Campaign Dawn of the Plasma Wars [NEO-RNR]

[Vreegan Fett]

​

The Battle for Kashyyyk had culminated in a resounding triumph for the Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders, their war machines roaring like a relentless storm as they descended upon the lush, vibrant world. With a ferocity unmatched in recent memory, they vanquished the planet’s orbital defenses, transforming the once-protected skies into an area of chaos and destruction.

With the assistance of Rodian Hunters and the Trandoshans known as the Blackscale Clan, the last remnants of resistance crumbled, and allowed the Neo-Crusaders to install a brutal new regime lead by the fearsome Warchief Spayyghen , a figure whose insatiable hunger for power was rivaled only by his cannibalistic thirst for domination.

The once peaceful-treetops of Kashyyyk had been stained with the echoes of battle, serving as a grim reminder to the rest of the galaxy that the Mandalorians would not be stopped this time.

With the Galactic Alliance distracted by the brewing crisis within the Hapan Cluster between the Monarchy and the Crimson Veil, the eyes of Field Marshal Vreegan Fett shifted towards the serene beauty of Naboo.

One of the many jewels within the galaxy and a source of invaluable plasma needed for future campaigns against the Alliance and the Eleventh Sith Empire.

The Royal Naboo Republic was the only obstacle standing in the way of conquest, but they would not impede the Great Crusade, lead by the favored Sons & Daughters of Mandalore and Kad Ha'rangir.

The fate of Naboo hung in the balance, and as the Mandalorian warships blotted out the sun, a new chapter of the Mandalorian Wars was about to unfold–though only one thing could be certain.

There Would Be No Peace, Just War!

 

[Graham Deras]

Naboo
Shiraya Temple
Barracks
Tags: Open


"They are not here for peace, that is plainly obvious." Deras spoke in a brash and rough voice as he unlocked the doors leading to the main armory in the Shiraya. Jedi and Temple guardians alike began to pour through as he began to hand out weapons and fitted armor for those that were coming through. Armor and weapons more suited to fight in a war rather than your everyday rabble.

"Muster your strength and your courage, Naboo cannot fall, defend her till your last breath."

It would take roughly fifteen to twenty more minutes until the rest of the order was fully equipped and ready for engagement.

The young man took to arming himself in between getting those present prepared for the fight to come. Naboo had the grace and beauty of the Royals of old, it would not meet any more death on his watch.

 

[Carduul Akahl]

Dxun, a day before…
The forge burned hot. Sparks flew as metal struck upon metal, the unmistakable song of Beskar filling the air with each blow. Carduul Akahl stood at the center of it all, stripped down to the bodyglove beneath, arms crossed as the Blacksmiths worked their craft with ease.

“...Are you sure, Akahl?” Was a question from the man at his side, Garrus Bralor. He had been out of the front for some time, tending to the new arrangements on Dxun. Soon, however, War would call them to a new battlefront. That was why he was here, for war demanded more from the both of them.

“I am. But you sound unsure.” Was the comment in turn. “Why?”

The man shook his head, exhaling slightly with the motion. “You always preached to the stars and back that armor had meant something. That it wasn’t about you, or me, or any single one of us - but the cause. The Crusade. Mandalorians standing as one, giving up their names, their faces, for the sake of our Way.” A hand gestured towards the armor being forged as they spoke - one of deep silver and red, with a design that called to memory the likes of their greatest warriors. “Now you’re standing here, letting them shape an image of something more.”

Carduul had quieted for a time. The words settled like ash upon his tongue; he understood Garrus’ hesitation. Felt it, even. For years, he had worn the crimson armor of a Rally Master. A symbol of unity, of the death of the self in service to the Mandalorian people.

But things have changed. He had changed. No longer was he sequestering his Clan upon Dxun. No longer did he sit idly by as the Galaxy waged wanton war on all fronts.

He reached down, lifting and fastening a gauntlet to his hand and arm. His fingers flexed inspectively. It was heavier than his old gear, hallowed in a metal he had staunchly refused until now. “It was simpler when I was a Rally Master. Perhaps it was not my initial aspiration…” Was a low admittance, as the gauntlet tilted over with a twist of his arm. “But I am not just that anymore. Those who follow me place faith into me to lead them to glory.”

A burden. A duty. It was not a promotion he had sought, but one he had earned. “This was bestowed unto me. I will wear it, just as I wore the last.”

There was a frown from Garrus beneath the visor. “It’s different.” Was an insistence, clearly not wholly convinced by his friend’s words.

“It is different.” Carduul agreed, stepping forward to lift the chestplate and passing it to Garrus so it could be put on properly. There was a moment of reluctance, before they began fastening the armor on. The deep silver edges glistened in the forge’s firelight. “This armor doesn’t erase the past. It carries it forward. I wore crimson to fight with my vode. Now, I wear this to lead them.”

Garrus studied him for a long moment. Then, there was a soft exhalation, before a nod. He took up the faceplate that would complete the helmet, and placed it into Carduul’s hands. “Practicing that speech for a while, have you?”

A light-hearted scoff was the reply. “It never hurts to be prepared.”

Garrus quietly chuckled, as he rolled his shoulders. “Very well, then. I may as well be the first to say it.” He stepped back, placing his fist upon his own armored chest.

“Lead well, Field Marshal.”

The mask was raised to Carduul’s face, and latched with an audible click, emitting a subtle hiss as internals engaged. Systems syncing, adjusting.

He turned towards the forge, the fire reflecting in the black visor.

“It is time. Naboo shall be next.”

---

Now
The troopship - one of several - rumbled with the rapid descent. Crusaders lined the deck, holding onto braces as they were delivered to War. Flak dotted the sky, explosions resounded in the distance. The dim light flickered from a stray hit upon the ship.

A new planet, a new conquest, a new foe in the way of their purpose. Many times has he witnessed those fleeing in their wake, and feel a modicum of sympathy that would be summarily stamped out. Many Mandalorians a part of their Crusade felt similarly, though none spoke of it.

Then there was light. The doors opened, the ship touched down, and he stepped out, the iconic poleaxe bearing the Neo-Crusader iconography in hand. There was a moment of stillness, a calm before an impending storm. He raised his weapon high, letting the small banner billow in the wind’s wake, the hallowed metal of beskar glinting brilliantly against the sun.

Iron within, iron without.

“Akaa'narir!”​

Then the surge towards the Plasma Refinery began - a blue wave dotted by red, and headed by the Field Marshal. Blaster fire erupted from the fierce Crusaders and the staunch Defenders, and the sound of battle and death overtook the landscape. His own pistol joined it, until the distance closed. There was an impressive defensive perimeter given the abruptness of their raid, but time would tell that they could not hold them entirely at bay forever. Not without reinforcements.

Lossa Aureus

 

[Vreegan Fett]

Briana Sal-Soren

Vreegan stood on the bridge of the Kandosii Dreadnought known as the Indomitable, as it emerged from hyperspace. Trailing behind was a substantial fleet comprising Mandalorian Cruisers, Mandalorian Carriers and other Mandalorian Warships, which appeared to encircle the Planet Naboo as there silhouettes reflected the sunlight off their armored hulls.

While the planet was of no stragetic value to the Crusade due to its proximity to the Sith Empire's border, Fett recognized that its considerable plasma reserves would be crucial for upcoming campaigns against the Galactic Alliance where recent intelligence from the Trade Federation had suggested that the Hapan Cluster was in a state of full revolt.

This meant that the Royal Naboo Republic, would be fighting this battle alone against overwhelming odds.

Vreegan might have felt some semblance of pitty or remorse for attacking this planet, but as he climbed on the back of the Basilisk War Droid, such feelings dissipated for compassion was a trait deemed characteristic of inferior cultures, not those who were the rightful successors of the Great Crusade.

The only sound that pentrated at the moment was the sharp click of three mechanisms, signaling the opening of the hangers, through which the Mandalorians surged onto the planet.

"Remember, my Brothers and Sisters of Mandalore. We are here to secure the plasma refinery within the Naboo Royal Abode and extract as much as possible before withdrawing. Engagement with security forces and lightsaber-wielding maniacs are secondary concerns to the plasma itself." Vreegan communicated to the members of the Mandalorian Assault Forces via the static-laden communication device within his helmet as they swiftly approached the Naboo Palace where the air was thick with artillery fire.

He yanked on the reins of the droid, as it moved through the atmosphere around artillery shells and blaster fire as it crashed through the windows of the upper palace.

 

[Brent Warnel]

Fresh from Dxun and his mission with Carduul Akahl , Brent's path forward was never more apparent. The Crusade called for him again, and he answered. Their objective was simple. Obtain the plasma they needed to continue the Crusade and then pull back. While the Galactic Alliance was busy with the Hapes Consortium, the Neo-Crusaders moved decisively into orbit over Naboo. They would take what they needed, and the few defenders who guarded this jewel of a world would not stop them.

Brent and his squad had more specific objectives to help obtain the plasma. The first was to secure a landing zone for the supply ships to haul the plasma, and the second was to disrupt the anti-air systems so the ships could come and go with as little interference as possible.

His target now was a large courtyard outside the Naboo Royal Abode. One of the issues the architects of this invasion had foreseen was the heavy resistance and AA emplacements around this courtyard. Brent would never have gotten close in a landing ship, so the powers at be had a different tactic.

They jettisoned debris, trash, destroyed ships, and any junk they could find in low atmosphere using shuttles. Amongst the garbage was Brent and several squads of Mandalorians. They fell through the atmosphere, mag-locked to pieces of metallic debris, descending toward the Plasma Refinery.

The AA defense network was saturated, and no coordinated fire would keep the squads from being able to land. Flak burst around them, but with the AA fire attempting to target shuttles from ships descending from orbit and thousands of pieces of trash scattered through the sky, it was woefully inadequate.

As they neared the Royal Abode, Brent and the Vod around him un-clamped from the debris and activated their jet packs. Their thrusters burst to life, slowing their descent. The debris the Mandalorians rode in on impacted all around them, crunching buildings and defenders alike. The defenders were in chaos, trying to reorient themselves to meet the Mando'ade still falling towards them. Brent could already hear the screams of pain and the barking orders of officers trying to get their men and women back in position.

As Brent and his squad near the ground, the defenders and some AA reached up to meet them. Some Neo-crusaders met an untimely end, but the majority continued descending untouched. Grenade launchers coughed, and smoke grenades impacted all around the courtyard, obscuring the Mandalorians from the defender's view. Some defenders had better equipment and could see through the smoke, and they sent several potshots towards the Mandalorians, who were now landing among the defenders.

The other defenders, while well-trained, did not have the equipment to peer through the smoke. The Crusaders did not have that problem, and they descended on the Naboo guardsmen with blades drawn. Shapes flitted through the smoke, and the defenders began to scream and yell out as heavily armored Crusaders cut them down. Blaster bolts from the Naboo guardsmen could be seen lancing out in different directions as they attempted to shoot at anything that moved in the smoke.

It was mayhem for the defenders, and Brent could hear their screams and calls for help slowly subside as they were cut down. It wouldn't be long now, and the courtyard would be theirs.

Allyson Locke

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Tag: Sibylla Abrantes | Open

Lysander was one of the first to leave the enclave earlier; the session was only a fraction of what he usually invested in himself. Deep within, brewed a myriad of forbidden emotions. Though his training continued to be rigorous, he found himself astray— anger licked at his thoughts, and a bitter taste of vengeance was at the tip of his tongue. While other Padawans radiated peacefulness, he could feel the tendrils of despair wrapping around his own heart. The dark whispers that crawled into his meditation left him nervous; he was mostly concerned with being discovered by those who knew him well.

But it was not just the emotions that set him apart from the other Padawans; Lysander also radiated elegance. From the luxurious tunic in shades of beige to the deep red cloak that began to drape around his shoulders as he departed the sanctuary, he had no issue making it known that he was a being of both grace and sophistication. Every day he was becoming less afraid of standing out and rebelling against the expectations placed upon him.

During his journey back into the streets of Theed, news quickly arrived of warships advancing. But then, without warning, the very world around him erupted into complete chaos. The first explosions sounded like thunder, and he could already feel the ground shaking beneath his boots. Ripples of dread spread through the currents of the Force. Each blast carried heavy intensity as the once tranquil air of the city was replaced by panic. Civilians flooded the streets; fear was etched on their faces. Any chatter was replaced by cries for safety.

It wouldn't take long for Lysander to feel their own emotions mix with his own, swirling around him like a storm. He also couldn’t shake the pull of darkness within, gnawing at his consciousness, tempting him to embrace its raw power. The Naboo Royal Palace appeared to be under heavier fire than other areas. To the Padawan, it was more than just a battle; it was an opportunity to test his mettle. His veins pulsed with determination, driving him forward, cutting through the many groups of people. His gaze was fixated on the entrance of the building.

 

[Nelliel Kryze]

MNV-52 'Beviin' Class Space Superiority Fighter

​

| Location | Nearby Airfield, Naboo
| Focus | Maintain Air Superiority

Nel jogged over to the hangar where her Beviin awaited with her helmet tucked under her arm as the klaxons blared, announcing their prompt departure from hyperspace. New planet to raid, new adventures as usual, and most importantly new pilots to face - just what she craved. A smile formed on her lips as she climbed into the cockpit, two fingers tracing over the console as a ritualistic gesture of good luck. She raised her helmet up in both hands before setting it atop her head, giving a gentle twist left and right as she settled into the seat. A quick routine inspection of her systems left her satisfied as the canopy of her fighter closed. Nearby pilots got to their ships and quickly followed suit as they prepared for their deployment.​

​

There was a subtle shift as the carrier left hyperspace, starfighters and bombers taking flight from high orbit as the Mandalorian raiding fleet arrived in the Naboo system. Nel's Beviin promptly lifted off from the hangar floor as her wings moved to lock into their forward positions, her thrusters quickly flaring to life as she was among the first of the starfighters to depart. Their objective was simple; seize control of the refinery and maintain superiority over the airspace long enough for the rest of the raiders to take off with what plasma they managed to pilfer. Of course, there were alternative objectives to make certain their primary objective was secured, chief among them was ensuring the local forces were crippled in that regard.​

​

Nel's starfighter, accompanied by a small handful of other starfighters and a small wing of bombers peeled off from the main force's escort, reconnaissance having identified a nearby airfield that would prove to be a valuable target to cripple in an effort to hinder the enemy's local defenses. Of course, their arrival had not gone without notice as the airfield had already been put on alert of the Mandalorian fleet's arrival - a few Naboo pilots had attempted to take off from the hangars. Their fighters would barely have left the hangars before promptly getting strafed by the arrival of Nel's squadron on their initial pass, the bombers quickly dropping their bombs on a few hangar entrances to mitigate the number of pilots able to take off from their ruined entrances.​

​

Nel and her fellow pilots zoomed past as she glanced back through the canopy, eager to see how many enemy pilots would still be able to take off and brave enough to take her on.​

​

Arkhias​

​

 

[Lossa Aureus]

Skinsuit | Jumpsuit and Armor | Poncho
Lightsaber | Turmoil | Concealed Blaster | Dual Broken Core Daggers
Speeder Bike​

The Day Before

From the moment she had opened her eyes, something had continously pulled at her mind. Distracted her throughout the days tasks to the point of being caught more than once staring aimlessly at the sky above.

Her focus pulled in a direction that held nothing of worth for the attention it demanded.

Hands opening and closing as if steeling herself for a fight that had yet to appear. Anxious energy dominating her waking hours as everything around her continued to feel out of place. Students unable to perform their training as she saw fit. Biting her tongue rather than doll out scathing words with the temper that had been biting at her heels. Choosing to isolate and meditate to figure out exactly what was riding her.

Her day spent in silent isolation as she settled into a sleepless trance.

Current Day

The meditative trance had done nothing to ease the unease nestled in her mind. Only bringing it to the forefront of her thoughts as she tried to pull apart what might have been making her feel such a way.

The interrupting sounds of panic and action brought news of an attack as she rose from her trance slowly. Mind coming back to the real with her eyes opening to see through the open sides of the terrace a new threat. Something to focus her attentions on. To further attempt to smother the burning coal of rage that had buried itself within her heart. That had yet

Rising with a worrisome grin, she moved with practiced ease to the armory of her home. Donning her gear as the sounds of explosions and warfare filled the air as if to compliment the shrieks and anxious energy of the civilians nearby.

Some lagging behind the survival instincts of others to gawk and point skyward while the more wary among them sought cover.

Her gaze through the visor of her armor fixated on the area of the enemies arrival, gauging trajectory of what she could assume were dropships headed for the ground. The walk to the garage made in few steps as excitement settled in where anxiety had reigned. The speeder bike coming to life as she set her coordinates and alerted those that might respond using the Emergency Communication Line.

<This is Battlemaster Lossa Aureus. I will be meeting the enemy head on. Defend and delay but do not isolate yourself.> The comm line chirping slightly as her Speeder Bike was pushed to its limit. The bike bucking against rubble as it continued to speed her along towards whoever had come to darken their doorstep. <Keep an eye on each other, especially Master Sal-Soren. Anyone gets hurt they get extra training time while healing.>

Her message sent, she continued to hug herself tight to the frame as she watched more drop ships break atmosphere to deposit enemies to the ground.

"Who we got wanting their head bashed in today?" The question posed to no one as the plasma refinery came into view,

The dark side swirling around her as her excitement grew with each successful deployment. Watching from the crest of hill as the defenders and attackers met. An emblem flying above those storming the refinery that perplexed her until the internal systems of her helmet placed who laid claim to the emblem fluttering in the midst of the battle.

Her grin shifting to a delighted smile at the violence to come. Turning the speeder from her path along the hill crest to bring her towards what could be called a rear line of the attackers. Watching another dropship come down as she angled herself to intercept it.

White lightsaber igniting as she leapt from the speeder bike with the aid of the force behind her. The bikes nose digging into the ground and coming to an abrupt halt as she found herself in an awkward flight path as the dropship bucked at her sudden appearance. Reaching her hand out as if she'd found a tether and pulling herself to the back of the vessel with a resounding clang.

Her blade digging into the surface as she attempted to bring the vessel down as she whooped and hollered with ferocious joy.

Carduul Akahl

 

[Spayyghen]

Echo Athoth Toby Perris ​

"Come on, this way. " one of the Naboo Security Officers exclaimed while hurrying through the hallways of the Royal Naboo Palace, trailed closely by a contingent of security personnel aiming to reinforce the palace's eastern defenses in anticipation of the Mandalorian attack as alarms went off across the planet.

Unbeknownst to them, a dark figure lurked in the shadows, observing their movements from behind a door and swiftly maneuvering to cut them off.

As the officer rounded the corner, he was abruptly struck by the lengthy, shaggy arm of the Spayyghen, the madclaw from Kashyyyk, causing him to fall to the ground with a resounding thud, while the other security guards swiftly raised their blasters.

His beskar-coated Ryyk blade came forward, with a sudden jerk of the hand.

<<< FOR MANDALORE, FOR KASHYYYK! >>> The Wookiee bellowed with a terrible roar, as the oath-bound Wookiee Warriors came out of hiding armed with powerful bowcasters and their own sharpened blades. The two factions clashed in both ranged combat and close-quarters, where the Wookiees clearly held the upper hand.

Spayyghen's blade swept through the air, cutting through the padded coat of the young lieutenant. He then seized them with a firm grip and hurled them out of the window, their screams echoing until they faded into silence.

 

[Zhea Nox]

ECLIPSE
FOUNDATION STAGING AREA | THEED
ALLIES: Mother Askani | TF | RNR
ENEMIES: MNC
ENGAGING: Droz Munin

BUSHIDO​

It happened fast.

Zhea had barely met Askani on Hapes when some within the organisation known as Foundation had to leave for Naboo to restock while strong Jedi like Caltin Vanagor and others remained on Hapes to keep the refugees there safe.

Now, the Sage was in Theed along with Askani to load up some more supplies for the continuous humanitarian effort on Haps. Zhea couldn't remember the last time she was on Naboo. Her time in the Order felt so long ago now. So much has changed for her since that fateful day on Cato Neimoidia.

Since landing, however, Zhea had been on edge. Long since learning what that feeling meant, she knew the Force was warning her of something brewing. "Something is coming." she told Askani eventually when the hairs on her arms started to stand on end.

The words had barely left her mouth when the sky exploded.

If the Force hadn't been warning her all morning, she would have been surprised. Now she was just worried about the people scattering in all directions from shock and fear at the sight of what was clearly a Mandalorian raid.
"Hobbs, make sure the ship is loaded. You and the men protect it at all costs. If it can take off, let it. Hapes needs it." she quickly told the squad Captain before she moved.
"Ma'am..." he started.

"Just do it, Captain!" she called as she started sprinting to some milling civilians who weren't sure in which direction to go as Mandalorians and Basilisks rained hell down everywhere as they dropped from the sky.

If Jos Krayt could see his fellow Mando'ade doing this, he would lose it.

 

[Droz Munin]

[ Theme ]
​

D r o z _ M u n i n

| Location | Foundation Staging Area, Naboo​

| Objective | Pillage and BURN​

| Focus | Zhea Nox ​

​

Droz paced back and forth inside the dropship as it made its descent to the planet below. He had personally never been to Naboo, but a new planet meant new opportunities to raid and that's all that mattered. Another chance to carve his name into the memories of the natives and make them tell horrific stories of the one who was most famously known as the Butcher of Umbara. Filling the transport were a number of different warriors, some that had fought with him in past battles, many newer and younger recruits of the Neo Crusades, but all eager and hungry for battle. Being in a ship made them all restless and they were like hungry dogs clawing at their cages, ready to break out and unleash hell upon those unfortunate to cross paths. ​

​

Droz beat his chest as he passed by the standing crusaders, shouting in their native tongue, <"This is our day brothers and sisters! Our day to carve a new chapter for our people, and make our stories known across the Galaxy!"> He paused as he passed by a younger Mandalorian, grabbing them by the back of their helmet and pulling them in close as he pressed his helmet against theirs, <"Do not waste your time looking back, you are not going that way. Instead, march forward and seize your glory for all to see! Onward to battle, onward to glory!"> Droz beat his chest again as the warriors repeated the gesture. ​

​

<"We shall take! And we shall BURN!">​

​

The dropship hovered a distance above the ground as the rear ramp lowered and slots in the floor gave way for Mandalorians to drop out of and descend using their jetpacks. Droz got a running start as he had his hands on the backs of two Mandalorians running alongside him before pushing them and leaping off the dropship's ramp, flying down to the surface below as citizens began screaming and scattering.​

​

To those who could sense it, his thirst for blood and battle could be felt long before he was seen.​

 

[Armel]

Naboo

Armel shoved a powerpack into his pistol and watched as an ammo counter appeared on the bottom of his HUD as his helmet linked with the weapon. The dropship shook as they broke through atmosphere, the Zeltron steadied himself against the troop bay doors. Next his jetpack which he gave a quick pump of the gas without igniting which expended harmlessly into the air around him.

" Te ca'nara par akaan cuyir olar, gar cuyir Mando'ade jii, akaanir ti kot, ash'amur ti ijaat!" a crimson armoured Rallymaster barked.

Armel looked around the bay of the troop ship, it was silent save for the muffled sound of flak exploding around him. The troop bay was filled with pale faces and shiny armour, fresh meat for the Crusade. The air felt icy with fear and anticipation, they were nervous. This wouldn't do at all.

Armel pulled out a beskad blade and it shimmered in the red lighting of the troop bay.

"See this? Nice shiny blade, beskar, shouldn't have to explain to ya' its value." he twirled the blade in his hands as blue visors turned towards the Zeltron. "Three battles I survived, three battles I won, show off what you got here and you'll find yourself with a mighty blade like this." he boasted, whether he was trying to encourage them on or show off had become muddled, that tended to be how Armel's words went.

Of course the beskad was the only bit of beskar he owned, his armour like the other Crusaders was but an imitation, mass produced for the needs of the war.

Armel slotted the knife back into its holster before opening his mouth again. "Besides, Naboo only got a security force, they do-" his words were cut short as the entire dropship shook violently, throwing everyone to the floor. Next sunlight spilled in as a hole was torn in the hull, sucking out many would-be warriors into the sky. Armel grabbed onto a piece of metal and gripped tightly as he watched the Rallymaster get pulled out and sucked right into the air intake causing another fiery explosion which rocked the ship again. The burning dropship plummeted past the others, only slowing down right before impacting the ground as the pilot pulled back with all his might.

The first thing that returned to Armel was his sight, a cracked visor and a bright blue sky. Next was his smell, spent tibanna gas and burning flesh. Finally his hearing, muffled at first but he knew what it was, the roar of a battle. He sat upright to utter carnage, the dropship having been spread out across a fifty meter radius and the dazed survivors now in a fight for their lives.

Armel scrambled to a piece of wreckage, he turned his head to watch as a crusader who was laying down a blanket with suppressive fire suddenly drop as a blaster bolt pierced his skull.

"Feth's sake." was all he could let out and he pulled a blaster pistol from the holster of the dead Crusader. Even Armel so new to war could tell they were sitting ducks.

"Come on ya filthy animals, you want to earn your beskar?!" he barked out drawing his beskad with his left hand. "Close in and kill the bastards!" he lept over the wreckage and propelled himself right towards the enemy with a jetpack, some other survivors began to follow.

His blade plunged into the ribs of one security officer, the man went limp as Armel twisted the Beskad. A spurt of blood stained his blue armour, christening him as one who would defile Naboo. In his other hand his pistol which he fired blindly at anything that moved.

"I'll offer you all up to Kad Ha'ranggir! Show you people the true meaning of war!" he taunted.

Open to friends and foes

​

 

[Valerian Calore]

Space Above Naboo
Shadow of Intent, Flagship of the Calore Fleet
Fleet: X

As Valerian stood on the deck of his flagship, looking out upon the pristine oceans and forests of Naboo, he could only remark on how he'd had always disliked the place. Planets and people that preached peace and love and understanding never sat right with him; Alderaanians, Naboolians, Chandrilans, Ithorians, each of them acted as if they were above the matters of war, always looking down on Mando'ade as warmongers. They were right of course, at least on some level, but that was the cost of progress, the cost of pulling his people from the mud they'd been kicked into time after time, by seemingly everyone in the galaxy. Their war would end when they could no longer be pushed too and fro by every wandering Republic and Empire and Alliance that rose and fell every cycle.

The Alor was shaken from his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder, a dark haired man looking upon him with a smile that oozed excitement. "Assault pods are ready, dropships are prepped, the fleet is on full combat readiness and all fighters are prepped for launch. All we need is the word." Valerian expected just as such, a long time spent warring in the Unknown Regions had drilled them well, better than any sim or training exercise could. Vode always performed the best under life or death scenarios, and despite how he reviled the Naboolians, they were certainly a force to be reckoned with by some accounts.

"Launch fighters and bombers on a screen, press the Shadow of Intent and Mercurial Dawn forward into weapons range bring the rest of the fleet in on a staggered line." He watched as his orders were relayed across the fleet, men and women chattering and calling out various echoes to one another; he truly loved to see Mandalorians at war, and as fighters zipped too and fro across his viewport, this sentiment was only reinforced. "Sweep the sector, then once we're clear deploy half the screen to run escort with the drop ships and provide close air support."

Turning on his heel, Valerian tugged his cape over his shoulder as he let the command deck. "Alor'ad, you have the bridge, keep me appraised on the progress of things up here." Valerian never had much taste for sitting on starship bridges while the real fighting was on the ground, not while there were men far better than him with starship tactics.

---

On the Ground
Loadout: X
Tag: Lily Decoria

Valerian loved the Haran'verd. They were a force of his own creation, a group of highly skilled drop troopers that were near fanatically loyal to the Clan, to him, to the point where they'd happily follow him into the gaping maw of the Naboolian defenders with little regard for their own lives. They were his family in a way that words could scarcely describe, and they sure as kark fought like it. They chattered endlessly as the pod tore through the upper atmosphere of Naboo, shields and hull crushing against the heat of entry. The talking ceased then, partly because of the fresh weight of atmosphere, partly because the time for battle drew ever closer.

"Thirty seconds!" Words he'd heard numerous times, the last ones given to the Haran'verd before their pods made contact with solid earth and stone. They'd already been given their objective: hit hard, push into the abode, cut through anyone who stands in their way. Standard shit, without too much to think about.

Time ticked slowly as the altimeter within his helmet spelled out their velocity and altitude. It was a ritual at this point, watching the distance between pod and ground grow smaller and smaller, gritting his teeth, gripping the rifle he held as if his life depended on it, closing his eyes and taking a final breath, savoring the feeling of filtered air in his lungs as if it could be his last. It calmed him, filled Valerian with confidence that the battle ahead wasn't going to be his last, that he'd see triumph, prevail against the odds that awaited him.

The assault pod met the ground with a thunderous crash and for a half a heartbeart everything was calm, silence reigned and the air became so tense that it seemed like the weight of the universe was upon their very shoulders. And then it wasn't; before Valerian could speak, the pilot slammed a fist on the pods control panel, opening the doors of the assault craft and roaring at warriors to make themselves scarce. They didn't need to be told twice. Valerian was the first up and out of the pod, leaping and hitting the ground with a heavy thud, meeting one surprised security officer who wore a mask of fear upon his face. He died with a trio of bolts impacting his chest, dropping him before a word could've been uttered. Around him, more pods impacted, spilling out hundreds of his Hellfighters, each of them roaring their battle cries, splitting off to fulfill their various objectives.

"Verd ram'or!"

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

Location: Theed Royal Palace
Interacting with: Lysander von Ascania

Sibylla's heart pounded, but she forced herself to move with measured purpose, even as the ground trembled beneath her. The air was thick with dust, choking the regal halls of the palace with the scent of burning stone and smoke. This was no mere skirmish -- this was a full-scale assault. The refugee crisis had just become something far more dire.

Her attendant pulled at her arm, urging her away from the open balcony. "Milady, we must go!"

Sibylla coughed, steadying herself against a cracked pillar. Her elaborate representative gown was streaked with dust, and her intricate braids weighed down with debris, but she didn't falter. She lifted her gaze to the sky -- Mandalorian drop ships, dozens of them, cutting through the atmosphere like blades.

Why would they travel across the galaxy to Naboo? Why here? Why now? Could this be a power play by some other power?

Her mind raced. This wasn't just an attack; it was a statement. A show of power meant to break them before negotiations could ever begin. While it was a situation that she personally hadn't faced before, Naboo's history with invasions by other powers was not an unknown. Measures had been put in place, and she'd been instructed on what to do in such circumstances -- but training and practical application were completely different.

"Get word to the security council," she ordered in a firm voice, "And alert the Queen. We cannot afford hesitation."

Another explosion rocked the palace, sending a cascade of rubble crashing down nearby. Sibylla didn't flinch. She turned toward the corridors leading deeper into the palace, already calculating the next steps.

This battle wasn't just for survival. It was for Naboo itself.

 

[Stevru Klamat]

⠀

Location⠀ Spaceport Highway, Theed, Naboo
Objective⠀ Defend the Planet
Tags⠀ Ma'lur'kek'thwin Armel

Look Up, The Sky is Falling.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀They'd only just barely made it in front of the invasion fleet. The touchdown had been a bit fraught, but one look at the sky and the reassurance that they were there to help was all that it had taken to see them out of the space port and into a speeder. The speeder in question was hurtling down the highway which connected the space port with the city proper at several times the posted speed limit, swerving to avoid slower traffic at the beck and call of it's beskar clad driver.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The ships of his despised, distant brethren dotted the sky like vultures on the wing, descending on one vast corpse. He took his eyes off the road for just a moment to track their progress towards the ground. There was a distant bloom of orange as the anti-air fire coming up from Theed like storming sheets of rain, falling in reverse, scored a kill. Glancing back at the road just long enough to swerve around an oncoming transport speeder, he again looked to the sky, tracking the dropship as it began to come apart.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀It wasn't falling. Even at this distance he could tell the pilot was trying to save it, the damaged thrusters giving off brilliant flares of light.

"HOLD ON!"

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀He jerked the wheel hard to the right, the back end of the speeder swinging wide as he pushed it into a sudden turn. He killed the repulsors on the right side and juiced the ones of the left, the underside of the speeder giving off sparks as it skidded on the pavement, contact with the ground pulling it to the right the scant inches it needed to avoid crashing into a handsome looking two story textile shop, and sending it hurtling with redoubled speed down an alleyway barely wide enough to permit it entry.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The sound of blaster fire ahead was unmistakable. Rounding a final corner, the carnage of the drop ship's debris field was spread out before them. And carnage of another nature as well. The telltale flare of jetpacks made it utterly clear to him that the Crusaders aboard that ship were still very much in the game. They needed to make sure they didn't have time to regroup, and the security forces in the area just weren't up for the task. Grasping the E-22 blaster in the passenger seat beside him, he hefted the heavy double barreled blaster up and handed it off to the passenger in the bed of the speeder with one, simple instruction.

"LIGHT'EM UP!"

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The Mandalorian didn't wait for a response. Instead, he aimed the speeder at the most concentrated mass of Crusaders, where he could see one of his savage cousins sinking a blade into a security trooper that had only wished to defend his world. Flooring the accelerator, he pushed a DH-17 pistol over the top of the speeder's windscreen, flicked the selector to full auto, and opened fire, hosing the enemy down with automatic blaster fire as the speeder bore down on them.

 

[Kalantha]

Dawn of the Plasma Wars
Situation Room, Theed Palace

“I need a situation report, NOW.” Kalantha’s voice was youthful, but unmistakably hardened. It filled the room with an air of power and poise that commanded the attention of everyone inside.

The situation room was buzzing. Boots rapped against the marble floor as hastened heels moved between terminals. It was a young intelligence officer who answered his queen. “They’ve reached the palace!” he announced. There were a few gasps and several breathy swears, but Kalantha’s face was placid like the surface of an icy pond. The tightening of her jaw was the only movement one could see.

“They’re fighting for the plasma refinery,” the young man said. The queen stepped to the center of the room and fixed her eyes on a large monitor which displayed the statuses of several key facilities and the security teams sent to protect them. She spoke to him without moving her gaze. "Has the Order been mobilized?" The officer nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty." Her mind was filled with images of Briana Sal-Soren and the others locked in battle with the Crusaders.

"And the Vanguard?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Very good," the queen answered.

There was a small oddity in her tone, a trill on the 'R' that was common in Rorian accents. The queen heard it as soon as she spoke, and apparently so did the officer. The young man's eyes met hers, full of silent understanding. The royal woman who stood there, dressed to the stars in traditional Naboo finery, was not Queen Kalantha; she was a handmaiden decoy.

---

Inara, Queen of Naboo
Plasma Refinery, Theed

​

Shineke Dravenné would be furious if she knew that Inara had shirked the crown in favor of a daring mission with Aiden Porte to the refinery, but what else was she to do? Stand around in a crowded room while panicked advisors relayed information to her? No. Her home was under attack, again, and this time she was determined to do something about it.

Her handmaidens were trained for this.

"This way," she said to Aiden as they traversed the halls of Theed palace. “There’s an emergency lift that will take us straight to the refinery.” She kept her voice low and steady, a task that grew difficult as they balanced stealth and haste. The palace was under attack and Mandalorian raiders were already within its walls.

They had to be careful.

Tags: Aiden Porte​

 

[Ma'lur'kek'thwin]

LOCATION⠀|	City Limits, Crusader dropship crash site, Theed, Naboo
OBJECTIVE⠀|	Rip and Tear

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Flinty carmine-black eyes watched the blanket of conquest spread itself across the skies of Theed, marveling at the sheer force brought to bear by what she could only think of as extremists. Ma'lur traced a claw in the air around the faint silhouettes of fast-moving drop-ships, counting them in the tens with a detached sense of foreboding. Madmen with the lust for violence coursing through their veins stood at the helms of those transports and interstellar ships. She turned away from the view of the spaceport and the flocking raptors on metal wings and combustion engines to stare at the city they threatened. Madmen had whispered, spoke of, shouted even, in the ears of those other madmen driving their ships into the earth of ancient rites and glory, painting the planet a target for all those Mandalorians full of zeal, full of dreams of great meaning.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀As if no one on Naboo had dreams of their own.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The bitter taste of radicalization lingered on her arrowhead tongue. Working the muscle between her teeth and cheek, Ma'lur tried to channel the same energy she'd had on Mygeeto to here. To now. Each face that she glimpsed passing by in fragmented blurs made the effort more difficult. Masks of fear and uncertainty one and all. What could she do in the grand scheme? What could a deserter, a traitor to her own kind do for these people who were staring down the barrel of a Mandalorian Crusade with only the hope of survival should they be captured being slavery? The Ssi-ruu swallowed her misgivings, triplicate lids flickering across her gaze in quick succession.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Nothing.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀In the grand scheme she could do nothing. But in the down-to-earth, foot-soldier, dog-eat-dog scheme? Down here in the grit? What Ma'lur could do was double-fist the E-22 and suppress the chit out of the karker in the alley who had just stuck a defense force guy like a puffer pig.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"LIGHT'EM UP!"

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The senselessness of all this violence, on so grand a scale in ways she had only ever seen on holovid... The Ssi-ruu's blood boiled. "On it," she replied, the cool rejoinder belying the weight of the E-22 coming to bear on Armel and the surviving Mandalorians plucking themselves from the drop-ship's wreckage. Ma'lur rose from her seat with the longarm braced into the crook of her shoulder and let loose a volley of blaster bolts, first peppering the ground ahead of the opposition, then closer to the mark as she dialed in her aim.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"I'll offer you all up to Kad Ha'ranggir! Show you people the true meaning of war!"

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Disgusting. Ma'lur's lips peeled back into a snarl as the speeder rapidly closed with the opposing Mandalorian forces, thinking only that it was good she'd momentarily be in arm's reach of throttling one of the madmen personally.

Stevru Klamat , Armel

|⠀TAGS

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Ninurta Slaabur'r | Thayze Montserrat

​

The serene beauty of Naboo, usually a balm to the soul, was now a canvas of fear. Above, the sky was swallowed by the black silhouettes of warships, their ominous presence casting a chilling shadow over the Royal Palace of Theed. Lorn crouched low, his gaze following the panicked rush of civilians scrambling for safety, their hurried footsteps echoing the dread that permeated the air. He closed his eyes, drawing in the chaotic energy of the city, a maelstrom of fear and uncertainty swirling around him. It felt like his youth all over again, the constant war, the relentless fighting. The recent troubles on Hapes, the brewing crisis between the Crown and the Crimson Veil, had barely settled into the background before this new nightmare descended upon Naboo. There was no rest for the weary.

His eyes snapped open, the golden light of the day reflecting in their depths. He rose, his gaze sweeping over the Vanguard standing firm beside him. They were his rock, the shield against the impending chaos. Behind them stood a handful of Elite Royal Crusaders, their ornate armor gleaming under the dim light. A full Company of Naboo's Defense Force, a well-trained group of men and women, completed the defensive line. Commander Rexus of the Elite Royal Crusaders pushed his way through the formation, his voice low and urgent. "My snipers are in position on both sides of the courtyard, Lorn, ready to take down anyone who comes down into the courtyard."

Screams pierced the air, carried on the wind from the outer edges of the courtyard. The sounds stirred Lorn's sense of foreboding. He knew he had to instill courage, but not through lies, these men and women deserved the truth. He faced his people, his voice ringing with a hard-won resolve. "Men and women of Naboo, before us, we face an enemy who seeks to bring violence and destruction to our home. But we will not falter. We are the first and last line of defense for this Republic, and we will not let them pass. We have trained for this day, prepared for the possibility of this exact moment. They will not step foot in the palace. We stand as one, and together we will show them that Naboo will not waver!"

A war cry erupted from the Company, their voices a defiant roar against the coming storm. The distant sounds of explosions grew louder, closer. Lorn ignited his lightsaber, the golden blade humming to life, its radiance a stark contrast to the encroaching darkness. The Vanguard followed suit, their blue and green blades forming a vibrant wall of light. In that moment, the enemy charged into the courtyard, a horde of heavily armored figures, their jetpacks propelling them through the air with terrifying speed. It was clear now, these were Mandalorians.

The two forces met with a deafening clash. Blaster fire streaked through the air, crisscrossing like lethal rain. Mandalorians landed with thunderous force, their weapons spitting bolts of crimson energy, while the defenders returned fire with unwavering determination. Smoke billowed, thick and acrid, obscuring visibility, turning the courtyard into a chaotic, smoke-filled gauntlet.

Lorn moved with a fluidity born of years of practice, his golden lightsaber hissing through the air as he deflected blaster bolts. He tuned out the cacophony around him, the fear of the citizens, the screams of the wounded, the roar of battle. He focused, let the Force flow through him, guiding his movements. He became one with the dance of battle, each strike precise, each parry flawless. Every movement was dictated by the Force, his mind clear and focused, and his golden blade met his enemies, cutting down armor like butter. This was it. For Naboo, for his people, for the Republic.

 

[Briana Sal-Soren]

MY DOMAIN​

LOCATION: SHIRAYA'S SANCTUARY

Everyone and their mother's uncle wanted a piece of Naboo, it seemed.

If it wasn't hell opening up in the sky, or The New Way unleashing biological weapons, then it was only a matter of time before it was something else. On this hellish day, in a week of hellish days, it was the Mandalorian's surging to take center stage. And it was exactly for days like these, that Briana had packed up what life she'd built with the New Jedi Order and reset her focus and efforts back on her home world, her home that'd been by and large ignored by their democratic neighbors. For a world that'd once been known primarily as a place of peace and prosperity, the Naboo had seen their fair share of horrors in the short span of three years. In some sense, this felt more like the typical, rather than the unusual.

It was the reason why she pushed the students at Shiraya's Sanctuary so hard in their training — sometimes questioning her own methods, wondering if she expected or demanded too much from them. But, when the warning klaxons began blaring, Briana knew with some level of certainty that her students would hold their ground. That they'd survive to the next day.

The whoosh of a door opened and closed from behind, booted foot steps beating against stone as they rushed to where she stood, hurried but measured, urgent without panic. Briana didn't turn, focused on finishing her own last minute preparations.

"You're going?"

She recognized who the concerned voice belonged to without having to look up, one Dain Halcorr — among the more seasoned of their Knights, strapping into a set of plate armor with the practiced urgency of a solider who'd done this far too many times before. He'd been one of the first Jedi that chosen to come home with her, one of the few Naboo native's who'd not only been here when the CIS abandoned them, but survived the first Cataclysm the same as she had, and lived to tell the tale.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Briana questioned with a level of disinterest, made evident in her overly flat tone — as if she hadn't returned from the warzone that'd become the streets of Ta'a Chume'dan, only days ago. Compartmentalization was what'd pulled her through the last war, but Briana would be lying to say that she'd fully been able to pack everything that'd happened away into a nice little box in the back of her mind, to blissful nothingness. She hadn't. Still, she'd found a way to continue functioning. Briana flexed her long fingers, checking the spring-loaded blades of her gauntlets one last time. With a satisfied 'hmmm' she secured them tightly against her forearms until there was a soft 'click'.

"But you only just returned, and the temple—"

"Won't be found," She interrupted, making it clear that she'd broker no more arguments from him. She'd had her fill of them lately. "With the defensive shielding, the droids, and Master's Vizion Trozky and Kahne Porte here, the Sanctuary is probably the safest place to be right now. Besides, I doubt these Mandalorian's are here for us."

What those motivations were, exactly, she hadn't quite yet puzzled out. Her brows pulled together and she turned toward Dain before leaving. "But, just to be prudent, move our youngest Padawans. Get them underground and instruct them to stay there until this mess is over."

​

LOCATION: THEED ROYAL PALACE

It'd taken effort to cut her way through the utter chaos that'd rapidly filled the streets of Theed, left with no choice but to keep moving as the Mandalorian forces wrecked havoc with seemingly reckless abandon. Had she not known that Lorn Reingard was already mobilizing the Vanguard, she would have stayed behind to help hold back their rabid foe, but as it was, the Vanguard were among the best of their best and the people of Theed were in more than capable hands.

Instead, she'd set her sights on the Palace — where Mandalorian forces had already begun to press.

Dawning realization finally stuck. The refinery was right next door to the palace.

Letting the Force rush through her body, flow into her veins, and down to her feet — Briana propelled herself forward with forceful velocity, sprinting from one area to another, weaving between the storms and only pausing to dispatch enemies that got in her way. Up and through to the various levels, Briana kept going, mind fully set on reaching their Queen.

Kalantha was the heart of Naboo, and if she fell, the planet and their hope, would fall with her.

She had almost reached the main hall when a sudden crash shook the walls.

Marble shattered. A gaping hole burst open from above and debris rained down in a violent cascade as something massive came barreling through the Palace's upper windows.

Basilisk War Droid.

The beast of Mandalorian warfare landed hard, sending a tremor through the floor. And seated upon its back, like a warlord from another age, was perhaps one of the largest Mandalorian's she'd ever laid eyes on.

Who in the Nether's nine hells was this shmuck?

Briana didn't know. And, frankly, she didn't care.

Whoever he was, he had just stormed the Royal Palace. And if he'd come to take a piece of Naboo, Briana would do her utmost to make sure he bled for it.

OUTFIT: XoXo | TAG: Vreegan Fett | EQUIPMENT: Astor's Blade, Lightsaber, EchoStone




​

 

[Toby Perris]

ROYAL PALACE ARCHIVES
THEED, NABOO

Deep in the archives within the Royal Naboo Palace, Padawan Tobias Perris and Knight Echo Athoth were perusing materials pertinent to their individual interests, when the attack started, and oblivious until a roar rose from the east… minimised by the walls of hallways, other rooms, and the secure door to the archives that stood between them and the origin of the noise.

Toby had arrived rather recently with little fanfare, and already had put his nose to the grindstone, so to speak, absorbing what and as much as he could about the local history, while Echo had arrived some days before him - she was interested in the local architecture - and while they were both Jedi academics of one sort or another, they were very, very different.

The young Corellian’s head perked as he rose from a hunch over his reading, and turned just so, setting an ear in the direction of the unexpected and very muffled, warbling sound.

“Did you hear that?”

He twisted, looking behind him in the direction of the stacks where a moment’s sensing told him the Ogemite had buried herself, but along with opening himself up to the Force… came everything else. His eyes went wide as saucers.

“Echo?!”

What’s hostile and loud enough to warble through walls? What a terrible joke.

“We have a problem! Several, in fact!”

Echo Athoth • Spayyghen​