Faction What Are You Doing in My Swamp? || Mandalorian Empire

[Aether Verd]

MISSION TO ZANBAR
"Darkness took Zanbar. We take it back."​

Since the Planeshift tore the stars out of alignment and spat the Mandalorians back onto a fractured Mandalore, the Empire’s first priority hadn’t been glory or conquest. It had been survival. Stability. Securing the hyperlanes one beacon at a time—mapping the new Galaxy with blood, sweat, and transmitters.

And for a while, it worked.

Until Zanbar went dark.

Aether Verd stood at the head of the hold, armored and silent, his weight steady as the dropship rumbled through turbulence thick enough to rattle teeth. He said nothing. He didn't need to. The warriors behind him knew what was at stake.

Zanbar was the eastern gate. One of the few paths threading toward opportunity—and threat. The beacon there had been vital. Without it, all routes east became guesswork and prayer. When the signal cut, they sent scouts. Good ones. Hardened. And then those scouts vanished, too. Now the Great Heathen Army answered in full.

The dropship hissed as it broke the clouds, revealing a world choked in green mist and brackish water. Below, the swamp stretched like a drowned battlefield, trees bent in permanent bow, roots like claws dragging themselves free of the muck. And nestled in that mire—just visible through the mist—was the outpost. Or what was left of it.

“That structure’s no older than a month,” came a voice over comms. “But it looks like it’s been rotting here for decades…”

Aether’s visor flared as he locked eyes on the crumbling forward base. Metal blackened with moss. Antennas snapped. A flag barely clung to its pole, the Mythosaur skull half-consumed by swamp growth.

He gave the signal. The ramp dropped. The air hit like a wall—thick, humid, and foul. “Form up,” he ordered, voice low but firm. “Check for survivors, gear, and logs. We find out what happened. And we end whatever's still breathing out here.”

Boots hit water. Weapons came up. The mist swallowed them whole. Whatever had happened on Zanbar, it wasn’t just sabotage. It was rot. And rot spreads. But this wasn’t the kind of force that buckled under the unknown. This was the Great Heathen Army.

“Eyes up." Aether muttered beneath his breath, stepping into the mire. “Let’s remind the swamp who we are.”

Aselia Verd , Talohn Atar , Runi Kuryida , Zlova Rue , Klavatora Verd + Open

 

[Aselia Verd]

​

TAG: Aether Verd / Talohn Atar / Runi Kuryida / Zlova Rue / Klavatora Verd + Open

Aselia followed just behind Aether, her armored boots touching down with a muted thud as the ramp met the mire. Her presence was a stark silhouette against the mist: jet-black beskar trimmed with crimson. The cape trailing from her left shoulder rippled faintly in the swamp’s foul breeze, red against the green haze.

Even before her HUD fully calibrated to the environment, her onboard sensors were already mapping it projecting a 270-degree scan overlay across her visor in a blue wireframe. Bio-signatures: none within immediate radius. Air quality: breathable with heavy spore content. Moisture saturation: 98%. Electromagnetic activity: erratic.

A flick of her fingers called up a live diagnostic. Aether’s profile pinged on her left display. Squad formation on the right. Ahead Zanbar’s outpost rendered in partial scan. Structural instability flagged in three locations. Passive heat traces faint, but present.

She spoke low into the shared comms. “Running a multispectral sweep. Getting faint thermal signatures.”

Her gaze swept the crumbling walls of the outpost, sensors zooming and enhancing where optics failed. The moss growth was aggressive, threading into the cracks of durasteel plating like a living infection. She activated a targeted chemical analysis.

Pivoting slightly she lifted her right gauntlet and deployed a short-range sensor spike, which hissed into the muck and began radiating pulses. A holographic image bloomed to life above her wrist: a simplified 3D render of the outpost, real-time data populating node by node.

The Force whispered beneath it all, quiet but distorted, like a damaged signal trying to come through. It wasn't the first time she’d felt that kind of interference. And it wasn’t something she was going to ignore.

Without looking away, she murmured, “The force is distorted here, like its being strangled..”

A moment passed. Aether gave the hand signal to advance.

Aselia stepped forward in lockstep with him, her saber still at her hip, but her hand rested close to it. Whatever was happening here was not natural.
​

 

[Kuben Woods]

What is that I cannot see?​

Planetfall. It had felt like ages since Kuben had been out on a hunt. A proper hunt. To say he'd missed it would be the understatement of a lifetime. Then again, everything felt like forever in his state. The constant whispering, scheming, the incessant chattering.

For god's sake the laughter.

Ever since he'd been given this 'gift' as his old master had called it, he'd thought it was a second chance, but the voice in his skull, the being in his bones, the very thing keeping him alive and trying to kill him at the same time, he'd grown to hate it. At least that was one thing that kept him steady. His rage and iron will kept the thing from over taking him, and going on hunts and training kept both exceptionally sharp. Which was why the waiting was tantamount to torture. But the ship rumbling beneath his feet, the hum of the engines, the idle chatter between his new brothers and sisters. It was like a salve to a burning wound. A calming presence to a mind that constantly was at war with itself. Now that surroundings matched his internal turmoil, it was like he could breath. He could feel the liquid metal rippling through his body, keen on forming weapons and slicing through flesh. It.... no, he was eager. It had been too long since his last proper fight. His last proper kill.

His cloak billowed behind him as he stood, the white fur over his shoulders rippling in the wind as air rushed past him as the doors to the ship opened. His dropship was following Aether Verd closely, but maintaining enough separation that should an ambush occur, both would not be easy targets. Kuben raised his helmet over his head, the single red dot above the visor shining brightly. A sign of his taint. His sin. His burden. His emotionless face would shift and change as the helmet finally slipped onto its seals, and clicked into place with a snap and hiss of environmental systems activating and sealing the helmet just in case. His lips turned into a snarl of anger, his eyes began burning with rage, the only thing keeping the glow contained inside his helmet was the tint of his visor. Everything suddenly came into razor focus as the ship settled onto the ground, and he heard the calls from both Verds over the 'Net.

Kuben would walk calmly out of the vessel, each step a measured movement done with the grace of a hunter. He could feel the voice in his head begin to seemingly uncurl itself and begin drinking in the surroundings. Its interest was piqued at the surroundings, and force once this interest was enough that it was too busy studying the surroundings to chat his ear off. The Force was at work here then, as that's the only thing that could possibly shut IT up. Kuben kept his attention on more pressing matters, his rifle slung over his back, pistol in holster, and various other weapons attached or hidden at various points just like any other Mandalorian. He didn't need them for now. Whatever was here would taste the cold metal of his claws first, and the burning fire of his rage. His head would swivel about as he took up a lead position, moving forward with a practiced gait that telegraphed exactly how comfortable Kuben was here. A familiar chuckle would crop up in his mind as the shadow seemed to materialize in his mind's eye behind him to whisper into his ear.

Hehehehehehe, what's this I cannot see? Such sights you should be so lucky to perceive. I can't wait to hear the screams, oh the beautiful screams. Not just theirs either, but yours as well little pet,

Kuben just growled to himself under his helmet in response, not bothering to form a coherent thought behind it. That's what it wanted, to distract him. To cause him to miss something. To make a mistake. All so it could revel in all the pain he'd cause, and most of all feel.

 

[Klavatora Verd]

Klavatora would stay close behind her siblings. Touching down on the planet wasn't anything spectacular. If not for her sealed suit and armor, the mugginess would have caused her to squint tightly. Wasn't the first time she was on a planet that resembled a similar biome. The conditions here were perfect for hunting fleshy targets. Having potentially a multi-unit element arrive on the surface quickly betrayed the notion of a hunt.

Hunting alone or at least in pairs was her preferred method overall. It would have been disingenuous to think she could take on whatever this was alone. Her excitement would be reserved for when they actually figured out what was even going on here. Hopefully, they would quickly make sense out of their comrades' disappearance. Aether had demanded a show of force and that's the edict they would follow. This feeling of actively being able to engage a hostile force brought great euphoria. Fighting in mass with the combined arms of fellow vod was a different feeling. One that she wanted to saturate her memories.

She would hold her rifle in a ready position. It's optic linked to the HUD in her helmet. The woman would visually train her eyes on the trees and surrounding area. Her weapon's barrel trailing her sight movement. Patiently awaiting for her sister to finish her ongoing diagnosis prior to making any move. When the formation would move, Klavatora would follow. Careful spacing between herself and her fellow vod. "Arumorut," she said jokingly in her native tongue.

It would be a lie to say that she wasn't concerned. Hard to measure up a situation like this regardless of how many armed mandos were here. The fact that any element of "the force" was involved, made her skeptical that they would find any survivors. On the downside, she didn't quite understand the concept of it no matter how many times it was explained to her. Klavatora wasn't granted such a gift and she chose to focus on less "spiritual" matters. Allegedly, the force was in all things. That just meant that whatever may have got them here could be eliminated. It was good enough for her that they would be able to make things scream.

Tag:

 

[Harrow]

ZANBAR - INSIDE THE OUTPOST
“They sent hounds into the swamp… but I ate the last ones.”​

The lights flickered in rhythmic spasms—on, off, on again—like a heartbeat trying to remember itself. In the command chamber of the rotting outpost, a wall of screens buzzed with static and swamp-filtered feeds, each lens smeared with time, algae, or worse. But through the noise, one truth became clear.

They had arrived.

The bucket boys.

Harrow reclined in a throne made of bent chairs and shattered consoles, legs crossed at the knee, his thin fingers stirring something thick and red in a cracked helmet perched delicately in his lap. A striped straw—bent at the neck—snaked its way between blackened lips, and with a content little slurp, he exhaled.

“Ooooh, I do love when the play starts with a military march,” he cooed, eyes dancing across the feeds. “All that bravado. All that armor. All that damp, soggy pride.” He tilted his head, one eye twitching as a shadow moved across the screen. “Look at them go! The big one’s barking orders like a chorus master. I bet he screams well.”

He shifted, resting his chin lazily on one hand. “What do you think we should send out first? The bells? The twins? Or maybe just a little… silence.” A pause. “No? Still not speaking?”

His gaze dropped to the floor beside him.

There, slumped and twitching with the last flickers of stolen life, was the ruin of a Mandalorian scout—what was left of him. His armor had been peeled open like a fruit, nerves and wires tangled in a mess of performance art and postmortem mockery. His helmet was gone—repurposed—and his eyes stared upward, glassy and wide, as if still watching the screens.

Harrow leaned closer, gave another thoughtful sluuuurp, then gently patted the body’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, darling. You’re part of something important now.”

He sat back again, exhaling sharply through his nose, amused. “But no, no, no—we shan’t greet them just yet. Let them settle in. Let them think they’re hunting. Let the swamp whisper to them first.”

A finger rose, twirling lazily in the air.

“After all... anticipation is half the magic.”

And with that, he smiled—a cracked, crimson grin—and took another long sip.

Aether Verd , Talohn Atar , Aselia Verd , Runi Kuryida , Zlova Rue , Klavatora Verd , Kuben Woods​

 

[Talohn Atar]

It hadn't been long after Talohn had gotten off of Kammia. What awaited him beyond the atmosphere of the planet was a changed galaxy. One shocked by cataclysm yet still birthed anew. Not that he knew all of the galaxy before the rapture, but now it was almost a new place. What's more, changes like this were causing activity in places he had long thought to have gone dark. A holo message sent out on the private Verd frequency proved that. The verds were on the move again. Moving on Zanbar specifically.

Zlova's ship, of which Talohn had become a resident of ever since the loss of his own, arrived out of hyperspace just in time to see the ship of mandalorians disappear into the planet's atmosphere. The cathar sits up from his seat in the cockpit as he sees this, flipping a few switches and turning a few knobs as he locks in on the holo frequency. "This is Talohn. Thought I'd join the-" The cathar stops as he hears nothing but static coming from the other end. He squints, head tilting as he fiddles with the knobs a few more times/ It was to no avail. The static continued. He looks to his left at Zlova, his expression nonplussed as he waved a hand in the direction of the control panel. "Can't be our end. Fuck." Since it was her ship after all, he waited for her response on the matter, rather than saying they should go in directly for a landing.

He stared at the planet through the front viewport, foot tapping repeatedly on the floor. Then back at Zlova again, then back at the planet. He was raring to go check it out. and completely failing to hide his anxiety over the matter.

Zlova Rue

 

[Zlova Rue]

"It ends in blood." Zlova's golden eyes stared at the planet suspended in the endless void all around them. Would have been smarter to drop the largest ordinance they had down there and walk away. Survivors? The Lethan had traveled enough and seen enough to know they were just falling victim to a sunk cost fallacy -- never leave someone behind. Had any of them had the smallest inkling anyone was still alive down there? Zlova had at least the Force telling her as much about Talohn. Mandalorians weren't big on 'magic' -- even if this lot wasn't as rabidly dead set against it as the Enclave had been. Yes, this entire thing would have been better served if they'd gone straight to their final move.

The former Sith Lord's tendency toward violence hadn't abated over the years. If anything, it'd grown stronger. It was familiar. Known. Comfortable. At least she didn't drink booze like she was an aquatic lifeform any more. Some things you gave up when you stalked across the galaxy as you sliced people open that had gotten in the way of finding Talohn. Yet despite that she questioned why the man was set on joining this foolish venture. Oh, she knew the answer; that didn't mean she accepted it as being enough to justify putting his life on the line.

Without further comment, the ship angled down toward the planet and began its descent.

"Get your gear. Something's waiting for us down there, and if it touches you Malachor will seem like Zeltros by comparison when I'm finished here." Zlova wasn't going to pine about how she'd just gotten him back. She wasn't going to decry putting himself in dangerous. He knew what kind of person she was before, and she'd only gotten more intense from her hunt. No, if something happened she'd simply murder everyone involved. A simple plan that easily survived contact with the enemy -- she couldn't say the say for them, on the other hand.

Talohn Atar​

 

[Runi Kuryida]

"It ends in blood."

The Shaman did not seek violence or death, but neither did she shy away from it. A son of Mandalore had asked how she saw these events unfold, and so she had answered truthfully. She could go on about how or why it would be so, but many such things in life had to be lived to be believed. Or understood. Many looked to her for answers; few desired to hear what she had to say. Runi kept her answers brief accordingly. Some thought it cryptic, but it was simply pragmatic.

She turned her head so her hazel eyes could look toward the front of the craft as it descended. What lay ahead seemed as clear and certain as a Spring day. When the leader of the expedition took their place, the Shaman donned her bony helm without complaint.

Runi had not abandoned the people of Resa, Kestri or the Mandokarla. She was a wandering spirit that went wherever there were Mandalorian. Just because they may disagree on the tenants or how to live their lives from one corner of the galaxy to the next did not make them any less her sons or daughters. Everyone needed another at some point in life. Especially those the rest of society eschewed.

At the command to form ranks, Runi waited for the warriors to take their place before she joined them. As a Shaman her place was not at the fore. Not the way she practiced or employed the Manda's gift. Mandalorian grew stronger by experiencing life -- its victories, its defeats -- not by having someone like herself coddle them in fending off all its challenges.

Some mistook the fact she carried wooden blades for the reason she didn't take the lead. Some. Until they tried to meet her in combat and found that wood held a shocking durability. They were her preferred weapon, however. It enabled her to dispense corrective instruction with minimal risk to life or limb. Against someone whose soul was truly irredeemable, of course, they could also help usher that wretch into the Beyond; and even those not truly lost but merely woefully misguided could be shown to the next life where perhaps things would be different.

Runi smiled to herself at the bold words of the leader. She more than understood the sentiment, but a literal interpretation brought a little levity to an otherwise ruined world.

"It is a sickness that plagues the Manda here," Runi said by way of agreement with Aselia. "This is no ordinary foe." Raiders, bandits, and pirates a Mandalorian could crush without breaking a sweat. This was something else.

Aether Verd | Aselia Verd | Kuben Woods | Klavatora Verd
Talohn Atar | Zlova Rue | Harrow​

 

[Lyra Scarlet]

Location: Airborne over the swamps
Tags: Runi Kuryida Aether Verd Aselia Verd Kuben Woods Klavatora Verd Talohn Atar Zlova Rue Harrow
Gear:
Mask: on
Callsign: Siren

The hot damp and rising air buffered the Crimson Shadow as Lyra flew over her patrol path. Nothing had happened yet, but considering the size if the mercenary fee she was receiving for being here, she did not expect this to be a purely sightseeing mission. She looked out the window of her ship as it leaned and she could see the sun glinting off of the heads of of the mandalorians as they formed up for their assault. They would see the red and white ship cruise past at low speed and might just be able to cause a glimpse of her golden masked face.

She opened the comm.

"This is Siren, I have eyes on you on the ground, all is clear up here so far but I'm weapons hot and ready.

Vode an boys!" she said with a friendly laugh as she gave a small saluted and rolled her ship away back out to patrol the airspace. She was not a mandalorian, she had no interest in being a mandalorian, even the outsider creed she had been shown was a little to "in" for her tastes. But they paid well and she could respect them. And who knew, there might come a time when it paid off to have a positive relationship to a ton of heavily armoured warriors with a quick trigger finger.

 

[Harrow]

ZANBAR – INSIDE THE OUTPOST
"The curtain rises, and all my little monsters take the stage."​

Harrow’s head tilted, a lock of greasy hair swinging as he leaned toward the monitor. Static flickered into a clearer picture—Mandalorians, bold and bristling with confidence, trudging into the swamp like armored beetles. He gave a delighted little gasp and clasped his hands beneath his chin, swaying back and forth like a child watching their favorite holoplay.

“Oh, how serious they all look,” he whispered, giggling. “So grim. So focused. Like they’ve got any idea what’s about to happen.” His lips curled into a sharp, red smile. “March, march, march. Right into my waiting arms.”

A cheerful hum bubbled up in his throat as he spun in his "throne", pivoting to a separate monitor with a dramatic flourish. With a simple flick of his wrist, the controls on the terminal twisted with a screech of metal—moss and grime pulling away like curtains at his command. The vines along the walls recoiled, and the swamp's rot seemed to writhe aside, unveiling the dormant weaponry embedded along the outpost's perimeter.

“Oh-ho-ho! Look at what the scouts left me—how thoughtful,” Harrow purred. “Guns, glorious guns!”

He tapped a finger rhythmically on the armrest, and with another Force-born nudge, the defensive batteries groaned to life. Long-silent barrels twisted skyward, shedding "years" of filth in seconds. A siren wailed, distant and warped, as the outpost roared awake.

“Now, let’s knock on the heavens and see who falls,” he cackled. “That lovely bird circling overhead? Or maybe those chickies swooping in from orbit. Let’s see if they can sing while on fire!”

Explosions thundered into the air as the anti-air batteries began their song, targeting the Crimson Shadow and any reinforcements daring to enter Zanbar’s skies. Each shot was a note in Harrow’s twisted symphony.

He slouched back into his seat with a contented sigh, turning toward the helmet in his lap. The blood within had cooled.

“Don’t be glum, darling,” he cooed, stirring the viscous fluid again with his straw. “I’m throwing a family reunion just for you. And I do mean family—”

His eyes glinted.

“—but first, you need some meat on your bones.”

With a casual wave of his hand, he turned his attention to a bank of monitors showing the swamp beyond. The corpses littered across the mire—twisted, torn, or rotting—began to twitch. Mandalorians fallen during the outpost’s fall, their armor shattered and their flesh sloughing off like old paint, jerked into motion.

A guttural, wet gasp rolled through the air. Then another. Then ten.

“Places, everyone,” Harrow said, theatrically lifting both hands. “The show must go on!”

The dead Mandalorians lurched upright. Some scrambled for fallen blasters and fired wildly into the mist. Others ignited half-shattered jetpacks, screaming skyward with erratic flight paths. More still simply charged, blades and vibroknives gleaming in the sickly green haze.

Harrow spun with glee, kicking his feet like a dancer at the grand finale.

“Kill your brothers, darlings! Make them scream for me!” he howled in ecstasy. “Let’s see if these bucketheads still believe in ghosts!”

He raised his blood-slicked straw in mock toast.

“To rot and ruin. To family. To the only home that never forgets you…”

And he drank deeply again, laughter echoing down the swamp-wet halls of the outpost like bells at a funeral turned carnival.

Lyra Scarlet , Runi Kuryida , Zlova Rue , Talohn Atar , Klavatora Verd , Kuben Woods , Aselia Verd , Aether Verd​

 

[Aether Verd]

ZANBAR – SWAMPS OUTSIDE THE OUTPOST
"You think ghosts scare us? We're the ones they scream about."​

Aether Verd felt it before she said a word.

The Force, thick and choked, pushed against the edges of his mind like a swamp dragging at his boots. It didn’t just exist here—it groaned. Distorted. Smothered. Like a scream muffled under water. And it was familiar. Not in detail, but in texture. It reminded him of her—his mother, draped in that ancient, knowing darkness. Not evil. Not good. Just primordial. The kind of power that moved like a serpent and whispered in your bones. The kind of shadow you didn’t run from. You used it. You wielded it.

He said nothing as Aselia murmured her observation, but his eyes flicked toward her briefly through his helmet’s HUD.

Yeah, he thought. I feel it too.

They moved in formation, boots crunching muck, the mist clinging like a jealous lover. Aether advanced without fear. He didn’t know how to do fear anymore. Not when he walked with them. Aselia and Klavatora flanked him, one a blade of reason and foresight, the other a storm waiting for blood. They weren’t just warriors—they were family. His siblings. They’d all been forged in fire and shaped by war. And together?

Together we’re unstoppable.

His comms crackled—static at first, but threaded with something faint. A voice. He slowed his steps, tilting his head.

“…join the—”

His eyes narrowed. It sounded like his uncle Talohn. Could’ve been. But the signal was dirty, warped. And when he tried to switch channels, calling up orbital command, he was met with the same screeching void.

“Comms to orbit are jammed,” he growled over the team net. “Stay sharp. Local comms still clean—for now.”

A few seconds passed. Then Siren's voice cut through, crisp and clean.

“This is Siren, I have eyes on you on the ground. All is clear up here so far, but I’m weapons hot and ready.”

“Copy, Siren,” Aether replied without missing a beat. “Only space comms are cooked. You stay up there and keep watch. If it moves, melt it.”

Then the swamp moved.

Not wind. Not wildlife.

Design.

The grime and moss along the outpost walls peeled back in slow, deliberate motion, like curtains parting before an execution. Vines slithered, roots curled away, revealing long-silent AA cannons now twitching into position. His eyes widened behind the visor.

“Kriff,” he spat, diving behind the warped trunk of a tree as the first blast lit up the sky with thunder. He rolled, came up on one knee, and both pistols were in his hands before the second round fired. “Those bastards are using our own guns!”

He stabbed a finger forward. “Bring those cannons down! Now!”

But before the order left his lips fully, something colder wrapped around his spine.

It wasn’t the swamp. It wasn’t even the Force. It was death.

Movement in the periphery. He turned. The dead Mandalorians were rising.

Helmets still split open. Armor still cracked. Bodies bloated and broken—now shambling, sprinting, screaming. One jetted up into the sky like a ruptured firework, another came at him blade-first.

Aether didn’t flinch. He snarled. They dared to use their brothers are weapons? Flames roared from his wrist-mounted launcher, engulfing the nearest corpse in searing fire. It screamed—high and wet and wrong—and crumpled in a heap of smoke and ash.

“You think ghosts scare us?” Aether bellowed. “We’re the ones they scream about!”

He surged forward, pistols snapping to life, each bolt slamming into a rotting skull or exposed fuel cell. He moved with the ease of a king at war, each step purposeful, each motion sharp. Fire. Sidestep. Fire again. Every round a message.

He opened the squad channel.

“Push the outpost! Cut down anything that moves! Flamers on the walkers, blasters on the gunners! I want those AA guns scrap yesterday!”

He pressed forward, shoulders low, shots barking from both arms. He wasn’t just leading—he was daring the swamp to try him.

Let the dead rise. Let them scream. Let the shadows pull all they want.

He was Mand’alor.

And this swamp?

Was his now.

Lyra Scarlet , Runi Kuryida , Zlova Rue , Talohn Atar , Klavatora Verd , Kuben Woods , Aselia Verd , Harrow

 

[Aselia Verd]

​

TAG: Aether Verd / Talohn Atar / Runi Kuryida / Zlova Rue / Klavatora Verd + Open

The moment the sirens wailed and the AA cannons snarled skyward, Aselia’s HUD flooded with hostile telemetry.

Her shoulder ports hissed open with a sharp vent of superheated gas. No hesitation. No flourish. Just execution.

“Two clear lines,” she reported into comms, voice cold and exacting.

Seven nano-missiles fired in a sharp stagger four to the left, three to the right. They traced tight arcs across the mist-cloaked skyline, crimson trail lines screaming through the air. Aselia’s targeting matrix tracked impact before the rest of the squad even finished reacting.

The swamp lit up as twin explosions bloomed across the ridge one turret sheared clean from its base, the other folding in on itself before detonating from within. The impact radius was clean, distance controlled. No debris hazard.

Her shoulders launchers sealed shut as the launcher retracted. She was already moving.

Aselia advanced quickly through the muck, motion smooth even through the sucking mire thanks to subtle bursts from her ankle stabilizers. Her crimson saber ignited with a sharp, growling hiss. Not raised just present, its light spilling into the fog like a warning.

From her opposite hip, she drew a disruptor pistol sleek, short-barreled, and humming with restrained charge.

She reached Aether’s side just as the second wave of corpses began to lurch forward from the trees. Her disruptor fired once—no recoil, no wasted motion. A corrupted corpse’s torso vaporized mid-sprint, atomized in a single burst of teal fire. The remains slumped to the mud in two smoking halves.

“Two turrets down. Four left,” she said, saber humming quietly at her side, disruptor aimed past Aether’s shoulder. “I’ll keep your flank clean.”

Another corpse erupted from the water—this one partially armored, its jetpack still sparking. It lifted into the air, screaming toward them.

Aselia pivoted, disruptor raised. One squeeze. No scream—just absence. The head and upper spine disintegrated in a quiet pulse of energy. The body dropped like meat.

She didn’t flinch.

“This isn’t random. Formation is staggered. Lines are intentional,” she muttered, more to herself. Her eyes scanned through a filter matrix of environmental data, red outlines flickering through the haze.

“They’re not just throwing bodies. They’re probing for response patterns.”

She lowered her stance slightly saber in one hand, disruptor in the other, her body poised between Aether and the next wave. Protective. Focused. Deadly.

​

 

[Lyra Scarlet]

Location: Airborne over the swamps
Tags: Runi Kuryida Aether Verd Aselia Verd Kuben Woods Klavatora Verd Talohn Atar Zlova Rue Harrow
Gear:
Mask: on
Callsign: Siren

The alerts flashed on the control panels as the Crimson Shadow was targeted and them lit up by the triple A batteries, she accelerated to combat speed and folled laterally to throw off their targeting. Her shields registered several impacts in her rear arc. The enemy had smartly waited until she was flying away from then to engage, limiting her firing solutions, but not by much. Her twin chin mounted cannons rotated backwards and opened up with a hellish volley of fire, obliterating one of the turrets before she took the turn and lost the arc.

Pulling back round she could see the lines of the enemy forming up and advancing on the mandalorian positions. "This defense looks organised, there is someone commanding them, scanning for broadcast signals now." she commed to the mandalorians on the ground before rolling her ship again to avoid fire and activating her jamming systems to prevent a lock on by homing munitions. The rapid firing artillery was potent and filling the sky with bursts of shrapnel but her ship was tough and was able to take most things that didn't score a direct hit.

There was a long beep as Lyra's own targeters locked on. She unleashed two proton missiles even as she strafed the front line of the enemy formation trying to break them up. Two more of the triple A turrets took hits, one took minor damage and still functioned even if it now seemed to be finding it hard to turn to track her. The other looked like it had taken no damage as the torpedo punched cleanely through weak armour and there was a few seconds delay before the magazine inside the tower exploded, reducing it to rubble. "Woooo! And that's how it's done!" she cheered to herself (forgetting she had the comm on) as she began to take another loop round, again firing backwards to try and shred anything she could get a bead on.

 

[Hanna]

Location: Swamps - Zanbar
Objective: Investigate the outpost.
Tag: Aether Verd Aselia Verd Kuben Woods Klavatora Verd Harrow Talohn Atar Zlova Rue Runi Kuryida Lyra Scarlet

Hanna had been expecting silence. After disembarking from the dropship, the diminutive Qilin had formed up with the others and initiated her scans, only for her sensor readout to report little more than a few faint, cooling thermal signatures. Unable to touch the Force, she was aware only of its distorted, sickly currents through the reports given by Aselia and the Shaman. From what little she knew of the Force, that was to be expected in an area so richly permeated by death.

Her comms fizzled in, then out. Hanna kicked her feet out, gliding to a stop as she tapped the side of her helmet. Fortunately, it didn’t seem like the issue was on her end. The Mand’alor promptly identified jamming as the culprit, to which the Qilin immediately perked up:

“My sensors might be able to home in on the source of the jamming through its electromagnetic signature.” Hanna piped up. “We should—” The Qilin fell silent, her eyes dilating with concentration as her sensors lit up with motion alerts.

The swamp had come to life. Unlife.

Hanna surged into motion, repulsorlift skates propelling her over the swamp at breakneck speed while her disruptor pistols spat searing, nonharmonic death into the throng of shambling walkers. Three were atomized within the first two seconds of contact, magenta-hued lances atomizing flesh and ruined armor in blossoming detonations of disruptive plasma. Another corpse—armed with a blaster—leveled the weapon in Hanna’s direction. However, the marksmanship instincts it had retained from life were no match for the repulsorlift skater’s ultra-fast reflexes. The Qilin killed the repulsors, her body arcing gracefully under the incoming salvo. Her skates flared back to life the moment the bolts passed overhead, her answering shot reducing the corpse’s head to atoms before it could react.

Deprived of its head and neck, the body dropped into the swamp like a stone.

“Engaging AA!” Hanna called out, alreading priming one of her seeker explosives. The drone zipped towards its target with a vengeful, high-pitched whine, before exploding in a miniature sunburst that vaporized the emplacement.

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
• Hanna’s HB-42 Disruptor Pistols (2)
  
  • Ammunition
    
    • FAE/AM-01-S2 Energy Weapon Cartridge - Ethaerium X Gas and CryoBan Coolant (4)
    • FAE/AM-01-S2 Energy Weapon Cartridge - Ethaerium Gas and CryoBan Coolant (8)
  • Attachments
    
    • 1-5x FAE/S-08 Electro-Sight
• Glitter Roses (2)
  
  • Ammunition
    
    • Standard Magazine - Controlled Penetration (4)
    • Standard Magazine - Standard Penetrator (2)
  • Attachments
    
    • 1-5x FAE/S-08 Electro-Sight
• FAE/MDE-01-S2 Semiautonomous Seeker Thermal Explosive (1)
• Infrared Smoke Grenade (2)

 

[Runi Kuryida]

Runi's gaze rose to the guns firing in the sky along with the others, but she did not find so much alarm in their activation. Those under fire were capable warriors, and those on the surface had already begun to effectively respond. They were all of strong mind and spirit far as the Shaman could see. As for following Aether's order, there was little a Shaman could contribute without being more of a distraction than an aide.

Besides, there would soon be something far, far more pressing for the Shaman. Few things truly ran afoul of the patient, long-suffering Speaker of the Mandokarla. Precious few. After all, the overwhelming number of living were so very young and striving to find their way in the galaxy. Mistakes were expected. What mattered was whether they learned the correct lessons and grew from the experience. Even killing a Mandalorian was not met with unreasonable anger. But reanimating the corpses of Mandalorian fallen? Their spirits were with the Manda; their sacrifice was not to be looked down upon so callously.

Soft splashes heralded Runi's approach from the back. "Irredeemable," the Shaman growled as she neared the fore of the group where Aether and Aselia stood. She arrived just as Aether called for the group to push forward to the outputs. "I will lend my hand." Runi didn't wait for a response before the fur and leather-wearing Shaman surged forward; her legs imbued with the power of the Manda to overcome the miring swamp.

A gauntlet deflected a vibroblade slammed down at Runi's helm, while her palm slammed into the fallen's face. There was no flare of light or choir of angels singing; merely a sense of a 'thum' that could be perceived, but not felt of spiritual energy. The puppetteer's strings cut, the body crumpled and the Shaman continued to streak across the wasteland. She didn't even draw one of her Veshok Akaanir Bevik. Her fight with the dead was with her hands alone, and she brought back their peace with but a touch and a severence of the corrupted influence that permeated the land. Not a single cry was given, but if the accursed responsible for this travesty were found she would gladly have ended them without making a single demand or questioning why they would do such a thing. Runi's was a cold rage that burned with the passion of a thousand suns.

Aether Verd | Aselia Verd | Kuben Woods | Klavatora Verd | Hanna
Talohn Atar | Zlova Rue | Harrow | Lyra Scarlet​

 

[Talohn Atar]

Talohn fiddles with the console for a little longer until Zlova speaks up, saying that things will 'end in blood' apparently. His gaze shifts to her again, his head tilting in concern. Then it hit him. An extremely wrong feeling. On Zlova's part, this would display something Talohn didn't have before getting stranded on that planet. Heightened sensitivity to the force and it's auras. Despite the planet being miles away, he still physically takes a step back as the energy coming off the orb hits him, his fur standing on end.

"Oh fuck." The words leave his mouth as he stares in sheer concern at the planet, his eyes drifting to Zlova again. "Is that just...what you deal with? Does that feeling happen often?" He questions, lips pursing for a moment. As she tells him to gather up his gear, he nods his agreement. "Yeah. Already on it. Though it's not much. Lost most of what I had in the crash. You fly us in." In a comforting gesture as he passes her to leave the cockpit, he takes her cheek in his hand, resting his forehead against hers. "I'm going to be fine, Red. I have you with me...and I'd argue that I might be stronger than I was before." He gives her a peck on the nose, exiting the cockpit proper afterwards.

It's not long before Talohn is properly geared up. Leather boots with a pair of brown pants with durasteel kneepads and an armorweave undershirt with a fur collared brown bomber jacket. A belt around his waist holstered an A-180 on his hip, and a beskad machete resting horizontally in a simple metal sheath on the small of his back, the handle sticking out to the right for him to easily grab.

Once geared up, he returns to the cockpit, orange colored eyes ponderously looking upon the planet as it got closer.

Zlova Rue

 

[Kuben Woods]

Spoiler: Theme

With ice cold hands taking over me.
​

Tag: Aether Verd , Aselia Verd , Lyra Scarlet , Runi Kuryida , Zlova Rue , Talohn Atar , Klavatora Verd , Harrow , Hanna , [OPEN]

Kuben didn't know how he knew what was happening, whether it was the subtle noise that tipped his ears off, the shifting in the very undergrowth as the swamp itself seeming to react to their presence. Or that thing in his skull subliminally passing along information of what it could feel and "see" from his surroundings. As much as he hated the being in his skull, he hated even more how helpful it was when it deigned to be. He instinctively drew out his blaster pistol as he heard the chatter through his earpiece, the fortress ahead seeming to come to life as the very swamp around them seemed to now respond with hostility that it had held at bay for so very long. Kuben simply reacted when the corpses appeared from the muck around him, his form was brutal, simple, and to the point. His blaster first found the underside of a corpse's helmet as he slammed it like he was throwing an uppercut and firing repeatedly, the first bolts being absorbed by the mix of armorweave and underlays before the insides of the dead Mando's helmet began smoking and charring from the discharge of thermal energy vaporizing brain matter, tissues, and bone. He then front kicked the one to his front to generate space and buy time, as he extended blades composed of metal from his left hand and with a roar decapitated the next corpse by slamming them home in the dead man's exposed throat, and ripping the head free. Base instinct was thrumming through his blood, a mixture of adrenaline, pain, and rage as his claws breaking skin for the first time in almost weeks gave him a rush like no other. He looked ahead at the corpse regaining it's footing as it leveled a muck covered blaster at him and fired, the round hitting him square in the chest causing Kuben to take a single step back from the weight of the hit. Kuben glanced down at his armor, saw it had held, and looked back forward as he leveled his own blaster at the former scout, before repeatedly pulling the trigger at its legs where the gaps in armor were the largest. As it staggered from the blows and then fell from repeated fire, causing the rotted leg to become severed, Kuben stormed forward with a purpose, shrugging off the return fire as leveled his left wrist and allowed the flame projector to do its work, immolating the poor soul and finally putting it to peace.

But the fight wasn't over, not by a long shot. Kuben took a good long look around him as he drank in the situation, eyes, ears, smells, everything coming through to him as he constructed what everyone was seeing in his mind's eye. There was another who had pushed forward alongside him. The rest were in a rough formation behind them, dispatching the scattered undead with precision that belied their skills as warriors. He heard the other Verd's comment about how they were coming at them though from beyond. They weren't attacking piecemeal, and while their small group could handle them scattered, a proper massed assault would threaten to overwhelm their position, and prevent them from keeping their fire directed and effective. They had air support, but while it was doing a good job of breaking up some of the larger groups, smaller ones would still make it through, unscathed enough to be a threat.

So they would have to break the wave.

He called out over his shortwave comms to the other Mando ahead with him ( Runi Kuryida ) and his call was short.

"We must break their cohesion by attacking at single points to force the waves to falter or break. If you can, choose an avenue of approach and throw everything you have into it. I shall do the same. If not, support my attack, and I'll try to clear a path,"

He then holstered his pistol and called out to the rest of the group so they'd know what he was doing, activating a transponder which would directly ping his position on most starship targeting systems as well as ground control HUDs.

" Aether Verd allow us to break through the waves and carve a path of advance. I will do what I can to either force the formation to break, or their advance to falter. Gunships direct fire onto my position, I'll mark where the closest large concentrations of them are. Do not hold back,"

He then bent at the knees slightly taking an athletic stance as he finally extended his other set of claws, the silvery metal shining in the light as he could feel the animalistic rage start to build, his eyes glowing brighter as his tinted visor would slowly betray them by showing the glow of two small circles. He had to take this to the knife's edge. Get as close as he could to losing control without actually doing so. He could feel the black figure behind him cackling as it relished the thought of him finally engaging in this little tug of war, a battle of wills between a man and a demon. Kuben let an animalistic roar out as he ran across the muck to the closest and largest group of these shamblers who responded by opening up with blaster fire on the hulking enraged behemoth charging directly at them like a battering ram. His claws were like silver shimmers as he tore through with a ferocity like none other.

 

[Zlova Rue]

The Twi'lek's eyes tore away from the planet ahead to look over at the blue Cathar. "If you leave yourself open to it." Which she did because a warrior didn't blind one of their eyes because it revealed something unpleasant. Better to know there was danger ahead than blindly get yourself killed. Of course, Talohn didn't deal with death and suffering on a regular basis; the sensation must have been surprising. Presumably. Zlova couldn't recall being so inexperienced. She'd seen too much to remember anything else.

Her eyes drifted back to the controls to take them in when Talohn physically directed her to look into his eyes. Zlova didn't do tepid, but the thought of the man throwing himself into danger so soon after his return had her on edge. The light kiss was adorable, and took some of the edge off. His comment about her being there was all too true, but she felt particular possessive. She'd meant every word -- anyone involved, no matter how small the role, would die a horrible death if they hurt him. Just because she wasn't butchering people left and right or vying to control an Empire didn't mean Zlova had put aside being a Sith Lord (to the Enclave's chagrin).

By the time Talohn returned the ship was already entering atmo. "We'll be there--" as she abruptly stopped talking, Zlova threw the ship into a hard bank to port. Bright bolts raced off to the right of the cockpit. "Anti-air," she growled before the ship pitched starboard next. "Pushing down." She threw the throttle to full and pitched straight down to close their distance.

Another ship showed up on the screen, but they seemed to be engaging the AA batteries so Zlova didn't much worry about them. Hopefully they stayed out of her way. The two slamming into one another would be as effective as those AA guns landing a solid hit.

"Hold on," the Lethan called out before she pulled up on the stick with the ground racing up toward them. She reached over and pulled back on the throttle as well in order to narrowly avoid slamming into the planet like a stick in the mud. Leveled out with the ground, she began to bank back toward the outpost. "Land, fight, or call ground forces?" Zlova was busy keeping them alive, so she'd leave the choice to Talohn.

Talohn Atar | Lyra Scarlet | Harrow
Aether Verd | Aselia Verd | Kuben Woods | Klavatora Verd | Runi Kuryida | Hanna​