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Crown of Sorrow | CIS Invasion of UCM-held Tanaab

- - - - - The Confederacy CIS UCM Tanaab

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Daxton Bane

Daxton Bane


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Vhei Wasp Naudir

As his command ship entered orbit over the target world, the attack shuttles immediately deployed. Troop transports filled to the brim with combat droids ready for immediate deployment once they reached the surface, interlaced with over a dozen special transport shuttles packed with his feral creations warped by both Sith Sorcery and the Dark Side. Mandalorians were fierce foes so the Dark Lord did a two prong attack with organic and robotic assets this time around.

In fact, this was a very special batch of feral predator eager to rend flesh from bone. He bred them for both massive size and muscle, a single dire wolf was bigger and more muscular than a standard human, a living breathing killing machine than he had toughened up though constant combat and drug regiments, so they knew no fear, no mercy. The jaw strength of these beasts, while it could not yet rend mandalorian battle armor, could easily crush and batter anything unfortunate enough to get caught in between them.

Batches of them were targeted on sections of little military importance, soft targets like civilian centers and medical facilities, where their vicious nature could do the most damage. A message needed to be sent to these pathetic wretches once and for all, and Daxton would be one to deliver it personally.

Encased in his signature purple and crimson reflective battle armor, he carried a repeating heavy las carbine in both his arms as he entered his personal shuttle. How many will he be able to kill this time before the fools would see reason, or were they too blinded by pride? For all their vaulted skill, they died just like anyone else when faced with the unexplainable force that was Daxton Bane. The sooner this planet was pacified the better, but it would be good to go into the field of battle and perhaps he woudl acquire a few more specimens for his experiments.

Gianna Aegis

Gianna Aegis

    All Things With Love

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Location: Medical Frigate "Talia" - Passenger Seating

Tag: Orn Pharr | John Locke

Status: Intact, but, space-minefields are no joke.



Her heart sat in her throat.


Gianna had learned a long time ago, mostly, through trial and error that there was no sense in over-thinking these situations. There was no reason to worry like she was. She could only do so much. She was seated across from, quite possibly, the most interesting looking Jedi she had ever met. His voice was a low rumble that soothed her aching heart. It reminded her to have faith, even if, his comforts were meant for the terrified med-tech that sat beside him. He barely seemed to fit in the seat he was taken. A tree, come to life, given the ability to move, and speak.


She’d never met a Neti before.


The flame-haired woman had always held an affinity for nature. She excelled in making things grow, in bringing life, instead, of taking it away. Her strengths lay in healing. Mending that which was broken. Body, soul, mind, and heart. Gianna had been on plenty of battlefields. This was the first one that left her unsettled. The Summit that she had attended at the side of a friend and many of the Silver Assembly had all but solidified what was to happen this day.


After long debates and hours of philosophical discussion…She understood. That didn’t mean she had to agree. She knew that this was the logical step forward. She knew, that this was the only way. That didn’t change the way she felt about war. Nothing would ever make her want to see two nations, titans in their own right, go head to head, in a battle that would cost…So very, very many lives.


If she couldn’t agree with the methodology—Gianna could do this. She could help who she could.   


The pale-skinned woman picked up her comm hesitantly when they exited hyperspace. Carefully, she found the correct channel for the private lines on the Halcyon Storm and eventually it signaled that she’d been successfully connected. Neither the Halcyon nor their frigate was stealth-equipped. Perhaps, it was wasteful of time, but a few words couldn’t hurt. Just a few. Her voice would come through to John Locke brokenly. Fragmented. <<John? Can you hear me?>>


Static, or silence. Why wasn’t this thing working?


<<John…If you can hear this, please, be careful. If something happens in space…>>, she trailed off softly, quietly, while trying not to disturb those around her. They were nervous enough. The entire mission took all of their faculties to maintain calm. She had known him when his work swallowed him whole. When guilt, drink, and designs took him down a path she refused to let him follow. <<…I won’t be able to help. Promise, you’ll be careful.>>


<<…Eshan…It wasn’t your fault—>>


The line cut out as explosions rocked some of the fleet in either direction. Whatever it was seemed to shake the medical frigate down to its foundations and the words of safekeeping that the Neti Jedi had promised seemed to be on borrowed time. Gianna, a Knight, not a Master, struggled in her crash webbing after it happened. They hadn’t been rocked too hard but it hadn’t felt nice either. In the distance she could feel something...Something unfathomable. She couldn't explain it, but, her heart knew death. Someone, several someones, had died in ships nearby. 


“Is everyone all right?”


Her comm was playing the speeches from the ground. The speeches from the air. Something had jammed it into looping the public channels and green eyes closed tight. If she had to listen to this the entire mission, it was likely, that she would lose her mind. Most of the passengers seemed all right, but, the crew of the frigate seemed stressed. Something about the shields?


Gia frowned. Now, was not the time for mechanical trouble.


The higher ups on the ship seemed to be taking care of things and she leaned back in her seat for a moment. Part of her wished she’d taken her own ship. The Confederacy was more than fair with their intel but they had a tendency of treating the Silvers a little too carefully. As if, they pressed too hard, they might break. Gianna wished she could just tell them to be as they were. The old Grand Master had accepted them in the past with that alone. The rest…They just needed to have faith.


The frigate seemed to be moving along and the lights stabilized. They weren’t getting hit with anything. At least, not yet. Her eyes fixated on the tree-esque creature before her. “I’m Knight Aegis. Gianna. We’ve never met before. What should I call you?”   


Small talk. Something normal, to keep the people around them from panicking. Her quiet form projected a sense of normalcy. Her aura was calming. It seemed to help.




Mig Gred

Mig Gred

    Alor of Clan Gred, Mando'ad'jetii

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Location: The Capital

Allies: UCM

Enemies: CIS

Tags: Stardust Solus Skirae Kat Decoria Aditya Fitz Kierke Tamar Fitz Kierke Voph Adenn Kyramud Veiere Arenais Adron Malvern Taozi Fuyuan Corran Conner Krest Livia Maddox Gerhard Manndorf Srina Talon

Gear and Forces: Bio + Mando'ad'jetiiBasiliskEnigmaGred Fleet, a V1 astromech

A V1 astromech rolled up to Tamar Fitz Kierke , letting out it's "rolling R" like Binary.
"(He'll be ok ma'am. In my short time of activation, I've learn his clan are about as tough to kill as an... Strill? No.... What's the three eyed crustacean that screams? Either way.... Wait. He also left me here as a back up battery, so maybe I'm misjudging.)"
Meanwhile, Mig ran through the city as the fires rained, not real fires but fires of war. It wasn't something Mig wanted to feel again. He grit his teeth, trying to keep anyone from hurting the civilians. While he cared deeply for his clanmates, they were there for one thing. Keep. Everyone. Safe. It was then that he heard Livia Maddox . A fleet of untold size. Mig didn't even have to hear the rest to know the implications. He had already told all his Mando'ade to have their visor recorders on, and all crews to have recorders on the tanks, tank destroyers, walkers, and fighters. Hunter Group had their recorders rolling, even the Basilisk that currently sat behind the hospital along with the Enigma. Their comms were linked to his. He heard what they heard, and every recorders data was being sent to Stardust.Mig somehow already knew what this was going to be. This.... This was no invasion. This was... annihilation. This was a something that never should've even surfaced in anyone's mind. He could even feel the Jedi there. Had they.... No. If this was what he thought, the Jedi couldn't have thought this was what was happening. Right? 
He then heard Srina Talon , though he missed the first message. A burst of anger went over him. Hide behind children? Injured? Talk of this being the age of Bacta and space faring! He had had it. He opened his comms and yelled through them. "We did move them! We move all the people we could! Even with Bacta, even with medical ships, not everyone was stable enough to go! You and your allies chose to attack a humanitarian world! With a clan only known for helping other! Warriors of a different war! Your own anger blinds you! We don't claim even to be perfect, but to suggest how you fight becomes unimportant in war? If you stoop the the lowest of the low... the places that even the most sadistic of bounty hunters would fear to go. How can you claim to be on the right side when you act like monsters in war?! We're here because we couldn't move everyone. We're here because we know the CIS have destroyed a hospital once, and I doubt you'd scared to do it again. Even while there are still civilians that couldn't leave. So, while actually fight like your ideals tell you, or while you become the beasts you want us to be? And to the Jedi I feel out there, would you sacrifice your own believes just to win a war?"
He then noticed a pod slam into the city. He and a Mando'ad'jetii quickly began ordering civilians to get out of the area. Even then, he wasn't sure they could get everyone away. It was a CIS drop-pod alright. Even then, he wasn't sure they could get everyone away. He didn't know who was i there, but they weren't hurting anyone on his watch. ( Krest )
Meanwhile, Hunter Group continued to fly for the edge of Taanab's gravity well. The CIS fleet had only grown in size, and the pilots and crews of the vessels became tense. They didn't need to hear Livia to know what the heck was happening. The lead merc ships called out again on open comms, "We are evacuation ships. Do not engage!" They didn't know of Gerhard Manndorf 's orders. No signal was ever sent for it. All they knew was get the heck outta here and get their civilian passengers to safety. 
Deeper in the system, the rest of Gred Fleet sat with Tal Fleet, there to protect them. Elijah had just heard what was said. A fleet like none before it in size. More powerful than anything ever seen. He had learned a long time ago that the size of the fleet, but the way you used it. So many enemy ships in one spot. So many.... How was there anything left to defend their own worlds. This was a strategic mistake, unless they honestly thought this was it. They win here... they win? Was that what they thought. With that, the man contacted the Tal flagship.
"Get your ships outta here. Get as deep into Mandalorian space as you can. We're going back. We can't just leave them there."

Edited by Mig Gred, 13 July 2019 - 09:35 AM.


"You can't ignore your emotions, but you also can't let them control you."




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The city was closing in below. War had already touched it. Fires burned through, lighting up the sky with a hue of red. In a way, it was beautiful. The reverse thrusters of the drop pod kicked in at the last second, reversing the descent just before it slammed into the ground below. If it hadn't of been Krest, it might of hurt someone with how abruptly it had changed.


His pod slammed into the middle of the street, cracking the ground at it's impact. Screams were the first thing that the aged Zabrak could hear. Screams of those terrified by the sudden destruction. Screams of those terrified by what could be within. The next sound was footsteps. Heavy armored footsteps. So they tracked my descent, huh. Krest had calmly begun to unstrap himself from the pods restraints. For now, while the cover was still attached, he was protected.


They didn't know who was in it. Why would the CIS send a lone drop pod into the middle of the city like this? Was it a ruse? A bomb? No one dared to step forward. Near the back, the young man watched the Mandalorian warriors inch closer, their weapons all raised and ready to fire at what ever was going to come out. He needed to be ready himself. He hefted his hunting rifle, aiming down the scope to get a better view from the vantage he had found.


He would help his vod.


The cover of the pod suddenly erupted, causing the young man to nearly jump from his perch in surprise. It launched quite a ways up. Then the blaster fire erupted. The Mandalorians close to the pod began filling the smokey contents of the ship with practiced rounds, all kill shots. They knew what they were doing. They weren't scared. The shots stopped as quick as they had started. What ever was in there would be dead for sure.




Then one fell.


The young man had barely caught it in his scope. One of the soldiers, their heads suddenly flew away from their body. What had caused it? He was scanning for the target, what ever enemy it was, and another fell. An.. Axe? An axe had cleaved right into his chest! "Wha..?" Fear gripped his heart as he saw another go down. The axe had disappeared. What was attacking? Gunfire erupted, and finally he saw it.


A lumbering man with ash grey skin. Wielding only an axe and moving at inhuman speeds. And strength. Another soldier was cut down, a brutal gash left through their armor. He had to be being shot right? Yeah, he could be shot. The young man would take the shot needed if he had to, for sure. But his vod could handle one person.


Within moments, his vod were all dead. Broken bodies, splintered beskar'gam, crushed helmets. This wasn't a man. It was a demon. The sniper sat in his perch, his head in his hands, eyes wide with fear. This wasn't normal. This wasn't happening. Every time he closed his eyes he could see the dead of his friends.


No, he was a mandalorian. He would fight. From this distance, he could kill this monster. Stop it from going any farther into the city. He got up to his rifle and glanced down the scope. The lumbering figure stood before his drop pod, pulling out a small pack. The young man pulled the trigger, and at the same moment the Zabrak stepped back, and turned his head to where the sniper was. The bolt hit where he had been a second later.

Impossible. He couldn't see him. Another shot. And again, the lumbering figure moved just as he pulled the trigger and the shot missed. No, this is wrong. Wait. Where's the axe? He was going to line up another shot when there was a flash of metal in his scope. The axe. It cleaved through his scope, and the last thing he saw was the ice covered blade of the Zabrak.



Krest let out a sigh as he held out his hand. It took a moment, but his axe returned, slamming into his grasp as he looked around. He had more to do here.


Mig Gred

Cypher Rage

Cypher Rage

    What am I?! What are You?!

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Location : Holo-Command Room, The U.G.F.S Riptide
Tags: Xobos Yakieer, Adron Malvern, Voph, John Locke.

Cypher sat in a Command Throne aboard the Prototype Destoyer 'Riptide' Laid all around him was a Holo-Ring that projected the Images of his line commanders imcluding one Captain Nade ( NPC). " The 'Bane of Tryanny' and the 'Invincible' are to escort The 'Veil' and provide long range fire in order to netrulize those mines." He ordered. He stood and began to motion for the six droids on board to fire the eight heavy cannons aboard the 'Grievous'. " Vice Marshall Rage, those orders were already carried out when we entered the syestem." Said Nade. Cypher felt sluggish. He had ordered that already. So why was he repating thar order. Then an explosion rocked the ship. Cypher fell foward and smashed his head on the rim of the Holo-Ring. At this point the images of John Locke, Voph, Xobos Yakieer and Adron Malvern replaced the images of the Line Commanders. " What the Hell was that?" He yelled. " It appears that a mine entered the Superstructure off the Bridge. Our Shields did not have enough power to neturilize them" a droid reported. At this point Cypher proceeded to stand. Rhe white tip of his hair was stained with blood. " Transfer Auxiliary..." He said before he Collapsed onto the floor. His head bleeding and his eyes closed. He had passed out

Edited by Cypher Rage, 13 July 2019 - 11:24 AM.

Victory Is Never Certain but I Shall Always Win

Vytal Noctura

Vytal Noctura

    Ardent Nightsister

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Location: Apple orchard a dozen miles or so out of the capital city.
Wearing: Armor
Gear: 1 Spear, Clawed Gauntlets, Blaster Pistol, Utility Belt
Allies: Confederacy of Independent Systems & Company
Enemies: MCU-Mandalorians & Compatriots
Specific Tags: Scherezade deWinter


Talk of the Confederacy going to battle had not truly interested the Nightsister away from home at first. As a hunter it would be good to be in the field, but her desire to demonstrate her worth was not so consuming just anything would do. She desired to learn secrets of the Force and obtain technology, neither of which were furthered by demonstrating her aptitude for suppressing or slaughtering enemies. Dathomir had many well-trained combat veterans. Although they might need a few more to effectively use any technology Vytal secured for home.


All of that changed when news long in coming fell on her ears. Someone asked why Vytal didn't seem taken by the news given what happened on Dathomir. The Witch ceased turning an artifact over in her hands at the question. What had happened on Dathomir, she'd asked with barely restrained emotion. Being claimed as part of Sith territory did not upset Vytal on its own. In fact, the Witches and the Sith had much in common -- provided the clans' autonomy was left intact. However, that hadn't been the case, had it? One clan in particular had suffered. Not Vytal's own, but Nightsisters all the same.


The artifacts had been left behind as Vytal stormed into her leader's office and made it clear where she was going -- Tanaab.


And that was how a Nightsister ended up inside of a dropship as it plunged kimometers toward the surface of the planet. Vytal did not scream -- that would have been demeaning -- but her heart pounded in her chest from the alien sensation. She'd leaped from a hovercraft before. Skydived into an enemy stronghold. Watched as ships soared through the stars... But never, not once, had she ever been placed inside a small, metal box and flung at a planet.


When at last the hatch opened, Vytal's fingers clutched for purchase to drag her body into the open. Several deep breaths had calmed her spirit and restored communion with the Fanged God and Winged Goddess. She would not be found wide-eyed like uninitiated sisters beholding her first ancient monstrosity.


It was breathtaking to arrive to a planet so dramatically. Although it was slightly disappointing to find her drop unopposed. There had been 'intelligence' that the enemy -- Mandalorians -- were holed up in the city; but Vytal had assumed they would not abandon the entirety of the planet otherwise. Was this thing she'd arrived in equipped with some fort of cloaking device, she wondered. Slaughtering her enemies would help Vytal find her feet again quickly.


Alone, the pale Witch set off in the direction of another scheduled to drop in the area. The pair of them seemed to be drawn together by the god and goddess for some reason. Vytal might even look forward to their meeting. Scherezade -- a name the Sister could barely pronounce -- had knowledge and was an apt combatant of her own; amicable company to learn about offworlders.


By the time Noctura had arrived, the deWinter woman had already set fire to an 'orchard.' A strange word describing a place of hard, round fruits that served as a fair projectile if there were no rocks available. "There is much talking to offworlder combat," the Nightsister announced as she neared a Confederate ally. "Are your enemies so weak they are scared or led by your words? They should face us because they are worthy to be fought." Even on Dathomir you could jeer your opponent, but that was done before battle was engaged. Once the fighting commenced there was no longer any need for words. If the dead were summoned they surely had nothing worth saying; and only sought to welcome the living to join them in a cold, wet embrace. Vytal already considered the battle begun... and yet they had no enemies to fight. It rankled the Witch as she stood there.

Edited by Vytal Noctura, 13 July 2019 - 12:00 PM.




Sterling Kinslayer

Sterling Kinslayer

    Slayer of False Gods

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Death was old company, the longer one remained in the practice of saving lives the stronger this sentiment became. Death was old company to soldiers, protectors, guardians, and doctors. Pity be given to those who willingly took on such a mantle, woe be to those who carried each burden at once. Perhaps such a sentiment was what should be given, that one should feel truly sorry for those who's lives become indistinguishable from death itself for all the souls that blink out around them. Perhaps that is what one who carries the title of a living fortress and surgeon both should feel in every waking moment of their unending nightmare. Such was not, however, that which Doctor Sterling Kinslayer felt, nor desired. His life had little meaning to him, save for that good which he could do until he too passed intonothing. Therefore, such death had no meaning, nor would the risk inherent in such a dangerous life.
No, his meaning came only from the lives upon which he could grant a second chance, such as the newborn Vahan, who's very body could not sustain him. Premature, insignificantly tiny, the third of the triplets had nearly no chance to live any life, let alone one with meaning. His death had been all but certain, and Sterling was having none of it then, nor ever again. Even as Hell came to the peaceful world, Sterling worked tirelessly, and had managed to succeed where all others had failed. The child would have his chance, his only trial now was to survive to the morrow. If he could manage that, then the child could grow, become their own person, they could thrive. He had cleared the boy's lungs, helped him inflate them, helped this child breathe without fear for the first time it ever would. Such was, precious, and the motivation that drove the Doctor from his coat, to his beskar. If it meant letting this child live, Sterling would do more than fight, he would give his own last breath a thousand times over to ensure the newborn would see sunrise day by day. 
Klaxons were blaring, and the time had finally arrived as Sterling's armor, the living fortress, was fully situated on his body, a large polearm resting in the crook of his arm and his massive slugthrower magnetically locked to his back. The thick beskar'gam was a thing of shame and beauty to the Komo, the form of a demon bearing the soul of a hero. He couldn't help but smile to himself, perhaps even without children of his own, he would manage to live beyond. If he could not father his own before death, then protecting the sick, the broken, the cancer ridden children here would be his legacy. That was good enough for him. Today the clans had turned the hospital into a fortress to hide the innocent behind, even should the worst never come. It was no small comfort to those unable to leave, or unwilling. Being so tall, the hospital was near certain to be attacked intentional or not, especially considering the scale the battle was sure to take.
With his armor fixed to his body, he made one last round of the pediatrics center, making sure each and every child was as safe as they could be. His wrist datapad was connecting his armor to every camera in the hospital, with permission from Taozi herself, which he was constantly cycling through as he went. He could see nearly every inch of the hospital with just a few taps of his wrist, switching from center to center, floor to floor, to any hall or room. He'd spent the days in preparation practicing switching through the massive number of cameras, when not preforming every surgery he could schedule himself. He was not the only one looking, of course, but he was certainly more mobile than anyone looking at a monitor.
When at last he was certain the children were as safe as they could be, Doctor Sterling made his way to Taozi's office, the words she spoke ringing in his head. She had chosen to make her stand not as Alor, but as a doctor, a fact that seemed to escape the half done retort that came in response. One that willfully neglected to address the points made in whole. At least someone heard it, though. Taozi had made her stand, and all he could do in regards to Taozi now was to reach out and gently squeeze her shoulder. He'd tell her what he was to do, but it wasn't exactly a secret. Sterling was a fortress given life, he could not protect his charges within safe walls. If he was to deny these would be tyrants their thorned crown of sorrows, he would have to meet them out there. Talk would be meaningless, it was now time to act.

Big boy shotty: Fist of the God Slayer :|: Armor: Oyacyir Guryihaor

Orn Pharr

Orn Pharr

    Walk in the Light

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Allies: Gianna Aegis

Enemies: Hopefully No One

Location: Landing on Taanab


Death and fire occurred all around the frigate as it plunged towards the surface of Taanab. Already the war torn skies and battle strewn planet were plunged into chaos, and yet, on this one frigate there was peace. Tranquility. Nervousness and anxiety yes, but everyone knew their duties and were prepared and willing to carry them out calmly. Orn had never doubted they would arrive, but he couldn’t remember whether this incarnation of the Clans killed civilians and medics or not. Sometimes they held different codes at different times, and he could not keep track of them anymore.


Orn wasn’t even sure who the Mand’alor was, the Resurrector? The Undying? The Lost? There were so many in such a short span of time it seemed. The younger races, always so eager to make their mark on the galaxy with their lives, it seemed they never realized how little time they actually spent among the living.


The large tree being’s soft brown eyes turned to the redhead that spoke to him, registering her existence for a moment. She was a human, bright redhair, like several he had known throughout his many ages though their names were distant memories he could no long conjure without aid from another. “No, I do not believe we have been acquainted little one, but it is good to meet you now.” He smiled warmly at the young woman, waving his branches in greeting even as he patted the medic beside him in reassurance.


The ship rocked from re-entry, the air around it igniting from friction as the ship descended into the atmosphere. Some seemed nervous and cautious, but still the Neti acted as if nothing was out of place. He groaned and rolled his shoulders, the bark of his skin creaking as he shifted what passed for muscles and bones in a Neti. “I believe they intend to land us near the Forward Operating Base, but I feel I cannot stay there.” He mused, looking over the passengers. Once on the ground they would be safe enough, surrounded by their soldiers and armies as they set up a field hospital on the ground to triage wounded from the Confederacy. 


But the Force did not call him there, no. It wasn’t his responsibility to help those that were already being helped. “I must go into the city. There are those who need me there who cannot wait. Where will you go when we land, little one?” The ship's landing gears began to creak as they extended, preparing to brace the amalgamation of steel and wires against the surface of the world.

Edited by Orn Pharr, 13 July 2019 - 01:23 PM.




Mav Vohaloveer

Mav Vohaloveer

    Mean, mean stride.

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Location: Drop Pod Besh, Taanab Mesosphere (and falling)
Enemies: UCM & Allies | Dance card open.
Allies: CIS & Associates | Same.
Equipment: In biography.
As the pod began its descent, Mav allowed himself the luxury of a small smirk as the rest of the drop pod concerned themselves with various last minute prayers and rituals. It always struck him as perversely amusing how the looming prospect of combat brought out the religious side in even the most battle hardened, grizzled veteran. As for himself, the mysteries of the force or false gods held little appeal. He’d simply seen too many prayers go answered to put much faith in a higher power, save, of course, for the one he wore openly on his hip. 
The drop pod began to rattle and jolt alarmingly as it fully surrendered itself to embrace of gravity, the air inside beginning to heat up and take on the stale aroma of baked perspiration and trepidation.Not long now. Fifteen, maybe twenty seconds before landing. Plenty of time to settle a quick score while the rest of the pod were otherwise distracted not vacating their bowels or having their lunch repeat on them.
Hey neighbour,” The mercenary called out to the mousey looking cigarra hater, his voice treading that thin line between being loud enough for the man to hear over the clamour around them while trying to keep it from travelling to the rest of the group. “Remember what I said about you having bigger worries to contend with?
As if on cue, the vibrations intensifiedas the drop ship started the final stretch, bucking and juddering wildly before ceasing completely a split second later as they entered the transition between stratosphere and troposhere. A much smoother ride, provided you didn’t count the bone jarring impact it always ended in. Speaking of…
Without waiting for the man to respond or even process what had been said, the Corellian leaned slightly to slap the emergency release button on the chest of the ratty looking mercenary. The man’s face morphing from furrowed confusion to alarmed surprise, skipping through anger and horror before settled on an almost… dejected? … sense of acceptance for what was about to transpire. 
The doors blew out with a concussive force, spilling forth the ragtag band of mercenaries and seasoned shock troops of the Confederacy. The professionals among them breaking rank first, peeling off from the main group in twos and threes as they set about achieving the objectives they’d signed on for. With the Mandalorians dug in, there was no point in hitting the emplacements en masse, not until they had been softened up some. Apparently there was some giant frickin’ lizard earmarked just for that. 
For his part, Mav tarried a spell in the drop pod. Letting the rest of the band get ahead of him while he busied himself relieving a few extra power cells from the sole member of the pod’s passenger manifest not to survive the landing. 
No hard feelings,” He murmured, adjusting his hat as he stepped out of the pod and onto the muddy impact site. Squinting a little as his cybernetic eyes cycled to adjust to the change in lighting. The advantage of having an enemy so well entrenched meant you didn’t have to rush like you normally would. Still, he supposed he better get a move on.Unless the Mandos all had put those helmets on backwards this morning, they couldn’t fail to notice their arrival. The tac-gear feeding his earcom was already picking up a spike on the encrypted frequencies. It sounded like they were receiving hell from the ground support and other drop pods, however.  
He spared the smeared remains another final glance, giving it a halfhearted salute before shouldering his carbine and stepping out onto the field.
Man really should’ve really let me finish that cigarra in peace.


Aditya Fitz Kierke

Aditya Fitz Kierke

    What're you gonna do? Kill me?

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Objective: Omnia
Enemies: CIS Kaden Farr (Comin’ for ya, dude!)
Post: 2
“Come back alive, Mig…. just come back alive.” Tamar tried to put strength in her failing voice. Pity, that. Pity and shame…
The Fury’s announcement leaves a sickly disquiet to the hospital. Annihilation… there was no other reason to bring fleets of such magnitude to an agricultural planet and medical base. Such a force would rush past Tanaab through Mandalorian worlds. Any vindication or justice they aspired to bring died with their numbers. 
Is Kamino vacant? Did they leave Old Joe, the janitor behind to watch over the place? Was he sitting there, his feet up, watching his holostories and waiting for popcorn to finish in the microwave? Maybe they all feel better. Good Old Joe’s watching over the place. Trick knee kept him out of the war... the mental image gives me time for my analytical brain to compile data. 
“Alright… okay… alright!” My lungs force oxygen in and out, as I look to the stunned and frightened women in the room. It’s then I realize how much I pity the living. The ones to whom death is a mystery to be feared, they deserve better than a death in a hospital. Truth be, I’m worried about Beth Cadera. She looks two seconds from popping, and the stress of this, well. 
“Girls, come here. Come to Mama.” I hold my arms out, soothe as much as I can. 
“Tamar? Honey pie, I know your life was gettin’ started… sweetie I know you’re scared. And you’re worried about Mig, but… okay… okay.” Tamar’s embrace crushes against my ribcage, stealing my oxygen in rushing gulps. I let her. Girl needs to cry and it’s then I see it. 
That’s all Yasha needed. All that would’ve made it better was if I’d held her instead of shutting her mouth and putting a weapon in her hand. “… I thought I was being such a strong mother, teaching Yasha how to survive, that I missed these bits. Tamar, you’re gonna take care of Bethy for me, and our babies, okay? Dennis and the Clan are here to protect you, alright? I need you find that same stiff upper lip you used to survive the Zambranos and put it to work.
Lay out medical supplies, triage packs, set out anything you’ll need for labour, too. Just in case. You’re going to have some triage happening in the next few hours and I’m gonna need you to take lead on fixing up our guys, alright? Yeah? You can do that for me? Do it for your Mom.” I watch Tamar dry her eyes, nod and sniffle her way to rise. Busy about. There. One girl down, one to go. 
“Bethy, honey pie I know you look at me and see a whole bunch of wrong. It’s okay, I get it. Can’t be resurrected by a Sith monster-god and not have some indelible imprints of ‘what the heck, man’ all over. That and you probably know better than anyone how I messed up with Yash. You’ve got the best heart I’ve ever seen, sweetie, and I know a lot of that was Yash being the parent I couldn’t be for her. You and Cleru are going to have the best chissalorian babies in the history of babies. Just you promise me today you’re gonna let your worry and fear drain away. It don’t belong to you so don’t own it. All you’ve got to do today is smile at babies and hope for yours’ futures.” I take Beth’s hand, stroking her fingers before squeezing and letting go. “If you’d be kind enough sweetie, please look after mine.” 
I see Stardust Solus Skirae, standing outside the door and shake my head. “Never in a hundred lifetimes did I think I’d have a Twi’lek daughter. Gawds, our family holo-photos are complicated as balancing the Galaxy’s collective planetary budgets. I know she’s been torn between Zeltros and here, Yash knows, she knows all of it. And you know what? She loves and trusts regardless. Guess it’s true that family thing Mandos gawk on about.” 
A few deep breaths does it, mustering up the courage to stand with the c-section incision still healing along my belly. Takes a few days for women at the best of times to recuperate from mutiple-infant pregnancies, this is no different. My back’s bent forward, and I cling to the arm of the chair for a minute. Maybe two, okay maybe I need to sit down, and I would, if this wasn’t a familiar desperation. 
Shuffling over to the medic cabinet, I flick my fingers on the locking keypad, hacking it’s easier than breaking the transparisteel. Lifting my tunic, I chuck it to the floor, plaster a bacta patch on my stomach’s sutures and stick an analgesic-stim to my neck. The rush of painkillers floods my bloodstream. The pain, present even still, is far away, as if it lived in the room next door, where the fear I should be feeling is curled up in the corner by a dust-ridden desk. 
“… who do you think taught Yasha to fight wounded, eh? I spent six years in the Netherworld keeping a growing infant alive… and it seems to me right now we’re fighting weaker opponents than that. Girls? I love you… don’t wait up.” In a cubby beside the medicine, a set of armour sits in quiet repose. 
“Mama, mother, no… but your babies, you can’t you’re not strong enough.” Tamar starts to complain, and I chuckle. 
“Ma’am, no. Alor Kyramud gave us orders. You’re to stay inside where it’s secure.” Dennis speaks up, reaching for my helmet. 
“Goodness gracious, someone complaining for little crude me. Almost as if I’m not the worst parent ever… Tamar? Help me with this, please. Come on now, tut tut.” Tamar hesitates, before bowing her head and helping me into the armourweave bodyglove, the plates and attachments of a Mandalorian’s life. My heart leaps in my chest, and as Hector whimpers in mewling newborn cries, my left ventricle nearly breaks clean off. 
The helmet is the last. I struggle it out of Dennis’ grasp, and put it on. 
“Clan Mortui! Why do we fight!?” The HUD comes alive and as the sensors begin cursory scans of the area, I straighten up. 
“FOR OUR ALIIT!” The Mortui guards yelled back, voices booming against the walls. 
“FOR OUR ALIIT!!” They gave a cry, beating their chest plates. 
“For our aliit.” I whisper, stepping closer to the window. Watching the battle as it roils. As it unfurls. “MOM’ALOR, come online.”
“Oy oy, there! Whatsit gon’ be, eh? You’re a little weak on the mustard ain’t-ya?” MOM’ALOR’s electric brogue soothes my nerves, as I watch the impending conflict from the safety of the hospital’s shield. 
“Still useful, though. Call Sigurd about Kirkesh, get him here.I need the Legio Copad. Remember that container I insisted on bringing along? Yeah, crack it open, MOM’ALOR, power up its’ contents. What’s the location on Calyr?”
“The dragon? Up ‘ere innit?” MOMALOR chimed in, as Aditya saw, more than heard, the vibrational hum of engine systems starting up next to the hospital. 
“Good. Patch me through to the Hospital’s PA system.” I wait for the chime telling me it’s done, and take a breath. 
“This is Aditya Mortui, Mand’alor the Infernal’s karked-up overbearing mother. Yes, the one with the unmovable triplets upstairs. I refuse to let my vode spill their blood, when I’ve got plenty of mine. I know a lot of you here are warriors. Health, or life’s got you down, and if you’re still in here you were too compromised to move safely. 
This ain’t about comfort or safety anymore, sweet peas. Any veteran, who knowing the full risk is dying with a gun in your hand, who wants to defend against annihilation, speak up now. I’m sending some special gifts to your position. Won’t lie, it’s a death sentence. But we get to choose how we go out. In a bed, or staring down at the enemy and sending a blaster bolt through their brainpans with a squish.
Anybody who wants to stop me has two options, help me instead, or get shot. I refuse to let this city fall, while we can defend it. I am not letting anyone die in a corner. So, if you want to see where Yasha gets it from, come with me.”  
“Ma’am… we can’t let you.” Dennis stepped forward once more, and I sneer under my helmet as he steps me even closer to the window. There's a niggling in my mind, someone I know or feel, or something I ought to be doing out there... a battle that's been a long time coming. 
“Like Hell, you say.” 




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Location: Hospital, Neonatology Ward
Enemies: CIS
Post: 2
It was no wonder Beth was as ferocious as she was. Even adopted, the fire of loyalty and honor burned strong in the Cadera family. But, from the reports he was getting.. This wasn't a winnable battle. This was an annihilation of any who remained. Was it not his place to say anything? This was just as much his family as Beth's now, right? Right? Cleru got up from where he was sitting, pulling free the pistol from his hip to hand to Aditya.
"Charric'll do better against any Obsidian that might stop you." That was true. Factual. But that's not what he wanted to say. Expressing emotion was.. Difficult. Beth was special, but in public? His training took over.

But he had to swallow that.
"Use it when you keep Beth safe. From what I heard, you died before you could raise Yasha. Do you honestly think it's fair you go and die, again, while your daughter has to take care of her sisters because you chose to fight a loosing battle?" Cleru turned from her, mostly because keeping eye contact would push him back to his logical side. The more who stayed behind to fight, the better the chances for those who needed to escape to do just that.
"Be a mother first, for once in your life." Harsh words, but it was the truth. And she needed to hear it. "We need to get moving. Adenn, how soon can we evacuate this room and get them out of the system? Time is counting down."




Stardust Solus Skirae

Stardust Solus Skirae

    The Emerald Dragon/The Judge

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Objective- defend the hospital against any potential attacks
Location - outside adityas room
Allies - UCM
enemies - CIS

Stardust watched from the window, looking to the sky to see such a massive fleet over it...reminded her of the battle for the galaxy honestly seeing all those ships attacking one another while rushing the massive superweapon within space...

Instead now it was above the agricultural planet, sending down hoards and hoards of enemies...all for what? A example? What tactical advantage did they have attacking here? It was farm land and a hospital it would be like someone attacking imahalyan it didnt make sense at all! Least to stardust it didnt....

Glancing towards the room she saw aditya up and about...by the force what was this fething woman doing?! Turning star entered the room to go and chide her for being up and around before stopping. She listened to her and relaxed as she looked down and was quiet....she was...considered a daughter? For the twilek who had had parents since well hers died and had to learn everything from experience it was so...relieving. it caused her to falter a bit before she stood straight and approached

with all due respect, your in no condition to fight mother, besides weve got our orders

She placed a gentle hand on her shoulder

so I'll take a shot if that means you staying put

Gerhard Manndorf

Gerhard Manndorf

    Tactical Extraordinare

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Location: 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 , Mig Gred , Adron Malvern



Events started developing at an astonishingly quick pace. Gerhard expected much more of a standoff than this, but soon after everything went into motion. Livia Maddox 's Fury Fleet had already began making an offensive run towards the nearby Halcyon Storm. The CIS' own ships had surged forward, tearing a path through the minefield. Chaos ensued. Shots had been fired. War had begun.


The Confederate war machine advanced. MSEC, however, had other objectives. The MSW Storm started making it's way towards the Halcyon Storm's task force, assuming a position at the rear of the formation, shielded by other ships from the advancing fury fleet. The Storm's Tachyon Beams had a significant advantage- their ability to fire arcing shots. This would be key to the ship being able to both avoid and dish out damage. 


Manndorf did not stop pacing across the bridge of the Storm. Doubt started to creep into his mind.


"What if there's more?"


"What if it's a trap?"


"What if we fail?"


"What if there really are innocents on that planet?"


He quickly started pushing these thoughts to the back of his head. A commander could not hesitate. A commander could not doubt their cause. Especially when the stakes were this high.


In the meantime, a group of ships launched from Taanab's surface. Making their way towards the edge of Taanab's gravity well using the shortest route possible. Their communications array was broadcasting a message on all available channels: "We are evacuation ships! Do not engage!". Luckily, this did not concern MSEC. Their orders were clear. 


"This is Eagle 7, proceeding to engage target, requesting assistance."


"This is Eagle 9, moving in to provide support." 


"Eagle 12, providing backup."


Soon enough, the three frigates had visual contact with their targets. 


"Engage afterburners, ready Microjumps"


"Copy that Eagle 7, we are ready to close in"


The frigate's engines began burning brighter yet, their afterburners hurling them onto an interception course. They formed a classic wedge formation and opened communications to the fleeing ships.


"This is the Captain of Eagle 7, Manndorf Security Systems. We encourage you to drop speed and proceed with us towards the Lucrehulk- Class Battleship at these coordinates. If you wish the entire crew of this ship be provided a tour of the molecular world, attempt to fight or run. If you do that and don't yet have offspring, please provide us an escape pod with your DNA samples for reproduction. 3 minutes should be enough for this process."


With that, the frigates powered up their lasers (power settings to low) and began target acquisition.

Edited by Gerhard Manndorf, 13 July 2019 - 05:23 PM.



John Locke

John Locke

    The Futurist

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Location: Taanab System

Objective: Support Allies and bring the UCM to justice


Allies: CIS + Allies

Enemies: UCM and Friends

Tagging: Gianna AegisLivia MaddoxAdron Malvern







<<…Eshan…It wasn’t your fault—>>


The dark-haired Admiral slumped down in his chair, face bowed as he reached out a finger, the single digit resting against the button as he pressed it again, listening to Gianna’s broken whispering voice one more time. John had heard of the mask of command, that face you put on so those who looked upto you couldn’t see your worry, your fear. It was the lie every commander told their soldiers, that it would all be ok, that everyone would get home to their loved ones in on piece. It was an essential piece of armour, for a commander and for his men. Only with a soft word, the single short message the redhead had riven it without even being present. For a moment John’s mask was gone, the pieces of his control shattered around him.




The planet had changed so much, leaving it’s indelible mark on the galaxy, a scar on the soul of a generation, an abyss in the soul of the Admiral. It was the planet where he’d seen on of the ships under his command boarded, the crew slaughtered as a warlord he’d never seen had driven the ship into the planets surface. John had heard about asteroid strikes wiping out a planetary population, who hadn’t, the horror stories of the past, but that kind of thing didn’t happen these days. They had the technology to stop it, it had been men like him who created that technology in the first place. Only…he’d walked the crater, the ground still steaming from the force of the impact. It was only one tragedy in a day that was full of them, a constant stream of images that John didn’t think that he’d ever be able to forget. But this…this crater that was on him, his fault. All the lives lost because of that monster, they were on him, he could have done something more, reacted faster, reacted differently. He could have done something…anything to stop it.


She’d never believed that though, not for one moment, the depth of her belief in him, in his better nature…that’s what had brought him back from the brink more than anything else. The man lifted his eyes to watch the dropship shaking, sinking into the atmosphere, safely. He hadn’t realised it, hadn’t lifted his gaze away from the screen to see how the crew had turned away, giving the man his space, unwilling to impinge on the moment as he watched the screen.



“Be safe.” Two words, no more. He knew she couldn’t hear him, the disruption of the war making communication with Gianna all but impossible as she sank to the planet but…the force was meant to be this amazing connecting energy. Maybe, just maybe she’d hear it, sense it…whatever the Jedi did, maybe some merciful god would hear the words and whisk them out across the void, make them true.


A breath, and then another the riven mask slowly healing, the cracks smoothed over, not gone, maybe not ever but…not visible either. No words were shared with the bridge crew, what could be said? The silence and turned backs were a gift beyond measure, but not one that could ever be answered. The silence hung in the air, not the sharp silence that cut into your soul, the silence that called to you to fill it. This was a different silence, the silence of the professional doing their job. Data flowed and reports bounced back and down the fleet’s communication, the silence of perfection…it couldn’t last.


As suddenly as the Confederacy appeared, the Mandalorian forces burst into the scene, ship after ship after ship tearing out of space. John had expected the Mandalorian’s to make a beeline to the planet, to their friends and allies that they’d left behind there. He’d prepared a rear guard…well primarily because you never knew what could happen. Who knew he’d gotten so lucky? The Mandalorian and Sith fleets that came crashing into the system were…well significantly more numerous than his rearguard for sure, but that was the job of the rearguard, to defend against attacks like this.


Open,” the violent shaking of the ship as the first wave of Mandalorian attacks came tearing through space. “Get me the flagship right now, helm bring us around, the fleet is to redeploy to meet this new attack.” The cyborg glanced at the holographic image of Adron Malvern who appeared by him, the hologram absorbing the red lights of the ship’s alarms giving the man an almost demonic feel. “Exarch, the Mandalorian’s have arrived and opened fire on us and well…we could use some help here.” John’s gaze flicked to the screen as data propagated as fast as his sensors could compile it. “It looks like they’re being supported by a Sith Armada…I’ve fought this one before.” Vanessa Vantai, the first naval commander to leave a scratch on the Hyperion. John had forced her to retreat once, but now with such a disparity in numbers. “The Sith will be using a weapon designed to pierce your shields. It’s a sensor, it picks up wavelength of your shields and matches it. In effect your shields no longer exist to the weapon. We lost a lot of ships before we figured it out, anyone engaging the Sith needs to keep changing their shield frequency.” He started to hold out his hand before remembering EX wasn’t there, the droid waiting at home for him, “It’s a pretty simple algorithm,” as he spoke John’s fingers started to fly across a keyboard, lines of code dancing for a moment before he forwarded it onto the Exarch. “All we need to do is keep changing the shields to a random frequency so she can’t keep up, that program ought to do it.” His gaze flicked towards the main screen, “They opened fire first sir, no warning, no negotiation no demands.” So much for their speeches about protecting innocent lives, opening fire without a demand for surrender, Dark eyes flicked over to the hologram, John knew the job of the rearguard, to hold the line for the main fleet when called on, as they were being called on now. “We’ll hold them back as long as we can, but I can only hold them off for so long before they get past us.” Not really a member of the Confederacy forces John wasn’t sure if he should salute or not, settling on a nod before turning to his crew. There was nothing else he could say, the enemy commander had superior numbers and had already shown their willingness to do anything to win.



“General Command to the taskforce, we will reorient to the rear now, and form up to take up positions against the Mandalorian forces. The Umbara and Lothal-class ships are to move up to support the rest of our front line. Carriers, pull back towards the Exarch’s forces, all ships are to start a slow retreat, keep them at range.” He took a deep breath, eyes flicking to his personal screen, “Tactical target the Mandalorian Flagship with the Tempestas and the rest of our main weapons. The Artillery and Battle cruisers are to engage the secondary target while the star destroyers will engage the tertiary target. Support cruisers are to move up and provide support to the Halcyon. All ships are to begin withdrawning from their forces, matching their pace.” As long as they could stay at range the taskforce could work against the Mandalorian’s superior numbers, he just had to keep them there as long as possible. Orders given John didn’t have much more to do than to trust his crew and hope for the best. The man’s gaze drifted across to the planet, the centre of all this fighting as the Halycon's weapons came to life, joining the task forces as they sent a veritable storm of firepower streaming towards the Mandalorians. Light designed to shut down weapons, light designed to ill, metal and missiles to punch a hole in your ship. All of it concentrated down on 3 targets. The dance of war and death in the heavens just beginning.


Sorry Gia, things have happened in space.




Reorienting to face new foe. 

Halcyon firing all weapons bar the Garuda at the Hellwolf

Tenchu-Kais and Artillery cruisers firing all long range weapons at the Sundari

All Star Destroyers firing at the Defiant Mantis


Edited by John Locke, 13 July 2019 - 06:22 PM.


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Enemies: CIS
Post: 2
Beth Cadera closed her eyes, and tried to just feel the warmth that radiated from Cleru. His chin atop her head. Being held. Her mind replayed their meeting at the Chiss ball. It felt like lifetimes ago. How had their lives managed to take such a turn? They had gotten lucky, barely. From being trapped on that horror planet, to the fall of the Ascendancy, to... This. 
She thought about Kaine Australis, her dad who was likely up in space. She had finally gotten over her anger with him. Her frustration over his actions. Her feeling of abandonment due to his exile. They had lost so many years due to her biological mother, and then with his choices. In a moment of reflection, she regretted her reaction. The galaxy, with its sick jokes, chose to put them here before she even had the chance to talk to him. Ask for her own forgiveness. Explain how happy, and lucky, she was to have him in her life. She sent a quick message for when he could pick it up, "I love you, dad. Please, be safe out there.
And the new dad, Adenn Kyramud, was ready to die and fight for his wife and kids too. Patching him on her comms, "Be safe, gramps," she said with a tinge of sad humor. 
Her hand touched her necklace, a small statuette of the pantheon of Naboo. She had never really figured out what she believed - what she was taught in the orphanage, or what Mandalorians believe. Whatever being, or force, that be, she prayed. Prayed for her family. 
But she prayed for her enemies, too. They had families at home who weren't going to have their family members come home. She prayed that they'd see how wrong this was. Somehow, they could see they weren't what they thought they were. She heard Aditya's voice, and slowly, wobbly made her way over to her. She leaned slightly, resting her cheek on top of Aditya's head. Beth tried to rub Tamar's back as she sobbed in Aditya's lap. 
If there was any hope of her holding back her tears, it broke as Aditya began to speak. The tears dripped from Beth's eyes as Aditya spoke to her. It took some time for her to get used to Aditya, it was true. And there would always be that eerie, creepy feeling from her. But that didn't mean she didn't love her. Did she make mistakes with Yasha? She did, some bad mistakes. She squeezed Aditya's hand tightly as she held hers.
"No one blames you for how you raised mom, you know," she whispered as she kissed the top of her head. "Yeah, it wasn't great. But the circumstances weren't great, either," she whispered quietly. "I love you, Grandma."
But why did this sound like she was preparing to die? "They will never be alone or without love. I promise," she whispered as her eyes went to the three infants. She'd raise 'em as her own if she had too. Not even a couple days old and they would already see the effects of war. War that had nothing to do with them. A war built on, well, what else could she say besides lies? 
But when she saw what Aditya was doing, her mind put the pieces together. And Beth, knowing how stubborn the woman was, paused as Cleur began to talk. She wobbled over to him, a weak smile as she squeezed his hands. "I can't leave. I can't leave the babies, I can't leave these people..." She placed her head against his chest, as she finally broke. "Did you know my favorite author is here? She's in the geriatrics ward. Her hearts dying, and no bacta, shot, or surgery will fix it. Even tried putting a cloned one in, and it didn't take. People are just meant to pass on, eventually," she whispered, her eyes briefly wavering at Aditya. Life wasn't meant to last forever, no matter how much it hurt. No matter if it was family.  
She sighed as she placed a hand over his cheek. And she kissed his lips softly with her own, savoring the rush that he gave her even still. 
"I'm going to check on some of the patients," she said to the group as they began to argue with Aditya's decision. They needed to be comfortable - as comfortable as they could. The remaining patients were too sick to move, per doctors orders. They'd die leaving or they'd die by the Confederates. There was no in between option for them. And the remaining medical staff, volunteered to say. Beth sat in during the meeting. It was... Heartbreaking. Choosing duty or life, and they chose duty.
After hearing Aditya's speech... How many would make the choice? The impossible, insane choice to unhook themselves from their life supports and fight while they could? No bacta or surgery could save these people anymore. Having talked with many of them in the past few days, well, she fully expected many of them to try.
She gripped Cleru's shoulder, feeling an intense pain run down her body. There was no time to feel weak. If the sick and dying were willing to stand up and fight, well, kark, she'd have to find a way too. 

Edited by Beth Cadera, 13 July 2019 - 07:23 PM.


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Location: Outskirts of City

Faction: CIS

Enemies: Fleshbags, but especially beskar-clad fleshbags

Commanding: Bee-Wan Tribe


Clanker’s drop pods would arrive late, not because of any tactical reasoning, but more so just due to the controversy spawned over what he was having them load up. Eventually he ‘persuaded’ the fleshbags by surrounding them with tens of his brethren and they worked swiftly enough with their meat-driven joints. Once the Bee-Wan Tribe loaded up their vehicles and then themselves, about 1000 droids strong, they were thrown off the Dread Queen toward the planet.

The trip down was, so to say… stressful for the fragile squad of B1 droids. They had stuffed the whole tribe into 50 pods, 20 a piece, with droids stacked on top of each other. The vessel shook, the sound of explosions and lasers and thrusters just outside, sometimes seemingly just inches away. But the B1 droids, who tended to be prone to panic, were silent during this descent. Praise be MS-0. The thought was never communicated aloud, but Clanker had no doubt that this was what was going through each and every one of the tribedroids’ circuits right now, because it was what he was thinking as well. The vessel heated as they hit the atmosphere, and in thirty seconds the thrusters flaired to life and they slowed to a full halt before the ramps dropped and the natural light flooded in.

From the space vessels came nine hundred and sixty droids approximately 5 kilometers from the city, each armed with a spear and a small round shield, all stained with red, black, yellow, and blue warpaint. Two vessels had been shot down on entry, may they be rebuilt in a new life. Luckily, none of their vehicles had been destroyed: 10 metal catapults rolled out of the pods, a number of droids riding passenger on them. Clanker had requested to land slightly further from the city than the rest, away from the initial fighting… not because he was afraid or being cautious or cowardly, but because he had grander plans.

The catapults rode, rickety and all, as the droids marched behind them in a strangely disorganized manner. Once about a kilometer from the outskirts, Clanker radioed in. “Situation report?” Listening intently to the rushed reports, Clanker would have smiled if he was a gross fleshy organic with teeth. “Catapults, forty-seven degrees from north, a seven-hundred meters out.

The excited droids moved swiftly, and within a minute the siege weapons were all pointed in generally the same direction with lines of droids behind them. Clanker, being the chieftein, skipped the line and stepped up onto the catapult himself, a circular repulsorlift pack attached to his back by an automatic arm. And then, without further delay, they launched with a thwang! The ten B1 droids simultaneously were tossed into the air, and the battlefield became small under them… and then, just as quickly, quite large again.

Roger roger!” Clanker provided as a warcry, coming down from above and throwing his spear at a Mandalorian combatant (Karsan Calnov) that passed below Clanker on the ground before the droid’s repulsorlift pack slowed his descent, but not enough that he wouldn’t lose his foot upon landing. The next wave of droids came quickly, a comrade of the Bee-Wan Tribe crashing next to Clanker head-first, becoming scrap. “Thank you, my brother, and praise MS-0 for this gift.” With mechanical precision and no hesitation, Clanker picked up the surviving leg of the droid and attached it to himself, using some slight cover on the ground to avoid fire. Now whole again, Clanker wanted his spear back. “Roger roger!” With his cry echoed by other surviving Bee-Wans, the droid army would begin a fast approach toward Calnov and similarly nearby Mandalorian forces while crouched behind their shields in turtling formations, even as more machine comrades rained in from the sky above.

Keira Cerdulan

Keira Cerdulan

    Beloved Renegade

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Objective: Launch and Strike

Location: Halycon Storm
Allies: CIS

Enemies: UCM

Tags: Nyx N1X3


It was a scene that Keira had grown familiar to during her time flying with the Empire. Klaxons roaring, all the pilots rushing to suit up and attack. A fine, albeit chaotic, thing. Keira thankfully had her old flightsuit, most of it at least. Her outfit now a mixture of the stereotypical Imperial black and add ons of everything she didn't have when she captured on Rhen Var. A fine little bastardization of what the Imps up north wore.


Though, unlike most instances, Keira was fairly calm as everyone suited up and prepared for the carnage. She was excited, of course, hadn't been enough chances to fly like this. And those that she did get hadn't been all that eventful, Csilla was fun though. Though she couldn't help but wish she got a medal for that one...damn Imps. Only giving out medals to the boring ones. Do you know how much good spice you can buy with a shiny medal? It's enough, that's how much.


Her squadron, the Void Mastiffs, had been put aboard the mighty Halcyon storm before entering into the void. The mercs had been on their best behavior too, Keira especially. Rare, rare indeed. But behavior mattered little, was all about the thrill of the hunt. After finally hooking herself into her suit, all nice and snug. She began to run over, shouting over toNyx N1X3 on her way out.


"Come on, Bolthead! We got Mandos to fry!"


With that she went and loaded into her Ginivex-II, zipping out into the void. Though, unlike how she usually approached it, she stuck close to the giant this time. The giants in the void could duke it out with their giant guns today, once the opening appeared she would zip in and begin the carnage.


Naast'ika Laaran

Naast'ika Laaran

    Singing Little Destroyer

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  • 276 posts
Location: Holding position above the Hospital
Allies: Small Squishies in Beskar'gam
Enemies: Roger Dodgers & Friends
Post: 1
The squishies were always getting themselves into trouble. Or so Naast'ika thought as he drifted lazily above the large complex below him, absently orbiting the large white circle centered by a red cross that had been painted upon the roof of the building, and done so at a large enough scale to be seen from orbit. Several hours ago, Naast'ika had used this symbol as a guide as he rushed to the surface to deliver his cargo. About a dozen and a half wayward squishies that had somehow managed to get themselves trapped on a broken ship for three weeks. Those squishies were gone now, delivered into the helping hands of the squishies-in-white that worked at this complex. He had tracked his delivered squishies for a few hours, using his special senses to monitor them and reassure himself that they were being fixed properly and didn't need to get dragged kicking and screaming into the Kolto Tanks stored within him. But they were better now. Even the worst of them had strong vitals now and had a very full belly, or so Naast'ika's senses told him.
Naast'ika had done a good deed and he knew that his old master would have been proud of him for it. Normally, that would have been enough to leave Naast'ika happily chirping to himself as he wandered off to find some Gas Giant to feed upon, or some distant port from which to barter aide for maintenance. He was free to leave whenever he wanted. But something was tugging at him, keeping him from returning to orbit. Nothing terrestrial, or tangible tugged at Naast'ika. No external force pulled upon him, seeking to keep him here on this garden world. Or... No force other than the gravity of the planet anyway.
No... It was something internal that didn't feel right. A pull at his heart, a loss of pressure in his conduits, a slight wavering in his thermal constancy. The squishies were gone, and Naast'ika felt hollow in their absence. The young ship couldn't quite understand himself well enough to know why he felt the way he did, but he knew that he wasn't ready to leave these squishies so soon.
And so it went, for hours, as Naast'ika drifted over the hospital and pouted that his small, squishy playthings no longer needed him. Hovering a few hundred meters over the building in the vague, absent hope that someone would need him again. And it was from this state that Naast'ika suddenly became aware of a... busyness. The squishies in the building moved about faster than they had been before. Their bodily conditions fluttered, hearts racing with what Naast'ika could only understand as anxiety. Their concern spread to Naast'ika, though he knew not what was upsetting the squishies. His own heart racing, Naast'ika focused his exotic senses upon the wider city and found that every squishy as far as he could sense was experiencing the same excitement as those within the hospital. Now paying attention to senses that he had been ignoring, Naast'ika became aware of a great busyness throughout the city. Squishies moved. Vehicles moved. Weapons at the edge of the city came online. And a massive shield sprung to life over the city, quickly followed by a secondary shield over the hospital itself (and Naast'ika).
<Oh.> Naast'ika thought to himself as he realized that the city must be about to come under attack. <The squishies need me.>
Happy chirps drifted through the air above the hospital as Naast'ika ceased his drifting orbit for the first time in a dozen hours, coming to rest squarely above the red cross that marked the center of the medical facility. Faint echoes of siren song added to the clutter of subspace frequencies as Naast'ika enjoyed the feeling of being needed. For those at the hospital, this song would tickle at the back of their mind like a faint whisper as the light of Naast'ika's song resonated faintly in the Force. Or... at least it would for those who were sensitive to such things.

Nyx N1X3

Nyx N1X3

    Reaper in the Wings

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Objective: Launch and Strike
Location: Halycon Storm
Allies: CIS
Enemies: UCM
Tags: Keira Cerdulan
Nyx stood patiently in the dress room awaiting her squadron lead to get suited up. As a droid external attire was completely unnecessary despite her rough female equivalent frame design. All the same, she preferred to join the rest to avoid setting herself apart from them. It was difficult enough to overcome the fact that she was a droid. Many sentients looked down upon her for the fact she was not birthed from an organic womb or egg. Ego, however, was not an emotional state Nyx had opted to emulate in her programming despite observing the quality in countless bi-pedal species.


To the nanosecond this mission had proceeded without incident and on schedule. In fact, Nyx was quite pleased with the performance of so many inefficient species coordinating their actions so effectively. She made a note of this in her memorybanks for the report sent back to the Ministry of Secrets once the engagement ended.


Gently glowing red eyes followed Keira as the woman suddenly darted for the door. The energetic and reckless lead used a colorful moniker en route. Bolthead? Were Nyx a less experienced droid she might have taken that name literally; as things were Nyx wondered why she'd opted for that one among so many available. There were no bolts protruding from Nyx's cranial unit.


Banter aside, Nyx followed Keira at the pace the squadron lead set. The many sensors and gyros within Nyx made the sound of her metallic feet only slightly louder than an organics -- though there were plenty of boots thundering across decks and down corridors for it to be lost. "Set a new record, Blue." Nyx tried playing off the woman's name to keep the banter going as they prepared to enter battle. Socializing was critical to making connection with organic lifeforms, and Nyx enjoyed the learning opportunities. And... friendship.


As they approached their vessels, Nyx triggered the ramp to her Locke & Key Scythe-class fighter. The onboard computer immediately adjusted its configuration and performance profile to that of Nyx. While the ship could be flown by organics, she had purchased several components and integrations that could only truly be utilized at their optimum performance levels by a droid. The inertial dampening, artificial gravity, and environmental systems would operate at reduced settings as such comforts were unnecessary.


Once Keira was set, Nyx followed the woman's lead in lifting off and powering out of the hanger. The chain of command would dictate what death-defying antics the Void Mastiffs would participate in this battle. From what was apparent from the feel of the larger vessel before departure, and now visually witnessed outside of the fighter's canopy, Nyx anticipated an interesting and educational opportunity lay ahead.

Edited by Nyx N1X3, 13 July 2019 - 08:19 PM.




Naedira Darcrath

Naedira Darcrath

    Endless Knight

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  • 136 posts


Location: The Fortressa

Tags: Veiere ArenaisDarth Prazutis


Naedira was pissed.


Not because of the war, the long travel, or the stiffness in her limbs. She was angry because the Knight Commander [Alkor Centaris] had seen fit to put her in time out. The wording hadn’t been so basic, certainly, but it had the same effect. Stay back. Work with the medics. He insinuated that somehow, someway, her talents could be best suited to evacuating? Even some of the Jedi were on the field. In fighters. Taking the battle to the Mandalorians. But here she was—On the Fortressa, safe as houses.




She simmered while she walked down a long corridor that led to the communication hub that the Knights used to keep track of progress and battle plans. Her long hair was pulled back into a tight braid while her lithe form was wrapped in the Obsidian Strike armor. At times like these? She never took it off. Voices came through the public channels. She couldn’t help but grimace at the strange, almost rehearsed, rhetoric that seemed to be floating up from Taanab. The hypocrisy was beyond reproach…But that wasn’t the point the Confederacy had come to argue. 


The Mandalorians, from what she had read, were no longer deemed fit to maintain the space they had claimed. Either the Mandalore had become unhinged, or, her war dogs were no longer following her commands. It was a mess to suss out the details to be honest. All she knew for certain was that Confederate allies had been harmed. Placed at risk. That meant their people rose. That meant war, and war, was exactly where Naedira was effective. It was the duty of a soldier. Nothing more, nothing less.


Her plans to use the communication hub to reach out to Centaris were halted when she felt something immense. It was hard to explain. Wings of blackbirds flickered at the edges of her eyes as something so profound gripped her chest that it became difficult to draw breath. It reminded her, vaguely, of the Vicelord. Of Darth Metus when he actually let loose and wrath poured from his core like the inevitability of gravity. This was similar, close, but still very different…


Different enough that she knew it was not their Vicelord. It was not either of the Exarchs. It did not belong here. It was the difference between the taste of bitter steel and cream, with the oddness, of two moons hanging low with the sun in the same dark sky. It was primordial. An open threat. A clear terror that she had not felt since…Coruscant?


Naedira turned around, pivoting hard, while slamming the emergency alert codes into her holo-comm. The Fortressa erupted into a frenzy of alarms, flashing lights, while she headed toward the anomaly rather than away from it. She kept in contact with those that monitored security and tried to suggest anything she could think of…“Check for breaches. Unauthorized docking. Anything!”


Switching modes, she hailed the Veil, and tried to get in touch with Adron Malvern. He was the senior most member of the Confederacy currently available in space. “We have a problem on the Fortressa. Something, someone, is here. Darkside. Not ours. Investigating. Engaging.”


Several decks down found her moving with a team of three armed Magnaguard. They were not her first choice. She preferred to have her brothers and sisters of the Knights at her side. They were strong alone, certainly, but stronger together. The closer she got to the anomaly the more her vision seemed to swim. It wasn’t dizzying, not like spinning on a pod racer in circles, but moreso, as if she were being crushed. As if the very air was being forced from her body. It was physical.   


It wasn’t just in her head. Not a trick.


When she finally made it to the point of origin, she saw a hulking form surrounded by crimson clad soldiers. She focused, drawing on her own connection to the Force, to try and use it as a shield. A likeness, so that she could see, think, and access the situation fully. Her teeth were chattering. Not from cold. From fear. Fear—That she never allowed. That she never saw coming. But, it hit her like a speeding light rail regardless. Naedira breathed in deeply.


“You should not be here. Go back the way you came.”


To her credit—Her voice did not quake. It did not quiver. She almost sounded like a Knight Obsidian that had stared down monsters, the undead, and all manner of creepy crawling things. Almost. Her hood was down. He would see her eyes, her face. She was so much smaller than this Sith, his stature so great, that being dwarfed was the only way it could be described.


She was a mouse. Standing before a mountain, wrapped, in a hurricane.



Edited by Srina Talon, 14 July 2019 - 02:45 AM.