 240 total
• (20) Cabur-type - 160 total
• (25) Vyrhawk-type - 400 total
• (10) Bes'uliik-type - 40 total
• (30) Usen'ye-type - 120 total
• (20) Atiniir-type - 160 total

Spoiler: Fleet Actions

• Frontline - Stone and Sky, two Sundari Battlecruisers, and the Darasuum-type Dreadnaught anchoring a deceptive spear.
• Flanks - Four Kandosii-type Dreadnaughts and ten Ara'nov Frigates weaving irregular patrol patterns, creating optical "blind spots" for sensors.
• Strike Wings - 274 squadrons arrayed across multiple attack vectors, ready to descend from multiple angles - ion, laser, concussion, proton, heavy assault, and gunship firepower prepared to exploit any lapse in the Basion Curtain's coordination.
• Support and Reserves - Carriers, Corvettes, and Troopships held in concealed orbits, prepared for sudden insertion or to reinforce gaps created by the illusion of attack.

​

​

 

[Dreidi Xeraic]

​

Objective: 3 - Yaga Minor
Outfit: Nightsister Armour
Equipment: Lightsaber, Ichor Sword and Dathomiri Energy Bow
Opposition: Zinayn

Dreidi did not seem concerned with the casual manner in which this man dodged and moved. It was obvious that he held skilled in melee combat as well speed and heightened reflexes, while Dreidi had no idea how impressive they were, the way he moved and the confidence he held in his stride. It was all a demonstration that this man believed he could defeat her in closer combat. For some Dathomir witches, he would have been correct and they would have had to flee from him and maintain a sizeable distance to keep the advance.

There were training elements that Dreidi held that she was also maintain secrecy with. Appearing as someone who preferred using her bow was something that Dreidi found important, a deception that fitted with the culture fighting style that Dathomirians were renowned for. Dreidi aimed the bow away from the Chiss and shot at nearly loose rumble. Aiming to shift things so rumble would collapse and roll towards Zinayn at speed. While he might be able to dodge and avoid her arrows, that didn't mean she was done with trying to find ways to break the defence. Environmental attacks were still an option and Dreidi was going to have fun figuring how this man fought.

Teleporting again, this time Dreidi didn't try to reappear far away to strike again with her bow. Instead, she used the distraction from the rubble falling onto the man to switch from her bow and unsheathe her ichor sword. Meaning that Dreidi had reappeared very close to Zinayn. The sword coming alive with green flames, etchings on the blade coming alive in green light as she held the blade. It was in her non-dominant hand but Dreidi had trained long and hard enough with the blade in this hand that she knew it matched the skills that most could not reach. She was keeping her Lightsaber back, seeing if she could coax more information from this Force User without revealing everything that she had.

Maintaining the appearance of a traditional Dathomiri Witch, Dreidi utilised the fighting style they had. Nothing bar the Lightsaber hilt suggested that this was someone with any experience outside of being a Witch. The blade moved faster than her physical appearance would let Zinayn perceive her to be capable of. The Zorren traits meant that Dreidi was stronger, faster than most humans could be and all while looking slender. Dreidi felt no need to find this fact since her ears and canines revealed that she was not human.

 

[Siv Kryze]

.​

YAGA MINOR ORBIT - SANTHE-SIENAR SHIPYARDS​

ME: Jonah Tess Hanna Tyr Mereel Avast Verd
DIA: The Shroud Knight Trace Xyston Kallous


Siv felt the station tighten a heartbeat before it shook.

Not alarms—not yet—but the deeper vibration of force meeting structure, carried through the bones of the shipyard instead of its comms. He slowed just enough to catch the rhythm, visor angling as the deck plates thrummed beneath his boots.

"There it is," he said quietly to Hanna. "The welcome party..."

Another impact followed, heavier this time. Not random. Purposeful. The kind of disruption that demanded attention, whether you wanted to give it or not.

"They're about to pull every response team in their direction," Siv continued, voice calm, grounded. "Once that happens, command's going to fixate. Patrol routes'll get rewritten on the fly. Quiet sectors stop being monitored and start being assumed safe."

They moved through the corridor as the shipyard's internal cadence began to slip—power reroutes lagging, systems correcting themselves a second too late. Siv kept to the inside line, senses tuned to intersections and cross-traffic rather than the noise ahead.

"That's our window," he said. " Tyr Mereel and Avast Verd make noise. The fleet keeps orbit on fire. Everyone starts answering the loudest problem they can see."

His visor tilted toward the distant rise of the administrative spire.

"And while they're committed to that," Siv added, "we move where no one's looking."

Another tremor rolled through the station, closer now, unmistakable. Siv allowed himself a single nod.

"They've started," he said. "From here on out, this side of the yard's going to feel invisible."

He glanced at Hanna, acknowledging her focus and momentum without breaking stride.

"You take their eyes and hands," Siv said quietly. "Sensors, tractors—anything that tells them where things are supposed to be. I'll watch the flow and keep us clear while the station's busy arguing with itself."

The thunder of the Mandalorian fleet bled through the structure again, chaos pressing inward from orbit as pressure mounted from within.

Siv leaned into the movement, centered and ready.

"Let's get inside," he said softly. "While they have their full attention."

Spoiler: Loadout

• Owl-type Beskar'gam
• Spear of Longinus (Beskar Spear)
• 2x WESTAR-35 blaster pistol

 

[Shyra Calipsa]

Objective: When Skies Fall - Protect the shipyards
Location: Santhe-Sienar Shipyards, Yaga Minor orbit
Allies: The Shroud Knight | Trace Xyston | Souls of the Lilaste order
Opposition: Jonah | Tessa Thayne | Hanna | Siv Kryze | Avast Verd | Tyr Mereel
Direct Engagement: Open

It was just a routine production check. Something that Lady Vyllia Sancetti could have outsourced to any number of subordinates. But Shyra's noble charge had been quite antsy as of late. She was traveling often and the potential of completely leaving the Santhe-Sienar name behind her was causing some angst since making the formal offer to @eyris Santhe recently on New Alderaan.

Everything was checking out fine and then the displays started to flicker. There were many possible reasons for the flicker. Shyra was not immediately concerned. She looked to her charge who also did not seem bothered. The tilt of Vyllia's head was more curiosity.

Then the diagnostic screens went blank, replaced by a broadcast holograph of Diarchy meetings with the Black Sun. Vyllia had been briefed on the situation. She deflected. War was not her area of concern and loss of life had become a sensitive subject of late. Shyra delved deeper to ensure she had every possible security threat investigated. Things with the Mandalorians were coming to a head. Vyllia could be a target.

"Shipyards security. Find the source of this transmission and send word for Chancellor Sancetti through me. Now!" Shyra barked out orders using her charges name for the highest authority level.

She had little hope that she would get confirmation of sources before something else happened. That was confirmed when her comm rang with word of a distress signal and the unscheduled arrival of a huge archaic vessel. "Security. Put the station on high alert," Shyra called out hoping they would do so even though she didn't have the authority to make such a call. "We need to get the Chancellor to a safe room. For now. And start plotting an escape route just in case."

"Security this is Chancellor Sancetti. Lockdown whatever you can. Track the slice if one of our designs end up on the open market I want to know who to sue. And for Force sake make sure all entry points are heavily guarded," Vyllia blurted out before her personal security Beckham to usher her along the hallways towards the nearest high security room.

"We are doing what we can on the cyber side of this thing whatever it is, but security of the shipyards has been seized by the Lilaste Order," an anonymous security operator replied.

Vyllia growled and Shyra pushed her onward. "What the frack do you mean the Lilaste have taken over security? This is a House Sancetti…"

"Chancellor. I don't think it matters who is seeing to the security of the shipyards. The important thing is to get you clear of any danger. And that there be shipyards to come back to. Honestly I think the Lilaste are the better bet," Shyra might not have said that if there were elite Diarchy forces on the station, but she doubted that. And the standard House Sancetti guards would not cut it against a Mandalorian invasion.

"Fine! But if I am leaving I want a personal representative onboard. That is you Shyra. So give these folks orders and I will follow them. But then you join up with whoever is spearheading the defense and make sure House Sancetti doesn't lose this asset." It was actually good to see the Chancellor fired up rather than scared. But Shyra had no clue how long that would last.

"Frack the safe room. Take the Chancellor straight to the Sancetti hangar. It is doubtful any invasion force oils know where it is at. Not on any of the plans," Shyra called out the instructions. She gave Vyllia a look that said the Chancellor better follow instructions and be safe. The other four members of the team Shyra had hand picked from House Sancetti's available personnel gave nods and they were on the move.

"Whoever is in control of security of the station this is Shyra Calipsa. Per Chancellor Sancetti the OWNER of this station, I am to be kept informed. And I expect to be used in defense of this station."

Spoiler: LOADOUT

• Formal Guard Armor
• Carbine Blaster
• Side Arm
• Orante Vibro-lance

 

[Viari Banu]

This is the Way - BYOO​

Misfortune had followed Viari as of late, on Dantooine he was caught admists a conflict between rogue droids and The Diarchy, in some respects, he was lucky then as they did not push him to stop hunting the local livestock although stowing away on one of their ships solved that problem anyway. Next, was Oricon where he encountered Jairdain Ismet-Thio , it was through her help and guidance that he navigate the emotionally charged sands, sands that threatened to consume him in the turmoil of his emotions, and now, he was amist the chaos and confusion. Sirens wailed like the Windshears scream, people ran past, through and over him as though unaware of his presence. He felt their fear, recognised it as the same fear that permutated the soil of Oricon.​

​

And yet, Viari greeted every stranger with an "Hello friend!" hoping, someone or something might make sense of the chaos unfolding around him. Within moments, he stood alone in empty streets the small sentient bird scanning the forest of glass and concentrete to find nothing except the souls of dazed animals, and shouting voices. He wrapped his cloak around himself, the kyber crystals pulsing in a soft emerald light before the raising a cloak of wind around him. The Rishii took to the skies, chasing the pew... pew.... pew of blaster fire.​

​

He arrived at a plaza, a silver pebble burned ozone and Mandalorians filed out into the plaza. Stray shots scorched the hull of the pebble, and afew more ate holes into the concentrete of government buildings. The Mandolorians, more skilled and practiced in their aim put it to effective work, in a dozen carefully placed shots the guards littered the marble steps and Viari flinched with every life snuffed out. He knew their kind, one had helped guide him once, understand the inner workings of the cities that spanned this galaxy. Friend-@Nianuke cyt, he called her. Raised on Rishii he had always learned stories, the Mandolorians had almost killed his mother once, or so his father had said and his opinion of them always soured the force around them and now he was beginning to see why.​

​

But they knew him too, and Viari's gizzard tightened. He leapt from his perch, rolling into the rooftops behind and watched as a blaster bolt scorched the feathers along his cheek. In a panic, the young Rishii fled his heart racing faster than his wings could beat. He had been hit by a blaster before, and did not want to experience it again so he fled, squirming, and hiding under the nearest piece of rubble he could find, to cradle his own tail.​

​

Zaytee​

​

​

Div created by Makeb​

 

[Norbert Oro]

The Angels of Meu
Allies - Diarchy and Lilaste forces
Support - Friendly FOB 1km away
Current Objective - Restore LO-25/AA battery, down the road
Location - Objective 3 City Ruins
Manpower - 20 Elite Infantrymen
Equipment - LO-20D, LO-44 MKII, LO-RPG20, LO-12S, LO-22S, Beskar Vibro-Bayonet, T9-XO Exo-Suit
Ammunition - LO-AP 19, LO-AVM 1
Current Element Status - All 20 Alive

Norbert crashed to the ground after missing the drop kick. He tried recovering, just as Korda was firing upon him; he was engulfed in flame from The Maw, and went stumbling back into the kitchen, yelling out in pain in response. He fell back onto counter and tore his cape off, throwing it to the side, trying to recover from the burn he was given.

The Angel who went down stairs from the hole in the ceiling died after getting burned by the Ashen Maw's flame, and shot by another Mandalorian when he was covering Korda. The one who was originally in the room died in a similar manner.

As one of the men were running down the staircase to meet the invaders, she was caught by surprise from the heat of the Ashen Maw. The metal of her helmet shined and lit up her name, 'Sarah', as she staggered, almost falling down the stairs. She threw her gun up and in her shoulder, but before the trigger could be pulled, a piece of rebar tore into her shoulder and pinned her to the wall. The Angel screamed in pain, grabbing onto the rebar with her other hand.

Ramiel was beaten back from Korda as he was assaulting the building. She gave up, with her armor on fire, she ran to her comrade pinned on the stairs. She grabbed onto the rebar and spoke:

"Sara, promitto te hic non esse perituram igne!"

She couldn't remove the rebar, so she removed her ally from the rebar. The pain from getting ripped off the wall made her scream once again. Ramiel pulled Sarah's burning body out of the building and onto the street. At this point, the stairs collapsed and were engulfed in fire and smoke. You could barely see inside the building. The windows were pouring out smoke into the sky. Ramiel threw her helmet off and tried to make Sarah stable. Neither of them noticed the Mandalorian outside, the one covering Korda.

As Korda was running up the stairwell, Norbert punched a hole through the partly collapsed stairs, grabbing on to Korda's leg and ripping him through burning stairs, into the kitchen. Norbert exclaimed:

"Huc veni!"


He pulled him into the kitchen and then bashed Korda into a wall and pulled out his Beskar bayonet. He intended on thrusting it into his enemies stomach. Both of them could only see each other now. Everything around them was on fire, and the air was barely breathable.

In the other building, Sariel and two other men are trying to hold the Mandalorian at the stairs. Both of the other men on the second floor were beaten in hand to hand by the Mandalorian. Sariel felt terror, never once has a man been able to beat someone in the Exo-suits they wear. The three soldiers took turns peaking down the stairwell and shooting at the Mando. One of them decided to fix his bayonet and charge down the stairs. His speed was inhuman, and he managed to just barely reach the Mandalorian.

Tag Korda Veydran