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

[Itzhal Volkihar]

| Location | Socorro's Belt, Core Worlds
| Objective | I - System Purge

Mechanical claws, each digit larger than a human torso, clenched around the shattered remains of the TIE Supremacy, its once-sleek form now a twisted wreckage, debris drifting from the gaps between servos. Smoke billowed from ruptured fuel lines, licking at the edges of the claw's grip as if trying to escape its inevitable fate. Futile, yet admirable. The claws' grip slackened, ruined armour plates and shredded internals floated in every direction, glinting in the distant starlight and the flare of blaster fire.

In turn, the cockpit fluttered away, glass shards spread across the interior like a reflection of the glinting stars in the curtain of the void, orbiting the crushed remains of the pilot seat and their former occupant as they braced for impact. A swirling haze of dust and debris engulfed the point of collision, the surface of a minuscule asteroid scattered in Biaye Cabur's wake.

"Acknowledged, we'll bring the hunt to them," Itzhal stated, his fingers trailing over the comm-link of his gauntlet. With a switch of the transmitter dial, reducing the output of his vocalizer to within meters, he leaned into the side of his great war machine. "Let's see how this one leads. I've got a good feeling about it."

Sublight Engines roared louder than before, a physical wall of force, resonating through Itzhal's frame as the flare of power cast a fierce glare across the dark expanse of space. Remnants of the skirmish shimmered like distant stars, quickly absorbed by the hungry void, leaving only the survivors to carry the charge as they adjusted their trajectory towards Kolene Spaceport.

As he approached the battlefield, the first charge had already begun, unleashing a devastating wave of calculated brutality that shattered the Imperial defences into routing remnants and valiant last stands. The spectacle was a grim sight of crushed transport ships, their ruined remains scattered between discarded figures wrapped in scorched and distorted plastoid, barely visible under the blooming growth of acrid smoke that assaulted the Mandalorian's filters.

Blaster pistols raised and firing into the mess, Itzhal Volkihar's jetpack flared, allowing Biaye Cabur to charge into the mix, a merciless follow-up, which felt almost sadistic in its intensity, as with his fellow Mandalorians, they swept through the remnants of resistance with an overwhelming ferocity that left nothing but despair and dead men in its wake.

With a soft thud, his boots connected with the metallic surface, his jetpack cutting out as the Lawkeeper shifted smoothly from floating in the air to striding forward at pace—his hand reached out, an errant gesture towards the man without a name. "It looks like you and your men have a plan, but I'd rather not leave the Imperials time to do what they want on this station. I'll leave Biaye to your position," he gestured towards his Basilisk War Droid, the red optic glowing brightly as it leaned down to listen to the conversation, "In the meantime, I could do with that com-link frequency."

Afterwards, Itzhal gave a brief, deliberate nod, his buy'ce dipping slightly in acknowledgement.

Then, with a twist of his heel, the Morellian swiftly strode towards the entrance of the mines, his harsh steps transitioning into a silent whisper as he disappeared from sight. The hunt continued.

Allies: Prisoner #36929
Enemies: Joseph Torson​

 

[Dominique Vexx]

Dominique inclined her head slightly with Quinn Varanin 's magnanimous acceptance of unity prevailing. "Every day the message is spread further and wider, your Majesty. Borders are lines on a page. Spheres of authority to be respected, yes, but nothing physically separates one world from the next. Why persist in the belief they exist in a vacuum?" An obviously polite laugh followed. "Space notwithstanding."

The Chancellor's smile turned toward Mia Monroe as the woman sought to draw attention. Cynan Obaith was delightfully quick to respond to her 'invitation.' Before there was an opportunity to agree, however, Adelle Bastiel took to the fore with an introduction of Mia Monroe . And a question.

"Briefly." A golden eye shifted back in Quinn's direction without turning her head. "I had a lovely conversation with Ambassador Feridade Parthi . Ambassador," Dominique's eyes were for Adelle in that moment, "perhaps you might recall that evening Ball on Theed." Her gaze strayed then to Mia to whom she held out a hand, "Warmaster Monroe, I don't believe I've had the pleasure. Forgive me if I was rude, after that chance encounter on Theed and the exchanges of further discourse, I felt it was vital I reach out to Warden Varanin as soon as I could under recent circumstances. Nothing is worse than a breakdown in communication resulting in unnecessary strife."

"In fact, I hoped to personally offer my services to address any lingering grievances that may have resulted." Dominique wasn't going to jump through any hoops over it, but she wasn't dense enough not to have noticed Srina Talon 's less-than-pleased awareness of said circumstances. Both the Sith and Mandalorians weren't thrilled at an otherwise politically clumsy ambling of Jedi.

Seris Mataan | Ayumi Pallopides​

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

A red rage started to take Adonis as he slashed and blasted through the Imperial line. It was easy to get drunk on the blood of your enemies, but there was a fine line between combat and massacre. The Mandalorian forced himself to pull back mentally, grounding himself in the moment rather than the excitement of the kill.

The warrior was truly brought back to reality by an explosion rocking Camille Cendre 's walker. Twisting metal and a deafening crash echoed across the battlefield as the Kosa toppled onto its side. Adonis's HUD screamed with warnings while the dust settled, his helmet tracking the smoke trail back toward the rocket that had fired it. His eyes locked onto the Imperials responsible almost instantly.

Adonis immediately ordered support toward Camille's position before his jetpack ignited in a violent burst, carrying him across the battlefield toward the anti-armor team. The scattergun remained clenched tightly in his left hand while his right held his lightsaber low at his side. He hit the platform hard, slamming into one of the troopers and throwing him over the edge while the scattergun thundered in the same motion, obliterating the torso of another.

Now he stood directly in front of the rocket trooper. The others moved immediately to intercept him, blaster fire erupting from both sides while the launcher operator desperately tried to reload. They wanted to finish the Kosa off before the Mandalorians could recover it.

Blue light hissed from the hilt in Adonis's hand, casting its glow against white plastoid armor as two stormtroopers rushed him while others fired from behind them. Blaster bolts hammered against his pauldron and chestplate as he advanced through the fire without slowing. The scattergun barked again, tearing one of the troopers apart at close range while his lightsaber carved through the second in the same movement.

The rocket trooper finally got the launcher back into position, but he was too slow. Adonis surged forward with the Force driving his momentum, the duracrete beneath him cracking as he launched himself across the platform. His lightsaber punched through the shock trooper's abdomen before the missile could fire, blue light erupting from the trooper's back as the launcher slipped from lifeless hands.

"Camille, if you can hear this, we are getting you out of there." His voice cut across a proximity channel to nearby Mandalorians while he looked toward the wreckage below. Already he could see vod moving toward the fallen walker through the smoke and blaster fire.

The remaining Imperials continued firing into his back, repeated impacts beginning to strain parts of his armor's systems. Adonis turned toward them without a word. The scattergun roared one final time, dropping another stormtrooper before the weapon clicked empty in his hand. He tossed it aside immediately, deciding the lightsaber would serve him better now that the fighting had collapsed into close quarters. As the last stormtrooper fell, Adonis reached down, took his helmet off, and held it to his face while the trooper gurgled on his own blood. The Mandalorian took a moment to find the comm button on the helmet, and when he did he pressed it, sending a message to all nearby troopers.

"Imperials!" His voice thundered across the comms as the blue blade in his hand burned brightly against the smoke and fire surrounding him. "Who is in charge of this mess? If there is any officer with a spine left, " His tone was venom by this point, he was fed up with the back and forth fighting, he wanted to cut the head from the serpent. "tell me where to find you." By this time, Adonis's helmet had picked up the frequency of the Imperials. He threw the helmet to the ground to land next to it's owner's body.

A moment later, Adonis hurled himself from the platform, falling rapidly toward the battlefield below before his jetpack flared at the last possible second. He struck the ground hard enough to crack the duracrete beneath his boots while smoke and dust rolled outward around him. All over the battlefield tanks continued trading fire while civilians and soldiers alike ran through collapsing streets trying to survive the chaos consuming Kolene.

TAG: Saltare Dothon Joseph Torson Perseus Riya Pashen Dral-Kar'ta Saandyr
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[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 ​

The repeater clicked empty beneath my hands and I barely registered it. Heat still rolled off scorched metal as my grip released it instinctively, already moving before thought could catch up. Somewhere behind me Mandalorians pushed forward through shattered trenches and collapsed firing lines. Comms crackled through static. Positions called out. Advancing elements shifting. It all blurred together beneath the pounding inside my helmet.

Forward remained simple. Forward still made sense.

The Imperial defensive line had fractured. Barricades burned. Trenches filled with smoke and bodies while bombardment carved holes through hardened positions that once looked impossible to breach. Somewhere in that collapse I stopped moving with the line and started moving ahead of it.

Alone.

My boots struck duracrete hard as I crossed into the outer structure of the Imperial position. Interior fortifications rose ahead of me. Reinforced walls. Narrow kill lanes. Defensive choke points designed to bleed attackers dry before they could establish footing deeper inside. Smoke drifted low enough to distort movement ahead while warning lights flashed dim crimson against dark metal walls.

Someone called over comms. Positioning. Fallback. Regroup. I kept moving. Momentum had become easier than thought.

The first stormtrooper inside barely reacted before I reached him. One blade struck beneath armor plating and momentum carried me immediately into the next target before the first body fully collapsed. Another rifle snapped upward toward me and my crushgaunt connected hard enough against helmet plating to drive him sideways into reinforced walling. Metal cracked. The rifle clattered away uselessly.

I kept moving.

My ribs hurt now. I registered it distantly. Earlier impacts. Earlier fire. The shoulder too. Something lower near my side where armor had held but flesh beneath had paid for it. None of it mattered. Pain meant movement still existed. Pain meant functioning. Functioning meant forward.

Another bolt struck close enough to scatter sparks across my visor. A second hammered armor hard enough to twist balance sideways while warning indicators flickered briefly across my HUD before disappearing again. I knew what it meant immediately. Too exposed. Too deep.

I ignored it.

The corridor narrowed further ahead where Imperial defenders had stacked into prepared positions. Three of them. Tight spacing. Better angles. Disciplined fields of fire. They had adapted faster than I had expected. They knew exactly what happened when attackers overcommitted into confined spaces. Kill lanes. Controlled crossfire. Force momentum into hesitation.

I never hesitated.

The blaster fire hit almost immediately. The first impact slammed center mass hard enough to force breath from my lungs. Another struck higher near my shoulder. A third landed lower with enough force that my leg almost failed beneath me entirely. Armor held. Armor always held longer than people did. My knee struck metal flooring harder than intended.

Wrong. Something felt wrong.

The hallway stretched strangely in front of me now. Longer than it should have been. Vision narrowed harder around movement while everything else blurred toward the edges. My breathing sounded louder than the fighting itself. Too loud. Ragged enough that I noticed it over blaster fire. Warning indicators flickered again. My body knew things before my thoughts allowed themselves to.

Fatigue. Tunnel vision. Too much. Did someone said my name over comms? Once. Then again harder? I couldn't tell who. The realization should have mattered more than it did.

Another Imperial stepped close enough that instinct carried me forward before judgment could. I hit him hard enough to drive both of us into reinforced plating. My knife moved automatically.

Missed. The blade struck wall instead. For a moment my entire body stalled. That never happened. Not like that. Exhaustion settled into the realization immediately. My arm felt heavier. My movement slower. Not enough to stop me. Enough to notice. Enough to understand something I had been refusing to see since crossing the line outside. I had outrun support. Outrun formation. Outrun everyone. Because somewhere buried beneath armor and violence and years of surviving impossible things lived the same lesson carved into me long before I ever wore beskar.

Keep moving. Keep surviving.

If I stopped—people died.

The thought had carried me further than it should have. The next blaster impact hit hard enough to throw me backward onto the floor.

For the first time since entering the trenches—I wasn't moving forward anymore.

 

[Seris Mataan]

Seris did not miss the way Quinn made space for her. It was a small adjustment, but deliberate enough that Seris understood the invitation. She stepped into the space beside Quinn without making a show of it, close enough to be part of her company but not so close to crowd her.

She lifted the glass to her lips in a smooth motion, the liquid inside a deep golden brown that caught the light. Corellian Brandy, if she had to guess, though the first sip confirmed it better than the color did. It burned warmer than it looked, sharp at first and then smooth enough to leave a faint sweetness behind. Her grey-green eyes moved briefly over the circle around them as she lowered the glass, and a small look of amusement touched her expression.

Her eyes swept over Mia and Adelle again, and though the Chancellor and Senator as they held the conversation for the moment, Seris left that alone. Her attention returned to Quinn instead, the faint warmth in her expression remaining. "Did I hear that right?" she asked, her voice still pitched more for Quinn than the rest of the group. "You have never been to Corellia before?"

There was no judgment in the question, only curiosity. Seris glanced toward the tall windows and the shape of the city beyond them, all lights and polished edges from where they stood. "I can't say I know it well either. Enough to know that this is probably not the best way to meet a world for the first time."

A hint of mischief touched her eyes, there and gone quickly enough. The corner of her mouth lifted slightly before she took another, smaller sip of the brandy, letting the glass rest low in her hand afterward. She did not look as if she were waiting for Quinn to answer, only giving her something easier to answer than the politics around them.

Her gaze shifted past the gathering, toward the edge of the hall where the crowd thinned near the balconies, and the sound of conversation softened into something less pressing. She inclined her head toward Quinn as she spoke, just enough that a few loose red strands slipped forward from where her hair had been arranged, falling near the line of one pointed ear before she brushed them away.

"I was thinking of finding somewhere quieter," she continued, still easy in her tone. "Not far. Just enough to see whether Corellia looks better from a balcony than it does from the middle of a political conversation."

Her gaze returned to Quinn, and the corner of her mouth lifted faintly. "If Her Majesty can be spared for a few minutes." There was no expectation that Quinn would answer immediately, and no pressure in the way Seris offered it. Only a path that was left open in the middle of a room that seemed intent on closing around everyone. Then Seris glanced back toward the others just enough to keep the shift from feeling secretive. "I would not want to interrupt matters of state, the last thing I need is a scolding from Mand'alor." she added, a faint trace of humor touching her voice.

TAG: Quinn Varanin Adelle Bastiel Mia Monroe Dominique Vexx Cynan Obaith Mishel Merryn Sellek + Anybody i missed
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[Mishel]

Mia Monroe | Adelle Bastiel | et al​

Mishel, who never really did turn her Force aura down, surveyed the room around her. She looked for exits and familiar faces, and when she'd found both, she started to walk.

Walking the way she normally walked, it turned out, did not work in the kind of heels that came with the dress. What she managed instead was something she'd have generously called a fashion model's power walk — the sort of thing that would have worked considerably better with a measure more confidence and a measure less suspicion that everyone could see her ankles negotiating with the floor. She sighed, and reached out with the Force to draw a flute of champagne off a passing tray and into her waiting hand.

Now that that was smooth. Smoother still was the way her eyes, that odd mix of honeyed hazel and green, found Mia Monroe across the hall. The woman allegedly training her eldest daughter.

The click and clack of her heels announced her before she'd decided whether she wanted to be announced, each step drawing her closer to the cluster of bodies near the far side of the room. The crowd had already gathered thick around one young woman, and Mishel had no intention of making the crush worse. So she stopped short of it instead, and called out sounding, to her own private horror, a little too much like her other mother for comfort.

"Warmaster Monroe." Warm, and yet firm beneath the warmth. "Might I have a word?"

Mishel desperately wanted to know what was happening to her.

 

[Jonyna Si]

TAGS: Taam Moghul

"Let's." Jonyna smiled as she reached up and gave Taam a peck on the cheek.

As they made their way through the Dawnbreaker II, Jonyna couldn't help but keep her eyes on her mate.

"So what have you been up to, anyways? I haven't kept up with the goings on of the High Republic as much."

Even when she probably should. She lamented that she couldn't keep up with galactic politics as much anymore. During her time in the GA, she could keep an eye on everything. While she certainly didn't miss the paperwork, it was hard not to miss the feeling of knowing what was going on.

 

[Tekton Artez]

Tekton nodded taking the offered line of conversation Senator Ayumi Pallopides offered, with gratitude. It was he supposed an advantage of diplomatic training that one knew how to turn an awkward moment in conversation, into a further chance for connections or other opportunities.

"Clan Artez does excellent work, we don't filch from hard work, and aren't afraid to work in… less than ideal conditions. We believe it is our duty to seek contracts that act in service towards others, to utilise our skills for the benefit of others is a crucial aspect of our Clan philosophy."

It would have been awkward to sell himself and his clan so, if Tekton didn't believe every word he said.

"It is important to Clan Artez to work in service to others whether it be on or off the battlefield, we've frequently found a solution to both, by working as both in various warzones and relief zones throughout the galaxy."

Just as Tekton was winding down from his speech, Siv Kryze stepped in to save him from any chance he might have from embarrassing himself. It was nice to be backed by a fellow Mandalorian as to what his clan could offer. A part of Tekton wondered if it would not have been more effective to have a source other than a Mandalorian confirm Clan Artez credentials, if there were any to be had. After all that was the whole purpose of this little shindig to build connections. Besides truthfully Tekton would rather have the stalwart, forthright and honest opinion of a fellow Mandalorian then the slimy scheming backing of someone like a Trade Federation envoy.

"Indeed, our reconstruction projects, focus on rebuilding a place for people to live after tragedy, not just for profit, but a place of plenty and comfort, where they can resettle and rebuild. A thriving population is of benefit to everyone, it turns refugees from a drain of resources on government, into productive citizens once again, as well as the satisfaction of having done the right thing."

Tekton allowed himself a small chuckle at Mando's tending to do alright under bad conditions.

"If it helps think of it as hiring a two for one deal, we not only provide reconstruction but also provide our own security." Tekton allowed with a small wry smile. The idea of Mandalorians doing double duty didn't bother him, mostly because all Mandalorians were warriors anyway and would take up arms to defend any project they were already assigned to. "In fact you'd be hard pressed to stop a Mandalorian from taking up arms to defend any project they were assigned to."

TAG: Dominique Vexx | Makai Dashiell | Quinn Varanin | Mia Monroe | Adelle Bastiel | Cynan Obaith | Seris Mataan | Siv Kryze | Ayumi Pallopides +Open To Anyboy I Missed

 

[Aselia Verd]

Wearing: [X]

The speech was over by the time she entered, the formal remarks giving way to the softer battlefield of fundraising, negotiation, and carefully measured social maneuvering. Senators, noble representatives, ambassadors, corporate interests, had already divided themselves into clusters beneath the warm lights, each conversation carrying the polished edge of opportunity. Corellia had dressed sovereignty in celebration tonight, and the result was exactly what Aselia expected: pride, politics, and enough implied contracts to keep half the room smiling through clenched teeth.

Until a few hours ago, her evening had belonged to Aether and an operation that was supposed to take them well away from polished floors and ceremonial drinks. Then the order had changed, the mission had been cancelled, and suddenly Aselia had found herself with a free night in the middle of a diplomatic event she had been prepared to miss. There had been other ways to spend it. Reports to review. Equipment to check. A dozen useful things that would have kept her occupied.

Instead, she came here for one reason and one reason only. Adelle was here. The red and black dress had been chosen quickly, but not carelessly. Elegant enough for the event, practical enough that she didn't feel like she had surrendered herself to it, the deep red fabric cut with black accents that suited her far better than softer colors ever would. Her red hair had been swept back from her face, though a few loose strands had escaped by the time she crossed the hall, and while she was not in armor, there was still something unmistakably Mandalorian in the way she moved through the room. She offered polite acknowledgments where necessary, accepted one or two greetings from those who recognized her, and gave no one enough of her attention to mistake the delay for an invitation.

Aselia spotted her amid a small grouping of officials and representatives, composed and attentive, wearing the role of ambassador with that careful discipline she knew too well. Adelle was listening, answering, managing the conversation with the patience of someone who understood that diplomacy often meant letting people talk long enough to reveal what they actually wanted. She looked capable. Controlled. Responsible.

Aselia watched for a moment, and the corner of her mouth curved faintly; then she crossed the room. She did not cut in abruptly. There was no need to make a scene, and Adelle would notice her before anyone else did. Aselia approached from the edge of the conversation, letting her presence settle there first, her gaze catching Adelle's across the circle. The faint amusement in her eyes was private, meant for her alone.

When the current speaker paused, Aselia stepped in smoothly. "Forgive the interruption," she said, voice calm and polished enough for the room, though her attention lingered on Adelle a moment longer than protocol required. "I need to borrow Ambassador Bastiel for a few minutes. Mandalorian Business," she spared a brief nod to Mia Monroe and Quinn Varanin , other than them her interest had already moved on.

Aselia inclined her head to the group, then looked back to Adelle, the public mask softening by a fraction. "Come on," she said, quieter now, meant only for her. "You've been very responsible. It's starting to look painful."

She offered her hand, not pulling, not assuming, simply giving Adelle the opening. Once Adelle took it, Aselia guided them away from the group and back into the current of the room, not toward the exits, but toward one of the quieter balconies overlooking the city lights. It was still visible enough to avoid questions, private enough that the noise thinned around them and the pressure of the event loosened.

Only then did Aselia let out a quiet breath, glancing sideways at her.

"I was supposed to be off-world tonight," she said. "Aether cancelled the operation." There was a pause, just long enough for the implication to settle before the faint smile returned. "So I found myself unexpectedly free." Her eyes moved over Adelle with open appreciation, restrained only because they were still technically in public. "And since you were clearly being held hostage by official duties, I decided to make better use of my evening."

A server passed close enough for Aselia to take a glass from the tray, though she offered it to Adelle first. "If anyone asks," she continued, voice lowering into something warmer, "I had an urgent need to discuss Mandalorian strategic interests." Her gaze held Adelle's. "Specifically, whether I could convince you to stop looking like an ambassador for a few minutes and let me distract you properly."

TAG: Adelle Bastiel
​

 

[Mauve du Vain]

x

Mauve arrived late to the fundraise soiree, but...

She.​

Looked.​

Fucking.​

Stunning.

Sporting a sable dress of pure spun shell spider silk that cost more than the sleek airlimo she rode in on, her three inch heels clicked on the floor as she pretended to be above it all: the mysterious art curator from Nar Shaddaa come suddenly into new mony on Naboo.

Violet eyes flicked across the room, lingering for a moment on Quinn Varanin as a flash of emotion flickered briefly through the lavender haze of Mauve's gauze before she mastered it.

Sweeping up a glass of something pale gold and bubbly, Mauve drifted with ease into the conversing circle, catching the tale end of Tekton Artez 's words.

"In fact you'd be hard pressed to stop a Mandalorian from taking up arms to defend any project they were assigned to."

"You mandalorians are like that, aren't you? Fierce... loyal..."

Mauve made a humming noise as she took a sip of her drink.

"Strong."

Her violet eyes watched the Mando for a moment, then she held out the hand not holding her glass.

"Mauve du Vain, private equity."

Ayumi Pallopides | Siv Kryze

 

[Prisoner #36929]

Objetive 1
Tags: Itzhal Volkihar | Joseph Torson | OPEN
Equipment: X​

Mandalorian efficiency took over as the squad divided the remaining detonators, mapping out the critical structural points of the remaining Imperial crafts. The heavy thud of boots drawing near cut through the localized static of the hangar, signaling Itzhal's approach. One of the Heathen Army foundlings immediately synced a spare data pad to the stolen Imperial frequency, catching the feed before tossing the device directly to the veteran. Prisoner offered a brief, respectful nod beneath his visor, validating the unspoken trust of the battlefield.

"Good hunting down there," Prisoner said, his voice modulated through his helmet's external speaker.

The strategy formed without further delay. Leaving Itzhal's Basilisk, Biaye, to anchor the defensive perimeter and secure their retreat, the old warrior vanished into the shadows of the transit tunnels. Prisoner turned his attention back to the landing pad, slapping the last magnetic charge onto the underbelly of a heavy troop transport. Warlord Sularen's elite squad was pivoting, abandoning the deep mines to secure the speeder bikes housed within these very gunships. They were walking directly into a meat grinder, with Itzhal already moving into position to seal the internal choke points.

"Clear the area! Blow the grid!" the Heathen shield captain bellowed over the squad network.

Mandalorians scattered into the reinforced architecture of the hangar bays just as the detonator sequences zeroed out. A synchronized sequence of blinding orange detonations ripped through the landing pads, tearing the Imperial gunships apart from the inside out. Structural supports buckled, repulsor engines ruptured into secondary explosions, and raining shrapnel pulverized the surrounding hangar, entirely erasing the Imperial's extraction plan.

Dust and the heavy stench of burning fuel filled the air as Prisoner unslung his carbine, checking the charge pack. The squad didn't wait for the smoke to clear before surging forward into the primary mine entrance. Behind them, the sky lit up with the flashing beacons of incoming Republic dropships and Mandalorian gunships, deploying heavy reinforcements to secure the upper levels. Pushing deep into the flickering, low-light tunnels, Prisoner picked up his pace, ready to back Itzhal and permanently trap Torson's operatives between a wall of beskar and the burning wreckage of their only escape.

 

[Ayumi Pallopides]

Tekton Artez Siv Kryze Mauve du Vain Dominique Vexx

The speech was good and the other two who came over offered something of a speech and selling point. "Well that is a good way to put it and something that would be helpful to work with. Denon's latest terraforming nodes we developed to be used for relief efforts and clean up." THe nodes were something that they preferred now and could be deployed as squadrons from ships or stations where needed with relief supplies like they had done as needed. "Security though is an endeavor sadly always needed so you do have a better pitch in some cases then Denon we haven't gotten around to forming a battle skilled engineering and relief corp." She tapped her chin in some interest for it.... possible avenue for researrch and development.

 

[Ronhar Tane]

CAPTAIN RONHAR TANE, TK-3301
SOCORRO'S BELT, KOLENE SPACEPORT
OBJECTIVE I: SYSTEM PURGE

When the first explosion rocked the corner where Ronhar had been moments before, he was far away enough from the blast to remain unaffected by it.

When the second explosion went off, Ronhar was still outside of its blast radius.

When the Whistling Birds came around the corner, however, Ronhar should have been killed right then and there, if not for the timely intervention of his shoulder mounted Mahporeem Acid Rifle.

As the Whistling Bird came toward him, the Acid Rifle fired a concentrated stream of acid directly at the oncoming projectile, prematurely detonating it before it reached Ronhar, saving his life from the resulting explosion. The same, unfortunately, could not be said for the rest of his men, who all went down in a matter of seconds, far too fast for Ronhar's targeting systems to shoot down the projectiles before it was too late. Ronhar cursed as he frantically backed up further, frustrated by his inability to do anything at all about the current situation. Whatever the Mandlalorians had, it was beyond Ronhar's ability to deal with, so he decided to deal with the situation by not dealing with it at all.

He would simply find another way to go.

Before he did, however, he decided to leave his pursuers one final parting gift. He picked up some of the Rhydonium Grenades that his men had dropped upon their demise and threw them around the corner to buy himself just a little bit of extra time. He then rigged up an improvised proximity trap with the loose collection of grenades from his men, setting them to detonate the moment someone ran around the corner. He then set up a number of Cartridge Traps a bit further down the hallway with some of the 23mm buckshot shells he had for his Model 216 "Big Game Hunter". Anyone who was unlucky enough to step on one would soon wish they hadn't. Ronhar dragged the bodies of one of his men to hide the Cartridge Traps the best he could, and then he took off sprinting away from the Mandalorians.

He radio'd the rest of his forces to begin finishing up their evacuation efforts, and sent off a quick message to Tryvge Hakon :

"Senator Hakon, my forces are beginning to wrap up their evacuation efforts. I recommend you do the same before the fleet battle intensifies any further. I am sending you the coordinates of the nearest available ARC Trooper squadron. They will ensure that you arrive to your ship safely. I will be in contact with you soon. Ronhar, out."

Now all Ronhar had to do was make it off this damned station before Marlon Sularen and the rest of the Imperial fleet blasted it into pieces...
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Spoiler: Ronhar's Loadout

• Burnblade
• Ion Slicer Vibroknife
• Model 216 "Big Game Hunter"
• Mahporeem Acid Rifle
• Prototype Sonic Pistol
• Rhydonium Grenades
• Mk II Viral Bombs
• Wampa-Pattern Industrial Exoskeleton
• "Kitetsu" Force Energy Cycler
• "Yugiri" Capture Nets
• Mk 45 Protective Vest
• Carapace Knitters
• ABC - Aerosolized Bacta Cannisters

TAGS:
Tryvge Hakon
Marlon Sularen
Perseus
Mance Iblis
Amelia von Sorenn
Drego Ruus
Joseph Torson
Novac Lyrikal
Saltare Dothon
@Anyone else I missed
OPEN

 

[Saltare Dothon]

INFERNO SQUAD

TAGS: Ronhar Tane Joseph Torson Marlon Sularen Novac Lyrikal Adonis Angelis IV​

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"Colonel Dothon, I'll hand over some of my operatives to assist Inferno with the evacuations. The rest of my operatives, along with myself, will deal with the artillery,"

"Torson is handling the artillery!" Saltare barked over the comms to the units around him, "Keep up the evacuations."

Imperial reinforcements had flooded into the area, including Stormtroopers and additional Special Forces units, along with some light armor. But the morale was wavering, the enemy had overwhelming numbers, and it was only a matter of time before they were pushed back.

"Imperials!" His voice thundered across the comms as the blue blade in his hand burned brightly against the smoke and fire surrounding him. "Who is in charge of this mess? If there is any officer with a spine left, " His tone was venom by this point, he was fed up with the back and forth fighting, he wanted to cut the head from the serpent. "tell me where to find you."

"By the Empire, they're overrunning us!" someone screamed over the comms as the voice of an enemy commander thundered into their ears.

"Left flank is collapsing!"

"We're being pushed back! Central and right flanks are wavering! The spaceport is at risk!"

Saltare glanced around, seeing troopers and civilians getting cut down in the fighting. Checking his battlefield communique and reports flooding into the battlesphere, he saw they were losing positions fast. He needed to make a change, or they would be pushed back. Saltare cut off comms access to the trooper's helmet, which the enemy had compromised.

As Saltare looked for his next move, Joseph Torson Red Right Hand came sprinting into the Imperial line, their Blazing Red Armor reinforcing the sharply contrasting white of the Stormtroopers who were already here.

"Inferno! To Me!" Saltare yelled over the comms, his finger slapping the trigger of his blaster and sending round after round into the advancing enemy.

Black armored troopers began to fill in the gaps left by the bodies of their white counterparts. Black, Red, and White armors stood fiercely against the multi-colored armors of their enemies. Imperial armor rumbled up next to Saltare's position, the Imperial Pennant flying off the rear of the tank, rippling in the explosions and fire of the battle. The flag was scorched and torn by combat, but still standing. Saltare raced to the armor and clambered up the side, grabbing onto the pennant with one hand and addressing the men around him.

"We hold here!" Saltare ordered into the comms, "NO BACKWARD STEP! You hear me, Imperials? The Republic and Mandalorians had to hold hands to try to force us back. We leave when it's our time, not according to anyone else's clock. Now kriffing dig in!"

The collective roar was deafening, even amid the din of combat. The Imperial line held, no longer wavering; it was resolute.

Saltare patched back into the troopers' comms he had cut off from the battlesphere, addressing whoever was on the other end, "This is Saltare Dothon of Inferno Squadron. We don't deal in vain glory; you can break yourself among our lines or retreat from whence you came. It makes no difference to me. You'll find me on the front line with the Imperial flag wrapped around my armor if you have the guts to stand against us."

Saltare tore the Imperial Flag from the tank, wrapping the standard around himself for easy identification. Let the enemy come, they would find his resolve unwavering.

 

[Dral-Kar'ta Saandyr]

Objective 1 System Purge

Location Socorro's Belt above Kolene Spaceport

TAG: Ronhar Tane , Joseph Torson , Marlon Sularen , Novac Lyrikal , Adonis Angelis IV , Aselia Verd , Camille Cendre , Riya Pashen , Zoro Igala , Itzhal Volkihar



Having deployed on the outskirts of the spaceport the Saandyr forces began to maneuver to flank the imperial forces and move in to occupy the landing areas. Unlike the heavier line forces these troops did not advance like a wave crashing into a shoreline but rather a rising tide that moved forward until meeting resistance then flowing around it to surround and overwhelm the isolated pocket. Three groups of three men each acted in concert with one another with three of these groups along with a heavy weapons section form the basic tactical unit. These units of 33 men were called crews as they were the largest force that could be transported by a single Kom'rk transport and were trained in rapid battlefield movement and high-volume concentrated fire. And unlike Imperial Stormtroopers, their blaster fire was accurate.

Ribbons of yellow blaster fire marked their movement as they maneuvered and brought units if Imperial troopers attempting to redeploy under fire thereby pinning them down and preventing their escape so they could be dispatched by the heavier units. During these attacks they managed to free sizable groups of Imperial prisoners and slaves which unfortunately slowed their advance as they escorted groups of civilians away from the battlefield.

Yet, as they paused to process the civilians radio chatter filtered through the channels indicating that a group of Imperials had checked the Republican advance and was making a stand. Punching data into his tactical command comms he ordered.

"Cover group. Form up for a ground attack run in the indicated positions to disrupt and reinforcement attempts. Hawk Crew and Falcon Crew, shift access of advance to target zulu prime. The Imperial left flank is collapsing and they are being pushed back. Bring them under fire and interdict their movement."

Responding to their orders a group of 6 Kimogila fighter-bombers screamed into the atmosphere and unleased a stream of heavy blaster bolts and rockets upon the units in and around the location of the Inferno Squad. From their rear volleys of yellow blaster bolts began to whistle by and impact around any unit attempting to maneuver as Draal-Kar'ta's Mandalorian detachment began to deploy to the rear of Inferno Squad's position.

 

[Marlon Sularen]

​

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W H E R E_I T_W I L L_A L L_E N D
Objective I - System Purge

FINAL DAWN
SOCORRO'S BELT, CORE WORLDS

---

Spoiler: Wraith Squadron

WRAITH SQUADRON
Main Fleet : INV Sularen's Revenge [Flagship] INV Tyrant's Fury INV Retribution INV Harbinger INV Punisher VG-1 VG-2 VG-3 VG-4 VG-5
Starfighter Compliment : TIE/ss Supremacies TIE/Stu Stürmers TIE/sb Strike Bombers GAT-50 Imperial Blastboats

Slowly but surely, the Sularen's Revenge and its escorts carved a path through the Socorro's Belt, their turbolasers shattering the asteroids in their way and creating fields of smaller asteroids, some of which smashed against the Imperial Warships as they continued to push through, causing some mild damage to their shielding. They were making considerable progress through the dense asteroid, having already crossed the halfway point towards their ultimate destination. Hopefully, the Special Forces on Kolene were making progress on the ground, as it wouldn't be long before Sularen would be in a position to deliver judgment on the rebellious mining colony.

However, the Imperial push into the asteroid field would not go unopposed, as the Supreme Commander would soon find out when alarms blared throughout the bridge of his flagship. "Sir, we got new contacts emerging from the asteroid field!" one of the officers cried out. Then the explosions began as enemy bombers and starfighters emerged from the asteroids, quickly engaging all the ships in Sularen's Fleet by unleashing munitions and heavy turbolasers upon them. All around the bridge, Sularen watched as enemy fighters and bombers moved freely among his ships, raining fire upon them in an attempt to soften them up.

Before the Supreme Commander could react and give further orders, two dozen ships closed in on the bridge and, despite the best efforts of the defensive emplacements, they managed to break through, unleashing a heavy barrage of rockets and torpedoes against the bridge itself, blinding the Supreme Commander as explosions erupted all across the bridge superstructure of the Sularen's Revenge, shaking the bridge to an extent officers were thrown off their feet while Sularen struggled to not get thrown off his seat.

Sularen had to give the enemy credit; this attack was sudden and decisive, having caught him off guard with its sheer intensity. To make matters worse, he was temporarily blinded as a large cloud of smoke was created from the constant explosions, which prevented him from seeing the rest of the battlefield. Looking around himself, Sularen watched as the bridge of his flagship erupted in chaos, with injured crew members lying on the ground while others still struggled to regain their senses. "This is Supreme Commander Sularen, i need medics on the bridge and all available backup bridge crew personnel to report to the bridge," he ordered through the Sularen's Revenge's comms.

"Sir! I just picked up another contact. An enemy battlecruiser right behind us," another officer cried out. At that same time, Medical officers began pouring into the bridge, taking the injured crew off the bridge while their replacements moved in to take their posts. Soon, order would be restored, and the Sularen's Revenge could keep operating as normal. "What's the status of the shields?" Sularen inquired. "Shields are still holding," another officer stated. "Give me some exact numbers," Sularen ordered. "Sularen's Revenge is down to 70 percent, Tyrant's Fury is at 90 percent, Retribution at 64 percent, Harbinger at 80 percent, and the Punisher is at 76 percent," the same officer stated." the officer replied.

"Good," Sularen responded. "Keep pushing forward," he ordered. "Let their bombers waste their ammunition on us; it won't be long until we reach Kolene proper," he said. "What about that Battlecruiser, sir. Our Star Destroyers won't be able to sustain heavy fire from it," another officer chimed in. "That's where you're wrong, Lieutenant. Those Rebels and Corellians are hardly a threat to us. Plus, we have additional forces in play to assist us." Sularen responded. "As long as that Mandalorian Fleet keeps doing nothing, we'll retain the upper hand. Now keep moving forward," Sularen proclaimed.

As such, despite the relentless attacks from enemy bombers and warships, the five warships of Wraith Squadron kept pushing forward towards Kolene, their turbolasers still firing relentlessly at the asteroids in front of them to clear a path through the dense asteroid field. Sularen was going to reach that mining colony and blow it to kingdom come; every casualty the Final Dawn had suffered here today would have been for nothing. Fueled by the determination to accomplish his objective no matter what, Sularen opened a channel with Admiral Mimkin and relayed a simple message. "Admiral Mimkin, I beleive it's time your fleet provided me with some assistance against that Rebel Fleet attacking our rear."

It was time the Final Dawn turned back the tides in their favour and ended this confrontation for good

---

Tags [Friendlies] | Skarren Mettir
Tags [Hostiles] | Zoro Igala | Mance Iblis​

 

[Siv Kryze]

.​

​

Siv caught the shift in the room the second Mauve du Vain entered it.


Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just the subtle way conversations slowed for half a breath when someone walked in carrying that much confidence without needing to demand attention. Even through the visor, his eyes tracked her for a moment longer than intended before he forced himself back to the discussion at hand.


Expensive dress. Careful posture. The kind of presence built for rooms exactly like this. Dangerous in a completely different way than a battlefield. A faint huff of amusement escaped him at her comment. "That's a polite way of saying difficult." The handshake was brief but steady before he released it again.


"Siv Kryze. Concordia." Not Warden. Not here.


As Ayumi Pallopides spoke about Denon's terraforming systems, Siv gave a thoughtful nod rather than immediately turning it into negotiations. "That actually sounds useful for Outer Rim recovery zones," he said. "Most worlds hit by conflict spend years just trying to make the land usable again before rebuilding even starts."


His visor shifted toward Tekton briefly.


"Clan Artez already works inside places most contractors avoid. Add something that speeds stabilization on top of that…" He let the thought linger unfinished instead of pushing it further. The blue-armored Mandalorian settled his hands loosely behind his back, relaxed enough now that he almost blended into the flow of the conversation despite the beskar. Almost.


"You can usually tell who's actually done relief work," Siv added after a moment, tone easier now. "Most people think rebuilding ends once the walls go back up." A slight nod toward Tekton followed. "People like him know better."


Even as the conversation carried on, part of Siv's attention remained elsewhere out of habit. Dominique still held a small gravitational pull deeper in the hall. The Echani Queen remained guarded but calmer now. Senators drifted between circles fishing for influence dressed up as charity.


And somewhere between all of it, Mauve still stood out every time his eyes passed back across the room.


TAG: Dominique Vexx | Makai Dashiell | Quinn Varanin | Mia Monroe | Adelle Bastiel Cynan Obaith | Seris Mataan | Tekton Artez | + Open

 

[Tekton Artez]

Tekton raised an eyebrow at Mauve du Vain entrance. She was breathtaking, alluring, sensual and to Tekton just spoke one word. Trouble. Time was if he were young and foolish enough Tekton would be fumbling and stumbling over his words to accommodate such a beauty. Unfortunately or fortunately depending on your perspective, that was many mistakes ago. Admittedly Tekton's mistakes had resulted in a blessing in his daughter, but that didn't lesson the fact that it had been a mistake to fall for a beautiful, captivating woman who could steal the attention of an entire room with the right entrance. Tekton was done making that mistake.

"Tekton Clan Artez." Tekton replied dryly taking the hand offered, his raised eyebrow said, yes I see you, I'm more amused bordering on bemused than enraptured. It was an expressive eyebrow.

Tekton nodded back at the Senator Ayumi Pallopides returning to the conversation at hand.

"We prefer to give onsite training in security and maintenance as we reconstruct, we believe it is no use just building something plonking a civilian population down and hoping for the best. We work with the civilians to build a settlement that would be efficient, well managed and productive. That includes teaching them basic self defence of their township."

Tekton gave a wry grin.

"I'm not saying they'll be Mandalorians but by the time we're through with them they'll be a hardy militia able to fend off the rogue raid of the kind of lowlifes that seem to sprout in times and regions of strife. If we can we provide an evacuation plan and distress signal so a more formal response can be made, should it prove necessary."

"Clan Artez isn't afraid of hard work in hard conditions, as Siv Kryze has already pointed out we can be 'difficult' or stubborn depending on your perspective that can just mean we don't give up easily."

TAG: Dominique Vexx | Makai Dashiell | Quinn Varanin | Mia Monroe | Adelle Bastiel | Cynan Obaith | Seris Mataan | +Open

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Renew Corellia //:
//: Tags in Post... I am lost ;_; //:

A lot was going on in the room, and Quinn was wondering why her side of the event was the most popular. She assumed it was the Chancellor's attention. Most wanted it, and while Quinn had looked forward to speaking with the woman, the number of people that followed in tow made it difficult.

She kept her little smile as she nodded, listening to Dominique Vexx continue. The woman was very businesslike, but also held a grand presence. It was obvious why she won her Senate seat.

Still, she spoke so quickly for the unprepared Echani.

"That's good to know…" She nodded, not fully understanding the words about borders on paper and lines.

"I feel like the Ambassador and…" Quinn paused quietly, trying to remember Sibylla's proper title. Too often, the woman introduced herself by just her name.

She looked towards Adelle Bastiel for help, but almost on cue, her love — sick puppy dog cousin decided to cut in. Quinn narrowed her eyes for just a moment — frustrated at the timing.

But her face softened, knowing how much Aselia Verd enjoyed Adelle's company. She'd tease her later, but for now, Quinn would accept the situation as it was.

She would also have to thank Mia Monroe , reluctantly, for trying to help draw the attention off of her — but even then, another voice ( Mishel ) called for the Warmaster. That was two of her babysitters now occupied by something other than her… and leaving her alone with the Chancellor.

"I'm unsure how to address her, but from my understanding of Republic politics… She's the voice? Sibylla Abrantes. She's also been very helpful with handling the situation with the Jedi."

Another soft smile as she remembered Lily.

"As well as Battlemaster Lily Decoria. While she is from Eshan, she has been wonderful in explaining how the Jedi function and being someone supportive that I can trust as well." Quinn nodded, "Your government and your people have shown wonderful hospitality."

As she finished, her attention shifted towards the redhead ( Seris Mataan ) beside her. She was a welcome distraction, along with making the Echani not feel so abandoned by those who were meant to be a boundary between the Queen and the Republic.

"You heard correctly, I have not been able to see Corellia besides now." She paused, tilting her head slightly as she mused over the offer of a balcony. Not only did the offer provide a moment to breathe, but it also allowed her a moment to get to know the Mandalorian a bit better.

Though the guilt from abandoning her duty the last time weighed on her.

"If you can be patient a little bit longer, I would gladly accompany you…" She paused and leaned just slightly closer as her voice lowered.

Eyes never leaving Seris as she spoke, "I have been wanting to learn more about you since the bonfires." She raised her brows almost to accent the intent behind her words. While the girl spoke playfully to the woman beside her, Quinn turned to say something more to the Chancellor, and that was when she saw the Zeltron enter.

Mauve du Vain hadn't been one for parties like this, often staying within her estate on Naboo. Quinn wouldn't be privy to the reasoning, but to see her here and now sparked a curiosity. She remembered their last conversation, and she felt her throat thick and dry with the same notion. Their eyes met, and then Mauve turned her attention elsewhere.

Absent-mindedly, in an attempt to find anything to ground her, to bring some comfort to the added stress of the interaction. Quinn reached to her side and grasped Seris's hand. She held it, forgetting that they were not that acquainted, but it was probably better than reaching for the Chancellor.

She swallowed hard and kept the smile on her face as she looked to Dominique, "How… How could Eshan help Corellia?"

The escape to the balcony sounded like heaven right about now…

 

[Drego Ruus]

Tag: Ronhar Tane

Drego didn't immediately charge forward. Rather, as his micro-missiles zipped around the corner, he deployed his eyes.

Crow launched from his back, flying upwards towards the rooftops.

Then the grenades came around the corner, Drego raising his battle rifle to light them up before they got to him, exploding them enough to slow him down, but not enough to keep him down.

He knew an escape when he saw one. Crow watched as Ronhar fled, keeping a tracing eye on him as he disappeared.

Hefting his shield, he charged forward, only for the series of traps to go off.

An eruption of death filled the air...

And then settled.

Drego was still alive, abeit, missing an arm. Drego paused, looking around, then picked up his arm, and shoved it back into it's socket. His Icarii Physiology saving him once again. his armor was a little worse for wear, but he knew better. A quick system restart of his helmet, and he looked up to see Ronhar still running.

He'd catch up.

"Crow, keep tracking him. Tanya, swing the Stardragon around, and prep the Charging Bull for launch."

<On it boss.>

Drego brought a hand up, adjusting his arm back into place. He then pulled a piece of shrapnel from his back, letting his suit inject him with bacta enough to keep walking at a brisk pace.

He didn't need to keep up with Ronhar, he just needed to keep track of him.

The Living Avalanche would find him eventually.