Campaign Dawn of the Plasma Wars [NEO-RNR]

[Ninurta Slaabur'r]

Location: Naboo, Royal Palace Courtyards
Allies: Neo-Crusaders
War-Beasts: Zephyr
Jedi scum: Lorn Reingard Thayze Montserrat
Objective: Be the Diversion...

​

The sky over Theed was darkened by the chaos of war, filled with the ominous shapes of Mandalorian warships and the fiery trails of drop pods plummeting to the ground. Below, the courtyard of the Royal Palace had transformed into a fierce battleground of crimson and gold, where the Naboo Defense Forces and Royal Crusaders fought valiantly to fend off the invaders. Their courageous battle cries clashed with the mechanical sounds of Mandalorian jetpacks, the sharp blasts of blaster fire, and the chilling hum of ignited lightsabers wielded by Jedi scum!

Midst the fray, the roar of engines announced the arrival of five HCT-2001 Dragonboat-class Reugeot 905 freighters. Their dark hulls shone against the blue sky as they flew in formation, circling the battlefield. One by one, the freighters released their massive cargo locks, dropping a dozen reinforced containers onto the battlefield below. With a resounding clangs, the containers struck the ground in a perfect perimeter around the courtyard, sending tremors through the stone-paved plaza. Dust and smoke erupted from the impact sites, briefly shrouding the battlefield in a thick, choking haze.

Within this haze of dust, a sudden, deep mechanical hum filled the courtyard, drawing attention to one of the massive cargo containers lined against the palace courtyard walls. The reinforced doors groaned as they opened, steam hissing from the hydraulic locks disengaging. A slow, systematic rhythm echoed from within—heavy footfalls, metallic and daunting, growing louder with each step. From the shadowy depths of the container emerged a towering figure atop a war-beast unlike any seen before. Zephyr, the massive cybernetic Kwi, stepped into the light, his cobalt-blue scales glinting beneath layers of durasteel and duraplast armor. His red eyes, enhanced by neural augmentations, burned with an eerie glow. The repulsorlifts along his limbs hummed softly, stabilizing his massive frame as he strode forward. Twin laser cannons mounted on his sides adjusted with fluid precision, tracking the movements of the Naboo defenders, while his tail, reinforced with segmented plating, twitched in warning.

Seated atop the war-beast was the Beast Master himself. Armor encased with bone and decorated with the trophies of his hunts and crusades. His visor gleamed coldly as he surveyed the gathered defenders. A moment passed, stretching into eternity, before Ninurta leaned forward slightly, his voice carrying across the courtyard with venomous confidence. "Pathetic," he sneered, his tone dripping with venom. "Is this the best Naboo has to offer? You stand against the Crusade, against me, and yet you tremble like prey before the predator."

Zephyr let out a low, guttural snarl, his tail slamming against the ground with a resounding thud, sending dust and debris scattering. A single hand lifted, a dismissive gesturing toward the Naboo. "Your lives are already forfeit! Par Manda'yaim! Par L'ebnataya!" He exclaimed and was drowned out by the resonant bark of Zephyr and his twin laser cannons opening fire on the court yard!

 

[Arkhias]

Nelliel Kryze ​

The herbal cigarra smogged Arkhias’ lungs with cinnamon and rhydonium. The burn, the habit, none of the carcinogenic growths. His back popped as he stretched against his N1, lopping his head onto his shoulder to watch the meks at work. A long tube ran from the repulsor-craft's tank into the tail end of the starfighter. The seal never won the war against the stench. Half of the reason he started smoking herbs.

Was it wise to light up this close to rhydo? No.

Would one of the techs deign to stop him? No.

He had a reputation, one he hated – one he weaponized.

His squadmates knew him well, as a smiling kind-hearted man – a bit of a flirt, with a penchant for sweets. Never could get those necro-candies from Makem Te much. The rest of the deployment knew his former record. The tallies of worlds brought into Imperial Compliance, the Iron Peace he worked to achieve. He was a boot of a dead regime held on a leash by command, at least that was what they said.

The “Impette” was none of those nightmares anymore. A simple flight officer trying to better himself.

To kill the past.

He never got the sycophantic ramble out to the twi’ running the rhydo – for the fun of it – before the first laser blast sent one of the N1s into a conflagration. In the distance, he saw a tube, self-same as the one running to his starfighter, snap-light as a fuse as its craft was struck. The flame licked its way down to the truck before detonating.

Most of the eastern tarmat was decimated with the first run.

They were a rear-guard force, last in, last out. Experimental and unproven designs, atmospheric fighters, and antiques – without proper threat, the Mandalorians were hunting for sport. The main bulk of veterans and line-fighters would already be engaged in space and outer atmosphere.

Last in.

The klaxons could deafen Gods. Then came the barking over the intercoms, interrupting the howling in momentary repetitions.

<<Scramble. Hostile MNV-52s confirmed. E.A.W.>>

He was already popping the hatch of the N1, the mek securing the fuel-line and slapping the gold plated vessel to call it on.

The N1 had become home for him. He nestled into the seat with an unrequited calm. Right before the hatch closed he flicked the smoke onto the duracrete of the hanger floor. The atmospheric mask was fastened to his face, painted over with Kaleesh war symbols. Fierce, skeletal.

His fingers paused, almost falling into older muscle memory for a lost lover before correcting themselves and dancing to his new romance. Flicking the sublights on with a satisfying rumble, the roar of the engines, HUD coming to life.

He put out of his mind the losses, the dead comrades. Death mattered not if he fell too.

The anti-grav repulsors kicked the N1 from the floor. Momentary sense of weightlessness before the N1 broke forward. Hard break up, the nose shot up hot out of the hanger. Wings caught the spring-like breeze of the Nubian continent.

Green bolts slapped into the sky, already calling targets as he climbed. Clipping the wing of one of the more hungry Mando fighters, sending them into a tailspin that earned a crash and explosion not far out of the outlies of the air strip.

The other N1s that managed to escape had broken ranks, wings shattered from missing support elements from the initial strafe.

Arkhias’ mind made the idiotic decision and made chase to the starfigher escort – AA guns pounding off at the bombers in the distance.

​

 

[Armel]

Naboo

Armel stepped over the security officer he had just killed before he spotted another, still alive and crumpled on the ground clutching his stomach as his yellow uniform began to turn red with his blood. The man was dying.

Armel levelled his blaster to the mans head and spoke. "Go on, fight. Die a good death." The security officer simply curled up tighter, clutching his wound and burying his face into the ground. Armel could smell his fear.

"I was a slave once, the only death we got was starving in the pits, worked to the bone and laying in our own filth." he said his tone was filled with disgust.

"Is that the death you'd prefer?" His finger hovered over the trigger, was the man even capable of any response? Or had the grip of death and fear totally paralyzed him.

Armel would never know, instead his short monologue was met with an E-22 blaster bolt to his shoulder. Armel felt as the betaplast armour disintegrated, the wonderful sensation of someone sticking a hot poker into his shoulder came next. It was no beskar and the betaplast only softened the blow.

His head swivelled to the direction of the blaster fire, his face filled with a burning rage. That rage turned to shock as a landspeeder barrelled towards him at high speed. In an instant Armel activated his jetpack, and it sputtered before launching him into the sky. He was just too slow to clear the speeder and the Zeltron smashed through the windscreen and into the bed of the landspeeder.

The glass 'cushioned' the impact and unlike some of his other brothers who were now ornaments flattened against the lanspeeder's bumper Armel was still in the fight, now face-to-face with his attackers. The driver was another Mandalorian, curious but there were no time for questions. Instead Armel turned to the Ssi-ruu hefting the E-22, gripping his Beskad Armel drove it straight towards the hulking lizard's throat.

Stevru Klamat Ma'lur'kek'thwin

​

 

[Thayze Montserrat]

|| DAWN OF THE PLASMA WARS ||
Head in the Clouds - Chapter 1

OUTFIT: Bespoke Jedi Armor
ALLIES: Lorn Reingard
ENEMIES: Ninurta Slaabur'r

Spoiler: THEME

PALACE COURTYARD, ROYAL PALACE OF THEED, NABOO

The corvette ride from Hapes to Naboo felt like a decade to Thayze. He had to go back to the very same place where he had to witness the depravity of mankind; how they butcher the innocent so brutally in a what supposed to be a celebration of a holy communion. He had to see, feel Briana Sal-Soren ‘s pain, losing a man twice a single night. Then he flew back in there to see calamity; angry victims fighting terrorists, terrorists fighting Jedi, Jedi fighting angry victims. He still can’t wrap his head around the complexity of the conflict, and he can’t ever imagine if such situations happen back home.

Returning back to Naboo was a relief, until it wasn’t. Thayze was back in the Theed, fresh off helping a couple of Hapan refugees in the communal med bay provided by the Republic. That was when the warning klaxons started blaring and everyone got their briefings. The Mandalorian are coming.

"One is sub-sentient savages living on trees and eating their own, the other are degenerate human who has zero self-restraint, destined to be a slave to their own primal instincts."

Thayze’s mind flew back to a short conversation he had with his mother one dinner, after it was announced that The Mandalorian had captured Kashyyyk.

"It's a match made in heaven for their kinds, truly. And a disaster for the rest of us."

Harsh, even venomous, he would say, like Lady Giulia always is on every topic, but after knowing, hearing, and seeing what the Mandalorian has done in the galaxy ever since the Gulag Plague, could you really blame her?

Seeing one by one Mandalorian starship enters the orbit, some making their landing most likely just outside of Theed, while some other hover as plated men jump out with their jetpack, Thayze rushed back in the communal med bay to help evacuate the refugee and volunteers to the nearest guarded station. He has heard the Republic’s armed forces and the Vanguard making their move on the invaders over the comms; his main responsibility should be to ensure the safety of the civilians before making himself useful to the Palace defence. And he did just that, until he got a glimpse of the war-beast dropped from one of the Mandalorian starship.

Magnificent.

Words cannot explain how fascinating the creature is to Thayze. The shiny cobalt-blue scale, the piercing red eyes, the mighty strature. As the creature makes it ways towards the Palace Courtyard, Thayze followed, waltzing through collumns, ornaments, structures, and people, right to the Courtyard side hallway where he can see from distance the Republic armed forces and the Vanguards clashing against the invaders. His eyes once more is locked in on the creature’s red eyes. The Mandalorian and Wookies might scare him; they are mindless beasts driven by their lack of self control. Yet the beast, he is a pure soul shaped to the way he is right now by his wretched rider.

I can fix him.​

​

 

[Kahne Porte]

Theed
City Square
Tags: Open

"Kahne, it will take time to get everyone to a secure area."

"There is no time! War is upon us." The Jedi Master's voice shot through the crowd of Soldiers that were assembled as he started issuing orders to those individuals. The safety of the civilians is a primary concern right now. "Protect these people with your life. Naboo is home to all of us, fight for her." The Jedi Master relayed the message to those as they would began to carry out their duties. Kahne would remain here at the City Square and ensure that no innocents would be left behind.

The Jedi Guardians force presence reaching out to those around him, giving them inspiration and a nudge of hope and courage. Not that they didn't have it already. Naboo had been put through the gauntlet here lately. It made the Jedi Master weary and even frustrated at times as to why this place was targeted so often. Such a peaceful place seemed to suck in the wave of darkness and recklessness that was the Sith, New Way, and now the Mandalorians.

The Jedi Master looked ahead in the distance at the row of Mando warriors coming their way.

Kahne would lead the charge the city square, he would always defend this planet till his last breath.

A beacon of hope, light and righteous fury would meet the Mandalorians. The Jedi's brandished his lightsaber as the two forces met.

​

 

[Aiden Porte]

"This way,"

“There’s an emergency lift that will take us straight to the refinery.”

Plasma Refinery
Theed


"I don't know how I let you talk me into this....."

Sometimes....

Sometimes he wondered if the wars and battles would ever truly end. Would there come a day when war would no longer be on the table. He got the inevitable truth from his father at one point. Peace would come, for a time. But then the wars would start again.

So in truth, there was never going to be a true peace to the galaxy. Aiden realized, that was a pipe dream. So he would be here, he would fight. Just as best as he could for as long as he could. Aiden really hoped he would live long enough to make a lasting difference in someone's life.

"Inara." The Jedi spoke plainly and also firmly. While he wasn't trying to disrespect her in the slightest, but he had to make himself perfectly clear. "This is great risk, if something happens and I fall, you must flee. Promise me that?" The Jedi Padawan spoke as he followed her towards the emergency lift.

"We can't afford to lose you."


Kalantha

 

[Vreegan Fett]

Briana Sal-Soren

The dust gradually dissipated following the Mandalorian's forceful breach of the wall, providing him with a clearer view of the individual blocking his path.

However, he remained indifferent to them as he received a continuous stream of encrypted reports indicating that the Mandalorian Forces were executing their deployment as planned in key areas throughout the palace, ranging from the courtyard to the inner sanctum, where the queen was presumably located.

Her capture was a secondary concern, provided that the plasma refinery was to fortified, as a complete surrender of the government would greatly benefit the Great Crusade. She could serve as a valuable bargaining chip to ending hostilities before any casualites were incurred, given that even a single loss among the Mandalorians was deemed unacceptable, with each individual considered equivalent to ten soldiers in combat.

He clutched the reins of the Basilisk War Droid, which emitted hissing and roaring sounds in a mechanical manner as its pistons operated rhythmically to power its muscles.

Vreegan remarked from beneath his golden and white helmet, "I would commend your bravery in confronting the Mandalorians, were it not for the fact that you represent an obstacle that must be addressed. I urge you to pray to your deities, for my own will bestow upon me the strength necessary to become a God-Slayer." an armored hand reached down to grasp a Beskad within its sheathe, withdrawing it in a firm grasp and pointing it directly at Briana Sal-Soren .

Though he would not be fighting alone, for his companion was just as deadly. And he would prove it as Laser cannons and Pulse-wave cannons launched their assault to end this engagement before it could even begin.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Tag: Sibylla Abrantes

Location: Theed Royal Palace

​

As Lysander darted toward the Royal Palace's entrance, he could feel more explosions rocking the ground. The shift in his destiny and the dark journey ahead did nothing to dull his love for Theed. The city’s opulent architecture, a symbol of beauty and grace, was now threatened to be marred by their invaders. The Padawan became highly attuned to the Force; the ebb and flow of life pulsed all around. Its energy swirled in the boy's core; yet, amidst all the noise, he also noticed the emptiness of where life once was, like candles flames being extinguished.

Upon reaching the massive doors, his heart turned to stone, so that he may brace himself for whatever lay ahead. The sight of several lifeless bodies were spread across the cold floor, the once valiant defenders nothing more than mere corpses now. His purple blade ignited with a hum. Stepping over debris as the scent of blood filled the air, he navigated through the hallways, drawing closer to the heart of the palace. Amidst the uncertainty, there were also more familiar presences becoming known at the edge of his consciousness, one of them being Master Briana. While betting on himself in any situation had never been an issue, knowing that he wasn't alone did provide an extra spark of hope.

His thoughts were interrupted after turning another corner, met by a group of Mandalorians. Memories of his training surfaced, and how he’d been taught to disarm first, just as he’d done recently at a wedding on Hapan by severing the limb of a guard who dared to attack his sister. But he knew this time would be different.

As the blaster shots poured in, he deflected them with precision, smoothly redirecting each one with a flick of the wrist. Drawing upon the recent teachings of Djem So from his Master, which had been heavily implemented in sparring session, all the energy within began to flow. Lysander launched himself forward while raising the lightsaber high to gather the power desired and then brought it back down in a murderous arc that cleaved through the first. And as his blade struck armor, a rush of adrenaline flooded his veins, a sensation he craved and searched for often.

Before the Padawan's mind could calculate the next move, another attacker came forward, tackling him off his feet. His grip on the curved hilt was lost, and it landed several feet away.

He remained calm– close quarter combat was a realm where he thrived. As he was mounted from the top, Lysander automatically secured both the wrist and ankle on one side, then threw the Mandalorian off balance with a thrust of the hips. Advancing effortlessly while nearing the enemies back, he transitioned into a rear naked choke. It felt awkward, given the jetpack that partially separated their bodies from entwining; nevertheless, his dominant arm still snaked around the man's neck, while positioning an elbow just under the T-visor helm. The other hand drew in for a firm hold upon his own bicep, pressing it violently against the back of the Mandalorian's head.

With every single ounce of strength he could conjure, Lysander continued constricting the airflow in a struggle for dominance. Yet the fight was not over just yet, as his opponent twisted beneath him, using both experience and brute strength for an advantage. While trapped, the Mandalorian still managed to reach out for a sharp blade.

​

 

[Nelliel Kryze]

MNV-52 'Beviin' Class Space Superiority Fighter

​

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

Nel's Beviin flew at a gradually increasing incline high into Naboo's pristine sky, anti-air bolts chasing after her as she expertly weaved and avoided the incoming fire, the bombers under her care doing their best to avoid getting shot out of the sky as well. She glanced to see a few Naboo starfighters manage to take off, smiling as she settled into her seat a bit more comfortably. <"They haven't gotten a chance to form up, split and keep it that way. Try not to get too cocky out there.">​

​

One of her escort fighters had already been taken out as she eyed the N1 responsible for it, tracking its movements as she suddenly tugged her flightstick to the side, her craft rolling as she broke away from the formation, the other fighters following suit as they picked their targets to pursue, the bombers continuing to evade fire as they started to prep for another strafing run. They'd disrupt and disorient the enemy as long as they needed to as the rest of the Neo-Crusaders went about pillaging the plasma refineries.​

​

Nel's eyes searched for the N1 that managed to down one of her pilots already through her canopy, set on which would be her target as she shifted her craft to come around, her trajectory putting her on a path to intercept the N1 head-on. They were aerodynamic and fast for sure, but she was confident in her skills and her own craft's versatility. It was time to test the hostile pilot's mettle and see if her gut was right in picking out the right target to be her dance partner.​

​

Arkhias​

​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Ninurta Slaabur'r | Thayze Montserrat

​

Lorn's golden blade was a blur, a beacon of light in the smoky chaos. A Mandalorian warrior, jetpack sputtering, charged headlong, blaster spitting crimson bolts. Lorn sidestepped, the Force guiding his movement, and with a flick of his wrist, deflected the bolts back at the warrior, sending him tumbling into the ground. Another Mandalorian, axe raised, screamed a challenge. Lorn met the blow with his lightsaber, the clang of metal meeting his blade echoing through the courtyard. Lorn pushed the heavy warrior back off balance as he spun low, his lightsaber a golden scythe taking out their legs. The warrior fell, and Lorn, with a swift kick, cleared the downed warrior aside as two more warriors landed in front of him.

His Vanguard moved with him, a synchronized dance of death. Kian, with his dual green blades, spun into action beside him, deflecting bolts with the poise of a practiced dance, while Saren, his blue blade a vibrant streak, sliced through armor with brutal efficiency. Together, they moved as one, a tide of glowing energy washing over the Mandalorians, driving them back. Bodies fell, armor rent, the clang and hiss of battle a constant symphony. Lorn felt the familiar cold focus settle over him, the adrenaline a sharp, bitter taste in his mouth. He saw the fear on the faces of the young defense force soldiers, yet his Vanguard held a grim determination. This was their moment. This was why they trained.

Then, the world shifted. The deafening thud of landing containers, the acrid dust that choked the air, stole everyones focus. Lorn saw them, those large cybernetic beasts, disgorging monstrous figures of war. The whirring mechanical sounds, the guttural roars from the beasts, chilled him to the bone. One beast in particular caught his attention quickly, a grotesque amalgamation of metal and muscle, erupted from its crate, it's rider a dark silhouette atop it. The beasts twin lasers began to glow. Lorn roared, "Cover!" diving behind a fallen statue as the lasers seared the ground where he had just been. He didn't have to look up to know what was happening. The screams of agony of the defense force gave him all the context he needed.

Lorn pushed forward, his mind racing, his golden blade carving a path through the encroaching Mandalorians. He needed to get to the beast, to end this. But the Mandos, in their relentless advance, seemed endless. He saw a flash of movement from the corner of his eye, a figure moving through the chaos with surprising skill. It was Thayze, Briana's young Padawan. Fear coiled in Lorn's chest. He knew he was capable, but this battle was not a training exercise. "Saren! Kian! With me!" Lorn commanded, deflecting blaster bolts as he moved, "Stay with Thayze! Protect him!" He needed to be sure he would be safe. He couldn't have Briana lose another.

Lorn slammed into Rexus, the impact jarring his bones. "Rexus! The rider! Get your snipers on the rider!" he barked, his voice tight with urgency. "We take him out, we cripple them!" Rexus' dark eyes met his and with a curt nod was off barking orders to his men. Lorn pushed on, adrenaline coursing through him, a dark, desperate heat. He fought like a man possessed, each movement calculated, every strike precise. He was not a beacon of hope, not today. He was a blade, an instrument of war, cutting through the darkness. The air was thick with the smell of scorched metal, blood and fear. The fight was far from over.

 

[Zhea Nox]

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

BUSHIDO​

The malice and brutal intent hit Zhea like a wall.

She had fought the Maw - she knew brutality. She opposed two Empires. But none could compare to the stories of the horrors Mandalorians could wreak when they let go of their honour.

She saw the jetpacks fall from the dropship.
"Come this way!" she called to the citizens staring in fear at the appearing Mando'ade as she ran up to them. "Toward the landing are men that would protect you. Tell them Master Nox sent you." She pointed in the way where the relief ship was still being loaded. Even Hapes was safer in this moment. They looked at one another for a moment before complying, moving toward the Staging area.

Then she sensed...nay, felt the bloodlust and want for anarchy in a single being. Her Kiffarian gift along with the Force bombarded her. For once, she wished Simon Meinrad was here. Things may have changed for her on Coruscant - had made her more battle ready - but she was still no Guardian.

But he wasn't and people were still in danger.

The cerulean blade ignited as she stepped between the approaching menace and the fleeing citizens and readying in a defensive stance. And sure enough, the beskar'gam came into view from around the building. The Sage pulled hard on the balance within her to retain her calm and soothing demeanour.

"One chance, Mando'ad - leave this planet and return to Mandalore."

 

[Feydrik Munin]

His boots felt heavy, his feet weighed with responsibility.



"Rally Master." One said, as he passed.

"Rally Master." Another, offering a nod of his head.

"Rally Master." Another group passed, echoing.


Just prior to the invasion....​

Their drop pods were lined up, neatly arranged. Mandalorians were disciplined, well-experienced, and their warfare- their crusade, was not just scouring planets. It was a relentless series of drills, reloading drills, reacting to contact, throwing grenades, hand to hand combat. Clearing rooms, assaulting trenches. Dissecting ancient battles, thousands upon thousands of push ups to further their tactics. Their weaponry, the stuff of legends. Their armor, their gauntlets, their jetpacks.

Unmatched in equipment, but Feydrik would take his warriors into battle with spears. Some were new, some were experienced. But they were all Mandalorian. Feydrik held his helmet at his side. He pointed to the drop pod closest to him.

"This is my pod. It will be launching first. You will all follow on my marks, on my trail. I will be the first to step onto the battlefield. I will be the last to leave." He walked along the two lines of Mandalorian, some with helmets on, some holding them at their side. To Feydrik, he did not show his face to the outside world. But he wanted his men to know who he was, what kind of soldier, Mandalorian he was.

"Our landing site will be bombarded with napalm and explosives from low-orbit to ensure that we have a clear site to land on, and to clear out any potential hostiles. We will be landing to secure a large portion of Theed to establish a beachhead for resupply and to ensure the safe transport of the plasma that we intend to take. There will be soldiers, there will be Jedi, and there will be glory. But temper your rage and your glory, for a successful mission is better than a fruitless death."

An alarm sounded, blaring that the ship was about to enter hyperspace. Feydrik motioned for them to hurry up, as they were going to launch their assault imminently. The garden world, the peaceful jewel of the galaxy. It felt strange to attack, to burn something so incomprehensibly beautiful, magnificent. But it was the will of the Crusade.

And together, the Mandalorians clicked their helmets into place, steeling themselves. If there was fear, it was suppressed. If there were doubts in their hearts, it was silenced. If there was weakness, it was washed away with the blood they had shed, and were going to. Naboo was not going to be attacked because the Mandalorians were savage, marauding beasts.

Naboo was going to be attacked because it was weak, and they did not deserve the power laying under their feet if they did not intend to defend it.

PRESENT
​

Their initial bombardment to clear out their landing site leveled several buildings and sent Defenders and civilians fleeing. And it also meant that Feydrik's detachment landed without so much as a casualty or an issue. Feydrik spread his men out, securing the spot. His cold gaze, scanned across the decayed city streets. Fire loomed around him, casting dark shadows over the city. The smoke nearly blackened out the sky in the area, the horizon and sun blocked by the Mandalorian fleet above. Feydrik stepped forward first, out of his pod, as promised.

His feet hit the ground, his weight distributed evenly as he motioned for his men to fan out, and prep the area. Dead Defenders were moved out of the way, civilian casualties as well. Feydrik might've felt guilt if they were not simply in the way, at the moment. Absolute, unyielding resolve had arrived to take Naboo by force, to remind the galaxy that they were right to live in fear, to cower in their Senate chambers, to hide away in their Enclaves, hosting parties, events, weddings.

But the Mandalorians, the Crusaders, to Feydrik, were wrath incarnate.

Humility had gone out the window of the Alliance, of the Empires. If their Force craved balance, it needed a cleansing, a fire, a destruction. The Crusaders, to Feydrik, were not Mandalorians on a mission, given purpose. They were divine wrath, they were retribution for the weakness the galaxy had so foolishly let fester the last few years. And now-

The fire was burning, and there was not a soul that could stop them.

His soldiers spread out, setting up the FOB, beacons, defenses, machine guns, barriers, anti-tank equipment. They were going to establish a foothold in the city, in their glorious crown jewel. And then-

They'd take what they wanted, scour the planet, and leave. Fires rose around Feydrik and his men, burning away golden banners, wondrous designs of architecture and art. A lot of good, their dedication to arts, fine wines, beauty did them. The galaxy was cruel, it was unkind. And thanks to Naboo's incessant desire for peace, love, and art-

Their world was going to burn more than it already had.

​

 

[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 dropped down, his boots hitting the back of a fleeing citizen as they stumbled and fell flat on the ground, cushioning his fall. Droz didn't even look down as he unholstered his pistol and promptly shot the man in the back of his head. A woman attempted to sprint past him only to be swiftly grabbed by the collar and thrown to the ground, her face turned to the corpse next to her. His gaze followed the directions the citizens were running as he barked orders at his fellow marauders in their native tongue, <"Round them up and collar them!"> Perhaps the Naboolians would do a better job of negotiating the lives of the hostages for safe passage off world better than the CIS did during the Umbaran raid years back. He pressed his boot against the woman's face against the ground to not so subtly warn her to keep her place unless she wanted to share the man's fate. ​

​

Those who were unable to flee their drop zone would not be so fortunate to find their way to the Jedi Master. The sound of a lightsaber igniting a distance away from Droz caught his attention as he looked over and saw the Jedi standing there, ready to face him. A smirk formed beneath Droz's helmet as he lifted his foot off the woman's face, pushing her off to the side as another marauder came to scoop her up and place a bomb collar on her. Droz stepped towards the Jedi Master before him as he reached behind his back, the sound of his own blades unsheathing as he held them out on either side of him, an invitation so to speak, and clearly unfazed.​

​

Droz practically snarled at her as he spoke, "And who are you to order us? All I see before me is a Jedi who thinks too highly of herself. I'd run while I still have legs if I were you. While you still have a choice to save as many of these pathetic people as you can."​

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Brent Warnel //:
//: Equipment in Signature //:

It had been long since her boots touched down on Naboo. The planet had passed hands more times than not but forever retained its sovereignty. Allyson would always respect people like that—it reminded her of home. Corellians were strong and boisterous people, and rocket fuel burning in their blood was a common saying. As her life continued, she believed it more and more; through the trauma and the heartaches, she persevered.

The woman remained crouched, hiding in the small sniper's nest she had created upon the invasion alert sounded. Civilians had been mostly evacuated from her understanding and by her aid, but they were still possibly standing their ground. Again - they were a people she could respect. Slowly but surely, the Mandalorians funneled into the courtyard grounds, beating the fauna with their bear boots. Unfortunately, she had decided to arrive on Naboo to gather intel on the budding government here; rumors had it that there was also a Jedi enclave. Another group of Jedi outside the NJO was something her masters would want information on.

Allyson also wanted to see an alternative to the NJO.

The Mandalorians funneled into the courtyard, striking through whatever attacked them. Several also made the mistake of listening to their hubris. Allyson frowned; she had always seen the Mandalorians as the apex hunters, warriors trained from the womb for her entire life. Yet now, she watched as some sloppily lost their lives. A stark reminder that not every clan was like the one she had been adopted into. A memory formulated in her mind as she moved from the sniper's nest under the cloak of the Force. Had Rekali joined these Mandalorians, or were they still starfaring? Did they die out during the several wars the Manadalorians raged? There were too many questions left unanswered, and Allyson knew if she thought about them too hard, she wouldn't be able to do what she was hired to do.

Climbing further up the vine-covered stone wall, the Corellian groaned, "I'm too old for this sheit." Huffing over the ledge of the thick arched wall, Allyson lay there, catching her breath. It was a blessing that she could remain unseen with the aid of the Force.

Allyson lifted herself from the warmed stone with another aged groan and crouched with the bow drawn. She watched the now thinned group of Mandalorians, trying to pinpoint the leader of their group. Her eye watched each one, picking up their movements, reading them like her Ecahni Master had taught her. "There you are~" she hummed softly under her breath.

An arrow nocked in the string of the bow. The tip primed for an explosion that would scatter small bits of shrapnel. She hoped to scatter the group so she could pick them off one by one while remaining hidden. "A little closer…" Allyson whispered as the bow string caressed her cheek. In times like this, she missed the cybernetic eye Taeli Raaf had ruined. A small window appeared, and Allyson fired the explosive arrow at the feet of their leader. As soon as the arrow was fired, she drew another and fired once more towards the man's throat. The Force guided her shot, hoping to take him out before the others could realize what was happening.

 

[Echo Athoth]

Theed, Naboo
Tags: Toby Perris , Spayyghen

Echo Athoth's Locket, Epo-1 Interceptor
​

“Echo?!”

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

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

Echo looked up from her book with a frown, adjusting her glasses.

"Oh. I see."

The thundering of warriors filled the halls of the palace, a terrible clattering she knew all too well. Mandalorians. She had heard it before on Ukatis when the Mandalorian Enclave invaded, a terrible day for the New Jedi Order. The Ogemite rose to her feet, collecting herself and drawing her lightsaber from her belt. The architecture was fascinating to be sure, but it was of no use to anyone obliterated.

"Come along, Mr. Perris," Echo instructed, her tone collected and flat as ever. "Let's not see this place overrun."

Echo Athoth strode through the hallways with purpose, weaving past the scrambling Nubians with ease as she made for the source of the pandemonium. It wasn't long before they were at the place, made evident by...

<<< 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.

Well, that. Wookiee Mandalorians. How paradoxical given their recent history. Still, it was not uncommon for Wookiees to side with strength first and foremost. They were warriors as well, after all. Echo sucked in her chest, and then...

"QUIET."

Her monotone voice bellowed out from her mouth, sending a violent shockwave through the Mandalorian warriors. Tile peeled up from the ground, and nearby shrubbery was disfigured. It was a deafaning display of power, one which was sure to bring immediate attention to her and her companion while knocking out those of lesser constitution.

Any Naboo guards caught up in the wave of energy would find themselves gently swept into nooks away from the battle, guided by Echo's telekinesis. The sound would knock them out too, but that was for the better. They wouldn't fare well in this fight. This way they would be safe from the wrath of the Wookiees, which would now be fully on her.

Her blade was quick to ignite afterwards.

"We're indoors. It's impolite to shout."

A poor attempt at a joke. Echo's voice was far too flat to get across any kind of comedic timing or tone.

 

[Spayyghen]

Echo Athoth Toby Perris ​

Spayyghen sensed that something was amiss as he severed the head of a nearby protocol droid with his beskar-coated Ryyk blade. The droid's panicked sounds were becoming increasingly irritating as the two forces engaged in combat with one another, and sparks along with exposed wires ignited small fires within its internal circuits.

His suspicions were soon validated when a voice bellowed from behind him, causing quite the scene as tables, chairs and even the last remaining Naboo Security Officers were sent tumbling down the corridor over a considerable distance.

He was not immune to the formidable power of Echo Athoth , as he was propelled backward, only managing to brace himself against a nearby wall with his extended arm.

<<< Shamancraft >>> The Wookiee despot emitted a low grumble, accompanied by a gentle grunt as it assessed for any significant injuries.

Discovering only minor nicks and cuts caused by the debris, it turned its attention to observe some of the Wookiee Warriors rising from the ground to face the two adversaries in the form of Echo Athoth and Toby Perris .

Spayyghen would stand up from the nearby wall, towering over the both of them and grasping the Assault Bowcaster from behind his back. Hiting the trigger with his small finger as the weapon was leveled, as the two metal quarrel enveloped in energy launched forward.

 

[Lily Decoria]

Location: Shiraya's Sanctuary heading to Refinery
Outfit: Jedi Attire
Equipment: Cross guard Lightsaber and Hydrangea Moonblade and Echani Shield
Tag: Valerian Calore

"Hmmm... well, I've done my physically training this morning, studied on Battle Meditation and its uses in combat. Also I got combat Force training in the afternoon and I have been meaning to talk with Lorn Reingard about how things work with the Vanguard since that is an area likely best suited for me..." Lily thought aloud as she wandered the halls of the temple. Going over plans for her day and what things she could do to occupy her thoughts since she was keen on making sure she was doing everything that she could to help her Master with the Royal Naboo Republic.

As she went to talk aloud about meeting with Briana and getting some more training in there, perhaps even get her Master to do a sparring session together to see how far she had come with her sparring abilities. A siren blared loudly, it was so loud that Lily winced and had to cover her ears. The sudden noise was a shock to her system and she could feel her heart racing. Then her thoughts began to settle once Lily realised what the alarm was about, what was going on. People were coming. Invaders and that kicked her mind into a high gear as she tugged a hairband from her wrist and began to tie her long white hair into high ponytail to avoid it getting in her face.

Stepping outside of the temple, she could see Briana Sal-Soren already heading off to the palace. Clearly that was one of the more likely targets for the invaders and as Lily looked up, what she saw was a sight that she knew would strike fear into her mother if they were to attack Eshan in this manner again.

Mandalorians.

It should have been obvious. It was nerve-wracking but Lily tapped the personal energy shield, bolstering her defences against sonic attacks. The Mandalorians were a tricky bunch, especially since they spent years and countless wars, fighting Jedi. But she knew that her people had defeat them several times in history as well. It was all about understanding one's enemy.

Using the Force, she sped through the distance between the temple and the palace, spotting Briana heading to the refinery. Lily blinked, how did they know about the refinery for it to be a target? That was a concern but if that was Briana was heading then Lily would be doing the same. She wanted to make sure that Briana would be okay though, Lily doubted that she would be too keep track of her Master during the fog of war. With dropships crashing endlessly onto the surface of Naboo, Lily knew that she needed to jump into action. If she wanted to one day potentially be part of the Vanguard and be the on the frontline sticking her neck out. Then she needed to prove that she held that ability here, today.

Racing forward, she unclipped her Lightsaber, igniting the cross guard and sliced at the first Mandalorian that dared to cross her path. She breathed in deeply as Lily knew she had to be careful with where her attacks struck. Their armour was not perfectly covered in beskar, there were gaps and Lily targeted the common gaps in this soldier, disabling him in several motions before blasting him back, in case there were any Mando healers able to treat him. As she did, she had to block attacks from another Mandalorian, cursing under her breath. She needed to focus on a leader or someone who could at least force some of the soldiers to stop with this attack.

 

[Ma'lur'kek'thwin]

LOCATION⠀|	City Streets, Theed, Naboo
OBJECTIVE⠀|	Crush the Guts!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Scoring a hit on the enemy Mandalorian did not award Ma'lur with any great satisfaction the way it should have, the way catching a bounty might, or getting paid big for an easy job. Nothing like the rush of seeing forty thousand credits drop into her account for something as simple as 'stand there and look threatening'. But as the seconds passed between her pull of the trigger and the impact of the round blowing through subpar armor, Ma'lur sensed the future and felt an eagerness all its own begin to form inside her gut. If this Mandalorian was anything like Prodo beside her, he would not run.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀And he didn't. The collision sprayed the seats and Ma'lur with a biting cloud of glass. No time to think about the shards underfoot though- the newfound cargo aboard their half-stolen speed machine was quick on the uptake, already wielding his pious intentions at the tip of a blade. Aimed for her throat as she saw it, Ma'lur dropped the E-22 without a care for where it landed and turned away from the blow. "Sonofa-" The beskar blade bit into armor equally as subpar as his own, the slice glancing over and through her flank and thigh. Blood slickened the edge when it came away, though if Armel had any time to consider that, it wasn't now.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ma'lur's tail dominated the cramped, precarious space as she spun to avoid the worst of the jab, the bulk of Ssi-ruuvian muscle and scale rising with a serpentine jerk... And descending just as quickly. Aimed for Armel's chest, she sought to drive the wind from him if the hit did not dispatch the man entirely. She'd intended on laying out more than one smack of her tail, but the effort of imparting a speeder crash's worth of energy into one Mandalorian was better suited to the actual speeder crash just about to happen to all of them.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The vehicle rapidly approached the drop-ship's debris field, and unless Prodo had some kind of Force chittery to get them out of it, they'd all end up a collective ball of fire and dead aspirations in the coming seconds.

Stevru Klamat , Armel

|⠀TAGS

 

[Valerian Calore]

Tag: Lily Decoria

Valerian grunted as he shoulder checked a security officer, sending him to the ground and ending him with a single yellow blaster bolt to his chest. Without pausing he whirled around and leveled his rifle at a trio of men, dropping one before he could squeeze his trigger, and eating two blasts to his chest from his friends before using his jetpack to boost foward and send his knee crashing into one, and whipping his beskad across the chest of another, opening up a thin line that wept crimson across his tunic.

These men were not warriors, a far cry from the verd that comprised the army that'd been lead here today. Lacking in quality, training, and equipment, Valerian had been able to carve a bloody path through the defenders with only a squad of five men and women with him. So imagine his surprise when his HUD flickered, and the status of one of the members of his squad dropped to critical condition.

"Haar'chek! Verd, k'olar!" The warriors were quick to fall in with their Alor, following him toward where their comrade had went down. Valerian knew it would be a Jedi, none of these soft auretti could match his warriors even with three to one odds, so when he came upon one of his verd barely duck a lightsaber slash, he grinned like a madman beneath his helmet. "Verd akior!" Wh The order made the warrior disengage from the Jedi, dashing back far out of range of the Jedi's deadly weapon.

They were quick to form a perimeter watching their ancient foe as they prepared to jump on her like a pack of wolves. "An be gar, tok'kad. Mar'eyir a baar'ur. Te jetii cuyir Pal'vut." The warriors left without protest, dragging their comrade back to their lines for medical treatment, leaving him alone with the Jedi.

It was then that Valerian realized, she was young, more so than any knight that he'd seen. The notion made him laught, the sheer idea that these Jedi were so desperate that they were sending their younlings into battle. It almost made him respect them. Almost. The man's posture relaxed, and he rested his rifle within the crook of his elbow, pointing the barrel up as he appraised her.

"Ik'aad Jetii." The words came out with a touch of humor, followed by a chuckle that sounded like rocks on stone. "You'd best run off to your master, girl, I don't want to start beating up on younglings, no honor in it, bad sport besides." His tone was lighter than usual as he taunted her, and as if to punctuate his point, the man placed a hand on his belt next to his lightsaber, letting it come to his grip with a slight pull of the Force.

 

[Carduul Akahl]

Their wrathful advance was unstoppable. The outer cordon barely slowed them. In moments, Mandalorians had pushed so deep that blasters and blades became synonymous weapons of war.

In the thick of combat, Carduul’s motions were as precise as a machine. A singular blaster bolt rang out from his pistol, felling a Security Officer in the way of the large doorway to the palace. Around him, his warriors surged forward, carving through the defenders with relentless brutality. But not all would live to see the spoils - some were too bold, too eager. Fresh recruits, barely blooded, fell as blaster fire slammed into their armor before they could even prove themselves against the ardent palace guards.

Above, the hangar doors of the besieged installation yawned open, unleashing Naboo’s iconic N-1 starfighters. Their engines screamed as they tore into the sky, moving to counter the Mandalorian assault. Fighters weaved through the battle, mayhem roaring overhead. Yet Carduul’s mind remained fixed on the prize: the massive triple-domed refinery that lay ahead, its cavernous halls brimming with plasma - fuel for their war machines.

An errant blaster bolt lanced towards him, only to be deflected by the metal clasped around his arm. Without hesitation, he holstered his pistol and swung his weapon in a brutal arc. The bloodied poleaxe cleaved through another defender, sending them crumpling to the durasteel floor. The thrill of battle surged through his veins. Here, amid the carnage, he was in tune with himself - his instincts and honed skill guiding his every motion.

Blaster fire ricocheted off his armor as he wrenched the axe free from a dying man’s shoulder.

“All squadrons maintain forward offensive!” He commanded, an arm raising towards the looming refinery doors. “Our objective is clear; this world’s plasma shall aid in fueling the war machines of our Crusade!”

The order was punctuated by the fwoosh of a wrist rocket. A heartbeat later, a deafening ka-doom! torn through the air, blasting apart the refinery’s entryway. Reports flooded his HUD—other sectors were under siege. The palace’s outer defenses crumbled. The chambers leading to the Queen were being overrun.

But his target was the refinery.

Then, a shrill metallic screech seized his attention.

A transport plummeted from the sky, its stabilizers failing to compensate. It spiraled, wreathed in smoke, and slammed into the courtyard where his forces had surged moments before—far from its intended landing zone. The impact sent dust and debris billowing into the air.

Carduul’s first instinct was dismissal. Another casualty of the palace’s anti-air defenses. It was war - not all ships made it. And yet…something felt off.

He hadn’t realized it. Neither had his Crusaders, nor the disoriented warriors aboard, clambering out of wreckage - but the crash was no accident. Somewhere within that wreckage, something had arrived.

A moment of disquiet flickered through him, but he shoved it aside. There was no time for distraction.

“The hangar will stormed shortly,” he asserted into his comm. “Advance to the Complex.”

The tide surged forward, and the Field Marshal carried on - first unto the breach.

But amid the chaos, unseen and unnoticed for the moment, the Battlemaster's hunt began.

Lossa Aureus