Faction [GA | NEO] Keshi Raid

[Nos Voros]

Outfit: Clothing/Armor
Weapons: Heavy Blaster Pistol | Vibroknife | Loadouts in bio

The jungle erupted in chaos, a cacophony of blaster fire, snapping electricity, and the monstrous skittering of Wyyyschokks. Nos gritted his teeth as he fired another suppressive blaster bolt at the Mandalorian inaccurately. The Falleen, still grappling with the aftermath of his disrupted jetpack, was far from neutralized. Worse, the situation was deteriorating rapidly.

Nos barely had time to register the sudden crash of movement behind him before the Wyyyschokk dropped from the canopy, its bulk shaking the ground with its impact. The Zeltron spun just as Rynka reared back, her spinnerets releasing a thick web of sticky silk. He tried to sidestep, but the webbing was too fast. It caught his legs mid-motion, binding him to the jungle floor.

The adhesive clung like durasteel chains, and Nos stumbled, his blaster clattering to the ground. He cursed under his breath, feeling the pull of the silk tighten with every movement. His vibroknife was out in an instant, slicing at the strands. The knife cut through some of the webbing, but the spider was relentless, pressing him back with a series of sharp, chittering lunges.

Through the chaos, Nos caught sight of the Padawan—Diogo—writhing in pain as the electrified charge from the grappling line surged through him. The Mandalorian’s cruel intent was clear: drag the boy closer and finish him. Nos couldn’t let that happen.

“Hold on, kid!” Nos shouted, his voice strained as he yanked his blaster free from the dirt. With one arm pinned by the tightening webbing, he aimed awkwardly but with precision. His target wasn’t the Falleen directly—it was the taut grappling line connecting him to Diogo Talon .

Nos fired. The plasma bolt seared through the jungle air, aimed to sever the electrified line and free the Padawan from the Mandalorian’s grasp. He couldn’t afford to miss; the boy's life depended on it.

The moment the shot left his blaster, Rynka surged forward, her massive legs pounding against the earth. She rammed into him, sending him sprawling onto his back. Nos hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of him as the remaining webbing tangled around his arms and torso and his blaster dropped once more.

Still, he refused to give up. He twisted, his unsheathed vibroknife slashing weakly at the sticky strands, his blaster firing off a wild shot to keep the spider at bay. “Wyyyschokk!” he barked, his voice raw. “Move now! I’ll keep it busy!”

The Wyyyschokk loomed over him, its venomous mandibles clicking dangerously close to his face. Nos grit his teeth, glaring up at the creature. He had bought the Padawan a chance, but it had come at a cost. Immobilized and pinned, Nos could do little more than use his one free leg to push the arachnid at bay and distract both mandibles and limbs with his Vibroknife - a crucible of reflex that required his full concentration.

Ninurta Slaabur'r | Diogo Talon​

 

[Caelan Valoren]

ATTIRE: Link
WEAPON: Lightsaber
TAGS: Feydrik Munin

The blade hit metal, as a jetpack was used to move inches. He released his hand so he didn't get pulled from the ground. An arm was pointed at him and flame blasted towards him, but it was pushed back by an invisible barrier of the Force. And as it did, Caelan disengaged and walked away from the fight because his job was done. He'd kept the Mandalorian busy long enough to keep him from causing other trouble. In the meantime, the soldiers would fall back in and start shooting at the Mandalorian as Caelan left the fight.

 

[Rakkon Yomaget]

Hod Yomaget observed the evident desperation in Gil Horn 's eyes as the Jedi reassessed his approach, transitioning from the elegant swings of his saberstaff to the sheer force of his fists. A smirk crept beneath the sealed-beskar helmet, as the Jedi appeared to misjudge the Mandalorian's focus on raw strength and hand-to-hand combat.

The Jedi crouched to evade the defensive stance, prompting Hod to rotate on his heel, adjusting his position to preserve his reach advantage. The Shogar Tok Vibro-axe would be unable to protect him in close-quarters combat such as this due to the long handle.

Gil's metallic fist collided forcefully with Hod's armored chest, the sound of the impact echoing through the protective gear. Nevertheless, the Mandalorian remained steadfast, clenching his teeth as he endured the force of the blow, even as he was pushed back into the earth.

Each strike delivered by the Jedi following this offensive was returned with a block from his vambraces and gauntlets to direct the opponent into the exact position that the Mandalorian needed to launch a proper counteroffensive.

"You are expertly well-trained in the art of combat, however your strikes are not made with the intention to win." Hod said between the flow of the engagement.

As the Jedi executed another swing, the Mandalorian maneuvered to the side to evade the strike. In a rapid motion, he elevated his Modular Vambraces , activating the concealed Undergauntlet Toxic Gas Dispenser to spray the Jedi in the face. Should this tactic prove ineffective, he was prepared to deliver a powerful kick to the Jedi's abdomen, aiming to push him back even further.

 

[Kahlil Noble]

"I know."

As partners, as their Dyad, even in the bubble Valery was deeply tied to his own abilities, his own skills. Her awareness was his, and with her so focused on the world around them, he could do the same. To a dangerous degree. Soresu had always been about being the eye of the storm, passively deflecting shots and attacks for a pure defense. Kahlil wasn't on the defensive.

Bodies flew. The Force echoed his call, sending Mandalorian after Mandalorian scattering. Their jetpacks, their training, kept them from being out for long, but every now and then one would find his gaze on them. Focused, intent. The last thing they saw before the Force cracked down and they hit the ground lifeless. At a range they were to have the advantage, especially against Jedi.

They weren't fighting just one, though.

His gaze fell on another as he raised his hand, bringing the Force one more in his grasp, only for his attention to drift. His stance shifted, leg moving to the side to avoid a shot. Only for his senses to alert him of more than just another shot being sent his way. The green of his saber sprang to life as he twisted, both hands gripping the hilt as he turned to stare down the Mandalorian who struck at him with a blade.

He said nothing, just glared at the T-visor before him. He wasn't going to let anyone who threatened his family live.

Valery Noble | Carduul Akahl

 

[Makko Vyres]

SHIELD | ARMOR | LIGHTSABER | DRONES | SHIP | PISTOL​

The holographic display showed what was going on across the planet. Alliance forces were coming. This had to be a rapid raid.

Makko could have used their stealth ship to personally assault the mandalorian command ship. There were two issues. Mandalorian leaders were also beskar armoured warriors and even if the head was cut from the snake, the raid would play out anyway. This wasn't a long campaign, orders were being given at a tactical level.

"Try and send an encrypted message to the Sword and Shield," Makko said. "Let them know we can provide an extraction."

The small stealth ship couldn't evacuate a large group. Makko felt guilty that they would priotise just a few people, but the Nobles and their children would be a target.

"And follow that cluster of drop ships. Get us close," Makko said. He pointed to a group that had just broken the atmosphere and was descending.

"We're not armed to engage," the pilot replied.

"You're not going to. Stay cloaked and see of the Sword and Shield signal you for extraction."

---

The mandalorian dropships dropped into the clouds. In their shadow, the shreev-class stealth ship descended.

Inside, Makko stood over the iris in the floor.

"We're thirty thousand feet up! We're not equipped for an air drop!"

Makko acknowledged the warning and fitted his helmet. He opened the iris and air rushed into the passenger compartment. He couldn't see the dropships beneath him.

He had to trust the Force.

Makko crossed his arms over his chest and stepped out into thin air, plummeting like a stone through the clouds. Water droplets immediately clung to his armour.

He stretched out with the Force, slowing his descent and opening his arms. He saw the mandalorian dropships just a moment before he landed on the hull.

The pilots looked up at the Jedi shadow, at the figure in black armour, that had fallen from the sky to land on their ship.

Makko activated his lightsaber and ran across the hull. One swipe cut a chunk out of the engines and he jumped. He heard the explosions behind him as the first dropships fell from the sky just before he rolled to a stop on the hull of the second.

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Wedding Ring

Valery's breath came in controlled but shallow pulls as she sat within the golden barrier, her concentration razor-sharp despite the storm of chaos raging around her. Her connection to Kahlil, their Dyad, allowed her to feel the clash of emotions and energies that erupted as he engaged the Mandalorians. His determination, his protective fury, coursed through her like a current, and she let it fuel her own resolve.

But when she sensed the arrival of a new foe — one whose presence carried an intensity and focus that almost rivaled Kahlil's — Valery's brow furrowed. The Mandalorians had sent someone with experience, someone who didn't fear crossing blades with a Jedi, even one as powerful as Kahlil.

The strain of her efforts mounted as she pushed herself even harder, reaching deeper into the Force. Valery extended her hands outward, her fingers trembling slightly as the golden shimmer of the barrier around her flared brighter. Through sheer will, she expanded it outward in waves, creating smaller Force barriers in Kahlil's immediate vicinity to deflect incoming blaster fire. As a result, some bolts ricocheted harmlessly away, some striking the walls or the ground, others careening back toward the Mandalorians themselves.

Sweat slicked her brow, and her breathing quickened as the weight of her effort pressed down on her. But she didn't falter.

Not now. Not when Kahlil needed her.

From within her protective cocoon, Valery could feel the Mandalorians taking note of her presence. The shimmering barriers she conjured weren't subtle, and the focused deflection of their shots was an unmistakable display of the Jedi's power. She felt their frustration rising, and she knew she had to be careful.

But Valery didn't let their mounting determination shake her. Her amber eyes remained closed as she drew on the Force, her focus on protecting Kahlil as he dueled their Rally Master. Every flick of her hand sent a blaster bolt wide, every pulse of her energy ensured that Kahlil's path remained clear of unnecessary distractions.

"You're not taking him from me," she whispered, her voice low and fierce, the words carried only by the Force to Kahlil's senses. Her fingers curled into fists, and the golden light around her intensified further, radiating outward like a beacon of defiance amidst the smoke and chaos of battle.

Kahlil Noble Carduul Akahl​

 

[Diogo Talon]

TAGS: Ninurta Slaabur'r & Nos Voros​

“Stick close. You’re not dying here,”

Not dying here... alone, Diogo wanted to say. Crazy ass Zeltron, trying to play hero, and now they were both gonna die.

He felt the tug of the grappling hook wrap around his waist, pulling him off balance mid-flight.

"HA! Got you now, bi-" Diogo watched, eyes wide, as the Mandalorian's vambrace sent an electrical charge down the grappling hook wire.

"Oh, chit," Diogo barely got out before highly charged particles surged into his body. His muscles instantly tensed and it felt like they were being ripped apart. Unable to move, pain seared through his body. He tried to let go of the grappling hook, but he couldn't. His Anzati proboscises burst from their cavity, flailing in the air, before drooping. Diogo quickly went from cooked, to fried. He felt himself pulled forward, unable to stop, until the Zeltron fired a perfectly placed blaster shot that severed the wire connecting Diogo to the Mando. Diogo fell to the ground, writhing in pain. But alive.

Maybe he wasn't gonna die. Couldn't say the same for the Zeltron, though, as a Wyyyshokk prepared to devour the purple guy. Diogo got up slowly, revitalizing himself. Without the Force, the pain would be unbearable, but he was able to hang on. For now. He didn't know how long it would last. Diogo spun his lightsaber and charged at the Mando, slicing and slashing as fast as he could. The way he figured it, the Wyyyshokks would be more concerned with defending their master if his life was threatened, and so leave the Zeltron alone.

As Diogo moved, he felt the island's sea breeze, and he wondered if he'd ever see Niamos again.

 

[Nima Torr]

Streams of plasma contained within the solid shape of a blade crossed the distance between Nima Torr and her first target in an instance, the flicker of blue followed by the solid clang of metal as it rolled across the tarnished floor, the surface shorn through with razor shards of glass that the Jedi nimbly avoided.

Another leap brought her within range of another Mandalorian armoured in beskar, their near-impenetrable shell coloured in shades of red and gold, with gaps that revealed the black bodysuit underneath. As their hand turned towards Nima, she swung the length of her blade towards the gaps around their elbow, but they pulled back just in time. Sparks clashed between beskar and blade as the golden eyes stared through a blackened visor, the heat of their exchange bright and beating down like the warmth of a relentless sun. Metal screeched, almost loud enough to conceal the slight click and the sudden flicker as the nozzle of a flamethrower roared to life, a blaze that would have caught the Jedi if she hadn't leaned back; her blade disconnected before she could slip it into the armour beneath.

Scampering away, her body stretched across threads hidden from the sight of those blind to a sixth sense, away from the burning heat and the bolts that followed, her trail a zig-zag of frenzied responses and the attempts to reduce her to nothing more than a burnt husk.

Without the time or attention to waste, as four Mandalorians bared down on her, Nima Torr slid underneath the remains of her starfighter, the cockpit little more than salvage but still cover for the second that it bought her as she came out the other side, one blade raised and cutting into the fuselage before she swung out both hands in a gesture that tore into her faithful I-33, the metal crunching under an invisible hand before the shaped remnants were turned against the Mandalorians in the sky.

And with a single spark.

A conflagration erupted, the intense heat of a dying sun washing over Nima's armoured robes and bodysuit. In her desperation for any semblance of cover, she hastily pulled her hood over her head as metal buckled and tore around her, moments before the inferno engulfed the hangar's ceiling, leaving her breathless as her senses were consumed by heat and fire.

Then only the harsh sound of boiled metal and her shocked breaths.

Tag: Open!​

 

[Feydrik Munin]

MORE VICTORIES AHEAD

​

The fight lasted just a minute or two, but the resolve of the Jedi was found wanting in Feydrik's eyes. The Jedi lacked the strength of character, lacked the tenacity. As they all did, truthfully. They were not willing to do what was necessary for victory, to lean on their strengths. Their age-old enemy had so far, to Feydrik, confounded him in some areas of how they became just that. The Sith seemed much better foes, and truthfully, more honest with themselves. They were more willing to achieve victory.

Feydrik did not give chase. Battles were wasted on those who were not willing to fight them.

However, a blaster bolt striking him in the back, sending him forward into the ground- the soldiers of the Alliance were a different beast than the Jedi counterparts. They were tenacious, violent, angry, capable, without the use of the force. Regular men and women standing firm against the horrors of the galaxy. They were truly warriors, soldiers through and through.

Feydrik pulled the carbine off of his sling and scrambled to his feet, machine gun fire kicking up around him. He pulled the slide back, checking it. A slugthrower this time. Not a blaster. Feydrik took cover, while the Alliance soldiers barked orders at each other. They were going to flank him, pincer him. He grit his teeth, returning fire, only managing to cut one down before he was enveloped by fire again.

He needed to figure out a way off the street, and how to break their heavy volume of fire. Failing to do so, they'd flank and pincer him, and they'd kill him rather quickly. He pressed his back against the piece of duracrete he was hiding behind, and looked up to the sky.

No, not today. His death was not coming today.

​

 

[Carduul Akahl]

Valery Noble | Kahlil Noble
​

He had noted a few crumbled bodies of those he had once commanded on the approach. Impressive, was the thought by the Viper - a Jedi without inhibitions. In fact, the Jedi seemed to be in the process of making yet another, with a Crusader seizing up in the middle of their trigger pull as pressure slowly encroached from all sides. Then, a resounding shriek of beskar echoed across the battlefield as blade met lightsaber. That Mandalorian fell to the ground, glancing to his savior before his jetpack propelled him away from the conflict to enact the new orders.

This fight would truly be a worthy battle, indeed.

As sparks flew from the clash of weapons, there was an ever-so-brief standstill, where both participants in the intersection of blades would get a clear look at another. Ash and ember clung to Carduul's form as if he was a wraith of war. A blank visage of a narrow T-visor stared across to Kahlil’s impassive expression. “I commend thine bravery, but something is amiss. What would a Jedi of your caliber find so important they’d choose to make a stand here, of all places?” He posed a cold query. The gleaming barrier shimmered and shined, but it seemed to obscure whatever was behind it for Carduul.

During the inquiry, his weapon had shifted. It had slid slightly down the blade clash, latching the green saber behind the curve and yanking it forward in an attempt to create a hole in their defense, whilst also serving to disengage from the clash to launch his next attack. His next movements gracefully wove together with a short burst of his jetpack sidelong to off put footwork for a better angle - carrying momentum, the poleaxe veered around to Kahlil's right side to deliver a powerful diagonal strike towards their shoulder. Immediately following, the grip of one hand tilted slightly for a close-ranged blaster shot to the gut. The attacks were swift, striking with a relentless precision to prevent the Jedi from having too much of a pause to work their death-dealing magic.

It seemed incoming blaster fire had lessened around them, seeing as the surrounding Mandalorians did not want to accidentally friendly fire the Rally Master. That did not stop some from attempting to seek a pot shot from the sidelines when the opportunity presented itself. Thankfully for the Jedi, locked in combat with the crimson-armored Viper, said shots often found themselves being mysteriously deflected by the machinations of Valery. That’s when attention had shifted slightly, the select few Crusaders who noticed directing some of their fire unto the Barrier which protected the source of their troubles.

 

[Kahlil Noble]

There was no answer. Rather, Kahlil took the brief moment the Mandalorian spoke to focus, binging with it the weight of the Force he'd been using. A crushing, invisible weight that was luckily cut short as the Mandalorian tried to wrench his saber away. The focus shifted as he let the green blade shut down to keep the hilt at least in his hand, just before the blade burned through the ground and swung up to catch the next strike.

His focused narrowed. The weight returned, but this time it was on the ground below him, ripping up dirt and stone to suddenly compact into a solid wall to catch the shot towards his gut. More of the ground shifted, grooves in the earth carved as he sent a hail of condensed rocks to slam and rattle the Mandalorian. Distract in turn, for all he needed was a moment.

He could feel the shots impacting his shield around Valery, which meant there was no time to waste.

Valery Noble | Carduul Akahl

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Wedding Ring

Valery flinched as the blaster bolts struck the golden barrier surrounding her, the impacts sending ripples of light through its shimmering surface. The sound of concentrated fire against the shield was deafening in her ears, and though the barrier held strong, each impact sent a jolt of fear through her chest. Not for herself — she trusted Kahlil's strength and her own connection to the Force — but for the precious life growing within her. The stakes had never felt higher.

Her amber eyes flickered open, glowing faintly with the intensity of her focus. From her position within the shield, she could feel Kahlil's battle unfolding like a vivid story in the Force. His determination, his control, and his resolve were unshakable, and she drew strength from that. But she couldn't ignore the increasing aggression from the Mandalorians outside. The pounding against the barrier wasn't just physical — it was a reminder of how close danger truly was.

She had to do something.

With a sharp exhale, Valery reached out through the Force, her focus narrowing on a cluster of Mandalorians who had taken cover behind a series of barricades. With a sweeping motion of her hands, she unleashed a wave of kinetic energy, trying to send the Mandalorians flying backward like leaves caught in a violent gust of wind.

The effort was immense, and Valery felt the strain immediately. Her head swam, and beads of sweat rolled down her temples as the golden barrier around her flickered faintly. She steadied herself with a deep breath, willing the shield to hold as her body protested the demand she had just placed on it.

Her hands pressed against her belly, grounding herself in the presence of her child and the bond she shared with Kahlil. She whispered to herself, her voice barely audible amidst the chaos, "Come on Val, hold on. Just a little longer.... Kahlil will end this."

Kahlil Noble Carduul Akahl | Closed​

 

[Gil Horn]

Location: Keshi | Objective One
Tags: Rakkon Yomaget

The Mandalorian was a skilled warrior, there was never any doubt about that. Gil was not inexperienced, but in raw combat potential most Mandalorians would always out class a Jedi. The two groups focused on different things, different lives and paths. What he did have that set him apart, however, was his connection to the Force.

A connection that warned him almost too late about the toxin. There was no time to dodge, no time to evade. Grimacing, Gil did what he had been trained long ago to do in the worst case scenario. He held his breath.

The gas sprayed across Gil, but he was prepared for it. He had closed his eyes, folding a thin band of air around his eyes and nose to prevent the worst of the toxin from getting through. The kick to the abdomen was similarly expected, but Gil gritted his teeth and took the blow, sliding backwards and twisting his body with the strike. Coughing as he pushed the worst of the gas away, Gil shot his hand out, a burst of pure Force energy sent hurdling towards the Mandalorian warrior.

His eyes burned, a creeping pain beginning to move through him, though he could already tell it would not be lethal. The worst of the toxin had been dealt with, but he would have to get treatment after this. Releasing the breath he had been holding, Gil reached down, grabbing his saberstaff once more. Eyes still closed, Gil activated one of the blades, taking up a broad grip on the blade, and advanced on the Mandalorian.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

A swell of relief hit Cora at seeing that Roman Vossari was battered but standing. Of course he'd be alright - he was strong - but that did little to assuage her concern with the Mandalorian war machine present.

"I suppose I will, too."

The discord around them harkened Cora back to the assault on Ukatis. This could've been a different group of Mandalorians entirely - she could not keep up with the Enclave, Crusaders and the like - but they'd all wrought the same brutal brand of violence.

With the exception of clan Kryze and her Nite Owls, she despised them.

A few minutes could feel like an eternity on the battlefield. Their sabers, bright beacons of green and blue, sliced through smoke and fire as the pair of Jedi fought to stave off as much of the assault as they could. Behind them, civilians armed with rifles answered the enemy with their own thinner hail of blaster fire.

A heavy thud reverberated through the ground, felt beneath their feet. Cora ducked below the swing of a beskad, using her opponent's forward momentum to half-twirl around him and ram her blade into the shoulder joints of his armor.

She looked up, squinting into the distance where the sound had come from. The air was thick with smoke and dust. Another thud followed the first. Then another, and another. Slow and rhythmic, until a large quadrupedal walker appeared from the fog, lumbering towards the village.

"Oh, Ashla," Cora gasped in shocked displeasure. A bead of sweat tricked down her brow, cutting a pale path through the soot on her cheek. The telltale whine of a laser canon hummed to life. "Scatter!"

They had a heartbeat to move away from the blast. Cora dove, her chin hitting the dirt as the concussive force of the shot passed over her. Looking over her shoulder, she observed the smoldering crater near where she'd been standing, and where several Keshi farmers had taken cover.

A few more loud thumps crashed against the ground as she scrambled to her feet, head whipping around in search of a mane of red hair.

"Roman!" She called, voice straining from how much unclean air she'd inhaled. "We've got to take it down!"

Fire from the walker's rotating canon peppered the ground in front of Cora, forcing her back. As soon as there was a lull in the fire, she zagged forward. There was the turret to take out, the legs to cripple, and the pilot - or more - for them to deal with.

 

[Rakkon Yomaget]

As Gil Horn fought through the agony inflicted by the kick and the noxious fumes emanating from the vambrace, a powerful surge of force energy surged from his hand, targeting the Mandalorian with precision. In a rapid maneuver, his left hand activated his jetpack, propelling himself upward just in time to evade the full impact of the force blast.

The energy rippled beneath him as the shockwave radiated across the ground, allowing him to descend once more, landing with a resounding thud as heavy boots were planted firmly. He observed the video feed of the Mandalorian's attack on Keshi through the heads-up display of his helmet, his gaze meticulously searching the battlefield for any indication that the Crusade might achieve victory.

However, with an Alliance Fleet positioned in orbit and additional defenders presumably en route, the situation appeared increasingly bleak, even considering the formidable capabilities of the Mandalorians.

There was always the question of if they should withdraw, and perhaps they should as they were accomplishing very little in terms of actual achieveable strategic objectives.

He clutched two Fragmentation Grenades within his palm as the Jedi Knight rushed forward to confront him with his lightsaber staff, although it was met with the blunt but razer-sharp edge of the Shogar Tok Vibro-axe gripped firmly in the other hand. Each swing was made with more and more force and intention to kill, until finally the grenades were tossed.

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Outfit: Field Attire
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike

The silence between the walls was alive. Aadihr’s heart drummed in his chest as he crouched behind a crumbling ferrocrete column, clutching the lightsaber pike in his trembling right hand. His left hand was a mockery of utility, the pain of his missing fingers smoldering in the edges of his focus.

They were coming.

Through the Force, he felt them—cold, sharp presences that cut through the haze of battle like knives. These Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders weren’t advancing like soldiers. No. They were predators. Calculated. Patient.

A sharp hiss broke the stillness: a jetpack’s thrusters, close and then gone. He struggled to pinpoint it; they were moving too fast, too deliberately. One was circling wide; another was descending somewhere above him, maneuvering in tandem keeping his focus split in everybdirection. The air seemed thicker, heavier, as though the very space around him knew he was being hunted.

A presence flickered behind the wall—a split-second blur of motion. Aadihr’s breathing halted, and he pressed his back to the pillar, gripping the confiscated slugthrower rifle slung over his shoulder. The unfamiliar weapon felt alien in his grasp, but his Pike alone wouldn’t be enough. Not against them.

Then came the voice. Low, modulated, and dripping with a dark amusement.

“You’re hiding well, Jedi. But we see you.”

Aadihr froze. It wasn’t taunting—it was a statement. An attempt to keep him off balance. He could feel the eyes behind the T-visors, not scanning, but dissecting. Calculating. It was working.

He had to move. Slowly, he edged along the pillar, his Force sight flickering with impressions of the terrain: a gap in the floor to his left, a collapsed wall to his right. Above, a Mandalorian prowled the rafters, their presence coiled like a serpent preparing to strike.

A sharp clank of metal boots. Aadihr’s body tensed as one of them landed nearby, their beskar-clad form radiating quiet menace. The glow of their visor cut through the dust, scanning the ruins with a predator’s precision.

The aura was was terrifying: not anger or bloodlust, but a cold, deliberate hunger. These weren’t warriors in pursuit of glory. They were hunters playing with their prey.

He needed a distraction. His hand brushed a shard of ferrocrete at his feet. Moving painfully slowly, he gripped fragment with his good hand, then hurled it toward the far corner of the room. The noise was sharp, immediate.

The Mandalorian turned instantly, rifle raised, visor gleaming in the dim light. “Over there,” they said softly, almost too softly, before advancing toward the sound with deliberate, silent steps.

Aadihr moved.

He slipped through the jagged hole in the wall, his injured hand scraping against the rough edge. Pain shot up his arm, but he bit it down, forcing his body to comply. The hallway beyond was narrow and dark, littered with debris. His Sight helped him keep a map in his mind, but every step felt like walking into a predator’s den.

The voices came again, faint but chilling in their clarity.

“Second floor clear. Closing on the lower level.”
“Don’t corner him too quickly. Let him run. It’s more fun that way.”

Aadihr’s chest tightened. They weren’t just hunting him—they were savoring it.

He spotted a ventilation shaft embedded in the floor. Narrow. Claustrophobic. Without hesitation, he slid into it, his body brushing against the jagged metal as he crawled forward. The air was stale and thick, and every movement echoed faintly in the confined space.

Above, he felt them pause. One of them crouched near the vent’s opening, their gaze lingering as though sensing him.

“Hmm…” The voice was thoughtful, almost mocking. “You can’t hide forever.”

A gauntleted hand tapped lightly on the vent’s exterior, a sound so deliberate it sent shivers down Aadihr’s spine. But they didn’t open it. Not yet.

Aadihr crawled faster, forcing his wounded body forward. His mind raced, every pulse of the Force bringing him closer to the edges of panic. The shaft ended in a grated opening that spilled out into a debris-filled alley. With a hard push, he forced the grate open and tumbled out, landing in a heap.

He didn’t have time to rest. Pushing himself up, he scanned the alley with his Sight. The Mandalorians were close, their presences flickering like stars in the void, each step deliberate.

For a moment, the world was silent. Then, the faint hum of jetpacks stirred the air, and his hunters spoke again, their voices distant but sharp.

“Clever. Not enough to save you, but clever.”

Aadihr didn’t wait. He ran, deflecting a bolt as he began weaving through the ruins. His body screamed in protest. His Force sight flickered with the impressions of the battlefield ahead—the faint glow of allied lines, the scattered lights of familiarity and safety.

By the time he reached the outskirts of the friendlies' position, his body was burning, his Sight blurred with exhaustion. He collapsed behind a barricade, the faint hum of allied blasters a distant comfort.

The Mandalorians didn’t follow. Not yet. But Aadihr knew they would. And when they did, it wouldn’t be as soldiers. It would be as hunters.

OPEN​

 

[Carduul Akahl]

Valery Noble | Kahlil Noble​

He had felt that barest grasp of pressure encroach, just as he made the next maneuver. Lightsaber shut off, allowing the poleaxe even more momentum as it reignited shortly thereafter to catch the next powerful blow. Carduul was leveraging the range of the weapon to maintain an oppressive offense, difficult to get in a counter attack through conventional means. The Jedi across from him, however, was far from conventional. There would be no more words shared. This fight would demand his all.

Ground and debris tore up. His arms continued in their motion with another short burst of his jetpack. His movements saw the initial barrage of rock dodged, weaving out of the central line and just beyond striking distance. And yet, a soft whirr emanated from the leftward wrist gauntlet as a trio of whistling birds screeched outwards, looping and curving around towards Kahlil’s side, back, and front. Disorientate. Distract. Those would be his allies, this battle; walking a delicate dance between life and death.

As the poleaxe withdrew for the next motion, he turned it for the opposite end - a blunt instrument responsible for shattering and pulverizing many a foe. It whirled overhead, swiping horizontally in the blink of an eye with a harsh crack of metal smashing against rock. The rest of the shards of stone - which would have been otherwise devastating shrapnel had he been caught out - scraped harshly against his imperfect armor with the motion, but not enough to deter him. With a step forwards, the momentum carried through despite the adversity, fully intending to shatter the protective coating Kahlil had made and carry through to his ribs - whether they decided to deflect or retreat from the Whistling Birds, he pressed on, refusing to grant the moment of concentration they desired.

Carduul knew what the Jedi wished to do. It was properly exhilarating, to be able to combat one at their truest potential, lacking the restrictions so many of their order strangled themselves with - the version of Jedi molded by war, by strife, by rage. The end-result of the Mandalorian Wars, which led to the creation of some of the grandest of their order, and the greatest Mandalorians of all legend.

Battle raged all around them. With the defenders, with the steadfast golden barrier, with the world itself - a haze of blaster bolts, fire, and fury. The duel called more and more attention to the region from the nearby Crusaders like sharks to blood. With the Jedi occupied, many were able to properly deal with the defenders moving in on their position, or raze more of the planet's infrastructure. Yet behind the Rally Master, a sudden gust of telekinesis saw a squadron scattered. Many of the Crusaders did not have jetpacks to right the issue, sending them flying like leaves in the wind. The more experienced - those who had earned the right to a flight during their training - had barely managed to right themselves in time before they were sent crashing into a wall.

It bought time. Precious time. But the tide of war could only be stemmed for so long.

 

[Roman Vossari]

Lightsaber: X | Talisman: X | Armor: X | Training: X | Casual: X
Tags: Corazona von Ascania

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The smoke stung Roman's eyes, blurring the already chaotic scene. He'd lost sight of Cora in the melee, but the tremor that shook the earth, followed by the earsplitting whine of a laser cannon, told him something catastrophic had arrived. The blast itself, though distant, sent him sprawling. Through the clearing smoke, a colossal walker emerged, its menacing bulk a stark silhouette against the inferno.

He heard Cora's voice, a strained shout cutting through the chaos and felt a surge of grim determination. This behemoth would not destroy the village. He charged, using the lingering smoke as partial cover, the villagers' sporadic blaster fire providing a distracting screen.

Two Mandalorians, oblivious to the approaching threat, patrolled beneath the walker's massive legs. Roman moved quickly, his lightsaber a blur. One Mandalorian spun around, blaster raised, but Roman was already upon him, a swift strike sending the weapon clattering to the ground. The lightsaber followed, a clean, precise cut severing the Mandalorian's forearm before he even had a chance to scream. The second Mandalorian barely registered before Roman's boot connected with his jaw, sending him crashing into the walker's metallic leg with a crunch.

With the immediate threat neutralized, Roman turned his attention to the walker's laser cannons. He needed to take them out before more villagers were injured or killed. He approached the legs of the walker and deftly began to scale the massive mechanical legs beginning his ascent.

Reaching the walker's midsection, he found a narrow foothold and began to pull himself upwards, lightsaber held ready. Just as Roman reached a point where he could access one of the weapon emplacements, a Mandalorian burst from a side hatch, blaster already leveled. Three shots ripped through the air, forcing Roman to duck back into the shadow of the walker's metal plating. "Cora!" he roared, his voice echoing off the walker's metallic shell. He needed her help, and he needed it now.

 

[Kahlil Noble]

Whistling Birds. He knew the tech, or at least the result it had to know the sound. They pulled his full attention, his gaze shifting up towards the darts. The Force thrummed out then, the crushing weight he used now in an area rather than focused. In an instant the darts fell, unable to keep aloft in the sheer weight as they buried into the ground.

Only for a crack to sound out as the makeshift armor on his gut shattered on impact. Another flash of light formed under it, protective runes along his skin activating as they tried to dampen the impact. There was little to really be done, though. Pain surged. A broken rib, two? Possible, but the pain didn't betray on his face. Grim determination, focus, they didn't fade for an instant as he turned, twisting his torso to force the pole past. His hand came up, the Force shifting to quickly pull the Mandalorian towards him as he swiped out with the green of his saber, again letting the tip burn through the earth in the quick slash up.

Valery Noble | Carduul Akahl

 

[Valery Noble]

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Outfit: Wedding Ring

Valery's breaths grew shallower, her body trembling from the strain of maintaining her barriers and Force manipulations. The Mandalorians outside the golden cocoon pressed harder, their blaster fire battering against the shimmering shield and forcing her to divide her focus between defense and offense. Every wave of telekinetic energy she sent to scatter the attackers drained her further, and the toll it took became impossible to ignore. Her vision blurred, and her connection to the Force flickered like a candle in a windstorm.

She couldn't hold out much longer.

Sweat trickled down her temples as Valery made a critical decision. The Mandalorians around her were relentless, but their immediate threat paled compared to the duel unfolding just meters away. Through her Dyad bond with Kahlil, she felt his pain — a sharp, fiery stab from his injured ribs. Yet, his determination burned just as fiercely, an anchor that steadied her resolve.

I have to help him.

Shifting her focus entirely to the battle between Kahlil and Carduul, Valery reached deep within the Force, drawing on its currents with a precision born of desperation and love. Her amber eyes glowed faintly as she extended her will outward, her trembling hands moving in a deliberate, fluid motion.

She targeted Carduul.

As Kahlil pulled the Mandalorian toward him with the Force, Valery added her own push, amplifying the pull's velocity and making it more difficult for Carduul to control his movement. Simultaneously, she exerted subtle pressure on the arm holding the poleaxe, nudging it slightly out of alignment to create an opening for Kahlil's strike.

Her actions were precise but came at a cost. The golden barrier around her flickered and dimmed, her connection to the Force strained under the immense effort. Her knees buckled, and she fell to the ground, clutching her belly protectively as she gasped for breath.

"Kahlil," she whispered, her voice barely audible but carried through their bond. "Finish this."

Her strength waned, but her will held firm. She had done everything she could to give him the edge he needed to end the fight. Now, she could only hope it was enough.

Kahlil Noble Carduul Akahl | Closed​