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Crown of Sorrow | CIS Invasion of UCM-held Tanaab

- - - - - The Confederacy CIS UCM Tanaab

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Darth Prazutis

Darth Prazutis

    Immortal Shadow Hand

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Location: Aboard the Midnight

Objective: Board the Fortressa

Allies: UCM

Enemies: Adron Malvern (Soon)


"So you are going to Tanaab, to stand with the United Clans against the Confederacy?"


"I am. They call for aid and I will answer. The Sith Empire honors its agreements. That is not the only reason I go."


"Why then? What other reason is there?"


"Tanaab is locked in the cold embrace of death. Mandalorians, confederates, they will all live and they will all die on this day. It doesn't matter to me who but Death will have what he is due."




Already the drums of war thundered across the landscape of the fertile breadbasket known as Tanaab. The familiar sounds and sights of war were visible everywhere, the very skies abovc were filled with a lightshow of different radiant colors from the reds and greens of laser fire to the blueish glow of proton torpedos. Even the bright orange plumes of explosions that rocked the hulls of starships and turned starfighters into burning hulks. The vast fleet of the confederate invaders smashed into the curtain wall of the staunch defenses manned by the sons and daughters of Mandalore, and chaos ensued. None of them would ever see the singular black hued shuttle that already hid in the system before it vanished from view. The Midnight was the perfect specimen of cutting edge stealth technology when its systems were active it was completely and totally invisible from any form of detection software, sensors.


It moved along the edge of the assembled fleets and cut above them, taking great care to avoid starfighters and stray salvos of weaponry from the armaments of ships and defensive platforms. The vessel approached the fleet of the Confederacy and as expected it was completely ignored as it passed over the vessels taking point, it didn't even exist to them. This one vessel carried a passenger like no other. Inside stood an enormous giant whose height reached a staggering two and a half meters tall, his entire body encased in a suit of impossibly large armor, far too heavy for any average man, a heavy lightsaber clasped at his side held a held a reinforced hilt at least three feet long, a series of wicked spikes on the back end of the device. All around him was a swirling maelstrom of dark side energy the very shadows grew longer with his very presence, the darkness smothering out the light surrounding this Dark Titan. Just to stand before him felt like one was transported far too deep beneath the surface of the ocean, a palpable pressure just from being near him.




A storm of fear, madness swirled around him if it weren't for the shuttles complement of Epicanthix they too might've sucuumbed to the unrestrained aura of the Shadow Hand. In the darkness of the shuttle he silently waited while his gaze peered far beyond its walls, he fed off of the emotional hurricane erupting around him drew from the fear, sorrow, pain, he drained it all into his great reservoirs of energy. He could see their final moments play out in his mind be it defenders of the Mandalorians or living crew of the Confederates die, the pain as ships and fighters blew up, as fire tore their very bodies apart, it sent souls screaming into the maw of the Netherworld. The giant didn't so much as move until the ship passed a screen of starfighters darting out of the cavernous circular hangar bay of the Fortressa, as it swept deep through the huge hangar until it found a remote place to land concealed towards the back end. The ship landed without so much as a thud, the ramp quietly descending and out from nothing came the complement of Crownguard he brought with him.


There were only a few crew tucked in this isolated location and the Crownguard neutralized the droids before their optical receptors could even register the crimson armored warriors who seemingly appeared from out of thin air. While the guards took position the giant took his first steps onto the Fortressa.


Wherever he went death and destruction tended to follow, and this day would be no exception.

Edited by Darth Prazutis, 12 July 2019 - 09:33 AM.

Esmeralda Cadera

Esmeralda Cadera
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Location: Hospital, Neonatology Ward
Enemies: CIS
Post: 1
Beth stared at the incubator which held three beautiful babies. So full of life, potential, and the future that awaited them. The usual optimistic Beth wasn't so sure it'd be a positive future for them. Or for the two Chissalorians that grew within her own belly. A hand moved to rest upon her large, extended stomach. Soon she'd have her own two beautiful kids. 
Whether or not they'd have a good childhood was up in question, just like the triplets. Beth gave a weak, almost weary smile to Aditya Fitz Kierke and Adenn Kyramud. Would they make it through this, with the Confederate war machine powering through? Would they manage to hold back what would likely be a slaughter.
After all - that is what they were after, right? The genocide of the Clans of Mandalore. There could not be another reason for them to show up with thousands of ships, likely hundreds of thousands of troops, and thousands of destructive, likely planet destroying weapons. And all Beth had to fight back? Healing hands. That was it. She had never been a fighter, in truth. And biologically, she just couldn't be. 
And... Despite everything the Clans had done. The good they had brought... No, she had to stop herself. She used her right hand to dab at her water filled eyes, barely holding back the tears that were trying to escape. So many young, innocent lives... And old lives, too. And the sick, too ill to be moved from the hospital. What kind of sick joke was that? No matter what was done - they would likely die today. The sad reality, still sinking in to her consciousness, that the Confederates had a track record of destroying places such as this. Honor was not a trait they had desired to possess. 
And the nauseating fact that Jedi supported their efforts. Family turned on family - no, they were no longer family. No family would do this, support this. 
They had made their choice, and they had broken the most basic, and important, rule of all. 
"Cleru," she whispered quietly as she reached her hand out to hold his. Some form of comfort in the face of... Whatever this was. She hoped, in some fashion or form, that the not yet born twins would somehow make it out of this. She wasn't confident she would. She wasn't, in truth, confident that any of them would.
But... She found herself agreeing, and believing, in the words of Aditya. "It's oversaid... But, perhaps it is true that there must be darkness before there can be light." She finally decided to lean onto Cleru, the small family holding together for the last few minutes before only Gods, and the Force, knew what would happen.
The reaction from Tamar, and Aditya's request that she come to her meant it was beginning. "I love each of you," her eyes moving across the family in the room. "So much." 

Edited by Beth Cadera, 12 July 2019 - 10:03 AM.



    War Perfected

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Operation Blood Bucket
General Azmodan, Commander of the Xarixi Corps
Location: Onboard the Grand Phalanx - Hyperspace, En route to Taum Reese
Allies: Confederacy
Enemies: Mandalorians
Deep within the belly of the grand battlecruiser known as the Grand Phalanx lied the full force of the Xarixi Corps, an army consisting of multiple species from across the Confederacy's vast nation, enhanced with cybernetics and armed to the teeth for battle. They were a fearsome force, only deployed in situations that required strength, numbers, and decimation of an enemy force. Each division within the Xarixi Corps was just as deadly as the last. The backbone of this force, the Xarixi, from which the army gets it's name, move about the ship swiftly and snake-like as they arm themselves for what was to come. The Wreckers, a band of enhanced Gerosians made to punch holes through enemy defenses, were butting heads with one another in a form of brute ritual to prepare each other. The Keryki Commandos, a small special forces division of Deilokin techs, were running systems checks with Xarixi engineers on the Corps gear and ensuring optimal efficiency.
Doors on the far side of the hangar slid open, revealing General Azmodan along with a couple of his Xarixi guards. The general walked into the hangar bay and began looking over his troops as they prepared. Each step he took was followed by a monstrous thud has the massive Xarixi moved through his force who moved to the side to cut a path for the general.
Azmodan stopped as he came close to a massive metal crate. He looked it up and down before turning to an engineer who was looking through a datapad, likely regarding information on what inhabited the crate. "Make sure it is ready when we arrive. There must be no imperfections." The engineer quickly came to attention and saluted the general. Azmodan gave the crate one last look before walking away. The xarix gave his troops one last look over before retreating from the hangar bay. In a few moments, Azmodan walked onto the bridge of his ship. "I want the dropships ready before we reach Taum Reese so that they may be deployed on our approach to Taanab. Keep my comm channel open for when I send word to unleash our secret weapon." Azmodan commanded.





Location: Taanab System


The white lights of hyperspace surrounding the ship soon disappeared as the Grand Phalanx exited hyperspace just between Taanab and Taum Reese. The battlecruiser kept a steady, but swift pace towards the planet. The hangar bay doors at the side and rear of the ship hissed open and a storm of dropships was unleashed into space. The Xarixi Corps were on the move towards their target. At the head of the squadron was the dropship carrying General Azmodan. His leadership was best from the front, where he could see his enemies the best and unleash his forces onto them with cold calculation. 


The general switched his comm channel over to the Confederate channel in case information needed to be relayed to him. 

Edited by Azmodan, 12 July 2019 - 01:57 PM.





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Location: Hospital, Neonatology Ward
Enemies: CIS
Post: 1
Deep breaths.
It had been a long, long time since Cleru last strapped on the armor of his people's commandos. He had literally hung it up in favor of being a father and focusing on the future he had with Beth and their children. After what the CIS had done to the Chiss, and the fall of the Ascendancy from a galactic power, he had turned his back on it. But it had followed him. War had followed him to his family, the CIS again preparing to kill those he cared about.
He had grabbed all of his gear. His pistol, his rifle, grenades, tech. Anything he had left over from his time in the Chiss military. Here he was, decked out in a delivery room, cleaning is rifle to make sure when, cause it was a when, he could fight. But he was shaking. As he was putting the weapon back together his hands were just shaking. He was scared. 
Chiss don't get scared.
The last peace just clicked into place when he felt a pressure in his gloved hand. Beth. Always reassuring him. And it was his job to keep her protected now, when she and his children were the most vulnerable. He let out a sigh and squeezed her hand back, setting the rifle to the side. He didn't speak. He couldn't. His words would betray the confidence he was trying to show.
As she leaned on him, he rested his chin atop her head. For now, while he could, he'd hold her close. Battle was on the way. War was coming. No. Genocide was coming. He would fight hell itself.
There wasn't anything that would stop him from keeping her safe.




Veiere Arenais

Veiere Arenais

    Senior Assembly Member & Silver Jedi Ambassador

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Location: The Veil, Dreadnaught Bridge.

Objective: Justice for the lost.

Tags: Adron Malvern.




On his way to the Bridge in the upper-most level of the Veil, Veiere Arenais could not help but think of his Wife Kay Arenais, wondering if she were out there somewhere near Taanab. Bound by the Force itself, strengthened through their Wedding Rings, the fact that the Jedi Master could not sense her nearby gave him hope that she might not be trying to mask her presence, and instead be well clear of the fighting. Walking the vessel, he was quite possibly the only one aligned and dedicated to the Jedi Path, his Jedi Robes making him something of an eye-sore for the Confederacy personnel he passed, though they understood that he was on the same side, their two peoples allied in this war against the Clans of Mandalor the Infernal.


Space combat was in a way, less traumatic than being face-to-face with the brutality and carnage that was melee fighting on the ground. Being aboard a Starship meant that there was a certain distance between yourself and your opposition that gave the illusion of security within such seemingly powerful structures, yet the death toll far surpassed most else when faced with a capsized and defeated capital class warship, crews ranging from hundreds to the thousands and those whom were fortunate enough to reach and man the escape pods were most always in the minority. Thank the Force that Loreena Arenais wasn't out there in the Jaster's Sparrow, that she'd listened and kept her distance from the Mandalorian Clans.


By the time Veiere arrived on the command deck, the crew were busied about their duties and the fighting could already be seen from the observation platform at the far end of the bridge. Adron Malvern held command there, silently reminding the Jedi Master what it felt like to be a passenger again. Aboard the Judiciary Assault Cruiser, Veiere's position was similar, only the Cruiser lacked the impressive technology and combatant prowess of the Veil quite significantly.


Not wishing to interrupt Adron's command, Veiere moved to the observation deck instead, where he could try to gauge the state of their situation. Already the Confederacy Fleet had set to work in getting their troops on the ground, yet the Mandalorian Fleet had somehow anticipated their arrival and sought to counter the offensive. For the time being, Veiere would have to remain a spectator of the ordeal, though his place was best suited on the ground where he could be of the most use to the people, providing healing through the Force and defense of the troops as they Mandalorian's were forced to heel.




[Jedi Battle-Armor] ["The Judiciary" Heavy Cruiser] [Veiere's Silver Lightsaber]

~ The right course of action rarely comes with ease, and without personal sacrifice ~

Alkor Centaris

Alkor Centaris


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They had their orders.

It was a cramped space, and the low lighting painted each of them the color of blood. The pod was oxygen enriched only enough to bear them hence; if they were to return alive, it would be victorious in their given, reprehensible task.

If they failed, no one would ever know. The Confederacy had gone over the plans multiple times with their allies, and each time, they met with similar resistance. "Life is precious," some of the dissidents argued," and others, "the Force seeks balance, not actions seeped in unforgivable violence. Find a better way."

The final decision fell to Darth Metus and his inner circle, directly to which the Knights Obsidian reported. War was not a beautiful thing. It was ugly, and in order to put it down, certain concessions had to be made. To that end, as the Armada flickered into being in Tanaab airspace, the blockade runner shot forth, bearing the pod that would jettison certain elements- seeped in plausible deniability- into the system.

Knight Commander Centaris and his small contingent of Reavers were hand selected for their skill, and for their discretion. Bedrovelse Hevn was new to the Knighthood, yet Alkor had known him for longer than any other being in the Confederacy. He trusted Hevn to act where others might not. He knew the Ensolican to be a proud, fierce, and true warrior.

Alkor himself had witnessed the actions- and inaction, in some instances- of the Mand'alor and her people. He had witnessed the Empire apparent- now reformed into the "United Clans"- subjugating worlds under the guise of a protectorate. He had watched Eshan burn when they seized it, and he had lost his taste for their lies. He had learned from his Brother that being Mandalorian was about duty and honor, but all he had come to see was vanity, power grabbing, and bending over for the Sith Empire.

He listened as the sounds of engines screaming grew quieter around them, and the unlatched release mechanisms told the tale of imminent descent. His eyes moved to the floor, then slowly closed. Orbital drop was an experience no matter how accustomed to it one became. Alkor had learned to quiet his mind and relax his body. There was no fighting the sudden reimmersion into G-Force.

"The majority of Knights have been deployed as elements intended to secure a foothold within the city, or push back the Mandalorians to secure the remaining civilians. Our task is one that Confederate allies won't hear about. We won't be wearing designations that show our allegiance, and if we are caught or killed, no one will claim us." Hevn had heard it already, but it felt necessary to repeat it this last time.

Now, when it finally felt real.

"Kill any Mandalorian you see," he said quietly. "Use whatever means you like, we are acting alone, so the Rules of Engagement are suspended. Brutality, gratuitous violence- nothing is off the table."

Alkor leaned back and relaxed his mind. Naedira Darcrath had shown some resistance to the plan when she learned about it. She protested that the Knights should adhere to rules and regulations, and that this plan could jeopardize relations with their allies if exposed. He assured her, with his methods, even the Confederacy would balk at claiming them as their own.

She'd summarily asked to be added to the task force, and Alkor forbade it. "Moral faculties will only inhibit the operation," he said. "You would serve better helping engage the enemy and assisting with MedEvac."

Perhaps she had listened.


Alkor wondered about the Nabeen woman for a moment. She was an anomaly. So much concern, always fighting him on things. Knight Darcrath was probably the only person in the Galaxy who did not let fear infect her mannerisms when dealing with him.

He couldn't decide whether it was endearing or annoying.

The pod lurched and rolled as they smacked atmosphere, resistance increasing as an unintentially rough descent shook them. The Mandalorians had come in force to protect the world instead of leaving it to die.

"Perfect," Alkor's tongue glided across his teeth as he relished the slaughter to come.

Edited by Alkor Centaris, 12 July 2019 - 04:00 PM.

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They had their orders.


"Anything goes, huh.." Alone in his drop pod the aged Zabrak watched the battle rage on as it fell. He was eager. How could he not be? His time as the Red Assassin had him carving bloody paths through any sign of life that got in his way. He was a brutal and efficient killer, and now he was let off the leash. If he was caught? No one would know his connection to the Obsidians. He was the King of Iridonia, known for hating Mandalorians, known for wanting to kill them.


What better cover was there?


This wasn't his first time in a drop pod. The Assassins use to use them for surgical drops, getting assassins into planets away from space ports. Grant it, he was bigger now, so the space was far more cramped. At least he was able to keep his axe from cutting into him while he fell. But soon enough, the time to be unleashed would be upon him. And woe be to any Mandalorian that stood in his path.

Gerhard Manndorf

Gerhard Manndorf

    Tactical Extraordinare

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Location: Exiting Hyperspace above Tanaab

Objective: Prevent escape from the system.

Ships: 1x Storm-Class Combat Carrier (2700 metres) , 30x Eagle-Class Interceptor Frigates (270 metres)

Allies: CIS

Tags: John Locke




The very fabric of space shuddered with the approach of the Confederate Navy.

For years this machine, capable of incredible destruction, slept. Hibernating, awaiting the day it would need to rise once more. But not for a moment losing it's edge. Built for precision, engineered for perfection, every ship in this group was a masterpiece in it's own right. However, as the fleet exited hyperspace, a certain group of ships stood out. 30 frigates, and a single carrier, all flying in formation, colored in a menacing black and red. These ships belonged to a subordinate of the CIS. MSEC had arrived to assist their benefactors. Bound by contract and by pride, they were going to stand with the Confederate Navy through success and failure on this day.


"Eagles, lock down a perimeter around the planet. Make sure no one leaves this sector. If you encounter fleeing ships, encourage them to join our allies on board of the Star Destroyers. If they attempt to flee, make sure they stop existing."


Gerhard paced back and forth on the bridge of the MSW Storm. Their task was relatively simple, for now. However, a lot of complications could arise in the near future. MSEC had to be ready for anything.


"Open communication channels to Locke's fleet and give them sensor data access. Let's hope they will have our backs when the moment comes."


The Eagle Frigates quickly dispersed from the previously tight cluster of CIS ships. Their incredible speed ensured that they all reached their positions soon enough, and were ready to intercept.


"This is Gerhard Manndorf of Manndorf Security, our ships are in position. No one is leaving the system without your permission, commander"




Edited by Gerhard Manndorf, 12 July 2019 - 04:54 PM.



Vhei Wasp Naudir

Vhei Wasp Naudir

    Bish In Black

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Three days prior:

In the Be'alor yamika of the Iyatr'keldab, on the remote world of Krieg, stood the aging alor of clan naudir, Falken Naudir proudly before his clan, and his people. His image was broadcast all across the the planet krieg, every holoplayer, news outlet, and radio had tuned in to hear the announcement of king falken the white.

"I Bring you, terrible news.." He started, his voice calm and steady, as the entire planet had come to expect from him. "Days ago we received news from an unknown source that the Confederacy of "Independent" systems, plans to attack the medical world of Tanaab.. I was once a soldier of the clans, I have seen what these attacks can be like. I cannot stress enough how devastating this attack is likely to be. Not to the clans, not to the mand'alor, but to the people of tanaab. Homes will be burnt, hospitals.. targeted.. lives ruined, and the planet left in ruins for years to come.. many lives will be lost to their droids, and their force wielding witches. And I do not refer to vod, but the unarmed and defenseless who call that world their home. Krieg Is a world of mandalorians, A world of warriors, who have always stood for what they believe is right..." He pauses a moment, looking upon his clan, his aliit.

"Ten years ago, We left the mandalorian empire, bound for this world in which we now live. We turned our back on our own people that day, We left our family. And it broke this clan. Mandalore Is Who. We. Are. And it's people suffer for our inaction. There is an old saying amongst us, that you know very well:"Pressure makes diamonds. Ease, makes decay" another pause as he looks to his men, slowly raising his hand from his belt, clasped on the hilt of a beskad, slowly raising it into the air

"No Longer!" His voice booms through the building, through crowds as his holographic images addresses them, nay, the whole world.

"Our time of waiting in silence, while the blood our own people, is spilled by Aruetiise, who claim the side of justice, while they slaughter people, who's only crime was not bowing to them in the first place! who live simple, and peaceful lives, farming, and healing the sick. Who seek to exterminate our race! Krieg will not sit idly by, while this putrid galaxy seeks genocide to answer their petty disagreements.

Krieg, Will stand!..


Notfor a Mand'alor!

Notfor keldabe!

But With, and indeed For- OUR PEOPLE!

Remember our aliit motto, "Bah Aranar Ick Bah Ganar ijaat", "To defend, Is to bring honor" Oya!"

"Oya! Oya! Oya!" The sound of chanting kriegir, mandalorian, chiss, togruta and shi'lai tribesmen alike, sounded through the cities of metal, the cities of stone and sand, and the cities of ice and snow, all throughout krieg. their days of neutrality were over, forced into this position by the looming threat of annihilation. perhaps it hadn't reached their borders yet, but they knew full well that it would, Here in this playing field, of Galaxy Versus mandalorian.


Two days prior:

The dropships had arrived, bringing an untold number of krieg's finest to tanaab. Falken himself had arrived to oversee the naudir's opperations here, while the homeland prepared for the defense of mandalorian space, and of krieg if need be. Falken had worked long and hard on getting his men into positions of advantage throughout the playing field. His men could not be seen, they could not be heard, the gamorreans of krieg claimed they could not be killed, well.. Come the morning, it would be time to see if they were right.


Present Day:

A squadron of troopers lay in wait, cloaked and invisible as they observed the battlefield. Falken was no fool, he knew that the enemy would insert somewhere unexpected, somewhere away from the battlefield, somewhere quiet. So, that's where the recon teams had been placed. eyes and ears all across tanaab, watching, waiting, cool as a morning at the ring. these ghosts were krieg's grim defenders, their reveal tot he world of tanaab, and the war against their race, their culture, would be coming soon.

As unknown [ Alkor Centaris] individuals drop from orbit in their pods, their enhanced optics, still invisible to their enemies, had spotted their pods before they had even left their ships.. they knew where they came from, and they had a good idea of who sent them.. Everyone knew that the cis were the head of this invasion, no trickery would tell anyone otherwise, to hide it was pointless, The mandalorians had secured tanaab long before they had arrived, anyone on world who fought the people of tanaab were here at the behest of the confederacy, to deny it is foolish, childish, and hollow.

With the recording of the pod's descent, and numerous other landings all across tanaab, Falken had the information he needed. His elites had done their job, Sending the footage, the exact coordinates of their landings, and the footage. It was time to pull them out and into position for the fight ahead. Naudir elites soon pulled in and out from various positions, lying in wait for their prey...

Falken, who was in the HQ he had set up in the main hospital, sends the data collected by his troopers to the HUDs and computers of every mandalorian who had been registered before the CIS had landed, which they had done with rapid speed, that falken believed to be unrealistically fast. part of him wanted to believe that the information was wrong, and yet, he knew it wasn't.

Now every CIS landing had been reported to friendly forces, with accurate coordinates and even footage in most cases. Falken's men had made their initial contribution, pray to kad'harangir that it's enough.

Allya Vi'Dreya

Allya Vi'Dreya

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After everything she had seen, Allya could only believe there was no black and white in this galaxy. Good could be taken too far it became dark, like the Lords of Light, and evil could become so protective and kind that it spreads light, like Voph. Light could be passionate, and darkness could be self sacrificing. People were not one dimensional. They did all sorts of things. And yet, this knowledge did little to comfort the little Mando'ade. Once more she had to fight against her people, and this time, Jerek was not at her side to distract her with her passions. However, her heart was steeled, and she was ready.


The plan was simple, to enter the system onboard her ship, stealth to the planet, avoid the defenses, enter planet far away from the battle, and search for a place to bring in landing ships to build the FOB. Her armored hands flipped several switches as she watched the timer. “T-Minus three minutes.” She pressed the intercom button. “Alright. No heroics. We are to search for a place to build the FOB, send the coordinates back to the fleet, then meet up with the Commander. Everyone, buckle up, prepare for a bumpy ride. This one won't be as easy as others. But make no mistake, we fight for our families, we fight for the CIS. These monsters have to be put down before they raid more planets.” She had been there on Umbara. As much as she hated her weakness in that moment, she had steeled her mind, and heart to behave in a more fitting manner. However, it was time to take back for the galaxy what the Clans had stolen.



Besides.....this would make an amazing story. The Scimitar-2 exited hyperspace behind the main armada, already in stealth. As the big ships exploded many of the mines, the Scimitar managed to slip through the gaps. Though, every so often, the ship shook from a distant explosion. With the force to guide her, and the technology of the ship, and the larger ships having cleared a path, she managed to get through the mine field.



With a careful roll, she brought the ship close to orbit. Reports were already coming in about enemy locations. Slowly the ship moved away from the enemy fleets, and out of line with the ground guns, as it prepared to head into the planet's atmosphere.


Luna Terrik

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Kaden Farr

Kaden Farr

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Location: Dropship
Allies: CIS + Friends
Enemies: UCM
Gear: In Bio, 12 Thermal detonators, Thermal tape


They were at war again. Eshan had only been the beginning of the incursion which the Confederacy would find itself in. While Kaden was in no part connected to anyone important in the inner circles of the droid nation, or their allies, the Mandalorian was up to date on recent events. The heavy hand of war and destruction which was started by Ra Viszla continued under the beskar boot of the current leadership of the United Clans of Mandalore. While they had abandoned the name empire, nothing about their behavior or tactics had changed from Kaden could see. Allies had been attacked, and the Vicelord had been provoked to respond. That was the only reason Kaden needed to find himself on the battlefield.

Kaden was nervous this time. Of all the times his feet had stepped off a dropship and onto the battlefield, he had feared nothing. Death was something he knew intimately well, his mother Darth Elyria embodied it, and as such there should have been nothing to fear. Much had changed since Kaden’s return from the Netherworld, primarily he was no longer alone in life. While Selene had given him a purpose, and he found a sister of sorts in Scherezade deWinter, Kaden had found that his heart no longer had to be alone. It had been subtle, and not intentional at first, but Daisy Americus had found her way through the cracks in the beskar which lined Kaden’s heart, and threatened to make him almost normal again. The nerves were simple. Kaden had someone to return for, and he desperately wanted to.

The dropship was getting tossed around, moving about the orbital mines and defenses of the planet. Kaden could feel the engines of the unit being taxed. He wondered how much more the ship could take or whether they were going to break the atmosphere correctly. It was a hard entry, so Kaden grabbed his helmet from the clip on his belt and secured it to his head. It was about that moment one of the engines gave out and sent the ship careening through the sky toward the landing zone. The pilot was doing his best to keep the ship from crashing, but the announcement came over the comms.


Kaden did as instructed as the emergency netting was dropped, and those who could strap in did while others assumed a crash position.


Smoke filled the cabin as the lights were flashing. Kaden blacked out for a moment and was sent back to the memory of his first fight. He had been a young child, perhaps ten years old, and the sounds of battle beat like a drum he was intimately familiar with. He had met Yasha Cadera that day, young and abrasive, unafraid of anything. Kaden on the other hand had simply been an angry child looking for revenge. Not much had changed, and as Kaden came to, there was a new resolve in his mind. Not only would Kaden accomplish the mission, he would return home alive and well.

Pressing himself off the floor of the ship, Kaden climbed out and began to help the others out who needed it. Coughing through the shortness of breath in his lungs, he pressed ahead from the ship to take stock of the rest of the 24 who had been on the dropship. Had they all survived? They were not far from the rendezvous point, and locking in on the coordinates Kaden led the fireteam to their primary location.

Edited by Kaden Farr, 12 July 2019 - 08:33 PM.



Valdus Bral

Valdus Bral

    Clan Bral Alor | Muscle Craftsman

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Location: En route to Pandath , if not intercepted mid-flight will be within the city-wide shield awaiting requests for aid.

Objective: Provide heavy air support where necessary to ground based forces.

Allies: Ruus , Adenn KyramudStardust Solus SkiraeTaozi Fuyuan , and all other UCM allies.

Enemies: CIS and a cast of thousands.




A voice boomed over the depot’s intercom declaring that Pandath and the surrounding areas were under siege by coalition forces that were predominantly from the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Upon hearing the intercom Valdus lifted his head as he looked towards the table where his helmet lay two meters from him. Worn and scuffed as it was, with deep gashes where beasts had clawed at him, the helmet looked as sturdy and impregnable as it had the day he forged it, perhaps even more-so now with the proof visible upon metal.



Valdus placed the palm of his right hand onto his right knee, feeling the mechanized carapace that covered his lower body beneath the armorweave of the flight-suit that he wore half off his body while the upper portion hung down by the waste around his legs. He shoved off with his hand and he leaned forward to get to a stand. As he did so the glow from his cabin lights shown over the faded black mural tattooed onto his back that read in ancient Mando'a runes - headed by the Bral sigil and supported by stylized Mythosaurs in the rampant heraldic attitude:


Wear the armor of your people.

Speak the language of your people.

Defend yourself and your family.

Raise your children as Mandalorians.

Honor and Support your Family.

When called upon by the Mand'alor, rally to their cause.


Of all the lines and artwork the third line was the most fresh; dark, and vivid with new ink. As Valdus straightened up his left hand came forward, the metallic clank of his durasteel cybernetic arm clashing against the beskar of his helmet. He slid the helmet off the table and gripped it from the underside when half the helmet's hollow interior was exposed. Pivoting towards the door, he hunched over, ducking through the doorway, and lumbering into the corridor was now bustling with crewmen. Now that he was in the light Valdus’ large and muscled body displayed his battle-worn blueish skin. There were light, white lines and patches of various intensity covering most of his chest, face, neck, and arms.


He soon entered the armory where other Clan Bral awaited their Alor, some holding pieces of his torso armor and the weaponized droid backpack. A brief exchange of greetings sounded off in Mando’a when he entered, to which he returned them in kind. There wasn’t much time to spend on pleasantries, however, and they all knew this. Valdus extended his mechanical arm to the left and set down his helmet on a weapon’s rack temporarily. He then lifted his flight suit up on one side for his corresponding arm to go through before repeating on the other side and zipping the suit closed. The Bral clansmen then dawned their leader in his ornate black and gold armor. The runes that he wore on his back were also present on the trim of his armor. Next he was handed his ax, Naast, and lastly the shield, Darasuum Morut - the Destroyer and the Eternal Haven. Of all Valdus’ material possessions, these were the most revered by his clan, and had been predestined to be Clan Bral heirlooms whenever their Alor passed. After he was equipped with armor, weapons, and other pieces of his kit, he left he rest of the clan to their own preparations. Valdus now thundered through the corridors, the additional weight of his full load-out in combination with his own body weight created titanic downward force with each step he took. Between each resounding crash was a constant whirling sound of joint motors that assisted Valdus in piloting his armor.


The cacophony of sound that heralded his arrival followed him all the way to the hangar bay where his company of mercenaries stood around awaiting their client-leader. Some of these mercenaries had worked with Valdus Bral in the past, some knew him as someone who took on the best of them as his own soldiers, but the vast majority only knew him as the big guy in armor with enough credits to be worth their time, and that was alright with him.


Standing near twice the height of the average human male and with a voice that rumbled out like a bear’s growl, “ Five years ago the confederates laid waste to Eshan under the guise of liberation from our proposed tyranny. Now they come for yet another planet within our territory. Some of you were with me on that day when we held firm against overwhelming odds until the traitor Tathra began his indiscriminate massacre.” Valdus’ head tilted downwards which caused the hangar lights to catch the metallic gold pain of his Jaig Eyes that adorned the brow of his helmet, an honor that he earned that very day. “ I cannot promise a glorious victory, early reports suggest that we’re out numbered and that the planet is blockaded. Today you are all heroes. Today you honor Kad Harangir, the Resol’nare, and your ancestors. If this is to be our last meeting in this existence, I will see you in the next. Stand strong, fight like Orar’uram, and bring a reckoning upon these invaders that will be repeated in stories for generations to come.” He fell silent and the clan members he spoke to roared out “Oya!” whilst throwing up their fist or weapon in hand.


The party split into two groups and each boarded their own Tal’galaar starship, menacing looking ground support gunships that would easily rend infantry and all but the most heavily armored vehicles. Within minutes the repulsor engines and ion drives roared to life, causing both of the gunships to rise off the hangar floor and then quickly exit the hangar’s gate. While in the air en route to Pandath two squadrons of the Bral Clan’s drone controlled ARC-170r’s flanked the gunships as heavy escorts against fighters. Each of the eight ARC-170r’s were heavily armored flying gun platforms meant to provide cover against enemy starships. The Bral philosophy to engineering was clear: We build tanks and if you need a tank to fly, strap wings and repulsors to it.


Valdus then sent out a communication to the Mandalorian with the largest force at Pandath that he knew of, Adenn Kyramud , “ This is Alor Valdus Bral of Clan Bral. I am coming to your location with air support. Call targets.” The encrypted commlink went silent as he waited for a response. It was entirely possible that no targets needed to be strafed yet and if that were the case then whenever the crafts reached the interior of the city-wide shield, he’d have his contingent behind friendly lines. Due to the sensor jammers on the ARC-170r’s and the Baffler upon each of the Tal’galaar , if the flight was discovered mid journey, the only non-visual signatures that would show up would be the pair of Tal’galaar on conventional radar.


Edited by Valdus Bral, 12 July 2019 - 07:27 PM.

Livia Maddox

Livia Maddox

    Captain Fury

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Objective: Fleet
Enemies: CIS Adron Malvern John Locke (engaging)
The Hell Wolf Star Cruiser thrummed with an uncanny series of personal and mechanical vibrations. Shudders through spacetime, long range sensor arrays scattered through space and accounts of the impending incursion sobered even the pirates of Clan Akaata into a dire silence. 
Captain Livia “Fury” Miles, wife of Mandalorian Warmaster Aedan Miles and mother of his children Tuuli & Andra sat in her Captain’s Chair on the Command Deck of the Hell Wolf Star Cruiser and fingered the Ring of Kar’ta-Jorbe around her wedded hand. An artifact of calm, the Ring originated from her childhood companion and best friend Andra’s collection of force-imbued stones. 
Rest, and calm in the travails her husband basked in so often. 
Not even the Ring of Kar’ta-Jorbe could staunch the shrill prickles scissoring down Livia’s neck and diving into her unsettled stomach. Prior to entering the Command Deck, Livia received the initial long-range sensor reports of the potential force infringing on Mandalorian territory. With a stutter as her only tell, Livia sent the senior members of her crew off to prepare for battle. The package folded into her desk was wrapped in a layer of semi-charred chersilk, over top of crisp handmade parchment. Livia pulled an incense stick out of the package, crinkles igniting in her ear with the memory of a campfire out in the temperate evening field on her homeland of Naboo. The lighter combusted with a rush as it warmed, then lit the incense stick. She set the lighter back in its’ gilded box, and focused her breathing. 
… like Andra was calm, in the end. Shaking fingers set the incense stick into its’ spot at her altar to the Goddesses. Shiraya, with her fan, an idol cast in gold as a present from her beloved. The Goddess of Compassion, draped in the last bit of cloth from Andra’s favourite gown. 
Calm… stay calm. 
Chair pushed back, Livia Miles sunk to her knees as the curling wafts of smoke raised to a heaven for which she lost the coordinates. Mandalorians did not kneel, yet for one last prayer, Livia was not a Mandalorian, but the devout and lonesome failed Handmaiden from Naboo. Shivering hands raised to the idols as with a gasping whisper Livia shuddered. 
“Take this… Take it… Take this death from me… help my crew.” Still silence drifted from Shiraya and the Goddess of Compassion. Livia stifled a cry as she felt the weight of the ever nearing future. Yet… she was not abandoned by her gods. 
One, the newest and most curious, answered
Kad Haran’gir’s idol quivered with the ship, clinking against Shiraya’s monument with a ruby-tinted vehemence. It was given to the Galaxy to descend to war, and Livia’s adopted culture did not glory in a salvation without the bristling throng of battle. Breathing steadied. 
 Livia rose from her religious prostration with the Fury’s eyes locked and set. She took her Captain’s Chair on the Command Deck of the Hell Wolf with a chilling confidence. If Shiraya wept, and the Goddess of Compassion readied to hold the wounded and the deceased, Kad Haran’gir would be their salvation. 
“Shields up across the fleet. Take position! Comms, keep open to our fleet groups and Akaan Group, assist Clan Gred and Tal’s humanitarian fleet to reach Hyperspace.” The Deck took on a flurry of activity, as the enemy fleet rocked out of hyperspace. 
And more. And more. And more. 
“… by Shiraya’s name…” This was not a fleet set for a single battle, but a wave meant to annihilate and destroy millions. Billions. Tanaab, agricultural and medical world, could not have been the true target of this much infamy. “Destruction, then.”
Livia thought her children safe in their hidden location beside the Mand’alor’s brood. She thought if she were to descend to death, they would survive. Live on, and in her name. The ships veering out of hyperspace and into the Tanaab minefield blotted out the stars behind them like a tidal wave wipes clean shanties by the sea.  
“Open a channel… to all Mandalorians.” The crew gasped, yet remained silent. Rhonda, usually quick with a quip and a sneering smile only nodded her head. 
“… Mandalorians of Tanaab… this is Fleet Captain Livia “Fury” Miles. We are engaging the enemy, and they are more numerous than any report could tell. This is not an invasion force, but a syndicate worshipping our annihilation by their hundreds. I cannot lie, if ever we all need to raise arms, it is now. We fight for Tanaab, but also for every planet beyond us. This is the place we must beat their armada back, lest they entrench and continue until every breath from every lung is gone on all our worlds. 
I will give you as much time as I can. I, and my crews across our ships will grant our Vode every possible attempt at survival… and if we by this day’s end, are swaddled in the collective of Manda, then let us pray the Infernal learned during her time with the dead, how to unlock the Gates of the Netherworld and pour us all back out for the sake of every Mandalorian and people, who call our Empire home. 
To arms. Give no quarter. This is not a force of quarters given. As for me, I shall beat them back. I shall fight until my ship is out of ammunition. We are united, in this place. Mandalorians, warriors, parents, farming folk, Sith… goddess, I never thought I’d say the word ‘Sith’ and united in the same utterance, but there it is. 
Raise all shields, prepare all guns. We survive this day, because we act on behalf of the weak, whom they tell us we trod on with their half-truths and falsified information. And we will survive, for Kad Harang’ir remains by our side. 
The transmission cut with shouts of ‘Oya! Oya!’ from the Crew. Livia inhaled and held it as she sat. 
“Transmission to the enemy, Ma’am?” Rhonda asked. Livia shook her head. 
“Why waste time? Akaan Group, open fire and give the humanitarian ships a channel out. Betna Group, commence firing, all for'ard guns. Banshees, deploy the AWOO signal Jammers. Kandosii An, move forward in position and open fire on those (John Locke) Tenchi-Kai Class Battle cruisers. Deploy the droid fighters. Helm, coordinate bringing us about. 
Grav cannons, fire a volley at the Halcyon Storm. Fire at will.” 
Across the Fury’s Fleet, ships began to surge into position, opening fire on the Confederate ships from their position above and closer in proximity to the planet.
- Moving Akaan & Betna Fleet Groups into Position near John Locke 's position. 
- Triggering AWOO Signal Jammer Suites
- Firing on Tenchi-Kai Battle Cruisers
- 4 shots of Grav Cannon at Halcyon Storm dorsal side
Fury Fleet (48km): 
Kandosii 4 x 1300
Aggressor 14 x 950
The Cimmerian 900 | Galidraan 14 x 500
Arachnid 2 x 250 | Banshee 2 x 250
MandalArms Gunship 10 x 35 | Droid Bombers 400 x 19 (100 deployed)

Edited by Livia Maddox, 12 July 2019 - 08:22 PM.



Glitterstim Tag by Ket

Kiff Brayde

Kiff Brayde

    High Marshal of the Miranda Armada

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ALLIES: Voph Adron Malvern John Locke Luna Terrik Veiere Arenais Xobos Yakieer| CIS
ENEMIES: United Confederation of Mandalore





War was not something light, not a child's game, not something that you played with a ball on the streets. When Kiff had graduated from the Arkanis Naval Academy, he'd already been hardened by an unmerciful life of being an orphan, a beggar, a thief on the streets of Arkanis. Yet even that had not unmasked the allusions of grandeur that seemed to come from the military. Without a second thought, Kiff had joined the Confederacy Defense Force as a Captain aboard one of its many Star Destroyers. He'd served for several months, becoming familiar with the crew and ship, running patrol lines throughout the safe, cushy interior of the Confederacy. It hadn't been bad; compared to his previous life, it was almost heaven. He could've wished for nothing better. Service in the Defense Force meant nothing more to Kiff than credits in his pockets and fine clothes to wear. There was no concept of honor, duty, or purpose.


Then came Eshan.


Everything changed after Eshan.


It had been Kiff's first true battle, captain of an Adjudicator-class Star Destroyer, flying with the tremendous might of the Confederacy Navy. He'd still been starry eyed as the Star Destroyer dropped from hyperspace, the swath of blue fading to black. In that moment, Kiff had felt as if nothing could be better. Another patrol mission, only slightly more dangerous and breathtaking. Yet Kiff had not been prepared for what Eshan had brought.

In his nightmares, he could still hear the screams over the crackle of broken comms as Eshan City was melted under the missiles of the Mandalorians. He could feel the broken stone and pavement under his feet after his crew had touched down onto the broken world. His eyes burned still with the burnt corpses that lined the streets, no more than mere castes or skeletons contorted in pain, any visible sign of recognition melted off of them. He remembered clutching a ragged doll in his shiny Confederate officer's gloves. It was a wonder the rough-spun fabric had survived. but it was obvious that it's owner hadn't.


Eshan had opened Kiff's eyes permanently to the horrors of war. The atrocities that the Mandalorians had committed without a second thought or hesitation. No amount of jesting, drinking, or gambling could wash away the emptiness that Kiff had felt that fell day. He'd sworn on the ashes of Eshan that the Mandalorians would answer for their crimes across the galaxy; not only on Eshan, but Umbara, and Jerrilek, and H'ratth. The day of judgement had come for the United Confederation of Mandalore, and Kiff would be the hammer of justice. There was no more play, no more games. The Confederacy would make the Mandalorians rue the day their ships had fired on the innocent Echani. The beginning of their end was nigh.

The bridge of the Victator, the flagship of High Marshal Kiff Brayde, was alive with action. The blue swirls of hyperspace surrounded the transparisteel windows as officers rushed from command pit to pit, shouting orders and relaying commands. The pressure of the upcoming battle weighed on the bridge like a heavy veil of water, barely keeping together. In a bittersweet way, it reminded Kiff of the moments before dropping into Eshan; but then it had been different. Kiff was no longer a starry-eyed Junior Captain, and he was no longer a stranger to the horrors of war.

Kiff strode in from the rear, passing through the heavy blast doors that protected the entrance and into the command portion of the large chamber. Lieutenant Commander Jol, First Officer of the Victator and up to the moment ranking commander aboard the bridge straightened up from his position, hunched over the large diagram of the High Marshal's task force. "High Marshal on deck!" he roared in his signature commanding voice, something that Kiff did not have. Immediately, everyone onboard turned to where Kiff was standing, stopping and saluting. Hands behiind his back, he nodded for them to resume their tasks, and they did so fervently. 

"High Marshal," Jol said gruffly, yet friendly. The much-older man had now turned to face Kiff, leaning back on the holotable and tapping the fingers of his right hand as the large battle management system remained blank, emitting only an electric blue glow. It would emit the exact positions of all objects in the space, but for now it was blank as the Victator and the rest of Task Force Broken Crown traveled through hyperspace. In Jol's right hand was a pleasant surprise; a wineglass, to be more specific, and filled with a stormy-grey drink that Kiff only knew too well.

"What's this?" Kiff asked as he smiled and took the glass of Pamarthe Storm Brewer from Jol's offering hand. As Jol picked up his own glass, the same design but filled with a more milder Andoan White, he simply shrugged and smiled in return. 

"Something to keep you awake, High Marshal," and to that Kiff gave a rueful chuckle. It had been many hours since Kiff's back had felt the soft comfort of a bed indeed, and the electric shock that a Storm Brewer gave it's drinker was more than enough to keep Kiff on his toes. Taking an appreciative sip, Kiff nodded in thanks before setting down the glass on the rim of the massive holotable and wiping his mouth. 

"A report?" Kiff asked simply. It was his duty to make sure that all ships in the task force were ready and primed for battle, and moments before they dropped out of hyperspace was the perfect time to do so.

"All ships are present, with no malfunctions reported. Carrier Groups I and II have reported that all fighter wings are ready for launch upon reversion to realspace, and the Artillery Line has begun priming what armaments they can; however, they say they will not have enough power from the core reactor to charge the orbital autocannons until the hyperdrive is no longer in use."


Kiff nodded. It was a sign of good luck if there were no problems beforehand. The High Marshal didn't want to break his winning streak just yet. Straightening up, he stretched his arms nonchalantly. "When do we drop?"


"Any second, High Marshal," Jol said patiently. True enough to his word, only a moment later the shipboard klaxons began to blare. "Ship reverting from hyperspace," a woman over the ship's comms announced as the massive battlecruiser began to shake. The blue-white swirls of hyperspace brightened, then faded to black only to be replaced by the sudden glare of flashing lights, explosions, and lasers. Task Force Broken Crown had arrived. 

Dropping above the initial plane of field, several kilometers higher than the bulk Confederacy armada and Mandalorian defenses. It was already a show, the exploding figure of a Vertigo-class ship painting a bright streak in the sky. Starfighters swirled, cannons were firing, and in the distance Kiff could see the three massive Mandalorian defensive stations, so close to Tanaab they were almost in its atmosphere. Despite his somber attitude, Kiff couldn't help grinning slightly as the blood coursed through his veins, heat and electricity alike. The battle was at hand, the judgement of the Mandalorians was at hand


Something about how that starship had exploded . . it made Kiff uneasy. He wasn't naive to think that the Mandalorians did not posess long-range weaponry, but that ship had burned to bright and quickly for it to be sustained long-range fire. A thought came to his mind as he saw the wide gap between the Confederate and Mandalorian forces, and Kiff whipped around to the comm-scan station. "Officer, run a heat-signature scan across the battlefield, and refine your search for stationary explosives," Kiff ordered, but it did not matter. The announcement over the Confederacy frequency came soon after; the blasted Mandalorians had placed mines to try and catch the Confederacy off-guard.


"Stationary explosives have been identified, High Marshal. They seem to be of Mandalorian make, explosive but with a sensitive shell. The mine-field extends between the foremost Confederacy positions to the Mandalorian stations, but not in full orbit either direction." Kiff nodded his thanks as he mulled over his thoughts. It seemed that whoever had laid the mines was not an inherent naval commanders, and had forgotten that space was not a terrestrial battlefield. The range of motion stretched on infinitely in every direction, and Kiff was about to use that basic concept to his advantage. 


"Instruct Carrier Groups I and II to launch their fighters. All fighter wings are to remain clear of the minefield and engage the Mandalorian battle stations by flying over, under, or around it; the necessary flight path will be under Flight Command's discretion. Meanwhile, instruct the StarshineStarfall, and Starbound to begin charging up their orbital autocannons and other long-ranged weaponry. The assault cruisers of Escort Groups I and II are to begin firing and detonating their missiles in the minefield to clear a path for the Task Force to reach the Mandalorian Positions. Meanwhile, instruct the captains of all Frikto-class Escort Frigates in both Escort Groups to form up and prevent any civilian ships from leaving. Escape from Tanaab must be prevented, but the preservation of life is our priority as well. See to it that no unnecessary measures are taken," Kiff said as he began his long list of usual orders, the officers to whom the orders mattered -- whether they be communications, flight command, astrogation, or any of the other multiple stations -- affirming his commands and moving into operation. 


"Have the Victator begin charging up her hypervelocity cannons and dual-emitter composite beam; silence all other armaments until we can get into range, we can afford to save some power. Instruct all other captains to do the same, and for all ships in the Task Force to shift power to frontal shields. I don't want any Mandalorian long-range weaponry to take us by surprise," Kiff added as he grabbed his glass of wine, distractedly sipping it as he watched the massive hypervelocity cannons of the Victator begin to shift in place, acquiring targets as their electronics and hardware heated up. It was a rather wonderous sight, one that filled Kiff with anticipation and a sort of giddy anxiety. 

Already, the Saboath II-class Assault Cruisers had began to blindly fire their missiles into the minefield. A new model, the BAK-24, it was supposedly outfitted with precision targeting devices much more potent than standard launcher targeting. Explosions flared on the battlefield as small chain reactions were set off by the early-detonated missiles, exploding mines triggering others nearby. The small explosions glared against the transparisteel windows of the Victator's bridge harshly, but to Kiff they had almost a warm glow. After all, it was not Confederacy ships that were the fuel of that fire.  There was not enough mines in close proximity to take out the entire field with one massive chain reaction, but it was enough for now. Already, a path was being chipped out, and soon the Mandalorian Navy would not have a wall of mines to cower behind.


Kiff took another sip of his drink, feeling the electricity coursing down his throat, feeling alive. Even before they had won, victory had already started to taste good. 





Edited by Kiff Brayde, 17 July 2019 - 12:33 AM.




Vanessa Vantai

Vanessa Vantai

    Sith-Mandalorian Liaison

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Allies: UCM (Livia Maddox) and allied fleeters

Enemies: CIS and allied fleeters

Objective: Stall


In orbit of Tanaab was the largest fleet Vanessa had ever gotten together. There were thirty Saturn-type battleships, 15 O-variants and 15 D-variants, along with 10 Sovereign Elite-class battlecruisers, all of which were waiting to engage hostile units. The fleet was located behind the minefield the Mandalorians had deployed, but Vanessa herself had not been present. These ships, the largest individual gathering of vessels Vanessa had ever gathered, were for the most part formulated out of the various prototypes that she had been developing. These ships were fully armed and ready to engage as needed.


As for Vanessa herself, she was elsewhere, working on getting more ships ready to join the fight. There was a lot to do, to say the least.



Saturn-type battleship - D-Variant x15

Saturn-type battleship - O-Variant x15

Sovereign Elite-class battlecruiser x10

Total length: 110km

Kurenai Yumi

Kurenai Yumi

    I'm too old for this

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Location: Outskirts of Pandath
GearObsidian Strike Armor
Mk1 Shadow RifleShatory Reishūkaku, Saber

Allies: Purple Peps
Enemies: Bucket Heads
PepsMadalena Antares
Post: 1


Finally a drop that went right, the experienced knight steeping out of her metal container that served as her transport to the surface, stepping out onto a thankfully absent field yet to bear the scars of battle. For how long though she could not be certain, no doubts the Mandos would try a counter attack and try to dislodge the CIS from their foot hold on the planet, all the more reason to get it set up fast. Hence why she was here, though the front lines were an ideal place to test her skills she was more then some brute, having spent centuries in many armies around the galaxy Kurenai was well versed on setting up a strong FOB and getting it ready for an enemy offensive.


Eyeing the landing zone she saw Madalena already out and about... or was it deWinters? She had yet to be told the full story there, both had a similar scent and over all look, movments and more, the only thing that seemed to differ was their personality. Not something she could not rely on with how little the two talked, but if she had to guess Madalena seemed like the most likely choice seeing as she was a knight commander


The Knight Commander exited her drop pod and looked around, assessing the zone she'd landed in. At a glance, it seemed she was exactly where she'd aimed for; close to the capital city of Pandath, yet far enough away from it at the same time. Good. More pods were dropping as she looked into the sky, Confederates landing on the planet close and far away from her.


She remembered the last time. Last time they had taken arms against the Mandalorians, which had ended up in a full scale war on Eshan. Nothing had gone according to plan that day; she expected nothing would today either. But if this time the Mandalorians would control themselves enough as to not drop battlecruisers on their own heads as well, and keep their giant larvas away, there was a good chance that they could wipe their stain off the planet while causing as little collateral damage as possible.


With her weapon in the hand the large armored women ran over to the ground CO, giving a quick two finger salute, "made a decent landing this time around, good and ready to move out when needed, we waiting for the others or just going at it"? No doubt the two of them could make headway by themselves with ease, but leaving the reast of the landing troops with no real direction may be a little rude.

Darth Metus

Darth Metus

    V I C E L O R D

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Location: LZ-Alpha, Tanaab Surface

Accompanying: Valencia Hadley + Open

Nearby: Kurenai Yumi, Madalena Antares

Tag: Yasha Cadera

This...Was the only language they understood.

It was the only currency that they accepted. The only logic that was sound. All other ways and creeds fell upon deaf ears. Diplomacy? Democracy? Peace? All of it was frivolous in their eyes. The only thing that mattered was the worship of destruction and devastation. The only thing that mattered was snatching as much glory as one could before being carried back home. By raid and by war, the Mandalorians made it clear to the Galaxy that they were not a society to be reasoned with. By the blood of children, of civilians, of the innocents no different than those they "attempted" to defend...they showed the Confederacy their true colors.

These were not a people who understood the value of peace. This was not a culture that would cease their vicious ways - unless they were made to do so by force. Darth Metus understood this truth intimately. A lifetime ago, he once stood upon a foundation of their beliefs - for he was once no different. Born of Mandalore, raised by its iron-hearted warriors, he once believed that Glory was all that mattered. He once believed that impossible odds and dire circumstances made for the greatest stories. A much younger version of him would have been excited to stand upon Tanaab's soil, staring up at the Confederate forces.

But this day, in the here and the now...a scowl was plastered upon his visage. The Mandalorian regime understood only one language: War. And thus, he would bring it upon them as a mighty deluge. From every corner of his Confederacy, the Armada had been mustered with the sole purpose of giving the Clans a reminder that the Galaxy spoke another tongue. Their warlike passions would not see pity this day. It mattered not that they now "shielded" their conquered peoples, for those same "protecting" hands had strangled the life out of so many innocent souls.

Children. Civilians. Bystanders. Jedi. All felled prematurely by Mandalorian hands. No longer.

This day, as the Armada rolled forth from the depths of Hyperspace, the Vicelord himself took action. Perhaps it was but a small remnant of his Mandalorian heritage - but he would not rest whilst his brothers dove into battle. He would not tarry, deep within the safety of his capital, whilst he sentenced his sons and daughters to death in his name. No. He would fight alongside them. Bleed alongside them. And in the end, they would see victory. Together. Thus, he took his place alongside the task force bound for the surface. The operation had many facets - but establishing a foothold would undoubtedly turn the tide of any battle.

Focus ruled him as he boarded one of the numerous vessels bound for the surface. The Droch II-class Boarding Shuttle was far more maneuverable than the standard drop pods that it launched alongside. Far more specialized than even the hulking transports which followed in their wake. And as the metal vessel shuddered and jettisoned off into the abyss of space, the Sith's sulfuric gaze marked their descent. Streaks of turbolaser fire blazed past with every moment. The concussive forces of allied drop pods meeting a premature demise rattled his own vessel. Some strayed off course and collided with the minefield that had been erected beforehand. Others were picked off by Tanaab's staunch defenders.

Fortune, it seemed, smiled upon the Vicelord - for the darkness soon gave way to light. His eyes were greeted with the sight of a vibrant horizon which rapidly approached...followed by a titanic conclusion. Debris shot skyward as the Droch II's claws impaled the surface. With his landing now accomplished, it was time to get to work. Deft motions released the Vicelord from his straps and down the the bottommost hatch did he leap. His boots crunched upon the flayed ground a moment later, affording him an opportunity to assess his assets.

One by one, drop pods managed to fall within a modest distance of his position. A larger transport, yet aflame by defensive fire, then made a literal crash landing at the heart of the landing zone. It was not much, but it was a start. "Get everything you can off that ship. I want us combat ready in fifteen." The Sith's baritone hissed in the direction of one of the BX Commando Droids which had leapt from the pod after him. Yet, while the automaton immediately scurried away to fulfill its duties, the Sith strode in an opposing direction.

His footsteps bore him in the direction of the rolling plains of Tanaab. Of greenery yet untouched by the battle raging in the heavens. From where he stood, his eyes could not perceive the landings and actions of his peers. He could not bear witness to their operation about the capital city. However. He could feel them. Their wrath. Their tenacity. Their refusal to let literal butchers roam the Galaxy free. He could feel the Confederate resolve all the way out here...

His dominant hand reached for the weapon which hung from his waist. A bloodshine blade erupted into being at his touch. His offhand ascended, gingerly tapping the comm affixed to his ear. And upon the public channel, the Vicelord spoke.

"Vaii. Cuyir. Gar. Naor."

"Where. Is. Your. King."

"Send me not your generals. Send me not those who protect you. I saw - all the Galaxy saw - those you sent to raid in your name...But where were you? What King sits high and dares not lead their people into battle? Is this the new way of Mandalore? Is this the path Ra left to you? No. More. You hid whilst we liberated Eshan from your tyranny. Hid, while your warriors slaughtered my allies. No. More.

"Troan. Ni. Yasha Cadera."


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Kaine Australis

Kaine Australis

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Kaine was surprised to hear the Vicelord's voice booming across the comm network. It amused Kaine that the head of the Confederacy thought he was worthy of Yasha's attention. Dark Lords embodied hubris. Mandalorians, well, they didn't stand on ceremony the way aruetiise always thought they did.

Kaine pressed a button and interrupted the comm, cutting off the Vicelord.

::Isley, you tired old mook, is that you?

You couldn't kill me on Mandalore, you couldn't kill me on Eshan, and frankly, i'm starting to think you're all talk. On behalf of Clan Australis, crawl back under that rock you came from, or come out where I can put you out of our misery.

Then he decided to get flowery.

Come on, you stinking sack of suet, you cowardly piece of bantha dung. Come out and play.

When i'm finished with you, they'll need a doggie bag to take you home in.

Come. Out. And. Play.::

Kaine cut the comm, and then he activated his own launch sequence. The speed of the Confederacy's advance and their recklessness meant they'd missed some of the more hidden and subtle aspects of Taanab's defences. Fools rush in, thought Kaine, as he prepared to launch his own surprise attack...


Darth Metus Srina Talon

Edited by Kaine Australis, 13 July 2019 - 12:32 AM.


'It gives me strength to have somebody to fight for; I can never fight for myself, but for others, I can kill.'


Srina Talon

Srina Talon

    Dread Queen

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Location: The Veil - Hangar Bay [By the End of Post - Space]

Tags: [OPEN]

Allies: CIS + Friends

Enemies: UCM + And Friends

Quote: "The art of war is simple enough. Find out where your enemy is. Get at him as soon as you can. Strike him as hard as you can, and keep moving on."






The dawn had come. With that brightness came a sudden flurry of activity and the sound of screaming klaxons. The abrupt movement into realspace was always jarring, regardless, the fact that the Confederate Armada she traveled with had done it time and time again. It wasn’t a lack of experience on the part of the pilots or the crew—It was a field of explosive mines that they arrived in. Her body was tossed backward, despite her crash webbing, and it knocked the breath from her lungs. When she caught her breath, her fingers found her Holo-Comm. Most would ask for a systems report. Damages. Losses. Instead, she murmured two words.


“…Don’t die.”


This was the only taciturn phrase spoken across a private line on the Confederate Comm System. An order, despite her rank, for those she refused to lose. It was a transmission that went to the people that were aware, beneath her chilled exterior, that they were her family. Blood. Darth Metus, Adron Malvern, Darth Tacitus, and a few others. It was a rare moment of weakness. A display of the emotion that she crushed, destroyed, and subsequently threw away. The young woman remembered…She remembered how those she loved, often, paid the final price. She remembered the deaths on Eshan. The deaths on Kuat. Her following words held the tenor of cold steel. “I forbid it.”


As if she could. As if she could command a Vicelord. Another Exarch. An Emperor. As if she could. Yet, she did. Death was as inevitable. Fear…Fear for her companions? For her family? That was a choice. She would feel it no longer.


Srina stood up and rubbed her shoulder while crew hands checked on the ships. The mines had done a number on the Super Star Destroyer, even if, she was a hardy ship. One of the tethers had come loose in the hangar and one of their own was pinned by a ship. He was screaming, in pain, and mercurial eyes flickered. Already. The pain, the blood, was beginning. The Force moved in her being like a wave and the fighter slid, squealing, back into place. Again, she spoke into her comm. “We have injured in the lower hangar. Send medical to sector twelve immediately. Port nine. We will be deploying shortly.”  


The Exarch loathed this. Loathed, watching her people, Eshan, the Confederacy and more, come to harm. But this fight…This was a battle that the Galaxy could not survive without. The Mandalorian presence had grown to a point in which her nation could rest no longer. They pushed. They tested Confederate allies. Through fire and blood, they were threatened, and it caused an undeniable ripple effect. The Mandalorian Empire was a cancer. A tumor. They would be cut away—As any malignant collection of cells should be.     


Her arms crossed while she allowed the final checks to be made to her Ghost Starfighter. It ran by the name of nickname of “Argis” for day to day adventures. If only, this was one of those. An adventure. This was anything, anything, but that. This was cold, hard, war. The stealth unit was a G-1 that was entirely identical in every way to the dozen that were lined up in rows beside it. The Veil had ample space for a variety of ships, but, this unit would serve her best. In a field full of significant defenses—She would need every leg up she could get.


It was as invisible as she was going to get in a battle where the enemy knew they were coming.


Hesitantly, she reached for her data-pad, and checked on her companion. He had traveled a long way, sleeping dreamless things, unaware, that he would soon be freed from captivity. Srina pressed a button. She didn’t know if he was awake yet, but, her tone was chillingly apologetic nonetheless. “Forgive me. We’ll be together soon.”


The data-pad was summarily tucked away.


A barely imperceptive sigh passed through pale primrose lips while she listened to the other speeches and rhetoric going through the public channels. Some of it from the Clans. Some of it from her own people. Her ears picked up infantile, overly dramatic, and certainly theatrical speeches from a few of the Clan members on the ground. A welcoming to Taanab. Twice. [Taozi Fuyuan & Adenn Kyramud]


Her own Scherezade deWinter responded to the public jab and her lips quirked darkly. Briefly. The young woman was brash, but, she had a way with words. Her response to the public lambasting was vibrant and laced with disdain. “The memory of a Mandalorian is said to be long. Clearly, it is also convenient. We do what needs to be done. We act when the situation requires it. We are not heroes, we are not saints, and unlike yourselves—We are also not deluded.”


“While you bring the woes of innocents to the forefront, you also, use your wounded as human shields. Is this how the Mandalore prefers to fight? Behind her injured? Behind children? It’s clear that you knew we were coming. It’s clear that you had ample time to raise defenses. Why it is that you surrounded yourselves in a place of healing in which incapacitated parties were left behind? We live in an age of space travel and bacta tanks. You had time for everything, save, to consider protecting those that needed it most.”


“I will say…A few of your points are correct, Mandalorians. You let us do nothing. We choose to. We will remove the presence of the Clans from this world, by force, if necessary. Your warnings have been noted. Stay hidden behind your shields, in the shadows, and remain the small sycophants that you are. Hide the fact that you have no true regard for life, that your serpentine tongues are twisted, and that your people are cowards. Call us what you will, while your people destroy peaceful Jedi Temples, and orbitally bombard planets. Every nation has a list of sordid deeds. It does not change the fact that we are here because you have threatened and attacked our allies. We will stand for it no longer. We will wait, no longer. If we need to be the villain, the monsters, so be it.”


Srina cut the comm and switched to the appropriate channel. Her voice filled the hangar and the organic crew stared while droids continued working. It wasn’t so much the words that had flowed from the silvery creature, moreover, the fact that she had spoken so much in one setting. Most of them heard the briefest of orders, the quietest of requests, but this? It was more than that Exarch tended to say in a week. Her eyes flickered over them and they immediately got back to work. For the Confederacy, for their Allies, they could not fail.


“Your squadron is ready, Exarch.”


She nodded and prepared. All of her gear was present. At best…She was a rookie pilot. But, that wasn’t her endgame. She needed to make it to Taanab intact. This squad of skilled young men and women were charged with ensuring that happened. The Mandalorians had their spies, their surprises, but so did the Confederacy. The instrument panel inside the fighter lit up and Srina prepared for the cue to depart. The Holo-Heads-Up-Display told her what she needed to. The engine came to life and she peeled out of the hangar, taking a wide arc, while the rest of the squad took standard defensive positions around her.


They were radio silent. Intent, on avoiding most of the battle that raged on.


The Mandalorians were so fond of bellowing, bleating, that the Confederacy was comprised of Monsters.


Srina would give them one. 








    T H I C C E S T B O I

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LOCATION: Aboard the Leviathan's Roar

OBJECTIVE: Deliver payload as requested

ALLIES: CIS, Srina Talon

ENEMIES: UCM/Mandalorians



The droids were racing around upon the ship. Manning battle stations as the Warmind within the ship was commanding them all. Making decisions as fast a lightning with the technology of the Confederacy. For the current time, as the massive fleets being slung around the battlefield, All that the Warmind could really focus on, was having a moderate amount of shields up and in a defensive state, while a handful of their cannons fired into the rest of the hail of fire directed at the various ships. Falling in line with the various battle cruisers, Star Destroyers, and even Super Star Destroyers, commands were given out to the slew of Droids aboard the ship. In truth, the Warmind was here for only one reason. 


The Mother. 


The Exarch Echani that was so desirable of her monsters. Particularly one of them. While the vessel of the Leviathan's Roar was filled to the brim with squadrons of ships, the Squadren's needed to be cut down by one. Why? Because there was a massive Drop pod that happened to be held in the hangar. It was a payload that was required by the "Queen of Dragons" as some called her. The Warmind only had one name for her though. "Mother" as it was given. Namely because of just the Drop pod. Even as a Droid, it was perplexed as what was hidden within this ship. It was massive. Larger than any other ship that it could carry, and was guarded by a select group of droids upon the ship. Even their processing units did not have the information of what was held. However, when the signal came? It was accepted. 


:: End all weapons fire ::

:: Fortify All Shields ::

:: Release Payload ::


Within mere nanoseconds, the droids around the drop pod raced. Using the crane aboard the ship to move the drop pod to the correct side of the ship. The thrusters activated within the hangar. The arms of the crane released allowing this ship to exit the safety of the hangar bay, and into space. As soon as it did, A remote was activated to engage its various stealth systems. Becoming invisible to not just the eye, but also to sensors. In fact, the only reason the Warmind could see the ship, was the last communication to the remote to activate. After that, the Warmind of the Leviathan's Roar could no longer see it. The payload was gone. On its way to "Mother. Sending the transmission to the Datapad that had given the Greenlight, was very simple. 






A black abyss was all I could see and feel. Floating in nothingness. Sleeping and resting before the storm would be awakened. Why? I had been asked by Mother to join her and their efforts in a battle. Without hesitation, I agreed. Even remembering how I acted towards the tiny white haired being. Rubbing my snoot up against her. I even remember how she had giggled ever so slightly. I did not understand what this form was. Was she glad that I said yes? Was she just glad I nuzzled her? What was this action. As I floated in the blackness, I thought back on this. Sleeping and dreaming of the day that we would walk side by side. However, within the darkness, I could see a light. Slowly it brightened. Opening my eyes, I found myself within a body of water. Surrounded by metal and steel. The only light that of a green. The light then began to flash off and on slowly. 


I knew what this mean. I knew what this would be. I was asked to come in. Mother needed me. And so I would be there. Without question. Without complaint. I slowly began to move my arms and legs within the water. Stretching out to prepare myself for what mother had called it as "Titanfall." I didn't understand what this titan was. However, It was what I would be referred to as. Eons of my life, and yet this is a new name I have never heard of. However, I respected it. It was a name given by Mother. 


I could feel subtle shifting. And soon, could hear the engines within the ship turn on and send me outwards into space. Sending down towards whatever awaited for me. Drifting in the water. Slowly allowing myself to be awake for my Mothers aid, beck and call. I could feel the ship accelerate. Its movement was clear. I was headed for her. I groaned a little during the stretching. Hearing a couple pops of my bones cracking from not moving for hours now. I was ready. Reaching out for my mother. Letting her feel my presence draw closer to her. Letting her know I was there. 




It was all I could do. All I could focus on at the moment. I am a hunger of my kind. One that had never been sedated. I am Destruction of men. Never to be stopped. I am Stormbringer, and I shall raze the world I stood upon. With a guiding hand, I will strike all down who stand against her. No matter who they are. No matter what they may be. I breathe for her. 


I am, her Monster. 


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