Junction Where It All Will End | ME & THR Junction of Ewdenen and Thyferra

[Makai Dashiell]

Wearing | Gear : X | X | X | X | X | L3-37 | Interacting With : Aurelian Veruna | Merryn Sellek | Ivalyn Yvarro
​

There was nothing really keeping him in the space. Political fundraising? He preferred to do that one-on-one. Giving credits to a Senator without expecting to have the wheels for his company greased was idiotic. The King wasn't interested in commerce. He had already invited the Sellek-Yvarro family out to the Corporate Sector if they were so interested.

Time to use one of the things kids were good for ; getting out of engagements.

Looking at his intelichrono, he made a small frown at the time. All a ploy, his daughter had along been asleep back home, he had spoken to her earlier.

"Looks like my daughter is expecting a HoloNet bedtime story. Perhaps we can catch up in the future. Feel free to reach out. ."

With a slight half-bow to his assembled group, the half-Galan absconded off into the night.

EXIT

 

[CT-312]

//: Quinn Varanin Mauve du Vain //:
//: Attire //:
//: Coronet City, Corellia //:
//: OBJ III - RENEW CORELLIA //:

Nothing obvious in the room screamed—Threat, as the Scout resumed to monitor the attendees. The bond continued to faintly pulse with discomfort that did not belong to her. CT-312 kept watch, reading the subtle movements that the Queen did not say aloud to her Mandalorian bodyguard companions. The silent indications that the Queen needed something from those assigned to her side. It seemed to fall on deaf ears. In this case, blind eyes.

CT-312’s brow rose as something across the room caught the Queen’s attention. The bond flared, brief and bright. Behind the visor, blue eyes immediately followed Quinn’s gaze through the crowded hall to… Mauve.

What in the great bantha poodoo was Mauve doing here?

Really, nothing about the Zeltron should have surprised CT-312 by now. But seeing her here, in this room, after everything else... She looked back towards Quinn, just in time as a few others had slipped into the social circle. ( Mishel Aselia Verd ) The double take was small, CT-312 watched as the Ambassador ( Adelle Bastiel ) that was with the Queen moved away with another, whom it seems they were familiar with.

Something ugly flickered through CT-312. Gloved fingers tightened as her fist subtly trembled at her side. Why be so insistent on assigning two other body guards if the formation was easily weakened with simple distractions. The Queen was not helpless, CT-312 knew that better than most. Yet, she saw the ripple effect. Saw the way how Quinn reached out for the nearest steady thing, fingers closing around another hand. ( Seris Mataan )

This was their grand idea of protection?

BARCA chimed inside her helmet, the sound too crisp against the rising pressure in her skull. CT-312’s eyes caught a glimpse of the yellow-orange text scrolling across her HUD. [BLOOD PRESSURE: ELEVATED] The notifications just irritated her even further. She blinked them back, but more came. [ADRENAL RESPONSE: INCREASING]

So that was it, then. Add more security so they could go off and mingle? Was it for show, add more bodies so the room could “look” protected. Why assign more guards under the guise of added protection if the duty and assignment become secondary the moment someone familiar smiled or decided to interact?

…BeeezzZzzTtt…
It was only a faint drag, a thin electronic rasp stretching the final note of each notification.

The Queen was left with the Warlord ( Mia Monroe ), whose attention did not seem entirely fixed either. While those from the High Republican party ( Cynan Obaith Dominique Vexx ) gathered close enough, seizing the opportunity. CT-312’s eyes narrowed, her HUD flickered once. The images and data text stuttering before snapping back into place. BARCA’s alerts continued, but the clean chimes began to distort—

…BEEeezzzzppptttsssshhhhhh…
The next beep, fractured. Breaking into a grainy hiss that crawled through the inside of her helmet. Profiles on CT-312’s HUD shifted faster. Frames captured faces before they fully turned. Audio dialogue filtered through in chopped rapid bursts. Static breathed through the channel. A mechanical voice came through, slow and broken.

“Stahhnndd… Beyyeezztt… Cee… Tee… Three… One… Two…”

CT-312’s trembling grip loosened at her side as her body stiffened. Her breath caught. The designation that rang out through her helmet was like a ghost dragging its fingers along the inside of the metal. It was as if it was something too deliberate to be a simple audio glitch. Her HUD flickered again. For a split second, every face in the room was framed at once. CT-312 double blinked rapidly, inhaling deeply. She began steadying herself against the unfamiliar sound, finding some kind of odd comfort in it. Stand by. Reeling herself back into the present. Her HUD and suit's systems back to normal. Did she hear that correctly?

Her visor scanned the crowd, searching for the source of the sound. No one seemed to have noticed the distortion. No one reacted as if a dead thing had just spoken inside her helmet. CT-312's gaze then landed on Mauve again. This time, the Zeltron lifted her hand and waved at her. Behind the visor, her expression went deadpan. The Scout stared for a moment, blinking once, unamused.

If she would not be taken seriously as a guard around the Queen and Warden of Eshan, then at least she would deal with the unexpected variable that happened to show up. CT-312 made her way over towards Mauve. As she neared, the Scout noted the Mandalorian ( Siv Kryze ) beside the Zeltron. She gave the Mandalorian a small dip of her helmet, simple and brief enough for a greeting. CT-312 angled herself enough that Quinn stayed within her sightline, while looking at Mauve behind the visor. The words came out of the helmet’s modulator were stripped of warmth, low and each word punctuated.

“What brings you here, Ms. du Vain?”

 

[Mauve du Vain]

x
Attire:

Spoiler

“What brings you here, Ms. du Vain?”

Mauve's lips curved in a slow, salacious smile far too sweet to be good for anyone, like poisoned honey.

The personal bodyguard of the Echani Queen was dangerous. Lethal.

And also utterly naive.

Mauve found the combination adorable. They had not seen in each other in sometime. And had not spoken alone since... Well. She tapped a finger against the stem of her glass.

"Oh I would never miss a party with this many names."

Mauve shrugged a bare shoulder, the sable shimmersilk fabric of her halter top dress shifting with the movement.

"So much money they don't know what to do with it all except buy expensive pieces of artwork..."

The Zeltron art dealer moved a bit closer with a shift of her hips. "Speaking of, when are you stopping by Nar Shaddaa again?"

A magenta finger reached out to boop the chin of the woman's helmet.

"I'd love to paint what's under this."

CT-312​

 

[Aselia Verd]

Wearing: [X]

The smile was already there when Adelle started speaking, but it faltered slightly as the implications of her words caught up with her. For a moment, Aselia glanced back through the balcony doors toward the reception hall. She could not see Quinn from here, but she knew exactly who she had left her with. The realization settled quickly, and with it came the understanding that she had been so focused on extracting Adelle from a room full of politicians that she had completely failed to consider the consequences of doing so.

"Osik."

A quiet breath escaped her. "Well, I'm gonna hear about this," she said, shaking her head slightly, "I was so focused on getting you away from that conversation that I didn't actually think about who I was leaving Quinn with." There was a trace of annoyance directed entirely at herself. Not enough to dwell on it, but enough to acknowledge the mistake for what it was. Her eyes lingered on the ballroom for another second before returning to Adelle. The frustration faded quickly, replaced by a reluctant amusement.

"I was rather pleased with my timing, too." The corner of her mouth lifted briefly before she let out another quiet breath and folded one arm loosely across her midsection. "As much as I would enjoy stealing you away for the rest of the evening, we should probably go save Quinn." There was warmth in her gaze when it settled on Adelle again, along with something softer that had become increasingly common whenever her attention lingered there.

"I'll make it up to you later." The words came naturally, carrying the confidence of someone who had already decided it would happen. "Besides," she continued, her voice lowering slightly, "I think a proper distraction deserves more than a few minutes on a balcony before we're dragged back to reality, And i'll get to enjoy you in that dress a bit longer." For a moment she simply looked at her, taking in the whiskey glass still in her hand, the color that had crept into her cheeks, and the fact that despite everything, she had managed to get Adelle to step away from work, even if only briefly. Then she offered a nod toward the ballroom, simply inviting.

"Come on. Let's go rescue Quinn before I create a diplomatic incident by accident."

TAG: Adelle Bastiel
​

 

[Zoro Igala]

Wild Space Rebellion Fleet, The Dawn of Hope
Tag: Marlon Sularen Skarren Mettir​

Fleet Comp:

Spoiler

• Hidden In the Asteroids
  
  • x1 Rebellion III Class - Corellian Defiance
  • x3 Ambush Class Interdictors
    • Looming Thunder
    • Star Wolf
    • Grand Finale
  • x4 Arcee Class Frigate Freighters Replacing these because I realized the sub's ratings were fucked up.
  • x1 MI Golem Freighter Detonated
• Deployed Starfighter Wings
  • x9 LionX Fighter Squadrons
  • x6 Hurricane Tactical Bomber
  • x7 Predator B-wing Squadrons
  • x7 Thunderstorm II Y-wing Squadrons
• Behind The Imperial Taskforce:
  
  • The Liberation
    • Compliment:
      • x5 Ironback Armored Corvettes
        • Rayia
        • Aris
        • Rikutan
        • Jago
        • Azurine
      • x8 Tenacity Class Corvettes
        • Hard and Fast
        • The Wall II
        • Twin Suns
        • Capital Punishment
        • Skin in the Game
        • Fire in the Sky
        • Guerilla Warfare
        • That's No Moon
      • x2 Solo Class Frigates
        • Blackbeard
        • Whitebeard
    • Fighter Compliment:
      • x2 Flyswatter Squadrons
        • "Ballista"
        • "Trebuchet"
      • x7 Heavy B-Wing Squadrons
        • "Battleaxe"
        • "Mace"
        • "Morningstar"
        • "Maul"
        • "Flail"
        • "Claymore"
        • "Hammer"
      • x5 "LionX" Fighter Squadrons
        • "Starfire"
        • "Raven"
        • "Nightwing"
        • "Jericho"
        • "Omen"
      • x6 "Thunderstorm II" Y-wing Squadrons
        • "Vanagor"
        • "Corazona"
        • "Organa"
        • "Solo"
        • "Noble"
        • "Antilles"
  • x2 Ambush Class Frigates
    • Great Fox
    • Writing on the Wall
  • x2 Starlion Bomber Squadrons
    • "Flying Fortress"
    • "Maruader"

The admiral watched as the symphony of violence unfolded.

He knew the Imperials were up to something, but the objective wasn't clear.

At least, not until an epiphany.

The objective was never retrieval.

"Shift us ahead of the taskforce!" He called out, the crew looking confused.

"Sir?"

"On my order!" He called again, gripping his chair. "Full power to the stealth systems. I want to surprise them. Continue response as usual until then." Zoro bit his lower lip. They'd need to keep the assault up for this to work.

While the Y-wings and B-wings pushed into imperial taskforce, another flight to hell was on it's way.

X-wings and Hurricanes sent to intercept the landing craft.

The Star Galleons were old, public designs. Zoro knew that they couldn't defend themselves well enough from swamps of tactical bombers.

From high above, within the asteroid belt, the Hurricanes came down on the Star Galleons. A mix of Thunderbolt munitions, Proton Torpedos and concussion missiles, totalling nearly 1500 of them, deccended on the frigate sized warships. An eruption of fire.

All the while, the X-wings pushed in and engaged the escorting craft. LionXs mixed with Ties, and hunted HAATs. Six squadrons, breaking off into wings and engaging targets.

The Liberation opened up with everything. Mass Drivers fired that same Thunderbolt munitions, Thunderer Ion Batteries opened up on the rear ISDs, and heavy megamasers fired in sequence.

Horn Batteries were honing in on the rear ISD engines, compound lasers focusing on their rear shields with a 30 batteries forming into two, super-heavy beams that ripped into the rear ships.

Four guns shifted and lined up their trajectories.

And then they fired...

The four aimed at the rear ships, knowingly attempting to cripple them. It was the plan, force the task force to pause and turn to fight.

The Lieutenant in charge of the Liberation knew he'd need to follow orders. They weren't blind to the fact another Imperial Task Force was moving around them, attempting an ambush.

That wasn't the objective. They'd engage that as needed.

The two frigates pushed forward in turn. Their heavy batteries opened up, and launching even more Y-wings and B-wings, as well as two squadrons of Flyswatters, pushing in with the Liberation's X-wings to engage the Ties that had been scattered by the B-wing assaults.

The Ironbacks pushed forward as well, pushing in to break up the formation of the ISDs. While only heavy corvettes, the Ironbacks made for heavy linebreakers, at least enough to draw fire from the Starlions as they disappeared into the asteroid belt.

It was all in order. It was all planned.

They would take down the Imperials one ship at a time.
TLDR:

Spoiler

Zoro shifts his Rebellion III to intercept the Imperial taskforce.
Liberation opens up at Sularen's rear ISDs with everything.
Twin frigates push in and engage with rear ISDs.
Ironback corvettes push forward to break up Imperial formation.
Starlions break off.

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

​

Adonis had been a weapon his entire time in the Mandalorian Empire, but this time he was more the tip of a spear than the heft of a club. The usual brute force he brought upon his enemies had narrowed to something much sharper. The rapid pace he was approaching likely saved his life, as Salatare's disruptor bolts flew past him by inches, slamming violently into the jetpack of a Mandalorian directly behind Adonis.

His death was unceremonious, not fit for a warrior as fine as he, the jetpack he wore exploded in a fiery cloud of smoke, causing the warrior to veer sharply into the Mandalorian on his left. Comm static was punctuated by the metallic sound of their bodies hitting the landing platform below. It was clear the Imperial was dangerous, likely more so than Adonis had given him credit for. He wasn't going to let the death of his vod go unpunished.

Adonis's landing was calculated and controlled. He wasted no fuel nor energy on theatrics, instead using the Force to focus the anger that was painting his peripheral vision. The other warriors instinctively spread out before impact, using broken machinery and cargo stacks to avoid disruptor fire. Adonis opened his comms to his vod, "Punch through!" His voice roared across their channels. It was time to drive the head of the spear through the Imperial center. The other Mandalorians landed hot, blaster fire exploding into Imperial reinforcements so that Adonis could take Saltare Dothon for himself. The Imperials were coordinated and well trained, they didn't allow him an easy path to his target.

The battle was raging on now, the Mandalorians proving themselves to be fearsome warriors, but Inferno Squad was giving it right back to them, many casualties on both sides. They seemed to know how to exploit the few weaknesses in the Mandalorian armor, making them dangerous. If the other Imperials had fought like Saltare and his men, they might have taken it, but they didn't. Adonis's hand extended, calling his lightsaber to his grasp, the blue light cutting through the smoke and dust that circled the battlefield.

Under his armor, Adonis cracked his neck once, then twice. This was going to be a lot harder than the others. The blaster fire was already starting to chip away at his defenses, his lower visor lighting up with warnings. Not wanting to let the line harden, Adonis surged into the Imperials with the full force of beskar and momentum using it to slam into the closest crimson suit of armor on his way toward Saltare. His visor locked onto the commander between the horde of troops as the body slid to the ground. He wanted him to know he was coming for him.

The warrior waded deeper into the Imperial line.

TAG: Perseus Riya Pashen Camille Cendre Dral-Kar'ta Saandyr ​

 

[Saltare Dothon]

INFERNO SQUAD

Adonis Angelis IV Ronhar Tane Marlon Sularen Joseph Torson​

---

Saltare watched as the disruptor bolts aimed for @Adonis missed by inches, slamming into another Beskar-clad warrior beside him, detonating his jetpack and ending his life. Pity, Saltare thought, a quick death of their leader would've made this easier.

With their leader still alive and giving orders, the Mandalorians surged forward, engaging Inferno and the Red Right Hand with a fury that their people wore well. Black and Red armored troopers held their own and gave back nearly as good as they got, but warriors trained from birth in near impenetrable armor were a hard fight, and it was beginning to show, especially on the flanks.

While Saltare's center position remained strong, the less-trained troops on the flanks were beginning to falter. Imperial armor reinforced them and held them steady for the moment, but it was only a matter of time before they buckled, and Saltare was encircled.

"Redirect anything we have left to Besh and Cresh flanks!" Saltare demanded over the comms, "If they fall, the Spaceport is lost. Joseph Torson , we're being engaged heavily. Once you clear out that artillery, if you can make your way to me, we can hold this position until evac. How copy?"

Saltare fired into the mass of Mandalorians coming against him, his enhanced armor targeting the gaps in the Mandalorians' armor. While his enhanced aim was good, in a roiling battle like this, only a few shots would find their mark, penetrating the bodygloves of the Mandalorians as he avoided their Beskar plates.

Saltare scanned the battle, finally finding him again, the enemy leader. Something uncharacteristic about this specific Mandalorian nearly made Saltare's breath catch in his throat. He was wielding a lightsaber. How very uncharacteristic for one of their creed.

Saltare watched him engage a member of the Red Right Hand, buckling the other trooper under his forward momentum and dropping him unceremoniously to the ground. The entire time, however, the Mandalorian never broke contact with Saltare's black helmet. He was coming for him. Saltare continued to fire into the Mandalorians now advancing steadily closer, waiting for Joseph Torson or another Imperial to cut through the noise and give him something concrete to plan for. But nothing came. The battle was moving to quickly, a decision needed to be made.

So be it.

"With me Inferno!"

With a surge from their jetpacks, what was left of his squad surged forward to meet this new threat. Thermal detonators lobbed over the Imperial lines and into their enemy, their explosions audible even over the deafening combat. Hot on his heels, a small contingent of the Red Right Hand and regular Stormtrooper Corps blasted into the Mandalorian lines. If they could stall or defeat this advance, they would gain precious minutes to extract more loyalists.

Saltare aimed directly for the Mandalorian wielding the lightsaber, switching his blaster rifle to Ion mode, and firing a barrage of shots at the other warrior as he boots hit the ground and he advanced toward his enemy.

 

[Perseus]

OBJECTIVE 1
EQUIPMENT: Protector-Type Beskar'gam | Ori Sidaki | Dral Gaan | Beskad | Euk Siha Service Knives | RIDDS
TAGS: Aselia Verd | Adonis Angelis IV | Camille Cendre | Dral-Kar'ta Saandyr | Shokoh al Khayyat | Riya Pashen | Zoro Igala | Ronhar Tane | Marlon Sularen | Itzhal Volkihar | Saltare Dothon | Joseph Torson ​

My breathing gradually settled beneath the helmet while I remained pressed against the corner of the corridor. The pain hadn't gone anywhere. It sat behind every movement now, buried beneath adrenaline just enough to keep me functioning. Every breath pulled against bruised ribs. Every adjustment of my shoulder reminded me exactly where the blaster bolt had struck. Earlier I had been able to ignore it. Momentum had been enough to drown everything else out. Now there was nowhere left to go, nowhere left to push, and without the constant need to move forward I was forced to sit with every consequence that had finally caught up to me.

The worst part wasn't the pain. It was the realization that none of this should have happened. I knew better. The thought kept circling back no matter how many times I tried to focus on something else. Every lesson I had ever learned told me exactly what I should have done. Stay with the line. Stay with support. Keep people close enough to help when things went wrong. None of those lessons were new. None of them were things I had forgotten. I knew them. I understood them. Yet somewhere in the fighting I had ignored every single one of them because moving forward felt easier than stopping. Easier than thinking. Easier than admitting that anger had started making decisions for me long before I crossed into the structure.

A blaster bolt struck the wall nearby, scattering sparks across the floor and pulling my attention back toward the corridor. The Imperials weren't rushing anymore. They didn't need to. They knew exactly where I was and they had all the advantages now. Every angle favored them. Every meter between us favored them. All they had to do was wait for me to make another mistake. The thought settled heavily in my stomach because I knew I would have done the same thing in their position. They were being patient. Disciplined. Smart. Everything I should have been.

The battle still raged throughout the refinery around us. Explosions rolled through distant sections of the structure while damaged ventilation systems pushed smoke through the corridors overhead. Normally I wouldn't have paid attention to any of it. Battlefield noise became background after a while. You learned to ignore what wasn't immediately trying to kill you. At first I treated the new bursts of blaster fire the same way. Just another fight somewhere else in the facility. Just more noise. Then another volley followed. Then another. Each one sounded closer than the last.

The Imperials noticed it before I did.

One shifted position and turned away from my corridor. Another abandoned cover long enough to return fire toward a direction that shouldn't have contained hostile contacts. My eyes followed the movement automatically while I listened to the exchange growing louder. The sound was different now that I was paying attention. Different weapons. Different firing patterns. Different voices mixed into the comm traffic bleeding through the structure.

Mandalorians.

The realization settled into place slowly enough that I almost wished it hadn't. They were moving toward me. Not toward the objective. Not toward some critical point in the refinery. Toward me.

My jaw tightened beneath the helmet while I listened to the exchange drawing closer. The feeling that followed wasn't relief. I wanted it to be. It would have been easier if it was. Instead something heavier settled into my chest. Warriors were fighting through Imperial resistance to reach this corridor because I had pushed myself into a position I couldn't get out of alone. I kept trying to reject the thought. Kept trying to find another explanation for it. There wasn't one. The reality sat there no matter how much I disliked it.

I wasn't supposed to need them.

The thought felt childish the moment it crossed my mind, but it stayed anyway. I had spent most of my life believing that if I was strong enough, fast enough, disciplined enough, then I wouldn't become someone else's problem. I wouldn't become another responsibility somebody had to carry. Yet here I was, pinned behind cover while other warriors fought through enemy positions because I had convinced myself that forward was the same thing as progress.

"Stupid."

The word left my mouth quietly. Not because I expected anyone to hear it, because I couldn't stop thinking it.

My grip tightened around the knife resting in my hand while I watched the situation change around me. The weapon suddenly felt like a reminder of every decision that had led here. Every step forward. Every warning ignored. Every moment where I should have slowed down and didn't. After a few seconds I slid the weapons back into their sheaths and reached for the rifle across my back instead. The movement hurt. Good. It should have.

The rifle settled against my shoulder while I leaned out from cover just enough to place controlled bursts down the corridor. The Imperials answered immediately, forcing me back behind the corner as blaster fire slammed into the walls around me. This time I didn't feel the urge to charge. I didn't feel the urge to close distance or force the fight into something personal. I just stayed where I was and fired again when the opportunity presented itself.

"Keep looking at me."

The words left my mouth almost absentmindedly.

I wasn't talking to the Mandalorians. I was talking to the Imperials.

If they focused on me, they weren't focusing on the warriors pushing through the refinery. If they stayed pinned here, then every second bought somebody else another step forward. It wasn't a solution. It wasn't redemption. It didn't undo any of the mistakes that had brought me here. But it was something useful. Something practical.

A burst of static rolled through the comms before I finally keyed the channel.

"Forward corridor,"

I said, forcing my breathing under control.

"Prepared defensive position. Multiple contacts. Still holding."

The transmission ended there. There wasn't anything else worth saying. The battle continued closing around the corridor while I remained behind cover, rifle shouldered and eyes fixed downrange. My shoulder hurt. My ribs hurt. Exhaustion sat in every muscle. None of those things bothered me nearly as much as the thought that kept returning every time the friendly blaster fire grew louder.

I knew better.

And now other people were paying for the fact that I hadn't acted like it.

 

[Jonyna Si]

TAGS: Taam Moghul​

Jonyna couldn't help but pout at the mention.

"I don't trust the High Republic. They're a bunch of aristocrats with no interest in fighting against the darkness that's festering in the core. They're making deals with the Mandalorians who seem happy to be in bed with the sith rather than fight against them. I can't put faith in yet another Republic that just sits idly by and lets monsters rule the stars."

It had always been her problem with democracy. Those in charge were always playing the safe option, because they were too invested in their own re-election than the health of the galaxy.

She couldn't help that she was a radical. A woman who believed in the idea that those in charge shouldn't stay in charge longer than they're needed.

But politicians of high merit were hard to come by in any age, and she lamented that not everyone could be Leia Organa.

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

The thermal detonators fell like meteors over the Mandalorian line, landing haphazardly among the advancing troops. Instinct took over in the silent moments before explosions carpeted the refinery platform. The refinery groaned under the pressure as machinery and containers alike got torn to shreds. The warrior put his weight into his stance, lifted an armored arm, and braced for impact. The blast of shrapnel hit Adonis first, bouncing off of his beskar like rainfall. He knew that wasn't the hard part as the heat from the explosions rocked him next. He gritted his teeth as he pushed against it, the systems in his armor flashing in protest. He was far enough away that it wasn't fatal, but he felt it. His life support systems were the most affected. Hopefully the manufactured atmosphere on the asteroid held up or he would be in trouble.

The intention of the thermal detonators was not to kill, it was to stall the advancement of the Mandalorians. Saltare was trying to buy them more time to evacuate the loyalists, and every second he was alive, more Imperials escaped. "Punch through!" Adonis cried out through the comms, "Don't let them breathe." The Mandalorian warriors immediately began returning fire, ensuring not another moment was wasted hiding. They had lost a lot of their vode today, but their lives would not be lost in vain. A battlecry sounded as the troops surged forward.

Adonis was quick on his feet, his eyes scanning the battlefield and assessing its weaknesses between the smoke and blaster bolts. He could tell the Imperial flanks were weakening. The rushing of commandos confirmed his suspicion, they were pushing all of their troops to the center meaning they wanted to keep Adonis out. "Push the flanks. He is giving everything to the center!" The warrior knew that if he took down the head of the snake, the body would die. He wanted to stay on Saltare and the commandos emerging from the smoke in droves, he wanted to face the one Imperial commander worth his time.

Behind him he was reinforced with a small group of Mandalorians, a mix of personal guard and commandos who knew their place was to die beside Adonis if it came to it. The commander pushed with the heft of his entire weight, using the Force to reinforce his surge into the Imperial line. They were pinging him left and right, his beskar easily taking the bolts. They knew where to aim, but the Mandalorians knew how to dodge.

For a moment it seemed like his troops were going to just keep pushing, that was until a blue ion bolt went screaming past. It missed Adonis barely, slamming into a light pole behind them, and showering the battlefield in sparks. Another one followed close behind, also missing, but temporarily scambling Adonis's HUD. It took a half-second for it to kick back on, but in warfare a half-second was life or death. The third ion blast clipped the Mandalorian in the shoulder.

His HUD went black again, this time it took longer for it to reboot. He could make out the faint sound of his jetpack warning him it was not connected and it would be dangerous to engage. He cursed in Mando'a under his breath as the view came back up. His display was blank, just the battlefield around him, then it lit up and flashed.

SYSTEM INTERFERENCE DETECTED.

TARGETING INSTABILITY DETECTED.

JETPACK DIAGNOSTICS DEGRADED.​

Feth.

He thrust his lightsaber into black armor as he continued. He didn't need his visor to kill, but he needed to control his troops. They were doing as he asked, redirecting toward the flank, but he needed to know how they were doing. Adonis's hand reached out and pushed another troop flying backward into a steel wall with enough force to dent it. He followed up by digging deeper into the Imperial line, his blade arcing low to create space. Two of the troops dodged in time, the third caught the lightsaber through his core.

The two commanders were getting closer, Adonis just needed to clear the air. The Force struck the Imperials standing between him and Saltare, breaking their formation and forcing them aside. When the smoke settled, there was finally a clear path between the two commanders. He took a deep breath afterward, regathering himself before the next assault. The battle was taking a toll on him, but he wasn't close to giving up. For the first time since the charge began, there was nothing standing between them. Adonis smiled under his armor, he was excited to see what Saltare Dothon had to offer.

​

 

[Dral-Kar'ta Saandyr]

Objective 1 System Purge

Location Socorro's Belt above Kolene Spaceport

Tag: Imperial Narrator



Above Kolene Spaceport.



As the Mandalorian fighter-Bombers finished their ground attack run unleashing a flurry of missiles upon the Imperials causing several explosions as the rockets found their mark, a matching flight of imperial TIE craft engaged. Continuing with their momentum they continued and hit their afterburners to increase distance and altitude drawing the TIEs away from the battle. The Imperials would either have to chase them into the upper atmosphere and into the anti-air blanket of the Mandalorian and Republic craft in low orbit thus taking themselves out of the fight or break off and allow the Kimogilas to regroup and vector to set up another run. The Imperial reinforcements had the numbers to neutralize the pesky bombers but they would have to keep their own precious fighters away from their infantry to do so.

 

[CT-312]

//: Mauve du Vain Cynan Obaith Quinn Varanin //:
//: Attire //:
//: Coronet City, Corellia //:
//: OBJ III - RENEW CORELLIA //:

A brow rose when Mauve mentioned names. With a gathering like this, filled with titles and expensive reputations, that might have been enough for someone like her to appear… though CT-312 was not entirely buying the Zeltron’s “actual reason” for being at this event. Her thoughts lingered on the "names". She had never cared to pay much attention to titles beforehand and with the number of complications gathering around the Queen that have been increasing lately… perhaps maybe that needed to change.

She recalled the art gallery on Nar Shaddaa, Mauve’s collection of priceless pieces. The security around. Behind the visor, CT-312’s eyes cut briefly across the crowd in the room before staring impassively back at the Zeltron. Noting the absence and the subtle shifting of her appearance as she neared.

BARCA chimed once, alerting the Scout of the proximity. CT-312 did not move. The faintest of curiosity crept as Mauve’s finger reached out and tapped the chin of her helmet. Her eyes snapped down at the point of contact, blinking once as before looking back up. CT-312 remained silent. A slight irritation washed over. BARCA beeped and chimed faintly in her helmet. The contact was small, harmless by any reasonable measure. Nothing. The silent curiosity was answered, yet new questions bloomed. CT-312 made a mental note of it and pushed it aside.

As she was about to answer in a way that first came naturally, CT-312 paused. Restraining herself as they were in a refined public setting. Through the helmet’s modulator, her tone came out light and polite, “I would advise you not to do that again Ms. du Vain.” Then CT-312 took a step closer, leaning in until her helmet’s speaker grille rested near Mauve’s ear and the dark curve of her visor angled just away from the Zeltron’s cheek. A private exchange between the two. This time her tone dropped low, carrying an absence of warmth. “Unless you would prefer to be painting with your off hand. We are not that familiar with one another.”

CT-312 straightened up, taking one step back. She’d kept Mauve directly in front while Quinn was still at the edge of her vision. Blinking slowly again at her last sentence about painting what’s underneath, “Still a jokester, I see.”

The former Black Sun territory slid back into her thoughts. “As for Nar Shaddaa…” There was, unfortunately, something she did need to check on that planet. “That would be none of your concern.” CT-312 indicated to the crowd with her helmet. “But Corellia must hold some kind of importance to you. I did not take you as someone so charitable with your priceless art collection.” While she spoke, her eyes found the host, Cynan Obaith ,who was still near to the Queen.

“How generous of you.” CT-312 once more took a step towards Mauve, one gloved hand hovering near the middle of the Zeltron’s back without quite making contact. While the other lifted in front of them, a simple hand wave to gain the attention of the host. There was a faint shift in CT-312’s tone, once more lighter and in an almost amused way. “Have you spoken of your donations and contributions to Senator Cynan?” CT-312’s helmet tilted slightly as her visor locked with Mauve's eyes, “I am sure he would love to thank you in person.”

 

[Mauve du Vain]

“I would advise you not to do that again Ms. du Vain.” Then CT-312 took a step closer, leaning in until her helmet’s speaker grille rested near Mauve’s ear and the dark curve of her visor angled just away from the Zeltron’s cheek. “Unless you would prefer to be painting with your off hand. We are not that familiar with one another.”

A tingle ran up Mauve's spine as the helmet's grille nearly brushed against her ear. Goosebumps pricked her skin. The bodyguard's words were cold and emotionless and dangerous. Mauve licked her lips.

"Promise?" A husky whisper wrapped in the smell of lilacs.

Then the bodyguard pulled back leaving Mauve standing there with a smirk curving the corners of her plum-painted lips. Incredibly, 312 continued to talk to her about Nar Shaddaa and Corellia.

“I am sure he would love to thank you in person.”

Mauve followed the bodyguard's attention toward the person in question, then looked back at 312 in amusement.

"When did you become such a political animal?" Mauve laughed, the sound soft and silvery like windchimes in a summer breeze. Despite the earlier warning, Mauve reached out and traced a lacquered fingernail down the shoulder pauldron of the armored trooper. "If only you knew just how generous my contributions are... but of course nothing is for free. Always," she bit her lip, "Push and pull. Give and take."

CT-312

 

[Taam Moghul]

Taam felt the tension enter Jonyna's voice. It was still too soon for her to trust another galactic government, no matter how virtuous they claim to be. Taam felt this as well, which is why he hesitated joining the order on Naboo. But he had reasons to favor the High Republic, even if not fully committing to it.

"I agree, but they have supported the work of the Underground, including providing resources." The big Cathar knight had been more involved with the covert rescue and humanitarian missions of the Jedi Underground than with the Republic's official order itself.

But Taam gave Jonyna a gaze that proved he understood. He knew the fiery Denik. In the end, Jonyna was a rebel, from the time of the Galactic Civil War no less. She would not rest until there was no more cause to fight for, no more oppression to lift, no more bullies to put down. Taam also knew that time would never come, for every government, even the High Republic, caould fail, or worse, become the oppressor.

Tag: Jonyna Si

 

[Saltare Dothon]

INFERNO SQUAD

Adonis Angelis IV Perseus Ronhar Tane Marlon Sularen Joseph Torson​

---

They advanced steadily into the Mandalorian lines, a gap forming after the detonators had done their work. At first, the Imperial line was broken apart, using what cover they could as they advanced. Some units chose to forego the cover completely and charge into the Beskar-clad warriors, engaging in hand-to-hand combat immediately.

"With me! With me!" Saltare yelled to the men around him through his comms and his garbled voice-amplifying unit. "Shields up!"

The personal shield on his wrist flared to life, covering his vital organs and providing him protection his armor would not have allowed. Along his flanks, Inferno and the Red Right Hand adopted a firing line, blue shielding flaring to life as they steadily advanced into the throng of Mandalorians, reminiscent of an ancient shield wall.

Blaster bolts and kinetic rounds slammed into his shield, causing it to flare and sputter as it was stressed almost to its breaking point. His armor, although brilliantly forged, was not built for this type of engagement. It had high resistance to blaster and kinetic fire, but it wasn't built for nonstop engagement like this. His thigh armor on his right leg had just been destroyed, and his shield was now lower than it should be to protect his exposed thigh.

They continued advancing for several paces, firing indiscriminately into the Mandalorian line before the sides collapsed into each other in a violent brawl. Plastoid and Durasteel cracked against Beskar alloy. Blaster bolts and detonators forced their way into both lines.

Saltare engaged a Mandalorian warrior in close combat. The other thrust a dagger into Saltare's midriff, intending to skewer him, while he fired a blaster pistol point-blank into Saltare's chest. Saltare allowed the blaster bolt to hit his chestplate, but his armor absorbed it. Saltare's left hand came down, the shield deactivating as he swept the Mandalorian's arm out wide. With his right, his pistol impacted the stomach of his opponent and fired a point-blank disruptor shot, destroying the other warrior.

Saltare could almost feel the surprise on the other warrior's face as he died. The Mandalorian had expected him to be an easy kill, had trusted in his weapons and armor too much, and he died for that mistake.

His thoughts were cut short as he was knocked backward by an unseen and unheard blast, his boots compensating for his sudden loss in balance, righting him. Across from him, where there had been Imperial and Mandalorian warriors in a mass, now stood the enemy commander. Nothing was between them anymore.

Saltare holstered his pistol and took the hilt of his sword from his belt. Snapping his wrist outward, the blade extended, its glimmering length a match for the lightsaber of the warrior across from him. Saltare waited no longer, firing the whistling birds from his vambrace at the other warrior before charging in, his sword swinging in a tight arc at the Mandalorian's shoulder.

 

[Jonyna Si]

TAGS: Taam Moghul​

"If you need resources, you could just ask babe." Jonyna pouted, a bit more pitifully at this point. She leaned against him as they walked, wrapping an arm around his. "I've been out in the Unknown Regions lately, dealing with some business with the Jedi Outcasts. When are you gonna join me out there?"

 

[Ala Quin]

BEFORE
"Despite the fact that you still owe me that walk along the beach," Ala said, though her tone convey neither flirtation nor frivolity, "the beach is not what I had in mind."

The glass gave a slight dink of a sound as she placed it down, before pushing up onto her feet. Her ankles protested, having appreciated the time off her feet long enough to dare getting used to relaxation. Ala twisted at her waist. It did nothing to help her ankles, but it felt like she had at least tried something.

"The Republic and the Mandalorians will soon be working together to rid a sector of Imperial warlord...fragments. One of those warlords had come in possession of something valuable to me..."

Her path had taken her to a deskmounted holo-projector.

"...oh...and be careful about ragging on Councils..." She pointed at herself and raised her brow. "...Grandmaster, remember?"

Her hand waved over the holo emitter, and the image sprung to life — a partial map of what appeared to be an asteroid based science facility.

"...want to go for a trip?"

Likely to Allyson's consternation, though whether it was intentional or not was hard to tell, Ala did not stay close. Instead, she slid both saber hilts free from their clips, her knuckles white against the metal. She stepped forward, deliberately putting herself between Allyson and the corridor ahead.

Ala reached out with the Force. She expected resistance, or dark side corruption, or even the cold sting of a trap. Instead, she found nothing.
It wasn't just quiet. It was a suffocating, unnatural vacuum. The Force hadn't just faded, it was dead dead zone that swallowed her senses whole, leaving her stranded in her own skin.

"It's...hard to explain..." Ala whispered, her voice sounding hollow, flat, and stripped of resonance by the void around them. "...but... my personality is actually...an artificial construct..."

She forced her neck to turn, glancing back at Allyson in a desperate bid for levity. "...I have an author."

Her eyes snapped forward again, drawn by a sudden, microscopic shift in the shadows. "The last copy of me... is on this station."

The humour died instantly, replaced by a cold, greasy dread that pooled in her stomach. The absolute absence of the Force was a physical weight now, pressing down on her chest, screaming a warning that her mind couldn't articulate.

Beneath her boots, the deck plates liquefied, rippling like oil. Ala's instincts took over. She threw herself forward as the ground melted open with a screech of scrapping metal from below.

Monstrous, multi-jointed legs - some form of metal - thrusted upward from the breach. They erupted like a cage of chitinous switchblades, snapping wildly to impale Allyson.

Snap-hiss!

Ala's twin plasma blades ignited in a blinding flash. She lunged backward, hacking downward into the mass of twitching metallic limbs.

Sparks erupted, but there was no smell of melting steel. The spider-like horror didn't sever. Its jagged metallic structure absorbed the plasma weapon, hissing and hardening against the heat.

Before Ala could reset her stance, a barbed tendril whipped out from the dark. It struck like lightning. She caught the blow on her crossed sabers, but the raw, kinetic impact shattered her guard. The force hurled her backward, her boots skidding across the deck before she crashed into the far wall.

"Allyson!"

| Allyson Locke |​

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

The Imperial formation advanced steadily despite the pressure being placed upon it by Adonis's Mandalorians. Blue energy shimmered across overlapping shields while Inferno and the Red Right Hand pressed forward through blaster fire and smoke alike. It was a tactic as old as warfare itself, a wall of muscle and steel meant to absorb the momentum of an assault and force the enemy to break against it. This time, however, the Mandalorians had no intention of obliging them.

Over the comms, one of Adonis's guards immediately took control of the nearby warriors. Orders were barked out as jetpacks ignited across the battlefield. Some warriors pushed toward the flanks while others moved for elevated positions atop damaged machinery and cargo containers. The Imperials wanted a straight fight. The Mandalorians answered with movement, mobility, and aggression. If the shield wall wanted to hold, it would have to hold from every direction at once.

Adonis barely heard any of it, his attention had already settled on Saltare. The Imperial commander stood alone now. No comms challenge, no speeches, no troops standing between them. The battle still raged around both men, but for the first time since the assault began, neither had to fight through another line of soldiers to reach their opponent. The realization brought a smile beneath Adonis's helmet. Saltare had finally stopped buying time and chosen to stand his ground and fight.

Then the whistling birds launched. Adonis reacted immediately, his lightsaber flashing upward as the first missile entered striking distance. The blade cut through one of the projectiles in a shower of sparks and burning metal, but there were more behind it. Another detonated against the refinery platform nearby, sending debris and smoke across the empty space between the two commanders. A third slammed into Adonis's armor and exploded, forcing him a half-step backward as warning indicators screamed across his damaged visor. He could feel it, though. Saltare was already moving.

The Imperial charged through the smoke created by his own attack, sword drawn and shield flaring to life once more. There was no hesitation in the advance. There was no attempt to remain behind his troops. The commander closed the distance aggressively, committing fully to the engagement while the battle consumed everything around them.

Adonis respected that. The warrior stepped forward to meet him, refusing to surrender even an inch of ground. The blue blade came up instinctively as Saltare's sword swept toward his shoulder. Smoke coiled between them, blaster fire crossed overhead. Somewhere behind Adonis, Mandalorians crashed into the Imperial line while Inferno fought to hold it together.

In that moment, Adonis didn't think about the battle around them. He only cared about the burst of sparks as lightsaber met phrik and cortosis. Saltare was fast with the sword, deceptively fast. Adonis had only a moment to adjust. He was expecting to fight with strength, but it seemed the Imperial had other ideas. He needed not meet it with swordplay, but instead pressure Saltare Dothon with Adonis's size and mometum. The Mandalorian pivoted on his hip, using his massive weight behind his beskar coated shoulders to push into the enemy.

He wanted to break the Imperial's rythym before following up with a swing of his own. Low and hard at the warrior's core, trying to force him to choose between speed and stability.

​

 

[Dral-Kar'ta Saandyr]

Objective 1 System Purge

Location Socorro's Belt above Kolene Spaceport

Tag: Ronhar Tane , Joseph Torson , Saltare Dothon , Marlon Sularen , Novac Lyrikal , Adonis Angelis IV , Aselia Verd , Camille Cendre , Riya Pashen , Itzhal Volkihar , Imperial Narrator

Socorro's Belt, Kolene Spaceport.

A reverberating wine of high pitched turbo jets pierced the cacophony of battle as the Saandyr fighter-bombers lit the imperial lines with a hail of concussion missiles. The blow against the imperials was short lived however as, before the Imperials could ascertain the damage done reinforcements arrived and drove off his air cover.

His first inclination was to gather his men and lead them in a charge against the Imperials but he was no longer a simple squad leader but a commander and thus needed to stay focused on the bigger picture. And that picture included noting that a Mandalorian Knight, Adonis Angelis IV , had led a small group of Vods in an attack of the besieged Imperials. "First and second crews advance and engage the rear of the Imperial forces and prevent their withdrawal. Third Crew form a line and prevent reinforcements. Press them hard." He ordered his troops who began to maneuver to fulfill their orders. The Imperials would not find it easy to advance to support their beleaguered salient or withdraw to the port's interior without coming under heavy blaster fire.

The Imperials, (Inferno and Red Hand) proved to be worthy opponents and countercharged the Mandalorians and the engagement devolved into hand to hand combat. Reassessing the situation her quickly reacted "First Crew, advance into combat to support friendly forces."

With that a group of Mandalorians charged their jetpacks and flew to the rear of the Imperial forces and in a hail of blaster fire crashed into their rear. The imperials were now beset upon from the front and rear.

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Aselia Verd | Indirect: Quinn Varanin | CT-312 | Mauve du Vain | Dominique Vexx | Mia Monroe | Cynan Obaith | Mishel
Wearing: [X]



Adelle’s amusement at the implications hitting her girlfriend was tempered by the sobering knowledge that this was something she was going to have to explain and smooth over. If this had been any other event, any other time, Adelle would have brushed off the obligation to return to the conversation. She had talked with lower-tier politicians, corporate reps trying to sell their companies to Mandalorian interests, and the wealthy and so-called philanthropists attending for clout more than for Corellia earlier in the evening. After all that, she wanted nothing more than to spend time with Aselia.

But Quinn was here, trying to be seen as more than her legacy. Surrounded by people she could no longer trust and with a Mandalorian that believed in a literal interpretation of ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’ with a religious fervor. Monroe was capable but equally likely to make Quinn uncomfortable.

“I’ll hold you to it,” Adelle said, quiet but with a strong undercurrent of mischief underneath. “I did make plans to at least stay a couple days after this fundraiser. The hotel’s not fancy but—”

She stepped over to Aselia’s side as they both started making for the doors back to the ballroom. “—you’re welcome to stay if you don’t have plans of your own.”

Then, with a grimace, she added “I’d appreciate avoiding more diplomatic incidents, accidental or otherwise. I’ve had enough of those.”

As they walked back into the ballroom proper, Adelle steered them to the small bar she had gotten her whiskey from earlier. A quick glance around the crowded room didn’t give her much but it was enough for her to place the important players. The Chancellor and Corellian Senator were still near Quinn, though it looked like Monroe had taken a step back to speak with Mishel. The conspicuous camouflage armor of Quinn’s head of security, a woman she only knew as '312', stood next to a Zeltron. If she was here, then the mystery woman was wealthy, connected, and somehow affiliated with the High Republic. Not Corellian though, Adelle would have heard of her. She flagged the mystery woman and planned to do some digging later.

At the bar, Adelle held up a finger, requesting one glass of Whyren’s Reserve. After the bartender poured it, she turned and handed the glass to Aselia.

“This,” she said, “is going to be your apology to Warmaster Monroe.”

She smiled mischievously and winked. “Welcome to diplomacy.”