Junction [GA/NEO] Battle of Onderon [junction of Onderon and Vjun]

[Ran Serys]

She hesitated as the neo-crusader's blue eye peeked out from the broken visor. Ran watched as the blood rushed in and replaced the whites of his eyes under her fists. This level of violence was barbaric, but necessary in the moment. Anything less would be a spit in the face to the warrior culture, and too small a response to the threat they posed. Violence continued to pour out of them both as they continued their exchange of blows.

The neo-crusader corrected her. "Mandalorian!" He yelled with what Ran believed was pride. Despite their current engagement Ran had respect for him and his people, and would call him what he wanted going forward. But she wouldn't stop antagonizing him. "Who cares?" She yelled in response before he rammed his head into hers.

He cares. He cares a lot. Never say that again, Ran. She thought as her brain rattled. Her nose was broken, bloodied, and bruising a dark purple before long. She sniffed suffocating on open floodgates of blood. She choked. She didn't think she'd ever been hit harder. Tears welled in her eyes but were immediately taken by the rushing winds.

In a divebomb, the drexl flew next to the fighters. Ran could see what it saw. While she was focused on the mandalorian, it had its eyes on the city below. The city grew larger and larger. The more they fell, the closer it became, until it was too late. She wouldn't let it get to that point.

Still grappling with the mandalorian she switched her focus on evasion. Evasion of his blows and evasion of death by fall. Through the force Ran manipulated the duo's trajectory, bringing them closer to the drexl, close enough for it to shift in the sky and become a platform for them to rest, or continue their battle.

"Release me, Mandalorian, before we begin falling again!" She demanded as they tumbled along the drexel's back.

Hakon Fett Mahsa Biala Prahl​

 

[Hakon Fett]

TAGS: Biala Prahl | Mahsa | Ran Serys
"I'm not a warrior. I'm a soldier. There's a difference. Warriors attack and conquer. They – they prey on the weak. Soldiers defend and protect the innocent – mostly from warriors."
"Nice speech. I bet you tell yourself that every night so you can sleep. But I accept who and what I am. I don't have to justify it with words. Victory in battle is my justification."
―Carth Onasi and Canderous Ordo
VALHALLA CALLING

Mandalorian Neo-Crusader Vanguard
The Sky, Sky Ramp Front Lines
Onderon

The very air beside him began to subtly shift as if they were riding the skies, taming it with invisible reins; the Force, as the aruetiise called it, Hakon was certain. His three-sixty visor swept the rapidly approaching ground below, searching in vain for any hint of the Jedi's intent.

Suddenly, the edges of his vision darkened, and before he could react, his body slammed into something solid. Breath and blood burst from his lungs as if staked in the heart by a spear as they collided with the leathery hide of the Jedi's drexl.

"Release me, Mandalorian, before we begin falling again!" the Jedi demanded as they tumbled along the drexl's massive back.

"Afraid of death, Jetii?" a daring glint in his bloodied eye taunted her, despite the surge of dread into the potent mixture of adrenaline and fear coursing through his veins. With half of his command module gone with the shattered visor, Fett had to reach for his vambrace. One hand snapped free from her lock and slammed the other's vambrace, unleashing a twin burst of laser fire from his wrist blaster at point blank range.

Somewhere, far in the distance, but growing closer, a mechanical howl of sorrow and anguish longed for its missing master.

 

[Rayia Si]

Location: Throne Room
Objective: Defend the Queen
Domina Prime Yuri Maji Trajan Fett Sig Dryggo
———
Jenn Kryze Jonyna Si Varys Amun Herrel Eldar

---

Rayia blinked as the curtain fell away and Domina Prime gave a heartfelt answer. Rayia hadn’t expected the admission of vulnerability to be quite so truthful, and she didn’t like what she heard. The glistening, azure blood on her claws nearly made her blanch. It was like she was looking into a mirror, seeing her most profound vulnerabilities reflected back at her. Rayia knew better than most what being the monster felt like. At the same time, Rayia couldn’t let Domina continue to rampage. So instead, she grabbed hold of Domina’s hands as they enveloped her smaller ones and squeezed tight.

It started as a simple tremor in her shoulders. But, perched on Domina as Rayia was, Domina would see a faint moisture glistening in those wide, golden eyes. “Y-you’re wrong. I have been the monster too. There is more beyond that.”

Unused to this dilemma, Rayia found herself in a position she was not often in. How could she communicate to her opponent that there was a place for her? That the assumptions made for them did not matter so much as their own actions. As she was trying to puzzle this out, Domina said something that irked her. Stiffening against the ripple that caused the fur on her nape to bristle, Rayia bit out a short, harsh laugh.

She leaned in, closing the distance between the two of them as if to prevent this secret she was about to share from escaping into the ears of others. “What do you know of my pain?” Her grip on Domina’s hands grew vice like. “Don’t speak to me of beauty. I’m anything but. Born a monster fated to maim her sisters for the continuation of a clan I can no longer recognize?” Rayia’s voice was barely a hiss now as she continued to fix Domina with that piercing, golden stare. “You want a quick fix. Immediate love? It doesn’t work like that. Not for us.”

Rayia was forced to release Domina as the searing plasma shot from her mouth and caused shards of rock to rain from the ceiling. Dodging between the blasts of flame that Domina pursued them with, Rayia would leave the howling, lost foundling with one final piece of perspective, “You have to choose love. Use your strength to make sure you’re not only a monster. For your sake, find someone who values you more than as a lapdog.”

 

[Caltin Vanagor]

LOCATION: Onderon | OBJECTIVE: 1 | POST #: 5
TAG (ALLIES - Nearby) : @ | @
TAG (FOES) : Feydrik Munin​

.

“Sometimes you have to eat one, to give one.” - a young Caltin Vanagor’s Teras Kasi instructor on the subject of “hits”​

Caltin did not expect to fully render an arm-bar on a fighter as seasoned as a Mandalorian, let alone this wrecking machine. It was clear that he was ready for this as his counter came quickly, and now the big man was pinned by his own move and had to get out quickly. His toughened skin as well as the Force shielding his body to control his pain was not going to last. Vanagor had to get out of this, or he was going to pulp soon enough.

Quickly rolling over his back to get to his knees, he still had a hold of Munin’s arm (forcing him to bend with it or break already) only this time to quickly “snap” back and pull on the appendage. “Joint locking”, a primary tool of the Jedi Martial art “Broken Gate” was prevalent here as once the arm was at full length, he put his other hand on the back of his elbow pressing on it as trying to bend it the other way.

Yes, the man was wearing Beskar armor, but there were weakpoints and spots of opening. Munin could still get in another hit or two, until Caltin stood and moved to try and stand over his opponent.

You can tap, or it can snap. It doesn't matter to me either way, I'll just move to the next one.

​

 

[Herrel Eldar]

| Location | Onderon Throne Room, Iziz
| Tags | Domina Prime Varys Amun Vulpesen Rayia Si

Herrel kept his guard up as others capitalized upon the opening he had made. He didn't dare to do so himself, wounded as he was. So there he stood, shield up and listening as Dima and the Jedi spoke. Of course the Jedi couldn't just fight Dima, no the Jedi also had to moralize at Dima. But as Dima replied, the equivalent of a frown for a Talz spread across Herrel's face. Alarm bells began to ring in the abr Chaaj as he listened. What had happened to Dima? Why did she think so little of herself?

His thoughts were interrupted when Dima released a vibrant and explosive burst of plasma into the ceiling. It would have been beautiful if it wasn't also so dangerous. A chunk of the ceiling began to fall. Herrel knew he wouldn't be able to run in time and his jetpack was likely damaged. So instead, he let himself feel his wounds and allowed himself to fall. Luckily he fell to his right, if he had fallen on his left shoulder it would have hurt terribly. He reached out with his good arm and dug his claws into the floor, pulling himself just free of the falling stone.

Dima fired off another blast, the dust and ash in the air became so thick it was hard to see. If not for his helmet Herrel would have been assaulted by a coughing fit. Warning of the next attack only came via the bright blue light building within Dima’s throat. Herrel just had time to cover himself with his arm as the flames assaulted his shield. He felt the heat building even as his shield guarded him from direct harm. A sustained assault would have cooked him inside his armor, but luckily her attention was divided between four targets.

Herrel pushed against the floor and rose to his feet again. It was becoming more and more difficult to do so. The next time he fell to the floor might be his last. He blinked his upper left eye twice and his lower right eye three times again. Repeating the sequence disabled the previous command and the vocoder would once more honestly communicate his voice. He would not have it lie, not now. Not when he meant these next words so dearly.

“Gar nuserim, Dima,” He said. His voice sounded tired and as if he were having trouble speaking. Because he was. “Gar mesh'la bal gar cyare bar gar kotyc. Gar n’solus. Gar ne mesh’la sa Jetii, jorcu gar ne sa tsad. He reached down to his belt and began to draw one of his Type 25 Piercers a cumbersome and lengthy process at the best of times due to the weapon's unique design. His injuries made it take even longer. “Gar Mando, se ni, bal cuun ru’aliit briikase gar. Ni briikase gar.”

He raised the Type 25 and aimed it. Not at anything vital of course, he still had no intention of killing her. “Jurkadir, Dima. Mhi akaanir, par jii. Mhi kyr ibic.“ Herrel pulled the trigger and the Type 25 fired. Even for someone of Herrel's strength the considerable recoil of the Type-25 launched his arm back.

 

[Feydrik Munin]

MY RESOLVE IS GREATER, MY DESIRE FOR VICTORY MORE.
​

Violence.

noun

behavior involving physical force intended to hurt, damage, or kill someone or something.​

​

Caltin Vanagor​

"You will still lose."

There was a time to make sacrifices in a fight. Gain a better position. Be more advantageous. And sometimes, it required sacrifices. So the Jedi pulled on his arm, cruel snapping, popping. His joints creaked and groaned. But they were fixable. Replaceable- his left arm was a sacrifice play. He screamed, a feral, angry scream-

But in the Jedi's desire to disable one arm, he forgot that this was not the arena, the ring, a contest between Jedi.

No, this was war. This was death. This was murder.

So, that vile Jedi, who disabled his left arm, would feel the wrath of his right.

Once, in the Outer Rim, he beat a Trandoshan into submission. A fully grown Trandoshan, scales and all. He did that with just his right hand. So Feydrik slipped out of the Jedi's grip, his arm loose and no longer useful. He screamed in pain, but cocked his arm back-

And a crushgaunt adorned fist, came flying right at the Jedi. There wasn't anywhere he was aiming for in particular- the Jedi probably wasn't expecting him to sacrifice an arm for the sake of victory. So he punched, he'd punch again and again- break the barrier, break the man. He wasn't holding back, he wasn't showing mercy, compassion, or even a care. The Jedi taught to preserve life, to disable the opponent. He fought to inflict pain, break the enemy into submission. His fists were fast- and more importantly, hard-hitting. His kicks may have had almost 4000 pounds of impact force, but his punches-

On a good day that he tested them, was close to 3000.

Over.

And over.

And over.

He didn't stop, he wouldn't. Jedi, as big as he was- he wanted him to suffer. For daring to step between him and victory.

​

 

[Caltin Vanagor]

LOCATION: Onderon | OBJECTIVE: 1 | POST #: 6
TAG (ALLIES - Nearby) : @ | @
TAG (FOES) : Feydrik Munin​

.

“Sometimes you have to eat one, to give one.” - a young Caltin Vanagor’s Teras Kasi instructor on the subject of “hits”​

I have you a chance…

Only any sliver of respect I had for you…

Caltin was not stupid, he was learning what this fighter was fully capable of. Still learning, though it was clear that the Mandalorian had few options to go to. Sure, he went with “what worked”, so did the big man, but Caltin was capable of so much more. It was clear that this fighter was not as capable as he thought, not a “fighter” but a “brawler” and nothing more. Leaning over, hard, he snapped the Mandalorian’s arm as high as he could so as to immobilize it that much more.

Still, this fool stood, wanting to throw hands… or in his case “hand”.

If he wanted to get under the man’s skin, he would say something about “wanting it to be a fair fight” and pulling his own left arm behind his back, but what was the point of that with this guy? He might as well have been a drunkard. “Fight until you fall”.

His awareness in the Force, and Foresight kept him more than just one step ahead of this fool. He was desperate, feral, a cornered animal. Caltin was there to simply put him down, put him out of his misery now. “The Jedi Way” was to preserve life. Well this guy had no interest in that, so there was not going to be an option of giving him the chance to stand down. Caltin had already given him that chance and he shrugged it off.

Now it was time to make him pay for it.

Keeping his distance, Caltin reached out through the Force and went to “grab” the Mandalorian’s armor. When he did so, his open hand would ever so slowly ball up into a fist, the Force crushing the fighter’s crushgaunts and then his “beskar'gam”. They would either be shed, or they would be his tomb.

​

 

[Feydrik Munin]

Caltin Vanagor
​

He felt compression in his body, seconds away from being crushed. The Jedi-

The Force.

The vile Jedi, ever so afraid of engaging with him- wanted to cheat. Wanted to dishonor himself. So- the NeoCrusader, decided to use one of the NeoCrusader's tricks. His right hand, struggling against the force-

Turned.

And aimed-

The flamethrower attached to his right wrist, right at the Jedi. (Pointed, really.)

He hoped Hakon Fett would be proud, of such a vulgar display of violence. Especially, against a Jedi. A Jedi Master, at that. The Neocrusaders were famous for their use of them, and he hoped that the Jedi would at least not appreciate the napalm to his body, point blank.

 

[Caltin Vanagor]

LOCATION: Onderon | OBJECTIVE: 1 | POST #: 5
TAG (ALLIES - Nearby) : @ | @
TAG (FOES) : Feydrik Munin​

.

”Opinions are subjective, Honor is not”​

Caltin did want a “fair fight”. It was the Mandalorian who used armor, and crushgaunts, and a jetpack to aid him. The big man only used the Force when the fighter had irritated him. He gave the man a chance, an opportunity to do the right thing, now it was time to end this.

Finally stopping the “crushing” technique short of killing Munin, Caltin held him in place through “Stasis.”

Yeah, the flamethrower was hitting him, he was slowly being engulfed in flame, shedding his burning clothing. It was a good thing he was at a distance or it would be worse. The Force was controlling his pain and doing its best to heal him (it was slow going). He was working on bullheadedness right now.

Holding Munin still with one hand, and “flicking” off armor plates with the other, he went to shed the armor of this fool, bit by bit until either he was done, or someone came to Feydrik’s rescue.

Either way, he would drop the fighter, once and for all, beaten but alive, and hearing the words. I could have killed you at any time, and can do so again. You live only because I allow it.Live knowing that.

Over his time, Caltin had come to know his fair share of Mandalorians, earned their respect, as they had earned his. They would not deserve this treatment, and he did not enjoy it either, but...

He had some burns to tend to.

​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

OBJ II - Throne Room
Livia Cadera

The shrill sound of whistling birds crawled up Cora's spine, hearkening her back to the days where they'd fought the Enclave. After years of combating Sith, the Jedi had to switch gears to fight a more unconventional foe; one who relied on technology and physical weaponry to get the job done.

On one level, Cora could respect that. Being born with a sensitivity to the Force was no great achievement, so it stood reason that they'd want to level the playing field. On the other hand, she hated being on the receiving end of it.

The first round of whistling birds met an invisible barrier; they detonated, and shattered the Force bubble. The second were hastily deflected back towards their sender, their trajectory lowered so that they'd strike the bottom of the pillar Livia was hiding behind.

Fine stonework began to crumble at the base, and the compromised pillar shuddered.

Cora ducked behind another ostentatious vase and pedestal, stretching her senses outward while she palmed her saber hilt.

 

[Caelan Valoren]

ATTIRE: Link
EQUIPMENT: Borrowed Lightsaber (Real one this time, not a training saber)
ALLIES: Vince
ENEMIES: Sig Dryggo

The queen was safe for the moment, but someone else was approaching. Another Mandalorian from what he could tell, though his vision was quickly obscured once again as another smoke grenade went off in the lower area. He had to rely on his senses, utilizing the Force to enhance his hearing, and to guide his actions as he focused also on avoiding inhalation of dioxis. Though, with all the smoke dispersing in the air, it was likely diluting it quite quickly. He hoped that was the case, but just to be safe, he utilized the Force to create a light, passive wind to push things away.

And none too soon as he found blaster bolts zipping his way.

The blue blade of his borrow lightsaber snapped up, deflecting the bolts one way and the next, carefully avoiding, as best he could, sending them in the direction of anyone that might be injured by them. He wasn't there to kill. He didn't want to injure anyone. All he wanted to do was keep the queen safe from those that were attacking. That was his goal, his job.

The Mandalorian was drawing closer. It was clear to Caelan what their intention was: killing the queen. They had no intention of stopping until she was dead, and he didn't understand why. What was the purpose of all of this? Why kill her? What had she done to them to deserve death? Why was any of this even necessary? Perhaps this was just more of his naive nature, not quite beaten out of him after what he'd seen and been through on Tython. There was still some hope for peace within him.

The man in the armor bore down on him and Caelan continued to deflect the shots away until he was so close that blocking would be nigh impossible. He could have struck with his saber then, aimed for a soft joint in the armor, severed a limb, punctured his body. But he didn't want to kill the man, nor did he want to permanently maim him. As such, he deactivated and dropped the saber, brought both of his hands up, and drew the Force fully to him, which dropped the barrier in front of the queen, but the dioxis had been pushed away now so she would be safe.

In an instant, he advanced just as he was advanced upon. A tiny push of the Force directed the mans weapon wide so he couldn't shoot Caelan in the guts at point blank. That wouldn't be something he could survive. But he pushed everything else into his right fist, and met the advancing man with his own momentum, slamming fist into beskar with a force so volatile it seemed impossible to have come from him. A combination of the Iridonian martial arts he'd learned from Azurine Varek and the teachings of his own master, Dreidi Xeraic .

The beskar cracked, deformed, pushed inward, deforming so much the force of the strike would impact the man within the armors ribs, causing, at the very least, heavy bruising. The fight was about to get physical, but if he controlled himself, he wouldn't permanently harm his opponent.

OOC Note: I have permission for the called shot on Sig.

 

[Sig Dryggo]

"My legacy will be death and misery, children will awaken in the night screaming at the thought of me, of my Crusade!” -Sig Dryggo
Direct Tags: Vince | Caelan Valoren | @Everyone_at_Objective_Two​

The sudden impact sent vibrations through Sig’s body. Involuntarily oxygen left his lungs as he he fell forward for a moment. It was brief however; the warrior could already see his next move. His arm launched forward toward his opponent's gut. As it impact he swept his right foot forward, kicking the feet out from beneath the attacker.

Adrenaline and a blood rage taking over, Sig fell atop the Jedi and placed one hand firmly on his shoulder; the hand hand found itself wrapped around his wrist. In a single motion he snapped the Jedi’s arm, ensuring he would be down for at least the time he needed to compete his mission.

Taking a bated breath, Sig turned and watched as the force field protecting the Queen, the final obstacle in his path, fell. Wasting no time he quickly ran to the Queen, who attempted to stop him by throwing her royal scepter forward. Sig had no problem throwing up a hand and stopping the attack completely.

Tearing it from her, he tossed it aside and launched his arms forward: pushing the old monarch to the ground. Before she could even let out a groan of pain she found herself unable to breathe: Sig’s knee had fallen upon her chest. “The Jedi couldn’t save you,” he taunted.

Removing his knee he let her take in a single breath of air before his hands wrapped themselves snuggly around her throat. “Your son couldn’t save you!”

His grip tightened, the world around him going mute and the only thing in his sight was the revenge he had craved for so long. “Nothing can save you from ME!”

Snap!

Crack!​

The neck of the monarch was snapped, broken like a twig in Sig’s hands. Releasing her, he stood and turned to the wall of flames and looked for his cousin, who was still recovering, “This is what your protection is worth? Pathetic.”

He turned and eyed the downed Jedi once more, “None of you are worthy!” Turning he took in the ruined half of the throne room that had made its way down into the safe room- the destruction the Neo-Crusaders had brought to his childhood home filled the bloodthirsty warrior with glee.

<“This is Dryggo to all Neo-Crusader forces: the objective is complete. I repeat: the Queen. Is. Dead.”>

Activating his jetpack, Sig shot up through the massive hole he has created and through the hole in the ceiling of the throne room. Gliding through the air he flew low, as to avoid any potential ground-to-air gunfire.

The warrior would make haste to his ship not far outside the city and returned to the Neo-Crusader fleet. What awaited him he didn’t know.

All he knew was that his revenge against the galaxy had only just begun.

OOC: Caelan’s writer gave me OOC permission to break a limb and that the shield would drop as a result. Also permission from several regarding the Queen.

 

[Careena Fett]

C a r e e n a _ F e t t

| Location | Sky Bridge, Onderon​

| Objective | Seize the Sky Bridge​

The sudden arrival of another Mandalorian affiliated with the Alliance caught Careena's attention, her focus directed to where they were headed to come aid their comrade who was no longer cloaked; It also alerted her to their position as she turned and readied herself. The Fett matriarch shifted her stance as she prepared herself, already welcoming the challenge if not to prove a point. This was a battlefield, not hallowed chambers where the sanctity of a single combat duel would be honored. Be it one, two, or a dozen opponents, Careena would fight with the ferocity to match, even should her body begin to fail her, her spirit and will would never falter or be shaken.​

As flames shot in her direction, she raised her beskad wielding arm up in defense, a plasma shield flaring to life to cast a ghostly blue reflection against her battle worn armor. The stream of flame connected with the shield as it was dispersed temporarily to keep her from being cooked alive, though it would not hold forever. If Anna Carden had continued to hold her position and keep her suppressed, there would have been little she could do save for a reckless charge that left her open. Anna instead decided to take the offensive and charge her. While her vision and thermals were obscured by the flames, she too did not fight alone.​

​

Way up high above them the cloaked and hidden Dha Prudii circled the air, scanning and providing live imagery straight to Careena's HUD, showing the incoming Mandalorian as Careena kept her shield raised. The plasma shield went from its blue hue to a red as it began to falter under the stress of the incoming flames, but it lasted as long as she needed it to. By the time Anna reached Careena, it would have depleted, but also became the time Careena made her move.​

​

The Alor used her rocket boots to thrust off to the side out of the path of the Mandalorian flying at her like a ballistic missile, and in the same fluid motion threw her arm out like she was throwing a punch, a whipcord flying out from her vambrace as the cable shot out like a snake poised to strike, the cable whizzing towards Anna's outstretched forearms that continued to spew flames, wrapping around both of them as they bound her hands together.​

​

Careena widened her stance and planted her feet firmly on the ground, activating the magnetic soles to anchor her to the ground as she grabbed her forearm to brace while yanking roughly on the cable, gritting her teeth as she struggled with effort to turn and swing the flying Mandalorian. The sudden movement along with the direction she pulled would yank Anna's trajectory off to the side, and using the momentum of her jetpack fueled charge to swing the Mandalorian back into Atin Tracinya letting the whipcord disengage and break free so as to not carry herself along with Anna.​

​

 

[Ninurta Slaabur'r]

THE BEAST MASTER

Location: Palace 2nd Floor
Equipment: Beskar'gam, Main, Sidearm, Polearm, Belt of "goodies"
Beasts: x1 Oggdo's
GA: Caelan Valoren Vince Jonyna Si Jenn Kryze
Vode: Sig Dryggo Trajan Fett Domina Prime
Hunting: Caelan Valoren ?

​

As Ninurta hovered above the battlefield, observing the chaos in the rubble below, his vision sharpened. His vantage point was perfect for a seasoned hunter—a view that captured everything unfolding beneath him.

He noticed Caelan moving swiftly to shield the queen. Silent admiration became him, the Jedi's speed and resourcefulness was...well used. There was something strategic about Caelan's instinct to protect, yet Ninurta couldn't help but feel a certain detachment. This one fights for ideals, not survival. His lip curled into a faint sneer as he watched the Jedi engage another, one of his own vode, Sig Dryggo .

The Jedi's restraint, the refusal to kill, irked Ninurta. Naive... the galaxy doesn't reward mercy. It devours it.

With the Nite Owls—disoriented and scattered—they had become casualties of chaos, just as he expected. They were small players now, irrelevant in the larger scheme in this game of Dejarek. His gaze shifted to Sig Dryggo, whose actions contrasted so starkly with the Jedis idealism. Sig's brutality struck a different chord in Ninurta, reminding him of his own survivalist instincts. He appreciated Sig's sheer ferocity, his drive for dominance. When Sig launched into combat, Ninurta saw a kindred spirit of violence.

And then the game changed...

But when Sig's hands closed around the queen's throat, Ninurta's eyes narrowed. His mind was a tangle of reactions. Part of him respected Sig's ruthlessness—his unswerving commitment to the mission, his disregard for diplomacy or mercy. Another part of him found it distasteful. Ninurta hunted, killed, and conquered for purpose. Part of him knew what needed to be done and yet the other side of him wondered what more the Neo-Crusaders could of gained from the Queen, If she had be a captive. To the beastmaster, his vod Sig, His actions dripped with a desperation in the Falleens eyes.

He watched the queen's life slip away and Sig's triumphant declaration with cold detachment and watched the mandalorian retreat along with others serving the Neo-Crusader cause.

<“This is Dryggo to all Neo-Crusader forces: the objective is complete. I repeat: the Queen. Is. Dead.”>

Immediately Ninurta responded over Neo-Crusader comms in response.

<<"The beast that feasts upon its prey too soon starves by nightfall. You've tasted your prize. But beware. The hunt is long, and the quarry ever-changing.">> He finished and shook his head side to side. Where normally he would congradulate his brother on a kill, instead he offered a proverb. It was only directly after that Ninurta addressed the Jedi below.

He offered him strange words. It was not the beastmasters own but something the Jedi said to him earlier on.

" Some things are better left undiscovered, Jedi. Life is better lived in peace than in constant search for death." And then he retreated from the scene.

 

[Atin Tracinya]

Allies
Anna Carden | Minerva Fhirdiad | Others

Enemies
Careena Fett | Others
​

If there ever was a day of fire and brimstone, it was today. Screams and the scent of burning flesh filled the air. Even with his helmet filtering out the smoke, the acrid stench filled Atin's nostrils as he got back to his feet with a groan. The freshly painted blue stripes on his pauldron had nearly been scraped away, and the blue handprint over his heart bore its own scratches and mars. But beneath it all, the Mandalorian was unfazed. He was ready to face his opponent again as she proffered her own challenge. A test of their mettle on this hellborne battlefield.

"Olaror bal-!"

Atin's words were cut short as he was suddenly being dragged along through the air, a hand having grasped the baskar on his back, as another glob of napalm landed right where he'd been standing moments earlier. It didn't take more than a couple seconds of erratic flying for Atin to figure out who was carrying him like sack of meat. "Anna! What the hell are you doing?" Atin shouted, flailing as he tried to make her let go so he could return to his duel.
"You expect me to just stand and watch?"
"Elek!"

The two landed on the ground moments later, Atin tumbling around before coming to a stop after being roughly dropped. A flare of orange filled Atin's visor as Anna alighted her flamethrowers and launched herself with a Carden special. Atin could only groan as he got to his feet, his body aching more now that he'd been used as a human bowling ball.

Anna was suddenly crashing into his chest, and the two beskar-clad bodies suddenly found themselves in a tangled pile on the ground again. This just was not Atin's day. The man unceremoniously throw Anna off of himself and stood again. This time, without being knocked down. He looked around himself for a weapon. None insight, except what he might fashion. And in this short notice, that long piece of rebar sticking out of the wall looked mighty fine.

The Mandalorian grabbed one end, and struck a spot near the wall with his gauntlet. The beskar sang, a long, clear note ringing out as Atin snapped the rebar out of the bridge's wall. Long, taller than he was. The spot where it'd broken off was sharp. He gave it an experimental spin as he turned towards the Ghost once more, reaching out a hand towards Anna to help her up as he kept his gaze on the Ghost. "Let's try this again," he said to the both of them. "Prove your strength, Mandalorian!"

 

[Jasper Kai'el]

Onderon
Tags: Carduul Akahl , Braze , Grissuk Ung Kusp , Jack Sandrow

Lightsaber
​

The poleaxe then acted like a lever, suddenly shifting its weight so that it would use Jasper’s own momentum against him with a pivot. The blunt end had whipped around in an attempt to harshly crack against his side whilst the bladed edge drew back. That same momentum could potentially output bone-cracking force, with the help of the Jedi's own hydraulic arm.

Jasper let out a sigh, entering into a flow-state. He couldn't sustain his instincts for as long as other Jedi, but he had tools to contend with these limitations. The Matukai had ensured such a thing. The Jedi master took the blow, concentrating his energy into making his side rigid as durasteel: Soft to Solid. A grunt escaped Jasper as he took the blunt-end of the weapon, the attack still causing significant internal damage. His increased physical durability would aid in protecting him from the remnants of Jack Sandrow 's attack off in the distance. How he was up close and personal, right where he preferred to be.

With quick motion, Jasper actually sheathed his lightsaber. His mechanical arm would grapple the pole-arm that had struck him in the side to hold it in place. The Jedi Master's organic arm began to emanate with a faint aura, Soft to Solid increasing the strength and durability of his flesh and bone. Then, without warning, Jasper would perform a full-strength left hook swing right at the t-visor of the Mandalorian.

It didn't matter if the helmet was beskar. He was gonna rattle the head inside it.

 

[Sahan Dragr]

Spoiler: Equipment

SHIP:

• "Ure'adtr" Howler Basilisk War Droid​

ARMOR:

• Besk'gathr Mk III​

WEAPONS:

• Tusurki'aa Ta'hye Beskad​
• M.I. Model 6 hybrid pistol​
• "O'dteyase Saranuhlr" Modified Vora-Class Verpine Hand Cannon​
• M.I. Model 12 shatter rifle​

ITEMS:

• AXC (10)​
• Mirshir Ka'esr Binders​
• Irya'kadir Smoke Bombs​
• Sasori Last Resort Cannon​
• Ring of Vision​
• Runi Ticu'r​
• Rulariyi Mandalorian Sunglasses

AMMO:

• Gas Canisters (12)​
• Slugs (100)​
• Grulyr'bedtr CryoSlugs (1 Mag)​
• RB-02 "Salt" Rounds (1 Mag)​
• RB-04 "Droid's Bane" Rounds (1 Mag)​
• RB-03 "Force Breaker" Rounds (1 Mag)​
• Tracyn'wuta Pyro Slugs (5 Mags)​
• Hurdisi Photonic Blackout Rounds (5 Mags)​

---

"Catch."

Sahan had only enough time to stop and instinctively hold up his left arm to actually attempt to catch the object. His inertial dampeners and air brakes corrected for it, keeping him from flying back by much, but that only worked against him even more. Sure, his armor kept the giant slug from tearing his arm clean off, but he had to stifle screaming out in pain as his armor registered 1,010,32 separate fractures from his fingers to the ball of his humerus in the socket. His entire arm was shattered and now out of commission. He gritted through the pain as his armor rushed to inject him with tranquilizers, and the nanites immediately began attempting to repatch his arm along with bacta pumps. It would take a while.

Tucking his left arm behind his back and out of the way, Sahan caught the 18kg slug with his right hand. It was now lit aflame from the swirling vortex of fire. "Ah, a game of catch," he laughed with a bit of effort. "Are we suddenly buddies now?" He hefted the flaming slug right back at the sender. Even with the assistance of his strength enhancing suit, he was surprised at just how hard he threw it. It was certainly faster than he thought it should be. Still, there was no time to think about it.

Pulling out his beskad, he ignited the plasma edge along the blade. It had been meant as an insult to Jedi, combining lightsaber capabilities with a Mandalorian sword. He did not know if this vong wannabe was a Jedi or not, but he was certainly aligned with them. With the sudden crack of a sonic boom, Sahan rushed the enemy with a Mach speed slash aimed for the neck of the armor. Once on the other side of the man, he would brace and aim the blade to jab directly into his back at the tailwind of his sudden burst would hit him from the front. The tailwind killed the fiery vortex, but it didn't seem to be doing much anyway.

And if the blade managed to pierce the armor at all and touch the adversary's skin, he would be met with agonizing pain from the Devaronian blood crystals, which could even cause blood poisoning if he managed to draw blood.

---

TAGS: Jack Sandrow Valery Noble​

 

[Ran Serys]

There is no death. There is only the force. So how could she be afraid? Because Ran was afraid. She did fear death, but only because she loved life. It was beautiful, and unpredictable, and she wasn’t ready to give it up. When the force willed it she would go, but the force had not accepted this end.

The drexl under the warriors jerked, making the vambrace-shot blaster bolts go wide. The first of the twin bolts didn’t go wide enough as it skidded across the side of Ran’s throat. It burned the skin’s surface. She could feel the heat in her throat. It felt almost molten. The horrid sensation would’ve brought panic in all but the most steadfast warriors. Ran remained calm enough to notice the second twin bolt whiz right by her head. Its superheated energy fizzled out as it flew off and disappeared into the distance.

She tried to speak, to respond to the Mandalorian’s question, and to tell him what would happen next. She was unable. Her voice was lower than a whisper. Vocal chords were damaged upon contact with the blaster bolt. But Ran didn’t need those words. Her actions would speak for themselves.

The hand the mandalorian let go of to shoot raised between them. It lingered for less than a moment as Ran pulled on the force, attracted the gestalt energy field toward her, through her, and then throughout. The pressure grew and grew and grew until she released it. A telekinetic force pushed through the Mandalorian, blasting them off of the drexl and then toward the capital city below. Ran tried to watch as the armored warrior plummeted through the streets of Iziz but the buildings obscured their fall. She wondered if the Mandalorian feared death. She doubted it and respected it.

After a moment, the alien trill of the drexl and the thunderous beating of its wings pushed Ran to presence. Without much of a display she turned, sat back in the saddle and flew for the next battle. With her broken and bloodied nose, bleeding arm, and burned throat, She hoped it would be one more easily handled.

Hakon Fett Mahsa Biala Prahl​

 

[Hakon Fett]

TAGS: Biala Prahl | Mahsa | Ran Serys
"I'm not a warrior. I'm a soldier. There's a difference. Warriors attack and conquer. They – they prey on the weak. Soldiers defend and protect the innocent – mostly from warriors."
"Nice speech. I bet you tell yourself that every night so you can sleep. But I accept who and what I am. I don't have to justify it with words. Victory in battle is my justification."
―Carth Onasi and Canderous Ordo
VALHALLA CALLING

Mandalorian Neo-Crusader Vanguard
The Sky, Sky Ramp Front Lines
Onderon

In an unfortunate turn of events, whether coincidental or orchestrated by powers beyond Hakon Fett's reach–powers the Jetii wielded–the rugged leathery back of the drexl twisted beneath him, shunting the Mandalorian from triumph, trophy and tale.

The smell of burnt flesh sifted into his nostrils through the broken visor and the black scorch mark across the Jedi's throat pulled his lips into a momentous smirk of victory. His hand snapped for the vambrace once more, fingers itching for the long coveted honor of slaughtering a Jedi in battle. Time seemed to stretch, teetering on the thin line between life and death. His fingertips touched the air of murder around the vambrace's firing controls, certain of victory, when an invisible blast of energy exploded between Jedi and Mandalorian, flinging him off the drexl's back into a lethal freefall. The wrist blaster fired off a pitiful burst of lasers into the skies as Fett plummeted towards the city of Iziz below.

Everything happened fast, too fast. There was no mythical time bestowed upon him by a divine presence to reconcile with his fate, to accept the cold embrace of death beckoning him. Only a mind blanked out, too mortal to process it all; ears deaf to the cacophony of war, muted by the rush of wind; eyes blind to the skies that seemed to fall, followed by a rain of shards of shattered armor and visor.

And through the thick, hopeless silence, a low hum and whir defiantly began to pick up in volume. Unintelligible notes of sound soon became the deafening howl of loyalty that bound beast to master. With a loud thud, Fett crashed atop his basilisk swooping below to save him from the clutches of death in one last, desperate flight of its dying engines.

 

[Anna Carden]

Allies
Atin Tracinya | Minerva Fhirdiad | ???

Enemy
Careena Fett | ???
​

As she closed the distance, Anna believed the tackle was going to land as Careena Fett was still blocking her flames, and the shield was even close to dying. It turned out that the Ghost anticipated that move; in an instant, the strong flight momentum was quickly redirected back to where she came from. Anna quickly turned off her jetpack and flamethrowers, but it was too late to counterpropel herself as the Raven was thrown onto Atin, crashing onto him and the ground before being lobbed to the side.

"Ouch..."

Their beskar mostly absorbed the impact, but any collision is still a collision, especially to the head. Taking Atin's hand, she got back up, assessing the situation. The other Crusaders were still dealing with the napalm fire, and the Alderaani guards were busy reinforcing their position.

The Ghost could have countered with something more lethal, like what she did to the Onderonian guard earlier. Not sure why she just decided to throw her back, but it was time to repay the favor. Whipcords extended from both of her wrists, trailing to her sides as Anna cracked both of the whips as makeshift but capable melee weapons. "This time, we attack together." She spoke to Atin Tracinya through her secure comms, walking slightly to the right as she was planning to attack the enemy from both sides. "The usual formation."

"Prove your strength, Mandalorian!"

She quickly circled sideways before running straight towards Careena, letting some distance away between them while waiting for Atin. Then, the woman would spin and swing both of her fibercord whip in the same direction, hoping to catch a limb or two.