Dominion A Desperate Stand | TF Dominion of Mon Gazza

[The Burning Truth]

A Desperate Stand | TF Dominion of Mon Gazza

Ryloth is still reeling from the destruction caused by the Mandalorian Enclave and the New Jedi Order after Twi’lek rebels assassinated members of the Karjr garrison, triggering a violent clash. Entire settlements were caught in the crossfire, leaving the Twi’lek people wary of any outside presence.

Ryloth remains a world scarred by war and occupation, its people fiercely protective of their independence. As the Foundation moves to establish itself a stronghold, it faces resistance from Twi’lek leaders and the Twi’lek resistance group Ryloth’s Shield, who see them as yet another foreign oppressor. However, an even greater danger threatens all groups—the Ravagers.

These marauders attack without warning, pillaging settlements, taking captives, and spreading horror and chaos. The Foundation’s only chance to win the Twi’leks’ trust is by proving themselves a trusted ally to Ryloth. But every move they make is scrutinized—one misstep could cement them as enemies rather than allies.

Objective 1: The Foundation’s Fight for a Foothold

Ryloth’s sun cast long shadows over Nabat’s Rest, a settlement built within the bones of ancient rock formations. Once a thriving outpost, it now stood on the brink of ruin, its makeshift fortifications barely holding against the brutal Ravagers—a warband of mutated, Insane, space cannibal marauders who strike like ghosts, leaving only fire and chaos in their wake. The Twi’lek people, weary from generations of war and occupation, had little reason to trust outsiders, least of all the Foundation, who had arrived looking to establish a foothold. To Ryloth’s Shield, they were just another foreign power seeking to stake a claim on Twi’lek suffering.

But words would not decide this battle—actions would. As the first Ravager ships cut through the dusk sky, the Foundation faced its greatest test. To prove themselves, they had to do more than survive the siege. They had to hold the line, protect the innocent, and navigate a battlefield where both blasters and politics could turn against them. Every victory won over the next five engagements would shape Ryloth’s future, forging them as allies or condemning them as yet another failed promise. The fight for Ryloth’s trust had begun.

The Foundation’s mission on Ryloth is simple in theory but brutal in execution—defend the Twi’lek people from the ruthless Ravagers while proving they can be seen as allies, not occupiers. Each round represents a potentially escalating phase of conflict as the Foundation digs in against relentless attacks.

Rounds 1-5: Defending Ryloth Against the Ravagers

• Primary Goal: Hold the line, keep the airways safe, protect civilians, and convince Ryloth’s Shield’s leaders that the Foundation can be a trusted ally.
• Challenges: The Foundation must establish defensive positions, repel the Ravager incursion, navigate local distrust with Ryloth’s Shield, and prevent internal sabotage. Success means gaining favor with the locals locals, while failure breeds distrust and division.
• Dice Rolls:
  • 13-20: Tactical victories—Gain goodwill, successfully protected or reinforced key defenses, rescued civilians, or sway the Twi’lek faction, etc.
  • Below 13: Mounting difficulties—Resistance increases; sabotage, morale issues, or political fallout weakening the Foundation’s influence with the Twi’lek faction, etc.

Objective 2: Winning Ryloth’s Trust (Your Own Pace)

While the Foundation has no interest in ruling Ryloth, securing a stable base of operations is essential to their long-term presence on the planet. However, the Rylothian Council remains divided—some see the Foundation as a necessary shield against the Ravagers, while others fear they are the first step toward foreign control. Without political backing, the Foundation risks being forced out before they can truly establish themselves.

The battle for Ryloth isn’t just fought in the skies and streets—it is waged in the minds of its leaders. If the Foundation fails to earn the council’s trust, they may find themselves exiled before they can make a difference.

Key Figures in Ryloth’s Leadership:

• Chancellor Su’len Faaro – A pragmatic leader who recognizes the potential benefits of the Foundation’s presence but is wary of the political fallout if she moves too quickly.
• General Laan Tikarr – A battle-hardened veteran who refuses to support any foreign military presence unless they align with Ryloth’s existing defenses rather than operate independently.
• Councilor Vel Drun – A staunch isolationist who believes that any outside faction, no matter its intentions, will only bring more war to Ryloth.

---

Game Structure & Soft Rules

• 72-Hour Soft Rule: Those aiming for a custom item reward must post within 72 hours of their turn. Otherwise, they forfeit eligibility (but can still participate).
• 5 Rounds of Rolling (d20 System): Each round, every participant will roll a d20 to determine the success or failure of their actions. (You can always roll for more rounds if you want those points will be counted as well.)
• Some rounds will holds new surprises! Look out for tags.

Rewards

• Participation Commemoration: "Defender of Ryloth" Title commemorative art tag for all participants:

• Custom Item Eligibility: Participants must post within 72 hours during their turn in all five rounds to qualify for a custom Factory/Lore item (e.g., gear, weapons, armor, media, etc.).
• Faction Progression: The total successful dice rolls influence how much sway the Foundation gains on Ryloth with its respective factions, influencing narratives down the line.

 

[Zev Tantor]

Angel’s Military Legacy
RYLOTH | NABAT’S REST
TAG: Where is that silly @frikkie potgieter
GEAR: That’s Classified! (In my BIO)

.[All Comms Text through this format]

The Ethereal Class Heavy Carrier Mk II “Liberation” was sitting outside the system by the Captain’s orders. There were several “Skycranes” and transports sitting in wait, but one shuttle flew down to the planet. He was here on official orders, but he was going to do this right. He was going to do this in the way that the Admiral would, even though he was more aligned with Colonel Telaskta, and what she wanted to do.

They were coming down to offer assistance, and not force anything. The thing is, it was doing something he was not proficient in, negotiating, or diplomacy. He would have to at least try for this.

Setting down just outside the settlement, he did not want to push anything. Thus, not “invading”, they were expecting him, but what were they expecting? That was why Zev did not want to just assume.We’re expected.

The two perimeter guard approaching his shuttle were not impressed.

“Your point being, outsider?”

That we are here to speak with your leadership? Or someone willing?

“‘Willing’? Ha! Outsider, you are only being entertained so that you can be turned away officially.”The guards exchanged a look, clearly unimpressed by the outsider's attempt at diplomacy. Zev maintained his composure, determined to make progress despite the hostility. He knew this mission required tact, something he wasn't accustomed to, but he was ready to adapt for the greater good. Slowly, they were led, among prying eyes, to an open area where they were met by a group of Twi’Leks, an older woman at the center.

Thank you for agreeing to see me.

“You will speak when spoken to, ‘Outsider’!” One of the younger males barked aggressively.

“Rentir, that will be enough.” The Elder woman, looking quite sick, but holding together almost through sheer will alone spoke up.

“Yes, forgive me, Mother.”

“You will have to forgive my son, and most of my people. We have been sullied and betrayed several times by governments offering ‘assistance’ when meaning ‘control’, like the Ravagers who continue to attack our people. We are wary.”

Understandable, we are not offended.

Colonel Telaskta disagreed. “Here to help and insulted.” under her breath. That got a look shot at her from the Captain.

I am Captain Zev Tantor of the Foundation. Formerly of the Galactic Alliance, and Formerly of the Silver Jedi Concord. This is Colonel Adorn Telaskta, also of the same.

“We know who you are, your records are impressive, and you have my condolences on the loss of your Admiral. However, reputations, and honeyed words are not enough.”

Ma’am, what may I call you? I will not disrespect your ways. I just wish to show you that we are not here to do anything more than stand for you.

“‘Help’? They pillage us! They terrorize our children! They take our people hostage!” Rentir exploded, in the Captain’s face.

“That is enough boy!” Shouted Talin Verdal, they’re chief Scout.

“No! I will not this time! These scum outsiders want to trick u” The poor boy never got the chance to finish his sentence. A blaster bolt pierced his temple and dropped him dead.

They were being laid siege to. Instinctively, Tantor tapped his comm-link.

[This is Captain Tantor! I want gunships at my location NOW! Looking at the group, mainly the elder. We’ll help get you to safety and then help defend the village.

They didn’t seem to want to argue at this point as Telaskta seemed to be contacting the shuttle, and two gunmen exited it, bringing them rifles and moving into defensive positions.

This fight was just beginning as a large mass of these… pirates… mercenaries… whatever they were, were attacking by land and air.
(Roll-12)
​

Spoiler: Story items for Continuity

Shepherd Class Transport x4 (carrying troops commanded by Cololel Telaskta - NPC)
Cherub Gunship x2
Cherub Troop/Mech Transport x2
Skycrane Automated Heavy Transport x16
Carried by Skycranes
"Gundark" Multi-Purpose Vehicle x5
KMA "Mauler" Mobile Command Center x1
Jackhammer Pathfinder[/B] x3
Carried in Cherubs
"Haniel" Tank Mk II x4

 

[Foundation Bard]

GAND THE RAVAGER

Madness

Madness was such a beautiful thing. So misunderstood. Some saw it as an affliction. A flaw, or a disease which required a cure or treatment. As if people that otherwise did not contribute to the demands of modern society were inherently flawed. And yet, others saw a certain appeal to madness. It was seen by a smaller minority as a sort of escape from reality. A way to shirk off struggle, or evade pain. Or to embrace it. Either way, whether it was seen favourably or unfavourably, madness was always being judged.

To Gand the Ravager, madness was not something to be judged. It was simply a form of energy. A force that existed within all beings to some unquantifiable extent. It could be increased, decreased, and most importantly, directed. And any form of energy that could be directed could be… indulged in. Used. Exploited. Admired.

And he was a master at directing madness to his whims.

Spoiler: The Gand's Nest

His ship snapped into realspace far above the planet Ryloth. The Gand's Nest was an avatar of madness itself. A massive, near dreadnought sized ship that had once been a gargantuan supertanker for transporting freight. But it barely resembled what it had once been before. Countless Ravager workers toiled away in patchwork spacesuits on the outer hull of the ship, endlessly, even now. Cutting, grinding, carving, slicing, smearing. There was no grand design to their labors. They simply toiled, working to satiate the madness that clawed at their minds. They added spikes, harpoons, cannons, murals of blood, and anything they could get their hands on whenever they pleased without direction or reason. Then, as quickly as they had added their expressions of mindlessness to the hull of the ship, they would just as quickly tear them down to build or modify something else. Many weapons pointed in useless firing arcs. Engine banks that were salvaged from wrecks were tacked on at angles that actually hindered the output of the main thrusters at the back of the ship. To Gand the Ravager, his ship was a pure expression of ever-changing cacophony. It was beautiful.

He keyed his command console to show live footage of the hangar on his cracked vid-screen. The camera panned back and forth automatically and he nodded appreciatively. The hangar was absolutely massive. Most noticeably, the outer edges of the hangar, lining the walls, were small, dim ceiling lamps that only illuminated tiny spaces. Each space was isolated from the others, and resembled small camp fires. Around each "camp" were individual tribes of Ravager "pilots". All together there were thousands of them, scattered around the outer edges of the hangar. They kept to themselves, trying to not provoke nearby adjacent tribes.

Away from the walls of the massive hangar, and towards the middle was near total darkness. In the gloom, hundreds of mutilated fighter craft and makeshift troop transports were scattered around the floor randomly. Workers, again, toiled away without any guidance; splicing, modifying, vandalizing, doing whatever they felt like doing to the ships that lay dormant in the darkness. Sparks from grinding and welding threatened to illuminate the space, but the gloom seemed to consume all of the light like a sponge.

Gand the Ravager turned his attention away from the consol to the bulkhead of his bridge. His sensor operators were frantically drawing scribbles of what they had observed on their screens. They always seemed to hate speaking, and preferred to illustrate their reports on the wall in blood-painted murals. It had taken Gand a a few years, but he now understood the scribbled illustrations and short-hand of his "bridge officers" very well.

There was already a skirmisher swarm at Nabat today, weakening the local defenders. The spoils there would be ripe for his horde to reap.

He would feed on the Twi'leks of Nabat today.

He reached for the control panel in front of him and tapped two buttons in quick succession. He then returned his gaze to the vid-screen. In response to his commands, the lights around the outer edge of the hangar walls extinguished, leaving the scattered tribes of feral pilots in total darkness. A fraction of a moment later, the lights above the fighters illuminated the ships and the workers below. Upon being suddenly barraged with white light, the workers quickly scattered like insects, hiding in little holes, or under random objects and ship parts. At the same time, the tribes of pilots lunged in.

The pilots were "trained" to know what was happening. The moment the lights hit the hundreds of fighters and transports on the hangar deck, the thousands of pilots knew that it only meant one thing: time to hunt.

They all scrambled as fast as they could, knowing that there was a disparity of ships. The fastest ones reached whatever fighters they could get to first. Then came the strong pilots. In some cases, the brutes grabbed at the ankles of the fast pilots and tore them away from the cockpits before they could close the canopies. Sometimes the fast ones would turn around and fight back, sometimes they would win, sometimes they would be torn limb-from-limb. In rare cases, the fast ones would close the canopies before the brutes could reach them and would attempt to start the engines. Tribal allegiances were forgotten, and the only thing that mattered now was the hunt, and the fight to claim a ship as their chariot into battle.

Any and all who died fighting for a ship became food, right there on the spot.

Sporadically, some ships began to take off from the deck and begin flying for the hangar exit. Desperate Ravagers clung on to the hulls of the escaping craft, flailing and dangling. As they entered the void, the hard vacuum of space rended the clingers from the hulls, and caused their blood to boil from the depressurization and sudden radiation exposure. As the ships reached space, they began circling the Gand's Nest, waiting for a signal to tell them where to go.

Gand the Ravager watched them slowly assemble around his ship with his compound eyes. He waited until there was enough ships to form a proper horde before giving orders, "Gand is hungry. Fire the signal at the city of Nabat. Bring Gand the flesh of a juicy tail-head!"

And with that, a massive, ugly canon slowly extended from the belly of the ship. It slowly pivoted to aim where Gand had ordered it to fire. Over the comm speakers, the feral roars of Ravager pilots and carried troops cheered on the canon in a unintelligible, cacophonous chant. Then, the canon fired.

The bolts it fired were white. Gand the Ravager had no clue if it was an ion canon, a turbolaser, a solar ionization weapon, or even if the bolts retained any functional potency. It shot white bolts, which were a different colour from all his other ship's weapons. Therefore, his horde knew to follow them. The canon fired shot after shot at a steady tempo, providing a path for the feral pilots to follow. There, they would go. There, they would hunt. There, they would feed.

---

Zev Tantor | The Burning Truth | Asara Ta'kona | still open

 

[Toruun Kai]

CHARACTER TITLE/CATCHY ALIAS
OBJ 1 | RYLOTH
TAG: The Burning Truth

His memories of Kiffu were few and fart between, the remnants of those memories shown only in that golden tattoo that crossed the bridge of his nose. The sun on Ryloth was different, so were their deserts; less sand, more stone.

On the back of Blurrg, tossed back and forth in the saddle with Twi'lek warriors flanked on either side, Toruun could think only one thing: I am so in over my head.

The weight of the lightsaber on his hip was heavy, with maybe more than just the metals it comprised of. In time, what you pretend to be is what you become.

Toruun wiped the sweat from his brow and readjusted the goggles fastened to his face. Something churned in his stomach, though.

"Wait," he blurted, and the Twi'lek saw him for the Jedi he claimed to be, coming to a swift halt. Even if it took him a few pulls more on the reigns to rest up. "I think something's coming our way."

Dice Result: 3

​

 

[Asara Ta'kona]

A DESPERATE STAND
OBJ2 WINNING RYLOTH'S TRUST
TAG:
GEAR: Link shiz here

​

Asara entered the council chamber, she was here on behalf of the foundation but also on behalf of her people. She wore light traditional Ryl clothing and her lime and pepper lekku were adorned with a long delicate chain. The warrior walked in proudly, she recognised the council members, Particularly General Laan Tikarr, she had fought under the venerable Twi'lek's banner several times, taking his orders in order to protect the world against marauding foreigners. She hoped that her reputation as a native defender would help her carry favour with the council, but nothing was ever guaranteed. Her dual reputation as a Jedi could be a problem, so often the Jedi were harbingers of war and quickly tucked innocent worlds into their fights against their traditional enemies.

She spoke in Ryl first "Good day council members, always a pleasure." she smiled and nodded at them all. "I hope we can make a beneficial arrangement. The foundation are not an occupying power, you have nothing to fear from us."

Vel drun scoffed at the woman, having likely heard similar many times before.

 

[Zev Tantor]

Angel’s Military Legacy
RYLOTH | NABAT’S REST
TAG: Where is that silly @frikkie potgieter
GEAR: That’s Classified! (In my BIO)

.[All Comms Text through this format]

The wind, hot and thick with the scent of dust and fear, whipped through the narrow streets of Nabat. Captain Zev Tantor, his face grimed with sweat and blaster scorch, spat onto the parched earth. Around him, the remaining villagers of Nabat huddled behind makeshift barricades, their eyes wide with terror. Their trust had been hard-won, chipped away from generations of exploitation, but now, mingled with their fear, was a sliver of something akin to hope. Hope that he, Zev Tantor, and the two Foundation soldiers with him and the Colonel, could somehow hold back the tide. The villagers were armed, and fighting, but they were overwhelmed.


Rema, the village elder, a woman already of declining health watched in horror as her people were falling, quickly. “All of this death…” clutching her chest she dropped to a knee.


“Mother!” Renna, her daughter, immediately went to her.


Tantor immediately pointed to the two soldiers. Get them, and anyone else you can to the shuttle and get it in the air! Clearly the two soldiers were questioning the thought of this, honorable yes, but…


“You heard him! You have your orders, go!” Colonel Telaskta confirmed that this was not a request.


Across the village square, Colonel Adorn Telaskta, a warrior carved from granite, barked orders to the transports carrying squads of Marines, they should have been here by now. Blue bolts of their blasters lanced out, momentarily halting the grotesque advance of the Ravagers. Telaskta, a veteran of countless campaigns, led from the front, her own blaster singing a song of defiance. She moved with brutal efficiency, a whirlwind of focused fury that inspired the villagers, even as it terrified them.


The Ravagers were a plague upon Ryloth. Gand(and other species) scavengers driven mad by desperation and indoctrinated by twisted ideologies, they were cannibalistic terrorists, fueled by a hunger for flesh and a lust for destruction. They moved in a seething mass, their insectile bodies clacking and skittering across the ground, their guttural cries echoing off the sandstone walls. They craved only to kill, to pillage, to drag the living into their nightmare.


Zev knew their odds were abysmal. Nabat was a remote village, a forgotten speck on the vast canvas of Ryloth. The Foundation, stretched thin across dozens of worlds, had only been able to spare a handful of personnel. He was outgunned, outmanned, and staring down the barrel of a massacre.


He gripped his blaster tighter, the familiar weight a small comfort. He was a former Special Forces operative, a ghost who had haunted the battlefields of a thousand forgotten wars. He’d learned from the best, from the late Admiral Liram Angellus himself, a man who’d seen more combat than most people saw sunrises. Angellus had taught him the value of strategy, the importance of knowing your enemy, but most importantly, he’d instilled in him a code: never break a promise.


He had promised the villagers of Nabat protection. A promise made when their eyes were filled with the same fear he saw in them now. He wouldn't break that.


Hold the line! Zev roared, his voice a rasp from shouting to those Twi’Leks willing to fight. They want fear! Give them fire!


The villagers, spurred by his words and Telaskta's unyielding presence, returned fire with a desperate ferocity. Blaster bolts ripped through the air, tearing chunks out of the advancing Ravagers. But for every one that fell, two more took its place.


The Ravagers were relentless. They swarmed over barricades, their razor-sharp limbs tearing through flimsiplast and metal. Marines fell, their screams swallowed by the cacophony of battle. Zev moved like a wraith, his blaster spitting death, his movements precise and lethal. He took down Ravagers left and right, but they kept coming, an endless wave of chitin and hunger.


He saw Telaskta fighting back-to-back with a young villager, their blasters a blur of light. He watched as a Ravager lunged, its mandibles snapping for the villager's throat. Zev reacted instantly, diving forward and slamming into the Ravager, tackling it to the ground. He jammed the barrel of his blaster into its head and pulled the trigger.


The creature convulsed and died. Zev scrambled to his feet, pulling the villager up with him.


Get back to the barricade! he yelled. Stay alive!


He knew they couldn't hold out much longer. The Ravagers were gaining ground. The barricades were failing. Hope was flickering, threatening to extinguish entirely.


"Captain!" Telaskta's voice cut through the din. "We're losing ground! We need to fall back!"

Zev shook his head. Fall back where, Colonel? There's nowhere else to go. We make our stand here.


Telaskta stared at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of respect and frustration. "We're outgunned, Captain. We can't win."


Maybe not, Zev replied, his voice low and grim. But we can make them pay for every inch of ground they take.


The Ravagers surged forward, their numbers overwhelming the remaining defenses. Zev and Telaskta fought side-by-side, a whirlwind of blaster fire and brutal efficiency. But they were being pushed back, inch by inch, towards the center of the village.


Zev felt a searing pain in his side. A Ravager had managed to slip past his defenses, its claws tearing through his armor. He stumbled, but Telaskta caught him, steadying him.


"Captain, you're hit!"


It's nothing, Zev grunted, ignoring the blood seeping through his uniform. Just keep fighting.


They fought on, their backs against the last remaining building. The villagers huddled behind them, their faces etched with despair. The end was near. Zev knew it. Telaskta knew it. Everyone knew it. They were about to die in this forgotten village, swallowed by the ravenous tide.


Then, a new sound ripped through the air. A deep, resonant roar that shook the very ground beneath their feet. The Ravagers momentarily paused, their guttural cries silenced by the alien sound.

Zev looked up. Three shapes were descending from the sky, falling like avenging angels. They were gunships, sleek and deadly, their hulls gleaming in the fading light. Cherubs.


The Cherubs roared in, their cannons blazing. A storm of laser fire tore through the ranks of the Ravagers, obliterating them in bursts of green and blue. The ground erupted in explosions, showering the village with dust and debris. For each one that dropped rappelling lines to drop squads of Marines, the other two tore into the Ravagers. Soon the tide was turning.


The Ravagers, caught completely off guard, were decimated. Their ranks broke, their mindless aggression replaced by panicked flight. They scattered, fleeing in terror from the onslaught of the gunships.


Zev watched in stunned silence as the Cherubs systematically annihilated the remaining Ravagers. The gunships weaved through the streets, their cannons spitting fire, their pilots merciless and efficient.


Within minutes, the battle was over. The Ravagers were gone, either withdrawn or reduced to smoking piles of chitin and ash. The silence that descended upon the village was deafening, broken only by the crackling of fires. This was not a complete victory though as this satellite town to Nabat had lost more than half her citizens to murder, more being taken hostage.


Zev leaned against a crumbling wall, his body aching, his mind reeling. He was alive. They were all alive. Against impossible odds, they had survived.


Telaskta approached him, her face grim but her eyes filled with relief. "Where did they come from?"


Zev shook his head. He had almost forgotten that he had called them down.Complaining? I'm not complaining."

The Cherubs landed in the village square, their engines slowly winding down. More soldiers disembarked, their faces hidden behind helmets. They moved with a purpose, securing the area, tending to the wounded.


One of the soldiers approached Zev and Telaskta. He removed his helmet, revealing a young, clean-shaven face.


"Captain Tantor?" he asked.


"That's me," Zev replied, his voice hoarse.


"Colonel Telaskta?"


"Here," Telaskta said.


He looked around at the village of Nabat, at the villagers emerging from their hiding places, their faces filled with awe and relief. They were safe. At least, for now.


Talin Verdal, the chief Scout walked over to them, the rage in his eyes from the battle, but the appreciation in his mannerisms from those standing with them evident, he joined the conversation. “Our Elder, and second are missing, our people are missing, but you stood with us when you could have withdrawn.”


“We are here.” Rema, the elder, her daughter Renna standing alongside holding her up walked with the two Marines, the shuttle they were in having just landed. She walked by Talin and right to the two Foundation officers. “You stood with my people when you didn’t have to. You protected them and kept your word. Maybe you are worth talking to. I will speak to my elders…”


With respect, Madame Elder… Tantor interrupted. We’re not done. Your people are missing…


Colonel Telaskta added “... on our watch…”


Madame Elder. I would like the opportunity to finish our work and get your people back. While we still can, but it will require…


Now it was Rema’s opportunity to step in. “You do what you need to… just get our people back, please bring them home.”


Without a word, Telaskta stepped away and spoke into her comm-link as Tantor nodded. Every resource I can bring, I will.

Spoiler: Nabat NPCs I am rp’ing with

The Elder woman - Rema
The Daughter and next in line - Renna
Talin Verdal, they’re chief Scout.

(Roll-17)

Spoiler: Story items for Continuity

Shepherd Class Transport x4 (carrying troops commanded by Cololel Telaskta - NPC)
Cherub Gunship x4
Cherub Troop/Mech Transport x2
Skycrane Automated Heavy Transport x16
Carried by Skycranes
"Gundark" Multi-Purpose Vehicle x5
KMA "Mauler" Mobile Command Center x1
Jackhammer Pathfinder[/B] x3
Carried in Cherubs
"Haniel" Tank Mk II x4

​

 

[Ava Black]

| Location | Nabat's Rest, Ryloth​

| Objective | Secure the Perimeter​

​

Ravagers had been plaguing the poor people of Nabat's Rest, and the Foundation in its goodwill efforts had dispatched its volunteer forces to assist in fortifying and rebuilding what they could. The Twi'lek were not the easiest of people to win over given the history and hardships they've had to endure, but they were certainly not alone in their efforts to restore their lives. Ava hefted her rifle as she directed a few troops from the Foundation to overwatch positions, gesturing with her free hand to ideal locations to keep an eye out for anything intending to bring harm to the people she was tasked with defending and supporting.​

​

They were to do what they could to win over the people's trust, not an easy or simple task given the circumstances and hostile elements they've had to struggle through, such as Mandalorians, raiders, etc. An elderly Twi'lek accompanied by a small child stumbled past Ava, dropping a crate of their belongings as the woman reached out to keep them from falling over. The Twi'lek bowed their head, offering their thanks as Ava called over a trooper to assist them. ​

​

The trooper rushed over as they took the burden of the crate as Ava looked down at the ground, spotting a fallen doll as she knelt down to pick it up, glancing up to see the small Twi'lek child looking at her. She offered a warm, reassuring smile to the child as she held out the doll, the child hastily reaching out and grabbing it from her. The child clutched the doll tightly in their hands, hugging it against their chest before looking at the pale woman and spoke shyly, "Nal'a lyn numa." Ava smiled as she reached her hand out, patting the child gently before gesturing for her to run along. The child giggled and ran off to accompany the elderly Tw'lek, Ava's comm shortly sparking to life.​

​

She shifted as she reached down to her belt, grabbing her macrobinoculars as she raised them to her eyes, scanning the horizon. Ships dotted the horizon; Ravagers. She barked out to alert the troopers, "Hostiles inbound, look alive troopers! We have people to protect." ​

​

[ Rolled a 15 ]​

 

[Mother Askani]

RYLOTH | OBJ 2. WINNING RYLOTH'S TRUST | FOUNDATION
Direct Tags: Asara Ta'kona

The Rylothian Council chamber was built into the bedrock, fortified from...years of war and occupation. The air was tense, the room quiet but for the distant hum of repulsorlifts. Askani, and Asara, Jedi and representatives here on behalf of the Foundation's Civil Command Council, stood at the center of the room. They hadn't come with demands, but to secure a future.

"What Asara says is true. The Foundation isn't here to rule Ryloth," Askani said plainly, her eyes scanning the faces of the councilors. "We're none of the current powers at play. We've seen what happens when governments grow too large and stagnate--when systems are left to fend for themselves."

Chancellor Faaro gave a small nod, recalling their past dialogue—about rebuilding efforts, refugee aid, and industry partnerships through the Southern Systems Alliance. But General Tikarr remained unmoved, arms folded, and Councilor Vel Drun already looked ready to object.

"We'd like to establish a foothold. A base. That's it," Askani continued. "We'll coordinate, we'll support your defense forces if needed--but we operate on your soil with your permission. This is your world. We just want to help make sure it stays that way."

Silence followed. The next words would come from the Council. Approval would open the door to a lasting alliance. Rejection would force the Foundation to weigh its next move carefully; this discussion was important.

A murmur passed between councilors. Chancellor Su'len Faaro leaned forward, her expression unreadable. "You speak of failed systems, Jedi Askani. But Ryloth has known many would-be liberators. What makes your Foundation any different?"

Before there could respond, General Tikarr's voice cut in. "Words are easy. If you want ground on Ryloth, you'll answer to Ryloth's command. No independent operations. No separate chain of command. Are you prepared for that?"

Then Councilor Vel Drun cut in. "I've heard enough," he snapped. "Ryloth has known many occupying forces, various names, varous claims--and now this Foundation, thinking it knows better than us how to protect Ryloth. I say we end this now before it festers into occupation."

-----

"What have I sacrificed? Everything..."


​

 

[Caltin Vanagor]

Brutal Honesty
RYLOTH
MEETING

Caltin did not fly here with them, he came on his own.

Caltin did not walk in with them, he was a little late.

He was here though. Standing in the back, arms folded and calmly watching. Noticing those glaring and scowling at him, he paid them no mind. What the big man was doing was reading the room. It made sense, all of it, they were mistrustful, a rotten existence, and a worse history has forced this on them. He would say nothing unless asked.

Right now there was a mixture of testing, and genuine anger from the Twi’Leks present. It was how he would probably react in their situation, outsiders openly coming in wanting a foothold… things needed to calm down and center… or they were going to go south quickly.

Mother Askani • Asara Ta'kona
[Text in Brackets is spoken on Comm-link] ~Like this is through the Force~​

 

[Bido Roz’lyn]

LIEUTENANT BIDO ROZ'LYN
PLACE | Resupply Outpost, several kilometers from Nabat

TAG: Zev Tantor Mother Askani The Burning Truth Caltin Vanagor Toruun Kai Ava Black Asara Ta'kona

GEAR:
Flight suit
Personal Energy Shield
Sidearm
Back-sheathed short sword
Astromech
y-wing

​

The little y-wing was scored nearly black with blaster burns as Bido set the little bomber down on the landing pad. The moment her landing gear touched the duracrete pad, service droids swarmed out carrying missiles and hoses to replenish and refuel her exhausted little craft. Like her ship, she herself was overworked. Being born a Dornean gave her a number of physiological advantages over a lot of other species. However, going without sleep or rest wasn't one of them. This landing marked the end of her third solo sortie of the day, and this was the first time Dispatch hadn't briefed her before even landing.

She wasn't going to waste this opportunity. She turned on to her side in an effort to get relatively comfortable in her flight chair, and resolved to take a power nap. After squirming for a few minutes to get reasonably comfortable, she finally closed her eyes...

... just then the comm chimed, "Danger two, come in!"

She growled and then hit the broadcast button, adding her frustration to the force of her finger in the form of an angry jab, "Go-for Danger two. Where am I going now?"

"We need you to rendezvous with one of the Twi'lek Chir'Daki units and head to Nabat. We don't have any other starfighter units in the area. Are you fully replenished?"

Bido's big black eyes blinked heavily with exhaustion before she turned her head to check on the droids' progress, "yeah... they're closing the missile racks now." she then shook her head with annoyance as another thought occurred to her, "Isn't Zev Tantor already at Nabat? I thought he already drove off the Ravagers that were there?"

Bido heard the dispatcher's tongue click before replying, "Yyyep. Him and his dropships drove off the warband that was raiding the city. It was a big one too. But... another horde is inbound to take advantage of the weakened state of the city's defences. A much... much bigger horde."

Bido suddenly forgot her exhaustion as her heart started to hammer insider her chest. Her whiskers flared up. She had quite a bit of experience with Ravagers from her days with the Dornean Navy. She knew how big their various warbands could get. There were very few that could make the swarm that Zev Tantor had encountered seem small...

"Which warband are they?" she muttered darkly. She felt like she already knew the answer.

"The Gand's Nest"

She snarled and lit her engines with a white-knuckled grip on her controls. She goosed her throttle, not even giving her repulsors enough time to fully take the weight off of landing gear. Instead, she opted to pull back on the stick and let the engines do all the work. The landing gear sparked and screeched violently as they dragged before lifting off. She then barked back at the dispatcher on the comm, "Tell the Chir'Dakis to catch up with me! I'm going there now!"

"Danger two! You will be very, very badly outnumbered! I very highly reccommend that you meet the Chir-"

"Then tell them to pull the lead out!" with that, Bido muted the comm.

She knew Gand's Nest very well. They had terrorized her people more than a few times, and many of her nightmares were haunted with the horrors they had inflicted. She knew how massive they were. She knew how vicious they were. And she knew how fast she would need to get there if Nabat, and the Foundation troops were going to stand anything resembling a chance.

Time to get to work.

She keyed in the main channel for Foundation forces on her comm, "Any and all Foundation forces in Nabat. This is Danger Two! You have a massive swarm inbound on your position! They will likely reach you before my unit gets there! If you mark targets for me, I can, and I WILL provide close air support!"

She shut off the comm. No doubt, the forces defending Nabat would become anxious, knowing that her, and her incoming Chir'daki reinforcements were embarrasingly outnumbered. And they would have every right to fret. But she was 120 years old. She was a Danger Squadron pilot. And, most importantly, she had decades of experience fighting Ravagers. She may be just one pilot, but she had no intention of of letting the Ravagers have it easy.

Spoiler: OOC: Playing as the opposition

I’m being lazy and playing the actions of the opposition in my Bido Roz’lyn post, here. The actions of the opposition are intentionally open ended for everyone to post their responses as they see fit. Please try to leave enough Ravagers left in your post for everyone to “chew on” lol. There’s lots to go around here.