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

[Zinayn]

OBJ3
Engaging: Dreidi Xeraic

A resounding clang echoed through the battlefield as the Harbinger of Balance met the witch's ichor sword. Despite the speed and force of his swing, his opponent seemed to block it without much of a problem, even one-handed. Her natural strength advantage was on display. And so too was her speed, as she quickly made a counterattack towards his chest. Zinayn stepped back, watching the sword whoosh past him just barely.

The Chiss and Zorren locked eyes briefly. Her voice was sure when she spoke. She was truly confident in the idea that he could not win. "Perhaps such a fact has been lost on me," he replied coolly, eyes tracking every muscle in anticipation of her next strike. Zinayn, still unexposed to Dathomiri magicks, erred on the side of caution and watched her for any little movement that could have indicated spellcasting. If magick spells required movement at all.

Then she began to move. Her blade spun in one hand, while the other began moving. A less observant individual might have mistaken such movements as a thing to be ignored. But Zinayn had been taught in the Ascendancy that nothing was to be ignored. Everything was information to be used against an enemy. The simple fact that Dreidi kept a hand off of her weapon in the first place might have been an indication that she needed hand motions to cast spells.

The witch lunged forward, ichor flowing towards his vitals. Instead of batting it away or dodging, Zinayn leaned into the attack while aiming to bring his katana upwards through the Zorren's left hip. He felt an impact in his chest, but not a lethal one. His outer robes had absorbed the majority of the damage. All the while, he stayed aware of Dreidi's free hand. He had no idea what spells she was casting, if at all, but whenever she was ready to use a spell and had to finish her signals, Zinayn hoped he'd recognize it before she caught him off guard.

 

[Korda Veydran]

Korda laughed.
It wasn't loud at first, just a rough, breathless sound pulled from his chest as he absorbed another strike, boots grinding against scorched tile. He didn't retreat. He didn't give ground.


Instead, he shifted, deliberately placing himself between Norbert and the clearest path out of the burning structure.
Firelight crawled over his bare face, soot streaked across his skin, eyes reflecting orange and gold like embers trapped behind glass.
He wiped at his nose with the back of his hand, smearing ash and sweat together, then glanced at the blood on his knuckles with idle curiosity before flexing his fingers.


The building creaked overhead.
Korda spread his stance.
"sentis id, nonne?"

he said, voice steady despite the smoke.
"moenibus cedente"



He took a slow step forward.
"Vix exspecto ut te cum reliquis sordibus quae hunc mundum ad subversionem adduxerunt ardere videam."


Another step.
Norbert's blows landed. Korda took them. Every impact rang through his ribs, through his jaw, through his spine but he didn't flinch away. He leaned into the pain, letting it ground him, letting it sharpen him.


Then Korda slammed his fist against his own chestplate.
Once.
Twice.


A deep, hollow clang echoed through the collapsing room, part challenge, part salute.
He lifted his chin.
This was not rage anymore.


This was ritual.
"venit"
Korda said softly.
He rolled his shoulders, squared himself fully in the firelight, and crooked two fingers in a slow, deliberate gesture.


A gladiator's invitation.
A predator's promise.
The flames climbed higher around them.
And Korda stood in the center of it, waiting.

Norbert Oro

 

[Ali Kare]

Spoiler: Fleet Composition

Fleet Composition:
LEAD SHIP: The Equalizer

2 Sunderer class Heavy Destroyers
7 Strike corvettes
5 Dran'voth cruisers
3 heavy carriers

20 squadrons (400) starfighters
10 squadrons (40) defensive starfighters
10 squadrons (160) bombers
5 squadrons (80) TIE ravagers
3 squadrons (24) light interceptors

OBJ1

A light flickered out on the tacmap as an Air'Mar cruiser went down to Renn Vizsla 's focused firepower. Ali's grip tightened on the sides of her seat. She was confident in the power of the defense platforms and their ability to cripple the pincering fleet, but she wasn't so sure Laphisto's armada would make it out to tell the tale. Amelia von Sorenn seemed to professionally counter the Equalizer's beginning salvo of missiles, dodging some and redirecting others. A message appeared before her from the High Commander, tasking her with targeting support vessels and bringing down enemy starfighters. Ali looked at the battlespace again before issuing orders.

"Move our fleet towards von Sorenn's, just outside firing range. Each heavy destroyer should be either above or below the main plane. Our cruisers shall be largely on the main plane, spaced out. Our corvettes will fill in the gaps in our formation for now. Leave the carriers at the back of the formation," she said. Looking towards her own ship's helm, she continued, "Take us on a course to flank the Mandalorians at maximum missile range. Pass above one of the heavy destroyers at close range."

The helmsman raised an eyebrow as if to question the necessity of such a close pass, but a sharp look from Ali returned his attention to his controls. The cloaked Equalizer began to move, nearing one of the Sunderer class warships. "Weapons, on my mark fire a volley of ten of our missiles towards the outermost Mandalorian battleship."

The lieutenant nodded quickly and readied herself at the controls. Ali felt the presence of her first officer again by her shoulder. "High Admiral," he started hesitantly, "what is the reason for such a...maneuver?"

Ali stood up and smoothed her uniform before replying, "At this distance, I hope to confuse the enemy sensors into believing our heavy destroyer is the source of the missiles. And thus, tricking the enemy commander into thinking there are only seventeen ships in this fleet. That is why we need to get as close as possible to the destroyer."

The helmsman looked back at her and nodded. The tacmap showed the Equalizer within the dot representing the Sunderer warship, flashing red as if a collision was impending. Klaxons began to wail on the flag deck. If the systems were concerned about a catastrophic impact, all was well with the plan.

"Mark."

The ship shuddered imperceptibly as ten more LO-CSK missiles headed for the designated target, streaking closely across the hull of the heavy destroyer as if it had fired the salvo. Then the impending collision alarms were silent, and the Equalizer was on its long flanking route. The rest of her fleet moved into motion, heading for their positions outside Mandalorian firing range.

Laphisto

 

[Tarn Ekkard]

Location: Santhe-Sienar Shipyards, Yaga Minor Orbit
Thread Objective: When the Sky Falls
Mission Objective: Kill Mandalorians on the station. The tower is the main refugee and citizen escape portal.
Allies: N/A Directly
Direct Engagement: Tyr Mereel Avast Verd

---

Gunships broke from the flotilla in pairs, hard and low.

The lead craft punched through the shipyard's outer traffic envelope, slid into a maintenance bay, and hit the deck. Tarn was moving before the ramp finished opening. Twenty troops poured out with him in two files. Helmets snapping left and right as their HUDs rebuilt a picture of what was happening. Down the main corridor, the station shook with sustained fire. Rotary cannon bolts were ripping through forces as they fled and automated defenses.

"Wall" Tarn said, voice flat on squad comms.

The front rank locked their Va'karis ports. A united effort unfolded across the formation, edge to edge. The second rank brought DAF-19s up behind it, muzzles braced under the shield line.

"Advance," Tarn ordered.

They moved forward at a marching pace, shield taking the first impacts with bright ripples. Every ten meters, a hand reached out, pulling a shipyard worker from behind a crate, dragging a wounded guard into the wake of the wall, shoving civilians into the safe pocket behind the formation.

The firefight ahead sharpened into view. Smoke, sparks, scorched durasteel. A dead ceiling mount still spitting electricity. And beyond it, shapes in beskar holding the lane.


With the intensity of the blaster fire impact one soldier in the line was sent flying. Now down to 19 - 9 in the front and 10 returning fire, Tarn and his men began to shift in posture from saving civilians, to engaging the enemy.

---

"I am the Law."

• INVENTORY including Troopers.
• LO-VX Va'karis Shield System
• DAF Standard Legionary Combat Armor (S-LCA-1)
• DAF-19 "Vanguard" Rifle
  
  TARN ONLY:

• Myrmidon-Class Armor Phrik based with stealth plating and life-sign scanner
• "Whisperline" Breach Kit – grapple, cutter, and zero-sound detonation foam
• Vibro-Combat Knife"

 

[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 - 10 KIA, 9 wounded, 1 out of action.

Norbert was shocked by Korda speaking his language, he stood there for a moment, before whispering to himself:

"Quōmodo tu—"

The groaning of the structure got louder and louder. It was clearly about to give in soon. He quickly locked in and noticed Korda's position in the building. He didn't like how close he was to an escape route.

He quickly poured all of his energy into grappling him. It was a difficult task; their feet ground into the ground, and the metal of their armor scraped and made sparks. It took a minute of wrestling, but Norbert managed to gain control in the end. He then let go to give Korda room and then promptly kicked him with all his might into the last wall that supported the building. Korda's back bent against the beam, and the rubble began to encase him.

Norbert pushed the last bit of his strength into sprinting towards the exit. He slid for the door as the building collapsed around them. He felt a sharp pain in his arm and rolled across the ground and onto the street. Dust and smoke covered the block around Norbert. He lay there, looking up at the sky. The visor in his helmet was cracked; his armor was still glowing from the heat. His gloves were red, and his exposed flesh was burnt; he didn't even feel the pain anymore. He looked down at the rubble; he didn't see Korda. If he was alive, he was just barely, underneath the rubble that is. Or maybe he fled, assuming he won the fight.

The fallen angel slowly began to sit up when he realized half of his left arm was missing. It wasn't bleeding, though; the fire must've seared the flesh and stopped the blood loss. He said, barely speaking:

"Caelum gratias."

He collapsed again, he couldn't feel his body, with his last bit of strength he radioed in to the Iron Creed:

"Alae Angelorum amputatae sunt. Repetō: Angelorum… amputatae."

He laid there, staring at the sky, even with the debris, it was so beautiful, so peaceful. He'd never seen something so lightly blue in his life.



The rest of the Angels watched this collapse. They hadn't noticed Norbert at first, they were too focused on Sarah in her critical condition. She was stable now, but she couldn't fight. After a moment, Sariel noticed Norbert laying there. He told Ramiel to stay with three others and protect the fallen Angel. He and the rest ran up to Norbert. He wasn't looking nearly as good as they were.

Tag: Korda Veydran 'Sentinel' Janius Everwall

 

['Sentinel' Janius Everwall]

Objective: Rescue our Angels
Supporting Units: Nearby Artillery, Possible CAS/CAP, Marius Hayes
Opposition: Korda Veydran
Forces: The Iron Creed 3rd and 4th Squads

Norbert Oro
Alae Angelorum amputatae sunt. Repetō: Angelorum…Amputatae.

Within Miliseconds, Paladin Lee Marc starts yelling into his Helmet's radio. Souls of the Lilaste order

Cruciatus et Murus Ferreus ad Angelos Mei iam transportatione indigent! Navem bellicam nobis parate!

Noli, Marce, angelos nostros parvos fallare! Obliviscere vindictae! Noli eos mori pati!

Little time is wasted as the ground shakes underneath the power-run from the Creed's armor. The Crusaders and Iron walls begin to rush away from the current battlefield, leaving the Mud Waders and Cataphracts to engage the Mandalorians..​

Rerouting Squads

[Crusaders]

Armor Integrity	User Health	Armor data	Weaponry Data
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-20DLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-20DLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-20DLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-20DLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-40RLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-40RLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-40RLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-40RLO-22SLO-10M

[Iron Walls]

Armor Integrity	User Health	Armor data	Weaponry Data
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-20DLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-20DLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-20DLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-20DLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-40RLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-40RLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-40RLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-40RLO-22SLO-10M

 

[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 | Ali Kare ​

​

​

The woman stood with both hands braced against the edge of the holotable, the shifting light of the battlespace painting sharp lines across the faceplate of her helmet. Icons flared, dimmed, vanished - each one catalogued in the back of her mind with cold precision. The Mandalorian fleet was adapting. That much was undeniable. The battle had reached its second rhythm now - no longer the chaos of the first contact, but the grinding, deliberate violence that followed once both sides understood the shape of the field. ​

​

Focused fire had claimed an Air'mar cruiser elsewhere in the formation, and she watched the telemetry ripple outward as the remaining ships adjusted. Discipline, not ferocity, was what made the Mandalorians dangerous. They pressed where they sensed weakness, not where noise was loudest. Her own fleet had weathered the opening exchanges well enough, but not unscathed. ​

​

"Report," she said evenly. ​

​

A lieutenant responded without hesitation. "Two corvettes reporting degraded maneuvering thrusters - glancing hits from missile shrapnel. One frigate has lost a dorsal shield emitter but remains combat-capable. Starfighter Group Aurek reports three craft destroyed, five forced to disengage due to systems damage." She nodded once. Acceptable. Not ideal - but acceptable. "Frigate Kryat's Fang is pulling out of line," another bridge officer answered. "Port shields collapsed under overlapping station fire. Hull breached sealed, propulsion intact but reduced." ​

​

She nodded once. "Order her to fall back behind the corvette screen and rotate shields. She's not to reenter until green across the board." Another voice followed quickly. "Two more corvettes took glancing hits from planetary mass drivers. Damage is superficial, but one squadron Scyk-type Interceptors failed to disengage in time - losses estimated at six craft." ​

​

A flicker of annoyance crossed her expression, gone almost as quickly as it appeared; minor losses, but losses all the same. The planetary guns were proving exactly as Laphisto had warned - methodical, patient, and brutally unforgiving to anything that lingered too long in a predictable vector. Her gaze returned to the Mandalorian formation as Ali Kare 's fleet began maneuvering closer, sliding into position just outside firing range. She saw the intent immediately, the subtle vertical dispersion, and the careful spacing. Smart. Deliberate. A commander unwilling to gamble ships on bravado. ​

​

"Adjust our approach," she ordered. "All ships, begin staggered lateral drift, no more straight-line burns. Helm, I want continuous vector variation - small, constant corrections. Make their firing solutions work for every hit." The Aggressor-class battlecruiser responded almost immediately, its massive frame easing into a slow, controlled weave. On the holomap, the rest of the formation followed suit, breaking up the clean geometry the planetary batteries relied upon. Her gaze shifted to the forward projection, where the icons of Ali Kare 's fleet were sliding into position nearby. ​

​

"Bring the Super Heavy Plasma Cannon online." The bridge of the Stone and Sky quieted, the kind of silence that only came when everyone present understood what was about to happen. Power began to reroute forward, drawn inexorably toward the ship's primary weapon. The Super Heavy Plasma Cannon was not a tool for sweeping destruction - it was a scalpel meant to punish overcommitment. "Hold the cannon at seventy percent until I give the word." The charge cycle had begun, a low, rising resonance that vibrated through the vessel. On the holomap, Mandalorian support vessels shifted subtly, screening heavier hulls as starfighters surged forward once more. ​

​

Power readings spiked across the board as the Aggressor's primary weapon charged, its capacitors drawing energy deep from the ship's reactors. She studied the target markers carefully - not a station, not yet, but a dense cluster of overlapping orbital platforms and planetary fire-control relays feeding targeting data to the surface guns. ​

​

"Fire," she said in almost a whisper. ​

​

The super-heavy plasma cannon discharged with a deep, resonant thunder that seemed to vibrate through the hull itself. A lance of incandescent energy tore across space toward the marked cluster in a blinding flare. Its impact was not meant to annihilate the defenses outright; it didn't need to. Its purpose, if successful, was to disrupt the network of sensors; cause targeting delays, desynchronization, and opening gaps in firing arcs where there had been none moments before. ​

​

"Good," she replied evenly. "Shift fire to their escorts. Keep them busy." She did not press the advantage recklessly. Instead, the Aggressor's escorts poured disciplined fire into the surrounding Diarchy ships and stations in an attempt to scatter their forces rather than reinforce. A calculated response - enough pain to disrupt, not enough to invite a focused counterstrike. "That buys us time," she said quietly. "Not safety. Time." ​

​

She turned as new contacts resolved on the edge of the display - Mandalorian transports, Q-carriers, and combat landers waiting just beyond the worst of the orbital fire. "All troopships," she ordered, her voice carrying across the command deck, "Prepare for deployment. You will descend in waves, not columns. Use the gaps created by our fire. Q-carriers are to remain mobile - deploy your troops, recover wounded as needed, and relocate. Do not linger." Her tone hardened slightly. "Escort wings, your priority is those transports. If you have to choose between chasing enemy fighters or shielding our ground forces, you shield the ground forces." ​

​

The woman allowed herself a single measured breath. The Mandalorians were dangerous, but they were not omnipotent. Not today. She glanced once more toward Ali Kare 's formation and then toward the wider battlespace, where Laphisto 's defensive lattice continued to grind relentlessly against Renn Vizsla 's aggression. This battle would not be decided in moments, nor by singular acts of heroism. Another report came in. "Enemy return fire spiking. One corvette took a direct hit - engines have been damaged but are holding. Frigate Vigil's Edge reports reduced shield efficiency." ​

​

"Rotate her out," she replied immediately. "Send Iron Wake forward to cover the gap. Keep the line intact." She stepped closer to the holotable, eyes tracking the descending transports as planetary fire resumed. This was the knife's edge - the moment where hesitation would cost lives, and overcommitment would cost the fleet. "Maintain pressure," she said quietly. "No overextension. We make them work for every meter." ​

​

The holotable shimmered as orders propagated across her fleet, the Aggressor-class battlecruiser holding steady at the center of a formation that bent - but did not break. Its plasma cannon began cycling again, its glow building once more as she watched the battle unfold - controlled, costly, but far from lost. ​

​

​

​

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 - (1 damaged)
• (4) Arquitens-type Light Cruisers
• (2) Birikad-type Cruisers
• (10) Kyramud-type Battleships
• (2) Chakaar-type Dungeon Ships
• (10) Ara'nov-type Frigates - (1 damaged)
• (4) Vengeance-type Frigates - (1 damaged)
• (10) Jehavey'ir-type Assault Ships
• (6) Gozanti-type Light Cruisers
• (16) Hukaatir-type Gunships
• (6) Shaadlar-type Troopships
• (10) Baatir-type Corvettes - (1 damaged)
• (6) Crusader-type Corvettes - (1 damaged)
• (4) Alor'uus-type Corvettes - (1 damaged)
• (10) Aranar-type Corvettes - (2 damaged)
• (10) Kom'rk-type Combat Transports

Spoiler: Starfighter Squadrons

• (10) M5-A Scyk-type w/ Laser Cannons - 200 total (9 destroyed)
• (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

• Aggressor-class Battlecruiser fires its Super Heavy Plasma Cannon into a cluster of Bastion Curtain stations
• (3) Frigates Damaged
• (5) Corvettes Damaged
• (9) M5-A Scyk-type destroyed
• Atiniir-type Q-Carriers, Kom'rk-type Combat Transports, and Shaadlar-type Troopships begin landing procedures to reinforce Mandalorians on the surface of Yaga Minor
• Mandalorian Fleet escorts begin firing on nearby Diarchy Ships and Stations

​

​

 

[Dreidi Xeraic]

​

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

Dreidi knew that Chiss were a calculated bunch and that they sought to understand an enemy, to know them well enough to predict how they would fight and how to defeat them. But she was unsure how well this one would know of the Dathomir ways, how they fought and how one like Dreidi would fight. Since she had not been born into that culture, she was not pure Dathomirian. And Dreidi was hiding far more of her skills that she was revealing right now. She was keen on making sure that this Force User was tricked into a false sense of understanding. Presenting herself in a manner that fitted a narrative that many assumed she fell into.

It was the only way that Dreidi believe she stood a chance to ensure that Zinayn would not have the opportunity to outthink and overcome the fighting abilities that Dreidi held.

"Perhaps you overestimate your chances." Dreidi countered.

When her attack did not pierce through the robes, her eyes narrowed. She had not known material like this to prevent a sword from slicing through it. She resisted the urge to wince as she narrowly avoided Zinayn's blade to pierce through her hip, instead it sliced through the fabric and cut the skin of her hip. Not ideal but far better than suffering a full stab in her hip. While her sword was pressed hard against the robes, Dreidi directed the flames to ignite the robes. If they were going to resist her strikes then she would ensure they were set alight.

The ground would begin to soften underneath him as well. Her free hand continuing to cast the spell to turn the ground underneath Zinayn into a quicksand consistency. Her aim to trap him to the spot while he was set afire, burning and unable to flee. It was cruel and it was ensuring that he suffered but it was a demonstration of what a Witch of Dathomir was willing to do in order to win.

"You need not die today, merely stand down and I shall demonstrate mercy." Dreidi stated in a cool, calculated tone.

 

[Korda Veydran]

The rubble shifted.
At first it was subtle, just a slow grind of stone against stone beneath the smoking wreckage. Then a slab tilted, sliding aside as something beneath it forced its way upward.


Korda rose from the ruin.
He came out of the collapse like something dragged from a forge, armor scorched black, smoke curling off his plates in lazy spirals. A length of twisted rebar jutted awkwardly from his shoulder seam, wedged between beskar plates. He didn't acknowledge it at first. He simply planted one boot, then the other, and hauled himself fully free of the wreckage.


The building finished dying behind him with a final, hollow collapse.
Korda reached up, gripped the metal lodged in his armor, and pulled it free with a sharp, controlled motion. He hissed once through his teeth, then pressed a glowing fragment of debris briefly against the damaged plate, just long enough to seal the breach in his undersuit.


Practical. Efficient.
He retrieved his helmet from where it had fallen and locked it back into place, sealing himself inside the familiar darkness and tactical overlays. The world snapped back into targeting reticles and threat markers.
Next, he crossed the street to where the Ashen Maw lay half-buried in ash. He lifted it, checked the chamber by instinct, then mag-locked it to his shoulder.


Only then did he turn toward Norbert.
The Angels were gathering around their fallen commander now, forming a loose perimeter. Weapons rose instinctively when Korda approached. but he stopped several meters away and spread his hands slightly, palms open.
Not surrender.
Acknowledgment.


His voice carried clearly through external speakers.
"pugnavit me"

Korda inclined his helmet toward Norbert's broken form.
"non currere"
He paused, then added quietly:
"Fac ut sciat quis cum eo in igne stetit"
A beat.
"Nomen mihi est Korda Veydran."

There was no triumph in it. No cruelty.
Just record.
Korda stepped back, turned away from the Angels entirely, and faced down the street where the LO-25 battery still loomed through smoke and drifting debris.


His HUD painted it in hostile red.
Without another word, he broke into a sprint.
Armor pistons drove him forward, boots hammering shattered pavement as he vanished into the haze, toward the next target, toward the next offering, toward whatever the Destroyer demanded next.


Behind him, the ruins smoldered.
Ahead of him, war waited.

tag: Norbert Oro 'Sentinel' Janius Everwall

 

[Morta Izanami]

​

[]

Disobey - by ODDKO

​

Location: Vjunhollow, Industrial - Capital of Yaga Minor
Objective: Defend
Tag: Open
Allies: DIA
Enemies: ME
Direct: Mia Monroe

The tension lay thick as wool upon the rooftop, and through it moved Morta Izanami with the unhurried poise of a banshee that had already chosen which soul to keen for. One Mandalorian lay beneath her, pinned flat to the cold stones, her slight frame seated upon his armored chest as though it were a throne wrought for her amusement. The other fared no better; for though he struggled and clawed, an unseen fist of the Force had him by the throat, pinning him uselessly against the ground. His breath came in strangled iron rattles while her golden gaze danced between them, bright with wicked sport.

She rapped her knuckles lightly against the helmet beneath her, a playful clink, clink ringing out. "Ah now," she crooned in lilting, soft tones; her brogue thick with a smoky effect, "you and I need to have a discussion, Soup Can." Settling more comfortably, she leaned forward, propping her chin upon her palm as though he were a suitor at court rather than prey beneath her.

With a lazy curl of her free hand, the Force tightened just enough on the other warrior's throat to remind him of her reach. "Tell me all about yourself. Your likes and dislikes, your turn-ons and turn-offs, what frightens you, your favorite color and all. 'Tis the least you can do, seein' as you tried to shoot me." Her smile sharpened, sweet as poisoned mead. "And if you satisfy my curiosity, I might kill you quickly. Or not at all."

A wet, choking gasp drew her attention aside. Almost absently, the way one might swat a bothersome fly, her fingers curled. The invisible grip clenched. There came a dull, final crack beneath the quietness, and the Mandalorian fell limp as cut rope to the stones. She glanced over at the corpse, then back to the living one beneath her, amusement dancing cruel and bright in her eyes. "See?" she said, voice dipped in mocking mirth. "Quickly."

The Mandalorian beneath her did not speak. Not a word, not a plea; only the slow, stubborn rise and fall of his armored chest beneath where she sat, and the faint creak of beskar strained by breath and dread alike. She studied him the way a storyteller studies a closed book; curious, faintly disappointed, and already imagining the ending without needing the middle told.

She sighed then, soft and long, the sound carrying a bitter music through the air. "More's the pity," she said, voice dipped in rueful silk. "I do love to hear stories, near as much as I love tellin' them." Her fingers traced idle circles in the air above his helmet, the Force humming faint as a gathering storm around her hand. "And every soul's got a tale worth the hearin', even the stubborn ones wrapped head to toe in tin."

Slowly, deliberately, she leaned in close, close enough that her breath fogged the edge of his visor. A smile spread across her lips then, theatrical and terrible, the kind worn by queens in tragedies just before the curtain falls. "Now listen well," she said, her voice swelling into rich stage-tones, each word savored. "This is going to hurt, a lot." And the galaxy itself seemed to flinch, as though it knew the story had turned its page.

 

[Eirys Santhe]

---

---

Yaga Minor, Outer Rim Territories;
Santhe-Sienar Orbital Shipyards, Diarchy space.
Tags:
ME: Jonah | Tessa Thayne | Siv Kryze | Hanna | Tyr Mereel | Avast Verd
DIA: Trace Xyston | The Shroud Knight | Kallous | Shyra Calipsa | Souls of the Lilaste order

---

THIS IS THE WAY, OBJECTIVE II
' When The Sky Falls '

There is no sound in space. So, when the Lurcelhulk crashed into the orbital stations (undoubtedly resulting in the death or injury of thousands) Eirys could not hear the searing of metal-on-metal, or the resulting booooom which would have followed, if the crashed had happened on Yaga Minor itself. Yet, the flash of white lights forced Eirys to raise her arm up to shield her eyes from the display of raw, brutal Mandalorian power that had come to erase The Diarchy from a star system set to be torn apart by war.

"Calm down everyone," Eirys shouted to her entourage. It was more for herself than them. "Be calm. Everything is going to be okay."

Except it wasn't going to be okay. Crazy what panic can make you say in the moment, isn't it?

"We should go back to the spire, and try to find out what is happening," Eirys exclaimed as lowered her arm back to the side. She turned to her guide for directions. Somewhere in the din, beneath the artificial scrubbers, and klaxons whirring an alarm that told of an emergency, sounds of gunfire were eerily close-by. Far too close for Eirys liking. "Which way is it again?"

As her guide led Eirys down the hallway, back towards the Administrative Spire (a place-of-interest where Santhe-Sienar housed the orbital shipyards crew alongside offices pertaining to their business interests), she quickened her step and wondered whether or not the former subsidiary of Santhe Corporation would survive this Mandalorian-Diarchy war, least certainly, the shipyards that she found herself suddenly trapped upon at the beginning of a full-scale attack.

---

 

[Souls of the Lilaste order]

​

Objective: battlefield Command
Tags: 'Sentinel' Janius Everwall Norbert Oro
Deployed: one LAHT gunship to transport the iron creed to the angels of meu's position

Commander Tarain let his eyes move steadily across the holoprojector, watching data streams cascade in layered bands of light. Unit icons pulsed and shifted as lifesigns fluctuated, some dimming to wounded status, others vanishing entirely as they were reclassified as dead. The bunker around him thrummed with the low vibration of power conduits and distant impacts, but his focus never wavered. He was running a multi-front war from a reinforced command pit, issuing redeployments to collapsing sectors while diverting air support to hard-pressed units that were minutes from being overrun.

Orders flowed from him in clipped bursts. Infantry were rerouted to reinforce a faltering perimeter. Gunships were reassigned mid-flight to blunt an armored push. Artillery fire was walked back to avoid friendly casualties. Every decision shaved seconds off a clock that never stopped ticking.

When the members of the Iron Creed radioed in, requesting a gunship to extract the Angels of Meu, Tarain's brow furrowed. He pulled their transponder data into the foreground, isolating the unit's lifesign readouts from the surrounding noise. The numbers told the story before the words ever could. Ten still breathing. Most of them wounded. Several critical. The rest of the unit was already gone.

He muttered under his breath, more frustration than surprise, and expanded the local airspace grid. One gunship stood out, already skirting the edge of the engagement zone after completing a casualty drop. Tarain reached out, fingers slicing through the projection as he seized the icon and dragged it onto a new vector. Even as he did, he noticed Iron Creed elements peeling offtowards the Angels' position, breaking cohesion in a way that set his jaw tight.

Coordinates flashed onto the tactical overlay. A nearby park, still intact enough to serve as a rendezvous point, was tagged and transmitted. The gunship's course adjusted immediately, engines flaring as it swung onto the new heading.

"Solid copy, Iron Creed, Gunship is inbound to your location. Follow the navigation route I've pushed to your HUD and rendezvous at the marked coordinates."
The channel closed, and Tarain's eyes returned to the lifesign cluster he had isolated moments earlier. Ten remaining. Half a unit erased in minutes. The Angels of Meu had not broken, but they had been gutted, reduced to survivors clinging to one another under fire.

He shifted the overlay, tracking the Iron Creed's movement vectors as they bent sharply toward the Angels' last known position. They had not waited for orders. The distress signal had been enough. Half their strength had turned without hesitation, abandoning their own axis of advance to reach the wounded.

Tarain's expression hardened, not with anger, but with recognition. He had planned for them as separate elements, two formations operating in parallel. The battlefield was correcting that assumption for him. These were not independent units reacting to the same war. They were a matched pair, bound by something more immediate than doctrine or command structure.

And perhaps he had been a fool to separate the two units. A mistake he would not make again going forward

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

​

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

Aselia’s attack caused havoc. Adelle heard the rumble of a building nearby collapse in on itself as the basilisks’ sonic cannons hit something structural. She kept her heart rate steady, controlled her breathing, but as she lined up her next shot, something on the level below scraped. Scrambling.

Adelle swore and quickly pushed herself to her feet as the intruder clambered up onto the same floor on the opposite side. There’d been no warning in the Force. And now there was no time. The rifle barrel was aimed in her direction. Adelle reached for the Force instinctively and threw up a barrier in front of her. The slugs slammed into it with surprising force. And the armored foe continued to advance.

Fine. Let the games begin.

With her left hand raised to focus on maintaining the barrier, Adelle gestured with two fingers and created a stasis field in front of the invisible wall. The slugs slowed to a halt in mid-air about a half foot from her. She held it, waiting, until her foe had crossed half the distance. Adelle dropped the barrier and Force pushed at the bullets, blasting them back in his direction.

She did not relent.

She couldn’t afford to. There was no Force presence in the soldier, nothing for her to anticipate. Just a void that, once noticed, she could only track its location. The loose debris was next, lifted by invisible hands and launched at speed. Tiny shards became scattergun blasts of shrapnel. Larger pieces became missiles.

Adelle spoke into the private channel.

“Contact,” she said calmly, lifting a chunk the size of a footstool and throwing it at the soldier’s 9 o’clock. “I’ll see if I can keep ‘em entertained.”

She stayed mindful of where she was and where the corners were. Close quarters wasn’t exactly a problem but she liked not being backed into one.

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

 

[Null 7]

Theme​

Tags: Allies: 'Sentinel' Janius Everwall || Opp: Adelle Bastiel Aselia Verd
Armor: LO-62C[ due to new factory rules remove all Force-related resistances. working on getting the armor pulled for refits]
Weapons:LO-20D, LO-22S, LO-10M [broken but usable as a dagger/ combat knife]
Ammo: LO-AP/19


The moment Null Seven saw his own rounds begin to suspend in the air, he reacted instantly. He threw himself to the left, ducking behind a support pillar as the space he had occupied a second earlier became untenable. He kept low and tight to cover, letting the sudden shift in the fight settle in his mind rather than his body.

His eyes flicked to the upper section of his HUD, the display steady despite the noise and motion around him. Ammunition count sat just under fifty seven rounds. Enough to apply pressure if needed. Not enough to waste thoughtlessly. He logged it and pushed the number aside.

Null Seven drew in a measured breath, then another, forcing his breathing to slow and his pulse to follow. He did not wait for silence. He waited for the rhythm of the space to stabilize, for the moment where movement became readable again

When it came, he moved. He broke from cover in a sharp lateral burst, crossing her line of sight deliberately before snapping behind another pillar on the far side of the lobby. The movement was brief and controlled, meant to be seen but not engaged on. He did not fire. He did not linger. He gave just enough to provoke a response and nothing more.

He settled back into cover and waited. Null Seven shifted his stance and repeated the maneuver, this time shorter and tighter, adjusting his speed and angle as he moved. He was not trying to close distance or gain ground. He was testing. Measuring reflexes. Watching how quickly the space reacted to his presence and how aggressively movement was answered.
Each pass refined the picture forming in his mind. The timing. The preferences. The way control was asserted over the environment. This was no longer a firefight to be won through volume or speed. It was a controlled assessment. Null Seven remained patient, moving only when he chose to be seen and disappearing again before the moment could be seized. he wanted to see what this force user had in her pocket and what she was willign to do.

 

[Renn Vizsla]

Tag: Amelia von Sorenn | Laphisto | Ali Kare | Edwards




The Iron Hound shook under sustained fire, but she did not falter.

On Renn's tactical display, Diarchy firing density spiked again, orbital platforms and fleet guns converging in disciplined waves. The Bastion Curtain ground forward methodically, exactly as Laphisto intended. Renn watched the damage reports scroll in, calm and unflinching.

“Hold the line,” he said evenly.

His dreadnaughts answered first.

The Kandosii-class hulls and the Darasuum pushed forward a fraction, massive frames rolling to interpose themselves between the heaviest Diarchy fire and the lighter elements of the fleet. Shields flared hard, layered defenses bleeding energy in sheets of light as mass drivers and turbolasers slammed home. Armor scarred. Shield percentages dipped and recovered. They took it because that was what they were built to do.

“Supporting vessels, stay tucked in,” Renn ordered. “Let the big ones earn their keep.”

Then the losses came.

A Baatir-type Corvette vanished from the display first, caught in overlapping station fire, its shields collapsing too quickly to compensate. A second later, an Aranar-type Corvette broke apart under sustained fire, hull tearing as it tried to roll clear. Moments after that, a Crusader-type Corvette was cut down while attempting to reposition, its signal blinking out as the lattice closed around it.

Three lights gone.

Renn inclined his head once.

“Mark them,” he said quietly. “Their names carry.”

No pause. No theatrics.

His attention shifted as new vectors bloomed on the edge of the battlespace, Ali Kare ’s Diarchy force, sliding in behind his formation, disciplined and deliberate.

“So,” Renn murmured, visor angling slightly. “That’s the play.”

“Helm,” he ordered, “begin pivot. Partial redeploy.”

Icons shifted.

One Sundari-type Battlecruiser, its armor already scored and shields holding steady, rolled out of the main line. Alongside it, a Kandosii-type Dreadnaught adjusted vector, turning its broadside toward the new threat. A Jurir-type Light Carrier followed, peeling off under escort, its role clear.

“Those three,” Renn continued, “you’re on our flank. Pressure, not pursuit. Make them look at you.”

The rest of the fleet held firm, dreadnaughts still absorbing the worst of the Curtain’s fire, escorts weaving tight, fighters locked in brutal, disciplined engagements to keep the Diarchy’s pilots from capitalizing on momentum.

Renn’s voice cut across encrypted channels, steady as iron.

“We don’t break here,” he said. “We bend, we absorb, and we make them pay attention in too many directions at once.”

On the holomap, the Mandalorian formation did exactly that, anchored at the center by battered but unyielding heavy hulls, while a portion of Renn’s strength turned to meet the new threat without abandoning the old one.

Between Laphisto’s grinding lattice and Ali Kare’s fresh arrival, the battle tightened, but Renn Vizsla did not retreat.

He adjusted.

And the Iron Hound pressed on, smoke, fire, and wreckage swirling around a fleet that refused to collapse, even as the sky above Yaga Minor burned.

Spoiler: Fleet

Flagship: Iron Hound ​

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

Spoiler: Starfighter Squadrons

• (5) M5-A Scyk-type w/ Laser Cannons - 100 total
• (10) M5-A Scyk-type w/ Ion Cannons - 100 total
• (3) M5-A Scyk-type w/ Concussion Missiles - 60 total
• (3) M5-A Scyk-type w/ Proton Torpedoes - 60 total
• (5) M15-A Kimogila-type - 20 total
• (7) M42-A Krayt-type - 7 total
• (10) Firespray-71 - 10 total
• (15) Firespray-61 - 180 total
• (5) Firespray-51 - 20 total
• (5) Firespray-41 - 20 total
• (10) Davaab-type - 160 total
• (10) Shereshoy-type - 10 total
• (10) Teroch-type - 120 total
• (10) Cabur-type - 80 total
• (15) Vyrhawk-type - 240 total
• (5) Bes'uliik-type - 20 total
• (15) Usen'ye-type - 60 total
• (10) Atiniir-type - 80 total

Spoiler: Fleet Actions

• Dreadnaughts move forward to absorb the majority of Diarchy fire and shield supporting vessels
• Three corvettes are lost to sustained fire:
  • 1× Baatir-type Corvette
  • 1× Aranar-type Corvette
  • 1× Crusader-type Corvette
• Partial fleet pivot executed in response to Ali Kare’s arrival behind Renn’s formation
• One Sundari-type Battlecruiser, one Kandosii-type Dreadnaught, and one Jurir-type Light Carrier redirect focus toward Ali Kare’s force
• Remaining fleet maintains pressure on Laphisto’s formation while holding the pincer

 

[Diarch Reign]

Location: Yaga Minor
Tags: Gavin Vel Warpriest Prime Aether Verd
Gear: Amulet of the Warden's Eye, Bladefather
Color Code: #B35432

---

And so it was to begin. While The Diarch and Mand’alor were squaring off, another being had arrived. Making bold statements of combat and old gods. Reign felt Gavin tense within the force, like a beast curling to strike.

A small smile crossed Reign’s lips as he recognized the new arrival. He had long known about Vel and Rellik’s encounter with Domina, and he was eager to see how the young Optio fared now against this opponent.

As Vel leapt at his adversary, the Diarch was on the move as well. The Mand’alor and Diarch had crossed blades only briefly before on Daro and despite the conflict between them, Reign was eager to fight an adversary of the caliber of the man he faced now.

Reign stalked forward, he was not aggressive as one would expect. Every move meant something, every facet of his combat style was meant to dominate, to demoralize his opponents. Reign did not believe it would work on the man across from him, but the economy of movement that Reign exhibited belied the fierce power he brought to bare.

The opening salvo of the Diarch’s attack would be to hurl a piece of debris the size of a small speeder towards his opponent utilizing the force.

 

[The Shroud Knight]

|| AS IRON SHARPENS IRON ||
Emissary of the Unknown - Chapter 1
———
LOADOUT:

Spoiler

Yellow Lightsaber
Silver Needle (Star-iron needle-like hidden blade)
Biometric Pylon
Star-iron threaded cloak

DIA: Kallous | Shyra Calipsa | Souls of the Lilaste order | Trace Xyston
ME: Avast Verd | Jonah | Quinn Varanin | Tessa Thayne | Tyr Mereel
ENGAGING: Hanna | Siv Kryze

ANESTHESIZE​

SANTHE-SIENAR ORBITAL SHIPYARDS, YAGA MINOR

The symphony of the Mandalorian assault was as precise as it was brutal. The Knight didn't see the spear so much as he felt the displacement of the Force guiding it, a heavy, focused intent that sought his center.

He didn't dance away. He brought the yellow blade up in a sharp, vertical arc. The beskar spear collided with the kyber with a violent, screeching hiss. The Force-guidance behind the throw made the impact feel like a falling star; the vibration traveled up The Knight’s arm, rattling his Star-Iron gauntlet and forcing him to take a bracing step back.

He had no time to recover before the follow-up arrived.

Hanna's Verpine slugs were silent, invisible killers. The Void Stone-treated slugs carried a silence that muffled Kaelen's precognition. The first slug caught him in the shoulder, the hypervelocity round tearing a jagged furrow through his Star-Iron-threaded cloak and denting the heavy pauldron beneath.

The second slug was a hammer blow to the chest.

It slammed into his center mass, throwing him backward. The Star-Iron chest plate held, but the impact buckled the air from his lungs. The Knight hits the deck plates hard, skidding two meters through the fire-suppressant fog, his yellow blade carving a scorched line into the station's floor as he struggled to maintain his grip.

The Biometric Pylon in his ear spiked into a frantic, dissonant whine. Damage reported. Kinetic trauma detected. Void-signature confirmed.

Through the mask, his breathing was a ragged. He stayed low in the fog, his cloak swirling around him to hide the extent of the damage. His chest plate was scorched and cracked, the dull grey of the metal now stained with the heat of the impact.

The Knight pushed himself up, his movements stiff but deliberate. He watched the way they pressed their advantage; Hanna circling on her skates, Siv Kryze closing the distance with the weight of a mountain.

He didn't retaliate with a clumsy charge. Instead, he reached out with his left hand, tapping into his suppressed connection to the Force, targeting the fire-suppressant gas. With a sharp, twisting motion of his fingers, he commanded the fog to thicken and congeal around the two Mandalorians.

Under the cover of the sudden, heavy shroud, The Knight vanished. He moved toward the flank, his yellow blade extinguished for a heartbeat to kill the light.

He was hunting the rhythm of the duel now.

The lightsaber snapped back to life—not in front of them, but low and to the side, a horizontal strike aimed to test the mobility of Hanna ’s skates through the congealed mist.

 

[Avast Verd]

Tyr Mereel Tarn Ekkard

Avast muttered a curse under her breath, breathing hard, teeth clenched as Tyr dealt with the turret, but she barely had time for the relief to settle before more trouble arrived, blasterfire tearing down the corridor right at them.

She ducked for cover.

<< Shit,>> she hissed, then forced her voice steady as she keyed her comm.

<< Front line down one, hold yer spacin'. >>

Avast pushed along the right wall, boots skidding once on scorched durasteel before she caught herself. Tyr's rotary cannon thundered to her left, a wall of noise and heat. She leaned into the Force instead, letting it cut through the chaos toward the sharp spike of motion ahead, feeling fear, panic, and determination all tangled up together.

<< Two behind the mag-cranes,>>she called. <<They're breakin'>>

She leaned out and fired, shield rippling as it damped the hit. But another volley of shots and one guard dropped. Another staggered back with a shout just as blasterfire snapped past her head. A bolt struck her beskar'gam with a hard slap, jolting her backward with a grunt, but she managed to stay on her feet.

Another tug at her senses, and this time, it was more guards incoming.

At that point, Avast reached to her belt without looking, fingers closing around a flashbang. She thumbed it live and sent it skittering across the deck, bracing for the burst of white-hot light that would hopefully buy them a few precious seconds.

 

[Persephone Halcyon]

YAGA MINOR
[ - |Outer Rim Territories| - ]
near the space elevator
Aether Verd | Tessa Thayne | Itzhal Volkihar | Siv Kryze | Warpriest Prime
Diarch Rellik | Diarch Reign
___________________________
_______

This was what they asked for.

‘I’m so sorry.’​

She had thought it once for Diarch Rellik and thought it again for Diarch Reign while he exchanged words with Aether Verd that were full of vitriol. She heard clearly what both leaders said to each other, both so full of fury that it made her heart ache. It wasn’t her place to interrupt, and when Aether told her to stay on Kyr'valen, her head nodded imperceptibly. She would appear obedient, docile, in comparison to the Mandalorian King that spit fire so freely. She didn’t hold his fury against him when he claimed the Diarch, knowing, for her sake, that he tried to hold it all in. He was not this monster. He was not this person…

But…It kept bleeding out.

This was what they asked for.
​

Blood demands blood”​

‘…force forgive me…’

Heavy was the Crown.​

Aether needed her to do her duty, to do her job, because he couldn’t do it for both of them while engaging with the Diarchy. She would not be the Jedi who stood idly by because it wasn’t her fight, because this incursion didn’t threaten the galaxy at large. She was Mandalorian now…Head of her own Clan—and an Iron Wolf. She would mourn the Diarchy. She would mourn them…She would wish them better angels, but wishes and wants would not change their fate.

They had committed the cardinal sin of thinking Mandalorian lives, civilian and otherwise, had no meaning, and that the Empire would accept the casual KILLING of their people. Just because the Diarchy didn’t value their people enough not to murder them, didn’t mean that the Mandalorian Empire felt the same way. It wouldn’t make sense to people who believed themselves right, but punishment hadn’t been theirs to give.

The lives of Mandalorian’s lost…Hadn’t been theirs to take.

And so it was that the words of Diarch Reign slid past her like cold rain. She had heard it all before—On worlds that burned themselves hollow on chasing symmetry in suffering. On battlefields where everyone was certain that their dead weighed more than those of the other side. The truth? The dead were dead, and they all mattered equally. She leaned back just enough to give Aether freedom to move, arms unwinding, while Kyr'valen recalibrated with her instead.

The basilisk droid dug its claws into the floor, menacing, but obeyed her holding position.

Persephone lowered her head.

Her hands came together at her chest, and her fingers laced without fear. She could feel old habits surfacing, old forms, the kind she had sworn away and then quietly kept because no matter her status within the old Jedi Order…They still worked. It had taken her a long time to realize her ability wasn’t tied to any one group. She didn’t need the faith of the Council to move mountains…Just faith in herself.

She remembered these forms, these prayers, because sometimes the Force answered gentleness more than commands. Her voice flowed, soft as a river, from within her help but none would know the words she spoke. They might hear a distant and echoing soprano through her vocabulator…But they would not understand. Even she barely understood.

The Force stirred.

Not violently, not yet, but threads of invisible light began to gather around her. It was much more intricate than the shielding she’d raised to keep them safe while they entered the space elevator. She opened herself to the energy that wove through the galaxy, drawing not from anger or hate, but from resolve, from care, and from the terrible clarity that came with accepting what must be done.

Her gentle presence spread outward, sewing itself into the sky above Yaga Minor, burrowing into cloud layers that were already bruised by fore and falling metal.

The atmosphere responded to her solemn call.

Wind currents shifted first, almost imperceptibly, until they began to move faster. Clouds began to coil unnaturally, spiraling around the wounded spine of the elevator, but they were harmless. The weather obeyed her call, her plea, and she began to weave weather patterns that would all coalesce here. To this very point in the sky. It was the opposite of what she had done on Iridium.

<<…Aether…>>​

That was meant to save people…Persephone, was meant to save people.

<<…This will end so many…I don’t know if I can do this…>>​

She was meant to save people.

This would not.

Spoiler: Stuff

Basic Equipment and Supplies (On Basilisk)
Armor: Protector-type Beskar'gam
Primary Firearm: Ori Sidaki "The Big Ripper"
Primary Blade: Mobius Beskad
Secondary Firearm: SM-10a
Secondary Blade: Euk Siha Service Knife
First Aid: RIDD-01 "Rids"

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: When the Sky Falls //:
//: Shipyards //:
//: Kallous //:
//: Equipment in Sig //:
//: Attire //:
I am sorry ahead of time if I missed anyone’s big moments, I’ve struggled to read & keep up & mentally organize the chaos of this battle xD Forgive me and don’t smite me – I’m trying xD

The live feed was everywhere. The ship had exploded dead center, and the thoughts of the thousands of lives that were lost echoed in the Force. Her jaw tightened as she felt the endless screams cry out for salvation… for retribution. The wave punched relentlessly as she found her feet touching the grounds of the shipyard. War had already consumed everything and everyone.

Her mission was to find Rellik, to make him swallow the words he had decided to spout in her presence, to other people, their own propaganda… All of it to incite war. As much as Quinn loved her mother, the fact that they did business with the Mandalorians irritated her… further their home… Eshan was under the banner of the Mandalorians despite the claims that they were 'free'. Quinn knew otherwise, they would be summoned to fight the wars of the Manda'lor.

They weren't blood, but they were close enough.

It's the only reason she wore Eshan's crown, and he and his people kept their heads.

Leather flexed over her hands as she stepped through the crowd. Her own influence influenced the minds of the drones commanded by the Diarch Government. Was this their war to end wars? Was drawing conclusions as they had just done their way of gathering the powers against them?

Foolish… she thought quietly to herself as she drew the golden-bladed lightsaber from its hilt and sliced through a trooper who sought to charge her. He was unlike the others, able to see through the illusion of his mind, or they had driven him mad. They were unironically running at the proper target.

She'd never know as she stepped over his twitching body. The blade disappeared as she continued forward. There was someone strong; they radiated enough Force to draw her attention. Unlike other Sith, the young Echani Queen kept hers quiet. Art of the Small made her presence feel like nothing but a whisper or a slight drop in an ocean. To the rest of the galaxy, she lacked power, how unfitting of the Heir to the Empire.

Standing at the base of the tower, with the rest of the enemy occupied.

Quinn suddenly dropped the facade of her force signature. Through it, a blaze would suddenly begin, and the darkness that poured from her essence began to bleed into the chaos. The Force churned with darkness and dread as she summoned every ounce of power the Phobis Core at the heart of her being offered.

Quinn would feed it; she would allow it to consume everything around her in a brilliant, blinding golden light. As it did so, she reached towards the tower where a figure stood with another. Hiding in cowardice.

Her mind assumed it was Rellik, but she would soon find out she was wrong.

Through the Force, she pulled with the strength of a Sith Lord, metal buckled under the immense surge of power as it was pulled to the ground.

"Coward!" She shouted, a laughter echoing afterwards, "Hiding in your tree? Your protective little bubble. Come fight, or is the Diarchy too scared of the War of Wars they claim they will enact?"