Rebellion Amongst the Ashes | The Rebellion of the Mandalore Hex [ DWC vs MU ]

[Saga of Valour]

[ O O C _ T H R E A D ]​

There was no future for the world of Manda’yaim, or Mandalore as it was known in the common tongue. For centuries, the planet endured one catastrophe after another - leaving its surface nothing more than a barren, desolate wasteland. What resources the planet’s crust yielded were all but spent, stolen by foreign nations that sought to exploit the riches that once drew the extinct Taung to the sector. To make matters worse, the surface of the planet played host to a veritable horde of monsters that burrowed into the crust- further defiling the planet beyond all recognition. Mandalore was a cursed world, and thus it was little surprise that the recently triumphant Mandalorian Union elected to abandon their cultural homeworld after sacrificing much to reclaim it.

They knew that there was little to be gained by reseeding the world, and by reversing the damage that was wrought. The Union begrudgingly accepted the notion of yet another catastrophe awaiting them around the corner. With such thoughts in mind, many of the survivors began to sow the seeds of doubt - asking themselves if restoration of their homeworld was worth all of the trouble when another disaster was on the horizon. While none knew of when this catastrophe would occur, they knew it was coming. It was then that they determined that no-more lives should be sacrificed in vain to defy the inevitable.

Thus, Manda’yaim would be abandoned. The world was cursed beyond recompense, and it was their mission to preserve the cultural identity of their people. So, they would take everything they could and commit themselves to an exodus across the stars. There, in the infinite ocean of bespeckled night, they would find their new home and rebuild.

However, there were many surviving Mandalorians, outside the Union’s sphere of influence, that believed abandoning the homeworld in such a state was cowardice. They had sacrificed so much to reclaim the world, the very least they could’ve done was cleanse the surface - so that their ancestors could rest easy, rather than be defiled by the Horde of Graug nesting within the planet’s crust. The Death Watch was the preeminent force of Mandalorians in the Galaxy that were opposed to such craven motives and thus set themselves to the task. They marshalled a Crusade that sought to finish what the Union started, and bring about the final death of Manda’yaim. ​

It was only then that the planet could be reborn elsewhere, and the Mandalorians themselves could begin their lives anew.

Location Setpieces:

• Mandalore:
  • Partial Ruins of Sundari.
  • Krostport; Resettled Graug Hive.
• MandalMotors Orbital Shipyards.
• Concordia:
  • Fortress Imperious.
    • Bay’r Tki’r - Death Watch Fortress - Underground Tram Connection.

Death Watch Storyhooks:

• The City of Sundari has been partially rebuilt, but the process has been tedious and wholly expensive. There are portions of the City that remain in ruins, and some that are infested with monsters that stalk the shadows. The Field Marshals of the Death Watch have decreed that any Monsters, Sith personnel, or Graug are to be exterminated with extreme prejudice.
  • There are likely to be many secrets beneath the ruined, and sunken portions of Sundari that speak to the evils wrought upon the planet’s surface during the Sith occupation. Recover these secrets, so that we might learn how to combat them in the future - or destroy them. The choice is yours.
• Krostport has been claimed by the Graug and acts as their central Hive on the planet’s surface. With several starships holding station above the condemned locale, the Death Watch would begin to virus bomb the City, and then the Planet thereafter with their newly acquired Xenophage. Field Marshal Konnor Vizsla is overseeing the purge from an anchored Corvette, either assist him in cleansing the surface or ensure that his work’s undisturbed.
• Although nationalized by the Sith occupation, the MandalMotors Orbital Array plays host to several databanks that are rife with technical schematics that would benefit the Death Watch, and the Crusade thereafter. Rally Master Vendrik Bralor is leading the boarding party, follow their lead and take whatever you can find. Nothing gets left behind if it can be helped.
• On the surface of the once noble Concordia, Fortress Imperious blights the landscape. While having been “abandoned” by the Sith during their retreat from the Mandalorian Sector, there were likely countless “gifts” left behind to the once-victorious Mandalorian peoples. The Field Marshals of the Death Watch demand that this towering edifice is brought low, and the secrets within plundered - as they shall undoubtedly aid the Crusade in combatting the Sith.

Death Watch Crusaders’ Rules of Engagement:

• You have the right to use force to defend yourself from attack, or threat of attack.
• You may return fire, effectively and promptly to stop hostile actions.
• Mandalorians, regardless of their allegiance, are not to be killed. Bodily harm is acceptable when no peaceful option presents itself.
• You may seize what property you find, to either aid yourself in battle or further our cause.

REMEMBER
Our Crusade is Eternal.
Fellow Mandalorians are not the Enemy, but they are not our Friends.
Gather what Relics we can for the Cause.
The Graug and any remaining Sith are to be Exterminated on sight. No Exceptions.

Any Crusader found in violation of this ROE shall be stripped of their armour, flogged, and ejected out the nearest airlock.

FOR THE WATCH!

Mandalorian Union Faction Staff:
Adenn Kyramud
​

 

[Rynn Vizsla]

[ P O S T _ T H E M E ]

​

Mandalore was a cursed world. The surface was naught but ash and sand, soaked with the blood of the fallen and betrayed. It was a place of many memories, where the people that once thrived on the harshness of the surface rose to challenge the galaxy, time and again. However, as phoenician as their cycle of rebirth became, something stopped the process. The people who survived the countless culls were drawn back to the misbegotten world, hoping that things would be different this time. But, their efforts were in vain. The planet was dead, and the culture that once dominated the surface was dying. It was only a matter of time before the Peoples of Mandalore lost their way and became nothing more than a footnote in the annals of history.

However, there were those amongst their dwindling numbers that believed hope remained. They knew that once the cycle was restored, then their world could be reborn again. But, the chains of the past were strong. They bound many to the misbegotten belief that their world could still be restored and that they were nothing without the history etched into the sundered planet’s crust. Yet, it was through such folly that the Scions of Mandalore found themselves before the precipice. Time and again, others believed that through the restoration of their ancestral heartland, that the Mandalorian people would be restored.

The evidence of their failures was laid bare for all to see. The Mandalore-that-was was dead. Its surface was torn asunder as others, hungry for resources, dug towards the molten core. There also existed a cancer that festered beneath the sundered crust - growing ever larger despite all means of containment. Deposited onto the planet’s surface in an attempt to defile an already condemned world, the Graug made their homes beneath the planet’s withered husk. They numbered in the billions and seemingly gave birth to new generations faster than anyone could ever imagine. It would’ve been an uphill and ultimately fruitless battle to engage them through conventional means. But, the Death Watch was the furthest thing from conventional.

Through shrewd manipulations, the Mandalorians who held true to the old ways managed to get their hands on a new bioweapon, one that was tailored specifically to combat the Graug. With their acquisition of this new weapon, brought about by what many would consider as piracy, these Neo-Crusaders were ready to launch their daring strike on Mandalore itself. They only needed to worry themselves with the Mandalorian Union, who prided themselves in liberating the Sector - but did little to reinstate their claims. There was a chance, no matter their best intentions, that the Union wouldn’t take kindly to the Death Watch’s incursion to their territory. Such a chance, however, was incredibly slim.

Ever reliable, rumours purloined from darkened alleys and backrooms in popular Cantina’s, foretold of an exodus. That in restoring Mandalore, the Union suffered greatly. Their Mand’alor, known to them as the Reclaimer, had vanished. Like the Carrion that the Death Watch named them after, the figure vanished as soon as they realized the carcass was already picked clean. They, like their predecessors, were unworthy of the mantle they claimed. Without a strong leader to helm the restoration efforts, it was little surprising that everything fell apart. Thus, the Death Watch took it upon themselves to finish what others had started, to break the chains that bound their people to this benighted world.
​

And so, the Mandalore Crusade was founded. ​

Rynn Vizsla was one of the first to swear himself to this new endeavour. He had been to Mandalore before and borne witness to the many horrors that were wrought upon its surface firsthand. It was an experience that nearly cost the man his life. But, this time around, the Rally Master would be prepared to face the unspeakable evils on the planet’s surface. He wasn’t the youthful Crusader anymore that was a pawn of the distant Imperial regime. As his mind began to drift into the past, an armoured gauntlet slammed itself onto his pauldron. The man was torn back into the present and snapped his visor over to the figure who now stood at his side.

It was the Field Marshal that had brought him into the fold, that made him a Crusader and had even gifted him the rank of Rally Master. His name eluded the young Vizsla, but the swagger and gravitas that permeated from them were unmistakable. “If you spend too much time lost in thought, you’ll lose track of the present, Rynn.” The Mandalorian nodded before tapping the gauntlet on his shoulder with his own. “You’re right, cousin; I was just thinking of the last time I was here, where I faced the Horde alone and earned the title you gave me.”

“Spawnslayer,” the Field Marshal said with a helmet-shrouded smile. “It’s not as fancy as Thronebreaker or Sithsmasher, but I think it speaks to you all the same. You proved yourself down there once before; it’s a shame you won’t be doing so again.”

Rynn scoffed mirthfully. “Mandalore’s a cursed world. I’d rather be fighting anywhere else.” He smiled then as his eyes drifted towards several pallets of branded containers. “Besides, we have something that’ll turn the tide in our favour.”

“Aye,” the Field Marshal stated, as he too turned towards the stacked row of pressure-sealed canisters. “We have our friends in the Core to thank for that. They seem to want us to succeed just as much as we do.” He paused for a moment before turning away from the canisters to stare out the armoured viewport. “I can’t blame them either. The Sith have done many unspeakable evils to many worlds, and unleashing the Hordes of Graug has made them Saints amongst the Sinners. This is but our first step along the path of vengeance, and once freed from the past - we shall be free to make our own future.”

The Rally Master could only nod in agreement. He knew what was at stake with this Crusade and what it meant - not only for his people but the Death Watch thereafter. “And what a future it will be,” the young Vizsla said with a knowing smile.

When the two parted ways, their exit was haloed by the sight of a handful of Mandalorian Corvettes bearing the marking of the Death Watch anchoring themselves above Mandalore’s northern hemisphere. Once they took their stations, a volley of chem-trails burst from shrouded launchers and began streaming towards the surface. Those chem-trails played host to hundreds of warheads, each guided by the technological hands of a rudimentary and integrated artificial intelligence. Those very same warheads carried a payload that once occupied the very same canisters that Rynn and the Field Marshal mentioned. It was the Xenophage that the Core Worlds designed to combat the Graug.

As the Nanovirus managed to find itself in Mandalorian hands, there was no hesitation when the appointed hour arrived. One volley after another was catapulted towards the surface. Some of the warheads would impact the surface, bathing portions of the planet in granular clouds of thrown debris. Others would be guided into the labyrinthine tunnels that were burrowed into the planet’s surface. They used micro-repulsors to snake around corners and detonate where they believed they would be most effective. It would be a ceaseless bombardment, as the Death Watch sought to cover the entire planet in their purloined Xenophage. But, as their ships were few - it would take time to achieve their desired result.

While the bombardment began, an automated message would be transmitted across all frequencies. This message would not only announce the Death Watch’s presence to whoever remained within the system but would state their intent as well. They had to choose their words carefully so that none would misinterpret their deeds, but there was a chance that someone wouldn’t understand - nor care. The Mandalorians bearing the sigils of the skull and thorned halo would be ready if that eventuality came to pass, for they were Neo-Crusaders and were always ready for a fight.
​

:: We are the Death Watch, and we have returned. Our Crusade shall finish what the Unworthy and the Carrion have started. The Graug infestation ends this day, and Mandalore shall be readied for its final death. Only then can we be free from its shackles and build anew. To any Union forces remaining within the System: We do not seek to fight you. But, we shall defend ourselves if you come seeking blood. Flee with whatever you can carry, and join your Mand’alor in a coward’s exile. The Crusade lays claim to what remains, as we shall put it to better use. ::​

After the message began repeating, a dozen transports broke away from the Neo-Crusader’s flotilla. These dropships bore the Death Watch’s fighting elite as they speared towards the surface of Concordia, Mandalore’s benighted moon. On that celestial satellite, the Crusaders believed a repository existed, where information vital to the future of their endeavours against the Sith would be found and subsequently recovered. However, who knew the state it would be in, as the Sith and their crumbling Empire had a particular way of leaving ‘gifts’ behind to any abandoned territories. None could fault them for such a stance, as they were proven to be the most jealous of hoarders.

Nor could the Death Watch say, with any certainty, that the Union hadn’t gotten to the said repository first. Thus, it not only became a race against the chronometre, but also luck as well. For, if they were lucky and seized the initiative… the prizes that laid beneath the Fortress were theirs to claim. As the old adage went, Fortune favoured the bold.​

~-~*~-~​

TL;DR - In Media Res:

• DWC Warships are starting to bombard Krostport and the Northern Hemisphere with the Graug Xenophage.
• DWC Dropships are headed towards Fortress Imperious, with Rynn and other Neo-Crusaders.
• Automated Message is Broadcasted on all available Frequencies and Repeats.

 

[Stardust Solus Skirae]

Fortress imperious
A vile memory from when the sith had taken her home and raped the planet

Yet now here she stood, overseeing as the beskar brotherhood was quickly gathering items of importance and downloading info from servers, while many had already fled away from mandalore and her moon stardust remained to get what she could. It was a difficult process and she knew they couldn't take everything, yet she wanted to get as much as possible before the brotherhood saw mandalore for the last time.

Suddenly her comm lit up with chatter, looking up towards the sky she didnt need to respond as she watched several corvettes emerge from hyperspace and move into position, warheads rained down bringing with it cloudsthat stardust knew couldn't be anything good. Sighing she listened to the message broadcasted and frowned to herself

so it would appear they arrive once again...far to late

She had a bad taste in her mouth, old blood that sought to cloud her judgement, shaking her head she looked to the gathered knights, paladins, and seers

double time people, start gathering the last of everything and get them tied down. Download any data you think is important and let's get out of here...if the death watch is arriving I only fear what else may come

Everyone moved into action, meanwhile a message came up to stardust

maam, we just lost contact with orions squad, they went to investigate possible tunnels

Stardust sighed to herself, tapping her foot and decided to give them benefit of the doubt

give them twenty more minutes, I'm sure it's just communication issues from the tunnels. Keep trying in five minute intervals and come back to me if you cant reach them

With that the messenger nodded and left stardust as she moved to start loading up thing with the others

It was going to be a long...long day

 

[Jaster Awaud]

• Location; Sundari, Mand'alors Palace
• Objective; Secure all Union Equipment and Personal

- It had been some time since the Old Mandalorian had been on Mandalore. He had left the world in the care of the Union after he assisted with the liberation of it from the Sith. The elderly man did not want to infest the new world with his old waring ways and left on a journey that took him to the void between galaxies. It was a failed search to find himself, or understand why he was brought back from the death. The Force and Manda work in mysterious ways and he thought he would feel fulfilled after liberating his home. But now he felt even more lost then before. He even left his title to Alor of Clan Awaud to Jurr Awaud a younger member elected to the position by his family. Many still fallowed the Elder and believed he should take the title back, but he was getting too old to lead the clan to a new age.

- Jaster wore his full power suit he forged himself and stood at the steps of the Palace looking over the litany of Dropships, small freighters and transports that were filling the skies with Union personnel and property. The logistics of moving a government and the goods they already claimed would need the help of his Company to move it all. The Supercommandos of Clan Awaud stood by him, those loyal to him as he rescued many of them from poverty and trained them since they were children. He was Alor of his Clan for 30 Years, whole generations of warriors trained under him. The old man was proud of the men and women he had the privilege to watch grow up into strong capable warriors.

- One of his warriors walked up to the elder and pounded his fist against his chest before handing Jaster a dataslate. He slightly shook his head but took the pad. It was another update on the supplies that were still being gathered. Even a request for an update of ex-Sith personal that were still on the Planet.

- Jaster still carried the rank of Field Marshal within the Union, but that was a request that would have to be handed to Adenn Kyramud the highest ranking individual still within the Union. He was only in charge of getting the people and goods that the Union Claimed off planet.

- He was about to speak when his wrist com relayed the message from Death Watch Crusaders. If anyone knew Jaster, it was one of the very few times that one could read the anger reverberating from his person. Death Watch killed his family during the Mandalorian Civil War. His brothers and sister killed all because his father was a Mia Loyalist. Now that Jaster was an Eldar Keeper of the Supercommando Codex, they were an even older enemy. Now the Planet he helped liberate was being handed over to them without a fight.

- The Restoration of Manda’yaim had nearly broken the Union Economy, along with the constant threat of traps and sithspawn left behind by the Sith Empire. The Union broke its back trying to keep a dying world alive. Sure it was a dishonorably to walk away from a fight, but in all truth where is the honor in fighting a battle that they could never win. Mandalorian are soldiers and warriors, not politicians, engineers or scientist. Many from his generation were such people, but they were either dead or retired. This young new era are filled with young people with fire in their hearts, passion he no longer had.

- The anger within him slowly died away and he turned to his warriors and spoke in his deep gravely voice, "Let us go look for Alor Adenn, see what his orders are now that the children are knocking."

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The northern hemisphere of Mandalore was a nightmarish world of sullen bleakness. Cesspool reservoirs, larger than most cities, bubbled noxiously as winged terrors soared and screeched overhead. Mountains of black soot and rusted metal rose high into the sky in concentric circles encircling the globe, the scars of the Sith's depraved ambitions to bleed Mandalore dry of its most valuable resource. ​

​

Beskar.​

​

Mandalorian Iron, the lifeblood of Mandalore. Once a treasured secret by the Mandalorian Clans who called Mandalore home, now a proliferated commodity on black markets across the galaxy. The Sith had torn the resource from the planet's crust, rendering one half of Mandalore barren and practically inhospitable. Mineshafts littered the landscape, some so deep that it appeared as if there was no bottom. It was in these underground passages and boreholes that the Graug were given purchase.​

​

A bestial race from exotic Gratos, they knew nothing other than brutality and carnage. In times past they served the will of the Dark Lords of the Sith, and thus they had found themselves mired on Mandalore to reshape the world in their image. In the intervening years since the Sith had abandoned Mandalore, the Graug had been allowed the proliferate almost unopposed by the Mandalorians who had taken up residence in the southern hemisphere. Efforts to curtail their expansion in the lightless reaches below the planet's surface were piecemeal at best, temporary stopgaps that only prolonged the inevitable.​

​

But now Death Watch had come. Not the Death Watch which pledged itself to the Sith in hopes of achieving some distant misplaced idea of glory, but the Death Watch who had rejected the Sith in lieu of other foreign powers.​

​

The Graug did not fear, they knew no such emotion, and they would face any challenge eagerly with a warcry on their tongue. ​

But the Graug were not the only ones with a vested interest in ensuring that Mandalore remained the way that it was. A single Muur-class transport ship was moored over one of the larger boreholes in the northern hemisphere, a host of winged creatures encircling the ship but never venturing too close. Inside was a host of gruesome warriors, grotesque fusions of metal and spirit. Golems of unyielding hate. At their head was a monolithic man, towering over them all and crackling with dark power.​

​

"Brings us into the depths," spoke the man, his deep voice laden with authority. The Muur transport shuddered as it began to slowly drift down through the open borehole and down into the swallowing darkness. At some indeterminable depth, the borehole forked off into a horizontal passage that meandered towards the more hospitable lands of the south. The Muur transports came to a stop and then fired its engines to begin moving down this passageway.​

​

For years, the Graug had been constructing this tunnel and hundreds more just like it, a secret network that crisscrossed the entire planet. It allowed the Graug to move virtually undetected and appear wherever they wished at will. ​

​

Now, the former Emperor of the Sith Empire used these tunnels to move unseen as well. This passage in particular moved directly under the ruined capital of Sundari, terminating beneath the rebuilt Sundari Palace. Like a breaching whale, the Muur transport would burst through the bottom layer of the Palace as explosive charges were detonated to weaken the lower floors. The side bay doors of the Muur would drop open, and the host of darkness surrounding the former Emperor would be unleashed.​

​

UX-0626 | Apollyon The Betrayer | Vyca Durren | Stardust Solus Skirae
Ijaat Mereel ​

 

[Ijaat Mereel]

Music to set the mood​

There were a dozen or more reasons for Ijaat to avoid this planet. So many he couldn't say them all. Once upon a time he had been a master of these people, a goran, or the gar'buir as many called him. He wore then, as he did now, a suit of their traditional armor, and in this moment he had repainted it in the dull olive drab, white, and red of a Protector. Other than smithing, that occupation had been his life calling, so when the call of the Crusade had gone out, the Supercommando had repainted an armor he had sworn off and suited up. He couldn't leave his people to the sole provision of the Death Watch. No. They needed more than one voice, and more than one Way. That was his error the last time. It would not be this time.

The Death Watch's intent might sit well with him. But he didn't trust them. And he had other business than their politics today. The preservation of his Clan. The honor of his House. The very life he had. Maybe Ashin Cardé Varanin would grow tired of his antics. And maybe he would die and be allowed to rest this time. But he had come to the palace of Sundari to search if any of the relics he and his fellow protectors had recovered were stored or on display.

Finding nothing, the warrior had decided to set up shop in the very throne room of it, and after several interruptions, the area was largely left alone. A few had challenged his occupation, but he had dispatched them with relative ease. The dral'tomad placed across the seat, with his helmet left casually next to it. The lightsaber hummed angrily, the purple blade casting light and shadow all around. In front of it, seated cross-legged in meditation, was the aged and bearded man not many would remember. Not anymore. A short beskad made of the hyper rare bes'manda sat across his lap, and a ring clearly evident on his right hand, with a shotgun and rifle near to hand. No bodies, but plenty of blood smeared here and there.

Using the Force, the mando'ad had begun a deep, almost hibernation-like trance. His mind wandered far and wide, searching, calming and a hum came from the back of his throat. He was seeking to use his skill in tuning to provide some measure of calm and level-headedness to the wrong notes of the invasion, to minimize the loss of life that would be today. A unified, but diversified people, was all he sought.

Then he felt it. A jarring discordance in the melody that he was surprised he missed before. The humming stopped, the helmet was put on and clicked into place with a hiss. The lightsaber deactivated and hung at his hip as he seated himself upon the throne and drew his blade. The beskad across his lap began to glow a warm golden color as the kyber infused bes'manda soaked up the energy he poured out into it as he waited meditatively.

A fight was coming he had been waiting a long while for... He would be ready.

Darth Carnifex

 

[Saga of Valour]

// Outer Rim Territories // Mandalore Sector and System // Northern Hemisphere. //
// Orbiting Mandalorian Corvette's // Fleetmaster Konnor Vizsla. //
Continue the Viral Bombardment.​

​

Konnor’s eyes narrowed as his visor poured over the details garnered from the benighted surface below. The first of the warheads impacted the surface, bathing several crust-dwelling camps in clouds of swirling ochre. There was a moment where the Lord Vizsla believed that they had wasted their time, that this purloined viral agent was nothing more than an overly expensive placebo. While the Death Watch didn’t pay for the canisters with conventional currencies, it had taken their precious time that could never be regained. But, that’s when the sensors began to detail the first signs of the sickness spreading through their bestial ranks. They began clutching their chests or tugging uncomfortably at their armour plates. If only they knew of the fate that awaited them.

While several warheads were spearheading into the creature’s hidden burrows that were hewn into the planets’ surface, Konnor knew that it wouldn’t be enough. As these creatures were left alone for Gods above, know how many cycles, who knew how many tunnels they had created. There was a chance that they had cored out the entirety of the planet, making a honeycombed network that stretched out beneath the feet of those that remained upon the surface. If such speculation was true, well, the Lord Vizsla wasn’t sure they brought enough warheads and viral canisters into the fray.

But, that notion couldn’t stop the great work. They had to finish what others had started to be free of the chains that bound them to the past. If their supply of Xenophage ran dry, then perhaps their Corvette’s batteries would finish the work. Ranks of turbolasers would be more than enough to destroy the surface and bury those beneath, crushing the life out of what remained in their bestial forms. Konnor smiled, then. He relished the thought of watching these creatures perish beneath the weight of the world they sought to defile. It was almost poetic, in a sense. But, that wouldn’t be enough to satisfy his thirst for vengeance.
​

These creatures had to suffer for their sins.​

“Ready another volley,” Konnor said without passion as he tore his visor away from the Corvette’s armoured viewport. “I want the surface to bathe in the Xenophage before this day is through.” A voice nearby answered in the affirmative before rejoining the chorus that permeated the command deck.

It wasn’t long after the order was given that another barrage of warheads was launched towards the surface. These missiles speared towards various outcroppings that dotted the surface. They were the entrances to the underground burrows, at least the ones that their sensors had located whilst sweeping the surface. There was no question in the Mandalorian Fleetmaster’s mind as to the notion of uncovering additional burrows. It would only be a matter of time until their sensors had found them all. But, with a possible surge of Graug making their way towards the surface to escape the effects of the virus? Well, that would expedite their search immensely.

Konnor smiled then. All that remained was for the Graug to make their move. If they remained beneath the planet’s surface, they’d likely be eaten alive by the concentrated Xenophage that was slowly beginning to spread. If they surged towards the surface, they ran the risk of revealing their burrows - which in turn - would lead to even more deaths at the hands of the orbiting Corvette’s.
​

As above, the Lord Vizsla mused, so below.
​

 

[Other Space Kaiden]

The Inferno
Warrior's Skin

Dark was the drumbeat that shook the earth and made Mandalore's mountains tremble. Thunderous things they were - and each blast of their terrible horns was like a storm brewing beneath the planet itself. Wicked tongues spat twisted words, the priests of The Graug giving praise to the firery visions they had seen. A flame approached Mandalore, a flame black as night and as hot as hellfire.

"Frazog Mor-ghaash!" The priests screamed to the horde of drooling fangs and readied claws. The Black Flame comes.

The horde shook the earth with its reply, "drush-ann!" To drown the sun. And then as one, the priests and their hordes, cried out for blood.

"Mauzauk!" War. Across the South Great maws would open up in the ground as the Mandalore Horde rose to face their enemy.

Mranwhile, deep in the darkness of space, sulfuric eyes rested on the wasteland world that Mandalore had become. The Sith had gifted his people this world after his death and it insulted the proud Khaan. The Mandalorians were a people feared in this galaxy for their prowess on battle - a title he sought for his people alone. The fact that Zambrano had led them to this victory was nothing short of a stain on his own name. The Vulcanus prior to Ossus would have simply come here with the totality of his hordes...but that Vulcanus was gone.

The Sith Eternal had refocused the beast. The Mandalorians would be wiped out completely one day...but not today. He could not afford to relocate so many warriors from Zygerria just to deliver a death blow to a dying race - it would endanger is greater plans.

No, today was about a far greater goal. The Graug Forgers here held a secret passed down by The Sith. He would rally his people, acquire these Forgers and then decimate the rest. Zambrano lies had infiltrated his people and any who held loyalties outside of his were a danger. Mandalore may have been owned by a Horde, but whose horde was it truly?

"Bring our ships into orbit" Vulcanus commanded, eyes set on the ships scattering from Mandalore's surface...but then he saw the Mandalorian vessels hovering above the Northern hemisphere...felt something different in the force.

"Ignore their vessels and land our forces in the south" Vulcanus ordered, prompting and inquisitive gaze from the Graug Shipmaster, "they are abandoning their world...watch their ships scattering from the surface. We will force them to choose. If their ships move to intercept us begin firing on the planet and their transports. Train them like you would a beast.

we will allow their cowardly people to flee into orbit...but we will take the surface."

Mandalorians treasured their culture and people, threatening them with gunfire may be enough to prompt them to leave his vessels alone long enough to land. After all, he had no interest in a full scale invasion today. With no other commands spoke The Great Khaan would stride to his shuttle while his ships moved into position to land him...

 

[Aloy Vizsla]

​

Location: Concordia's atmosphere
Interacting: Jaster Awaud | Adenn Kyramud | Stardust Solus Skirae | Ijaat Mereel | (Holo-message)
Allies: Rynn Vizsla | Kranak Vizsla | Tahlah Vizsla | DWC
Vehicles: Sabre-1 | Modified swoop bike |
Equipment: (x2)Firefly particle pistol(s) | Contained energy blade | (X3)Pyro grenades | Custom Beskar'gam armor | (w\gauntlet weaponry) Other: Prosthetic leg | Cybernetics | Chainbreaker | Force resistant handcuffs | Jetpack |
Forces: (x400) Deathtroopers of Krieg | (Deployed to assist MU evacuations. 50% deployed to Concordia, 50% Deployed to Mandalore)

Music: Frank's Choice

It hurt Aloy, To stare at the dust strewn ruins of the union she helped build. She saw her gunships peel off as the bombardment began, Weaving through rusted towers and high streets, Sending half of her forces to the Concordian surface and the others to Mandalore, Watching them from the cockpit of the Sabre-1 as she ordered them to assist in evacuating the MU's personnel from the surface.
But more importantly, The innocents in between. Someone had to look out for more than weapons, But the people they used to protect. If it fell to Aloy, Than she was more than willing. One final kindness to the empire she had built.

As the ship neared closer to the surface, She stood in the cockpit to broadcast a holo-message to various MU personnel, But especially the higher ups.

::∗Sigh∗ ...This is Aloy, Matriarch of House Vizsla, And... master of The Nite Owls.
I have come for what is rightfully mine-:: She looks up, Looking her audience dead in the eye despite the digital nature of the projection, And brings her cybernetic leg up into view::I served the Mand'alor faithfully. Ruthlessly... Without question. I fought and bled for this union. Sacrificed by body and soul on the field for the cause we all believed in.::
::I will take what I am owed for services rendered to Mand'alor the Abandoner. My Nite Owls deserve to take their belongings back. I have dispatched the remnants of the Deathtroopers of Krieg to assist in evacuating the civilians and your gear... My final duty to the world I bled for, And the world that mother was sacrificed for... And my final act of kindness.::
::Afterwards, We will leave with Death Watch. This is goodbye::

She slumps back in her pilot seat immediately after the transmission ends. She felt like she had betrayed the Union for not standing with them, But worse was the sting of the Mand'alor who had betrayed All of them.

Looking up from the hands she had berried her face in, She slowly looks up at the DWC drop ship at her right flank. Whether they were to be allies beyond this point or not was still uncertain, But one thing was; She had no time to weep. Not for Mandalore, Not for herself.

There was nothing left to regret. Everything she could, Had burnt down long before now.

Now she flew amongst ashes. And everything that had brought her here, Every choice she had been robbed of, None of it mattered anymore. She could take solace in one thing now;

This was Aloy's choice.​

​

 

[Apollyon The Betrayer]

T U N N E L S​

Tag: Darth Carnifex | Rynn Vizsla | Stardust Solus Skirae | Aloy Vizsla | Kranak Vizsla | Tahlah Vizsla |​

Allies: TSE
Enemies: Everything else​

Location: Death Watch tunnels​

Forces: x40 Death Watch Super Commandos | x2 Moridinae golems | ​

Mandalore. A planet that Galia had once served as a righteous defender, Sacrificing herself against the sith onslaught beside her husband when the empire first came to mandalore. But she survived. Not because of her people, Not because of her devoted husband, No.
Death Watch. Sith Death Watch pulled her from the wreckage when Kreslin Westwind left her behind. Her own people, Her own husband! Whether it was sith lies, The chemicals coursing through her veins or cold hearted betrayal, She no longer cared.
She would see this world burn with it's people for that betrayal.

She had waged the shadow war against Aloy Vizsla and her Nite Owls ever since Kreslin took the title of Mand'alor. She had massacred villages, Slaughtered the clans of Kragr Krayt and Shai Maji , Harvested her own people to craft Tal'Beskar, All with glee!
All so that she could topple this Union, And lay her wayward husband Kreslin at her feet while she sat on his throne.

But no, He would die here today. He had gone missing and his union lay in shambles, An achievement she was quick to take credit for. In her mind, It was her insurgency that crippled the union's economy and driven Kreslin away from his own people.

It made her purple lips curl into a fiendish smile beneath the golden-lit visor of her cursed Tal'Beskar armor.


Later she had half a mind to go and sit upon the throne of Sundari, For no other reason to taunt the unionists and proclaim "I win". But she had another mission to tend first.

She boarded the tram beneath the death watch fortress with mirth and conviction in her step, Flanked by 40 Death Watch commandos in formation behind her and her grim bodyguards; A pair of tall Moridinae Golems that towered over her on either side.

They were all headed through the ancient tunnels to finish blowing their own tunnel to connect these with the Cin'Vode, An ancient facility that she had been looking for as long as she had sought the throne of mandalore. For within it's ancient archives was the whereabouts of an ancient relic that could prove devastating to her enemies and a boon to her own cause.

Now she had found it, And it was only a matter of time.

With a single gesture, Her golem started the tram and sent them hurtling towards her objective to link up with the others where they would finally breach the Cin'Vode's own tunnel system and claim their prize.
Half of her forces immediately left on her command, Headed to Concord Dawn to maraud and wreak havoc on the populace. She would join them later, To sate her bloodlust.

Today was a good day for someone else to die. A day for Sith Death Watch to relax and celebrate their impending victory.

 

[Milla Kryst]

Location: MandalMotors Orbital Shipyards
Interactions: TBD
Allies: Death Watch Crusade
Enemies: TBD

*Note: Please tag me if you are on the Orbital Array so I know if I need to respond to your presence and/or interactions​

Milla grinned under her helmet as the dropship she piloted was full of Crusaders and ready to launch, hitting the throttle a little harder than usual for launching from a hangar bay, though of course waiting for the all clear. Milla became something almost like a mediocre pilot after totaling the Ba'jur and participating in the Imynusoph race, which coincidentally ended just as this attack was gearing up. Milla's objective was the Orbital Shipyards, and she wanted to grab everything she could for her own personal, future plans. This was the perfect opportunity to build her future career, and she wasn't going to miss it. Of course, following under Rally Master Vendriks orders, but Milla was going to be a little half-cocked during this mission.

"Hey! Get ready back there, we're barreling through the other squads to give them a chance after we freak out those flak guns," Milla yelled over the dropships radio. Milla was going full throttle with whatever this ship could muster as she flew in without any care for seatbelts. Like a scene out of the first battle of geonosis, the dropship rocked due to the batteries firing from the Shipyards/ She wasn't leading these men, but she was going to get them to the drop zone. She just hoped Rynn wouldn't be upset with her totaling the first ship he let her pilot under DWC's symbol, because, she was totally totaling it. "Brace!" Milla yelled, while all the Mandalorians were probably feeling sick by now with all the sudden impacts near the ships hull, she barreled into one of the hangar bays that were launching enemy fighters out. Immediately slamming the ground to try and slow down, so they didn't impact the back wall with full force, Milla threw the engines into full reverse and jumped from the pilot seat into the back. The ship skidded across the floor and turned to the side as it slammed into the back wall and any fighters in its way. It was an armored dropship, if it couldn't handle a crash landing, what was the point of its creation?

The Mandalorians that were up and ready rallied by the door as the others got their stuff together. "Let's secure the hangar, stop these fighters from launching and hitting the other dropships," Milla suggested as she opened the dropship door. It was supposed to open like a ramp, but as soon as the sealed mag-locks unsealed, it dropped to the floor. Milla slung a Harbinger from over her shoulder and fired it as close as she could to the entrance of the hangar bay as she could, or one of the entrances. She wanted to stir up the hangar bay and 'discourage' reinforcements while the rest of the Crusaders poured out. Weapons fire erupted, just as Milla slung the harbinger back over her shoulder and pulled her Doombringer Scattergun out, but she avoided the fire as best as she could, traveling toward the back wall alongside the entrance, trying to catch reinforcements off-guard. She wanted inside, now, and not later. "This is Crusader Milla, dropship is totaled, but we're trying to secure the east hangar! Kote, darasuum kote! Te racin ka'ra juaan kote!" Milla broadcasted over the team radio that Rally Master Vendrik could hear, and letting Vendrik know specifically that she recklessly crashed into said hangar. But Vendrik could pick wherever they wanted to drop into.

Milla felt good, she felt happy. This is where she wanted to be, no, needed to be. After a hundred years of hardship and abuse, finally she was able to release all of her anger and stress, for the good of others. Better yet, after a life lesson and the verd'goten by her mentor, this all culminated into a perfect life, that she earned. Now it was her chance to make a name for herself. 'Why would I ever think of goin' back when it feels so fethin' good to be bad?'

 

[Mig Gred]

Location: Concord Dawn; New Dawn
Equipment: In bio
Tags: Apollyon The Betrayer

Mig had heard what was going on on Mandalore, but he had hoped, for once in Mandalorian history, Concord Dawn could be left out of it. That didn't mean he was stupid enough to not prepare everyone, and right now everyone was running around. Mitu, a Mon Calamari warrior, would walk up as her bunch prepped a ship.

"Wish you would stay Mitu. You've helped a lot here."

"I know, but with all this happening, it might just be time. My people have some well established colonies now too, so maybe we'll find a home." Mig nodded, putting a hand on the Mon Calamari's shoulder.

"Cuyanir, Mitu." She nodded, quickly heading to a ship that was prepping for take off. It was good to see honestly. Some of the refugees finally finding their people again. He would soon look back to see Leddie Gred running up, sighing a little. "I told you to stay on the ship with your Dalyc'buir and tate (Mom and brothers)."

"But I can help! I...."

"...Will keep them safe. Go!" Leddie sighed, running back to the ship as she pulled out her weapons just in case.Mig meanwhile shook his head. She even more on edge than he was. That was something he never expect....

BOOM!!!

Mig turned, pulling his his weapon. From what he heard of the Death Watch Crusade though.... Maybe one Death Watch was really as good as another. He looked at Fora, barking out orders to the Dathomirian.

"Get the Hounds hunting! I want to know where these people are. If they're Death Watch... they already used deadly force...."

 

[Adenn Kyramud]

Location: Throne Room, Sundari Palace
Objective: Leave the past behind
Tags: Jaster Awaud | Mig Gred | Stardust Solus Skirae | Saga of Valour | Rynn Vizsla | Aloy Vizsla
Allies: MU and allies
Neutralish: DWC
Enemies: TSE, Graug, and allies​

Hope... such a fickle, fleeting thing. There is no greater motivator, and nothing more crushing than hope. And it's hope that landed Adenn in this position. Hope for a better future, for a Mandalore free of outside forces, free to rule itself and grow. It was hope that made Adenn throw his lot in with the MU, hope that led him to rise anew to a position of power. And now, it was hope that crushed him, for he had all but lost it. With this end of hope, came a realization to Adenn, one not many would share with him, but one he knew to be true regardless. For hope to survive, for the Mandalorians to live, they had to cut ties to their past. While most wouldn't agree to fully cutting all ties, they had at least agreed that holding Mandalore was infeasible, and nigh on impossible. From too great an economic strain, to outside forces, and even inside opposition. It all had led to their current predicament.

In the throne room itself was Adenn, alongside numerous vode rushing about for final preparations to leave. Though this plan of action was relatively new, the reasons for this decision had been building up for some time. Things had gone sour, and they had only gotten worst. Until finally, they acknowledged that holding Mandalore was infeasible. That their task too monumental, too great a strain, and their numbers too few. Now, final preparations were being made and seen through, even as more bad news came to them. Seated atop the throne, head in one hand, Adenn felt twice his age, even as the news reached his ears.

The Death Watch was here. They had come hard and fast, catching the MU unprepared for a fight. But they weren't looking for one, at least not with them. Sighing as he heard the message from them, Adenn's grip tightened on the arm rest. Chakaar, the lot of them. Where had they been when every Mandalorian was needed? Where had they been, when others had fought for all Mandalorians? Nowhere useful. Yet now they came, to lay claim to a land they hadn't fought for, a land they hadn't freed. And they sought to make proclamations where they had no right to. It was infuriating, and Adenn wanted nothing more than to spit in their faces, to strike them down. But he knew it was futile. They could do it, but it would only end in dead Mandalorians. And loath as he was to say it, they were still Mandalorians, moreso than any Jedi or Sith. And that meant there were bigger enemies to deal with.

Releasing a breath that was half snarl, half sigh, Adenn slumped back in the chair, eyes shutting in frustration. He knew he'd have to respond, at the very least tell MU forces not to be the aggressor. As the sole leader remaining, the rest having vanished or left over time, Adenn truly felt the burdens of command now. Eyes opening, Adenn reached out to the tablet on the throne, preparing to activate it and give his own speech. Before he could though, another message was received, and this time Adenn did snarl. Where Death Watch had betrayed them long ago, and had never allied since, Aloy was far more recent, far closer. And now she stood with traitors to other Mandalorians.

Fist tightening enough to leave cracks in the arm rest, Adenn growled. The full story mattered little, what mattered was the here and now. And that here and now was a volatile situation, as he knew his own reaction was tame compared to what some of the more volatile elements might do. Not that he begrudged them such reactions, he did need to reign them in. And though Adenn did agree with parts of what this foe said, the rest was lies and slander. Not that either of them would ever relent in their beliefs.

Straightening in the throne, Adenn reached to the tablet and typed in a command. It began to record then, taking in Adenn's upper body and part of the throne directly behind him. This video was sent out to Union forces, to either be heard and/or shown.
"Vode... you know why I call. The Death Watch are here, and they seek to claim what we couldn't hold. And they make claims we know to be false. They know nothing, are nothing." A pause, a moment to collect his thoughts and take a breath. "However, loathe as I am to say it, ignore them. We won't be the aggressors, though they'll take any chance they can to turn history against us. However, defend yourselves as need be. As of now, we have greater concerns, and we will see them through. Oya vode, stay safe.."

With a click the transmission ended, leaving Adenn alone on the throne. For a moment, Adenn debated sending a message to the Death Watch. It was a short moment, as he realized sending nothing would essentially be admission to all they claimed. No doubt they would twist whatever he did say, but he didn't care, not anymore. He knew the truth, and nothing would change that for his vode. With another click, the video began to play again, showing the same view. And as he spoke,it was clear he was tired of it all, but still held inner strength, a fire that wouldn't allow itself to be extinguished. At least not easily, nor any time soon. This was further exemplified by his eyes, though they seemed half dead, his eyes still bore into the camera with a quiet anger, one contained.

"You make such bold claims, as if you knew our struggles, our sacrifices. Yet you were never there, you never fought, or hoped, dreamed, and bled for the future. You only come now, when the easy path lays open for you. And you claim to be Mandalorians! PAH! Pah! Don't worry though, Death Watch, though both of us remember the past, we have moved on. " Adenn rose then, the camera tracking him to show him standing. Behind him the throne was obscured, but Adenn's frame was outlined against a Mandalorian mythosaur symbol against the wall. His eyes narrowed then, before he continued. "We won't fight you, but we will defend ourselves. So happy hunting, Carrion Watch. We have greater concerns than liars and huu'tuun(cowards)."

With another click, the feed cut off, leaving Adenn to stand looking out across the throne room. The bustle had barely stopped throughout it all, but Adenn saw clearly they had listened to his words and agreed. And though he wished he had said more, perhaps cursed them for never aiding fellow vode, Adenn also knew they needed to move on. Time spent concerning himself over the Death Watch was time lost for useful things. Closing his eyes, Adenn took a deep breath, preparing himself to reenter the fray. And in taking that breath, Adenn felt it would be the last, true breath of air he'd take on Mandalore for some time.

An explosion in the distance, coupled with cries of more ships entering atmosphere proved that assumption correct. Releasing the breath he'd been holding, Adenn removed his helmet from his hip. In one, smooth motion, Adenn slipped the scarred helm atop his own grizzled head. The jaig eyes gleamed slightly, before dulling along with the rest of his armor. Stepping forward and away from the throne, Adenn reentered the chaotic fray the Mandalorian Union currently faced. Buy'ce olar, kar'ta ogir, helmet on, heart gone.

 

[Korso Rook]

SKULL SQUADRON
MANDALORE
​

Corso Rook loved it here. Mandalore was now a kind of paradise. A lifetime of battle first in the gladiator pits on Rattatak then as a foundling in the fighting corps had tempered him into a living weapon. He could think of no greater challenge to those skills than a world filled with intelligent predators. Corso lived for challenge. What use did a warrior have with tranquil farmland?

"Eyes sharp, Skull Leader. More Graug ships inbound."

"Blood for the Watch," he acknowledged.

Banking his Fang starfighter onto an intercept course with the descending Graug troop carriers Corso locked s-foils into attack position. His incomplete cuirass doubled as a flight suit. Cables were plugged in to one side, monitoring vital functions and integrating the onboard computer with his visor's display. Despite being an ancient neo-crusader heirloom he wore the beskar helm like a second skin.

Mandalorians with vision like Rynn Vizsla often spoke of the future and of purpose. Rook already knew his purpose. He was a dragonslayer. Skull Squadron peeled away from their overwatch position escorting the corvettes which continued to deploy an experimental bioweapon. Of course he would have preferred a more intimate solution but the Rally Masters seemed certain the graug's numbers warranted it.

"Fleetmaster, notify the Field Marshal another horde is bound for glorious battle on the surface. We'll send as many as we can to hell."

Laser cannons unleashed a fusillade into the graug ships and then Rook's squadron started banking around for another pass. No matter how many they might bring down there was simply no way to destroy them all before enough of the new horde deployed on the surface en masse ( Other Space Kaiden ).

 

[Jurr Awaud]

In the silence of space the small armada of clan Awaud lurked, waiting for a call for help. Escorting refugees to safety, if necessary. Reducing enemies to debris, if possible.

Jaster Awaud had given the title of alor to Jurr. But even as the new leader of the Nomad clan had no love for the planet bound little empire of Mandalore or the silly politics, he was loyal to his wayward people and the tragic, sad figure of their leader.

His men and women and even children were warriors. Their ships were their home. The concepts of planet civilization and permanent settlements were strange to them. Too many lost wars, too many lost planets had reduced the old clan back to the lifestyle of the original Mandalorians, being home in space and where the helmets were temporary laid down.

And yet here they were. Ready to help their brethren to wage war for an old abused dustball with a proud name.
They would hit and run, scavenge what they could from defeated ships and they would hammer down on any enemy of the Mandalorians.

But the Mandalroians were once again their worst enemy, it seemed. "Silly fanatics", grumbled the alor to himself as he saw the attack of the crusaders.
Crusaders! High and mighty a word for mindless berserkers!

"Stand by", he ordered his fleet.

"Clan Awaud to the rescue awaiting orders", he send to Adenn Kyramud s throne room.

Jurr hoped the beleaguered man would find resolve in the knowledge that there were still people loyal to the title, even if they had much contempt to the man wearing it.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The doors leading to the Grand Salon exploded, sending debris and gouts of flame into the throne room with a tumultuous roar. Black smoke billowed in relentlessly, partially obscuring the dark mechanical figures within. Long barrels whose tips glowed red hot from recent use pierced the acrid gloom, bright green photoreceptors scanning left to right for targets as they stalked into the chamber with their slow mechanical gait. They took notice of the lone individual sat upon the throne, but did not move to engage nor did they even train their weapons on him. Instead, they swept the area around the throne and then moved to stand at the far edges, their weapons held out ceremonially as another figure moved through the smoke to join them.​

​

"Ijaat Mereel," spoke the dark figure that emerged from smoke and shadow, whirlwinds of ash and fire scattering at his arrival. He reached up to draw back his hood, revealing an aged face weathered by conflict and war. Three distinct scars ran down the right side of his face, a reminder of his struggle against Other Space Kaiden on the decrepit world of Thule. Eyes burning with hatred stared up at the Mandalorian seated upon the throne of Mandalore, though the hate which seethed behind those molten orbs was not directed at Mereel himself; nor at anything or anyone in particular.​

​

They hated all life.​

​

"I see that you have decided to return. To witness the second sundering of this world," softly spoke Darth Carnifex, former Emperor of the Sith. He cast aside his cloak, revealing the arcane armor underneath. A lightsaber, wrought from black metal, hung freely from his hip. He did not reach for it yet, but both of his hands rested idly at his waist. "This world has been broken, cast to the darkness. It will soon be completely eclipsed. It is a pity that the Mandalorians could not seize the destiny that I had set for them, again falling into bickering and inaction. This time there will be no second chance, there will be only oblivion."​

​

Ijaat Mereel ​

 

[Ijaat Mereel]

Darth Carnifex and Ijaat had met once or twice before, in his first time walking the 'Verse for Ijaat. The experiences had left Ijaat with a healthy respect for the other if contempt for philosophy. If there were a poster boy for a Sith trying too hard to be Sith, then the man who glared up at him was it. Danger reeked and reeled from Kaine, and Ijaat merely smiled under his visor, nodding in greeting to the Lord as his lackeys took up position. They were not so faint as to dismiss, but Carnifex wasn't the type to fight through minions too often. Too much ego and self-lust.

The visored helmet turned just slightly from the throne and fixed his old foe with a tilted gaze, and the tinny voice coming out from the annunciator robbed it of most (but not all of) the contempt he heaped on every word. And did nothing to rob it of the cold, stark fury that his sudden tensing in posture revealed.

"Zambrano. Every time we falter, you are there somehow. Every. Time. But never with your own hand in the cookie jar. Always wearing a puppet of some kind. I thought once the people were weak here. Truth is, they had become too peaceful and had to wake up to themselves. Whether I agree with the Watch or not, they are doing just that. Waking the Mandalorians up..."

Rising, he gripped the glowing blade of his beskad and pointed it at the Sith Emperor with a clear threat as he began to descend the steps.

"But there won't be Oblivion to greet them. I will see to it you are well occupied and unfortunately delayed. The fate of the mando'ade will be their own for once. Not yours. Not mine. Theirs. We started a game we never got to finish. Play for blood. Do you still possess the stones to fight on your own?"

 

[Other Space Kaiden]

Graug landers erupted into balls of fire and raining shrapnel as Corso Rook made a pass with his squadron. The Mandalorian pilots struck true, better than even many Jedi Vulcanus had seen, but the swarm was endless. Fighters and gunships had been stripped from the star destroyers and replaced by rows of transport vessels. Between the ships numbered more than one-hundred transports and thousands of hungering Graug.

Despite their skill, it was only a delay to the inevitable.

Within minutes of entering atmosphere, Vulcanus' lander touched down in a puff of wasteland dust. The loading door popped free of its maglocks and the Black Flame stepped onto the scorching sands - directly into a firestorm of Mandalorian blaster bolts. Graug warriors surged forward across the few meters of flat plain that lay outside Sundari - a wave of oozing fangs and bloodied claws. Just at the boundary of the capital city the Mandalorian defenders had prepared themselves with small entrenchments and an E-web cannon that laid fire upon his hordes.

Clouds of blood erupted at the front of the encroaching tide as Graug bodies were turned to fine pulp by blaster fire. Some warriors armed with weapons dove for cover behind rocks and bodies to return fire - even more continued to charge like beasts starved. Vulcanus sneered, his eyes finding Rook's fighters again as they continued to rain fire on landers that had not yet touched down.

"Unacceptable" were the beast's only words before digging his own claws into an armor panel on the side of his lander. Metal whined as he ripped a plate almost larger than he was from the ship and braced it in front of him as he marched towards the entrenched line.

The makeshift shield rumbled and pushed back against Vulcanus, who dug his boots deep into the surface and forced himself forward in long strides. The Sith's bones shook and shuttered as he pressed forward, the metal sheet slowly becoming red hot around his claws. As soon as he felt himself bear the E-web, the beastial lord threw his body weight behind the slab of metal and knocked the barrel away. The three Mandalorians manning it reacted quickly.

The first stood and activated a wrist mounted flamer. The cloud of fire exploded forward before stopping just in front of Vulcanus. The pyromantic lord laughed as he caught the flames with The Force and willed them backwards. For a brief second Vulcanus smelled the mandalorian's fear as he watched the flames of his own weapon jump back inside the barrel.

Then there was nothing as the fuel tank ignited, turning the attacker into a bucket of red paint running down the entrenchment walls. The second warrior gripped a beskade close and swung it for Vulcanus haphazardly - his wrist was caught in air and snapped with a simple pull. His scream was cut short as the beast gripped his helmet and drove it into the small brick wall being used as entrenched cover. Dust and rubble exploded into the air as the third was grabbed by the skull in mid-retreat, his life ending in a wet peel as his still-full helmet was tossed into the surging horde.

With that done, Vulcanus set his claws on the E-web and trained his eyes on Corso Rook's fighters. The weapon shook and shuddered as he used Tutaminis to drain its battery, feeding the energy into his right palm as he raised it into the path of the fighters.

Infusing it with his own power, Vulcanus unleashed a volley of black orbs encircled in the red energy of a E-web bolt. The aim was not perfect and far from guided - but the energy powerful enough to damage a fighter.

The Sith Lord would leave the E-web pack completely drained after firing several orbs off into the air. Vulcanus lowered a smoking hand to his side as his hordes began diving into the Mandalorian defenses...

 

[Jaster Awaud]

- Jaster walked through the palace walls with a small group of Supercommando's of Clan Awaud. Reading the reports of the Union request and updates about the departure of his birth home. He thought back to the ancient homestead the Clan Awaud had on Mandalore, dating back to before the reign of Mand'alor the Uniter some two thousand years before. It was destroyed many years ago and was probably now one of those mined out tunnels left over by the Sith Empire. Even before that it was probably laid to waste when Mai nuked the planet during the Civil War. Thinking back, he could not remember when the world he grew up on was now back to being a wasteland. He only wished he was able to reverse engineer the terraforming equipment left behind by Clan Raxis. Only parts and peices were left behind that he was able to recover, and the missing pieces he needed were still lost to him.

- As he was lost in thought he heard an explosion on his way to meet with the Field Marshal that was in charge of the Departure of the Union. When he looked to his warriors they looked back and nodded. Jaster began to run towards the noise and his warriors followed behind him. They bobbed and weaved down hallways noticing that it was oddly empty of other guards or patrols. The Elderly warrior assumed that it was due to the departure, all property within the palace was already loaded. However, as he turned down one corridor he noticed why it was so empty.

- The Elderly Field Marshal and his guards were faced with several dark cladded droids that were dispatching some of the other guards that confronted them. A blood gurgled groan came from one of the Palace Guards as the Droid drove a Beskad into the fallen warriors chest. The dying warrior continued to stare into the cold dead faceplate of the droid till his soul was welcomed by the Manda. The sound of the soldiers helmet hitting the floor was followed by Jasters guards gripping their weapons harder. He understood the feeling, but he counted the bodies around the droids. These were not the average battle droids, these had to have been programed with special skills. Palace Guards were some of the toughest warriors of all the Allied Clans within the Union.

- Jaster pulled out his blaster pistol and his Force Hammer, getting in a stance. "Calm Ner Ade, do not loose your heads." The old man leaned forwards as if ready to run at the droids. "Remember your training and don't underestimate them."

- With that Jaster used the Force to well up wind beneath his feet until it felt like solid. Using it as a starting off point. The sound of his Cybernetic legs charging up for an even bigger boost came quickly. When he pushed off he moved faster then the average eyesight could keep up. He moved to strike the Droids head off its shoulder and yet his hammer was stopped by the robots weapon. They were more capable then the average battle droid. Good thing he made the first move then having one of his men die from what came next.

- BANG, BANG.

- Jaster jumped back and hide behind a pillar, using the force it was an easy maneuver to follow up with. Yet when he looked at his abdomen he saw that one of the blaster bolts from the Droids weapons did catch purchase on his armor. A fire fight was not in full effect between these mysterious droids and Jasters Supercommandos. From his count, it was the Five of them against at least six or seven droids. With the speed and processing power of these robotic beings, they had to be downloaded with mandalorian tactics. Was Death Watch really that dumb to attack the Palace after the speech they just made?

- He had no time to think about that, Jaster decided to Com Adenn Kyramud about what was happening. "Adenn, this is Jaster," He fired off a few Blaster rounds at the Droids blocking his path. "Me and my men came across some droids that have infiltrator the Palace, they have cut off the main hallway to the throne room and we will not be able to break through quickly." Some blaster bolts hit near where he was hiding, all he could do was return fire. "Suggest caution as they are probably not alone."

Darth Carnifex | Ijaat Mereel​

 

[Rynn Vizsla]

​

There were likely many things that could be said about this day. Where the mindless barbarians within the ranks of the Death Watch pillaged the remnants of Mandalore and the Union that once lorded over it. Despite being righteous from their own point of view, the Crusaders would be demonized for their actions. Just like their ancestors that came before, they were seen as nothing more than berserkers, thieves and brigands. And, from a certain point of view, those detractors would be correct. Such individuals were shackled to the spectres of the past and were unwilling to see the unbound potential before their very eyes. In many ways, they stood in direct contrast to the Death Watch and their Crusade.

Some had likened the Union and their leadership caste to be devout followers of Arasuum, the ancient Mandalorian deity of stagnancy and decay. Those select few believed that the Union’s fight and purpose were spent after reclaiming the world; that there could be no future for their people whilst the Would-be Kings occupied the throne. Others believed that the Union was nothing more than a continuation of the Unworthy’s legacy, that in turn was bound to the evil machinations of the Sith and their crumbling Empire. Yet, despite all the accusations that were levelled at either side - there was nothing to be gained by pointing fingers.

To figures like Rynn, however, the man felt nothing but disappointment. He had listened to the words of the Would-be King that occupied the Mandalorian throne as the message was relayed across the encrypted Crusader’s BattleNet. Many thoughts raced through the Rally Master’s mind at that moment, and none of them were pleasant. But, the Warrior was unwilling to allow such vitriol to guide his actions this day. These people were misguided in their beliefs and needed to see the force for change that the Death Watch had become. Words would only get them so far when actions - etched into the very fabric of history itself - could speak volumes instead.

It was then that the Rally Master’s surroundings were bathed in an arterial crimson. They were approaching their destination. The once-indomitable Fortress that commanded the Concordian mountain range was eerily silent. There was no Sith-Imperial garrison within those walls, nor manning the defences. Even the automated turrets were stilled, having been deactivated some time ago. Thus, what would’ve been a suicidal approach became nothing more than an unmolested glide towards the foundations of Sith-wrought citadel. When the first of the Talon Dropships and their Roon-ish cousins touched down, kicking up clouds of particulate debris, the Crusaders within half-expected an ambush.
​

Rynn couldn’t blame them. It was far too quiet for his liking.​

When the Rally Master disembarked, the man kept his weapon firmly-pressed against his shoulder. There was no telling what awaited them within the Citadel or the rumoured labyrinth beneath. As the Crimson-clad Crusader, his Warband, and the Warriors from Roon filtered into the Fortress’ courtyard; there were signs of recent activity. While unseen, the hiss of landing struts and hydraulic steam echoed within the silent Sith-wrought corridors. There were others within this Fortress, Rynn noted. He couldn’t tell if they were friendly or were the Sith - returned to lay claim to what they perceived as theirs.

Rynn gestured for three of his Crusaders with two extended fingers to take point as they advanced into the central structure. It wasn’t long after they pushed into the Fortress that the first sign of activity revealed itself. Figures that bore Mandalorian runes that bespoke of a Brotherhood, occupying a nearby archive. They were downloading whatever data the rows of databanks contained, likely wiping the servers clean after that. That wasn’t something they could allow, not when it came to information written by Sith hands. So, the Rally Master revealed himself to these armoured figures - and lowered his weapon as their eyes turned towards him.

:: I am Rynn Vizsla, Rally Master of the Death Watch :: the Crusader began, allowing his voice to be clearly projected. There was much going through the man’s guarded mind at that moment. A part of him believed that he was making a mistake, that in announcing his presence - his life would soon be forfeit. Another was hoping beyond all hope that these individuals weren’t the Sith-Imperial traitors that bore the Crimson Jai’galaar, or Shriek-hawk in the common tongue. :: It’s clear by the armour you wear and the sigils inscribed therein that you’re no Sith. State your identities and purpose here. ::​

~-~*~-~

| Stardust Solus Skirae | Aloy Vizsla | Apollyon The Betrayer |​