Faction [GA | NEO] Keshi Raid

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora was pinned behind a stack of duracrete rubble. A heavily armored Mandalorian had seen her approach the walker, then drove her back with repeating fire from his handheld blaster cannon. Her mind raced as she pressed her back against the partially collapsed wall, trying to make herself smaller as blaster shots pelted the jagged mouth of her hiding spot.

Adrenaline spiked as Roman's voice thundered over the din of battle. She needed to act. What if he'd been hurt? The thought spurred her into action.

Turning carefully, she sought a hairline crevice in the wall, and placed her hand against it, fingers curled. The Force surged into the cracks, loosening the chunk of duracrete, which she shot forth at her assailant.

The stone struck his midsection and knocked one hand from his grip on the canon. Cora followed in the path of her projectile, blade slicing through the weapon's barrels once, twice. With a wave of her hand, a few more heavy chunks of duracrete fell atop the Mandalorian, pinning him in place.

Cora turned her attention to the walker, cranking her neck to locate Roman. He'd pressed himself into one of the machine's joints, narrowly avoiding fire from one of the hatches.

"Hey!" Cora called, trying to pull the Mandalorian's attention as he lined up for another shot. "You…scoundrel!"

She reached behind her, grabbing a telekinetic hold of the parts of the blaster cannon she'd sliced. With a swing of her arm, she hurled one at the sniper. Then the second, then the third. They crashed into and around the hatch, crumpling the opened cover back onto the hatch itself.

"Go!" She called to Roman. "Take out the artillery!"

Cora leaped, scaling the leg opposite to Roman. She jammed her saber into the walker's exposed knee joint as it flexed. Electrical sizzles and pops hissed, throwing a shower sparks in her face.

She grimaced and yanked her head to the side as her vision went spotty, but the walker's leg whined and stalled as it tried to push forward.

Roman Vossari

 

[Ninurta Slaabur'r]

Tags: Down below
Beasts: x2 Webweaver Spiders engaging Nos Voros
Ninurta engaging: Diogo Talon
Equipment: Blaster Carbine, Sidearm, Vambraces, Electrostaff, Vibroknuckler, Beskar'gam, Boots​

Ninurta snarled under his breath as the grappling line snapped, a thick red blaster bolt whizzed past and the Jedi whelp now free from his electrifying grasp. A lucky shot!

With a flick of his wrist, Ninurta brought his electrostaff to life. The weapon crackled with violent arcs of energy as he raised it just in time to catch the Padawan's first saber strike, deflecting the blade with a sharp crack of energy. Though the beastmasters prone position left him at a disadvantage, he used it to bait the Jedi closer. As Diogo's flurry of strikes continued, Ninurta twisted his body, rolling to the side and letting the Jedi's blade slice into the jungle floor the best he could. Some blows struck true managing to find small gaps in the maalraa bone plating, while others simply were blocked by the bone itself and harmlessly glanced off the beastmaster. Either way he moved and rolled with each swing! "Ah Gaah!" He exclaimed feeling the burn of the padawans blade cut into and instantly cauterize his flesh. If he wielded a vibroblade, Id be bleeding out. Stupid boy. For that reason, the wounds were bearable...for now. The pain and fire that rushed through his nervous system though told his mind that the battle needed to end sooner rather than later.

"Your friend," Ninurta growled through gritted teeth, his pheromones subtly flooding the air. "is about to be dinner. Jetii!" The invisible command surged toward Skrel in the underbrush with one command: Devour the Zeltron! The hidden Wyyyschokk instantly obeyed, its powerful eight legs propelling the giant arachnid out from under the ground with a small tremor and into the direction of Nos Voros , preparing to strike from behind while Rynka held his attention with a murderous barrage of leg strikes. Attempting to impale her prey and pin him down for a kill.

" He saved your life! Now you can repay the favor," His voice grew darker. " Or you can be a man and face me." He hissed as Diogo's flurry of strikes continued. Using his electrostaff to block another strike, he kicked upward with a powerful leg sweep aimed at Diogo's midsection, attempting to throw the Padawan off balance.

Make a choice jedi. Do it.

 

[Nos Voros]

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

The Mandalorian's focus was entirely on the Jedi, speaking as if he were a damsel in distress from one of Lady Velvet's novel's. Nos grunted as he writhed against the tightening webbing, his powerful muscles straining. Every movement was a battle, but he refused to yield. Gritting his teeth, he planted his free foot against the jungle floor for leverage and yanked hard with his arms, the sinews of his physique rippling as he fought against the adhesive strands.

Bit by bit, the webbing began to give. His vibroknife worked tirelessly to feint parry and fend the spider's advances. After what felt like an eternity, Nos broke free with a guttural roar, snapping the final strands holding him in place.

The Wyyyschokk lunged at him immediately, its massive legs cracking branches and twigs underfoot as it advanced. Nos reacted instinctively, pivoting back and driving a powerful kick into creature’s head, kicking himself back and into a rearward roll to his feet - his lips twisted into a grim smile at the small victory.

But the reprieve was short-lived. From the corner of his eye, Nos saw the second Wyyyschokk charging with terrifying speed, its mandibles clacking as venom glistened on their sharp edges. Time slowed in the chaos. Nos assessed his options in a heartbeat—he couldn’t outrun it, and fighting from this position was suicide.

"Guess we're doing this the hard way," he muttered under his breath.

Nos sprinted directly at the oncoming spider, adrenaline surging through his veins. At the last second, as the creature lunged, he planted his boot on a protruding root and leapt. He soared over the snapping mandibles, narrowly avoiding their deadly bite - pain erupted in his side as one of its sharp legs caught him mid-jump, tearing through his vest and slicing into his flesh before he landed heavily atop the creature’s back. He bit back the pain, the sting fueling his resolve. Nos grit his teeth and grabbed onto the ridges of the spider’s exoskeleton, his powerful grip holding firm even as the creature thrashed beneath him.

With his free hand, he brought the vibroknife down in a savage arc, plunging it at the Wyyyschokk’s back repeatedly. The blade skittered off its tough chitin as he searched for purchase.

Nos’s pheromones surged, unbidden but unstoppable, a product of the adrenaline coursing through him. The jungle air around him grew heavy with the instinctive chemical signals, the natural Zeltron perfume muddying the air, mixing with the falleen’s own commands over the spider. Perhaps Nos's frustrating overproduction of pheromone output when nervous would prove useful for once and give him the opening he needed.

Nos's crimson skin gleamed with sweat as he fought for control, his breaths ragged but his resolve unshaken. If he couldn’t kill the creature outright, he would at least keep it occupied long enough for the Padawan to fight without a hulking zeltron princess-in-a-proverbial tower distracting him. The first Wyyyschokk spider still pursued, Nos hoped the erratic movements of mounted beast would at least give it a hard time to reach him.

“Come on,” Nos growled through gritted teeth, holding on for dear life as the spider reared back, its legs flailing wildly. "You want me off? Earn it."

Ninurta Slaabur'r | Diogo Talon​

 

[Roman Vossari]

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

​

Roman dangled precariously from the walking behemoth, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He had been holding on by sheer will, his fingers digging into the rough metal of the enormous joint as he surveyed the chaos around him. From his vantage point, he could see Cora emerge through the dust and debris.. Thank Ashla, she had played her part brilliantly, forcing the Mandalorian sniper into retreat.

As the stars aligned and Cora signaled him, Roman felt a surge of energy unlike any he had experienced before. "Now or never." he whispered under his breath. With a ferocity he sprang into action, his lightsaber igniting in a flash of green light as he raced up the walker's frame.

His blade sliced through metal and circuitry, a rhythmic hum echoing in his ears as he weaved through the chaos aboard the massive machine. He had a singular goal: to dismantle the artillery that posed a significant threat to the village. Each calculated strike sent sparks flying and with every defeated piece of equipment, he felt their odds of survival grow stronger.

But as he reached the top of the walker, a slow, ominous wobble seized his attention. Roman steadied himself, his mind racing amid the machine's stuttering processes. He cursed under his breath, gritting his teeth as the ground beneath him trembled with the weight of the colossal machine.

"Come on…" Roman muttered, bracing against the sudden quaking. The front right leg of the walker buckled, and he felt the metal beneath him tremble as though it were alive, ready to falter. With a desperate urgency, he clung to an exposed port, praying that it would not slip from his grasp.

Then it happened: with one last stuttering step, the leg collapsed entirely, the massive walker pitching forward. Time seemed to slow as Roman felt gravity's fierce pull descend upon him. "No!" he shouted, an eternal moment stretching before him. He had only one choice.

With a defiant roar, Roman leapt from the now-unsteady top of the machine, flinging himself free. The world turned into a blur as he tumbled through the air. He rolled hard on the unforgiving ground, dirt and stones biting at his skin as he absorbed the impact. "Ouch." was all he could manage, panting heavily as he lay sprawled facedown.

 

[Carduul Akahl]

Valery Noble | Kahlil Noble​

He had a moment, and it was seized. His weapon had met it's mark, though he knew it would not be enough - in fact, Carduul would have been rather disappointed if that had been the case. Through armor, through flesh, through bone, he pressed his momentum. The twist served to bring his footwork diagonally sidelong, closely following the maneuver.

Then the Jedi motioned with their hand, and momentum pulled him forth. Grip adjusted to first try to angle the tip to impale - then he saw the low blade arching upwards, and even as he accelerated towards the Jedi, his motion flowed with the tide. The lower end of the metal shaft had shifted to intercept it with a slight adjustment, and he would have successfully done so-

Before the motion had stuttered in its arc due to the interference of someone else. It was so small, so quick, he couldn’t compensate in time to fully avoid the blow. His eyes widened in the face of the green light searing towards his visor, head tilting aside as he forced his way through the delay-

“AAGH-!”

Sparks flew, and a cry of pain as the saber clove into the helmet, shearing part of the faceplate and T-visor off, burning flesh beneath. The blow meant to deflect it instead turned into a riposte - it had missed its mark, though the metal end would find itself aimed directly for Kahlil’s elbow after the exchange in what would’ve been a harsh crack. It was through this exchange that the realization could be made, though his weapon was Beskar, his armor remained imperfect. It was not enough to fully penetrate thanks to the metals used, but was a well-struck blow, nonetheless.

And that blow would undoubtedly be all the Jedi needed to work his vile craft.

He would refuse to go quietly. Instinctually, there was a sudden recoil, his hand swiftly going for his belt - didn’t even bother unlatching it, for no doubt that pressure had returned in that short moment. Had there been another few seconds, he wouldn’t be able to move at all - only staring with a cold visor that ended in a piercing brown eye. There was a click, before a scream of sonic energy radiated outwards from his person, a haze of smoke rapidly hissing from his person to wreath him in shadow. A combination of two failsafes to keep himself unhindered.

Without his helmet fully intact, the move affected him as well - but not so much as compared to the Jedi. The painful ringing in his ears caused his teeth to grit, and it forced him to a knee. Such was a forced gambit. His wrist raised and took aim. Someone had interrupted. Upon the cry of rage, of pain, the Crusaders had rallied to the scene of their Rally Master, recovering from the telekinetic pulses that had sent them scattered. Suppressive fire intensified without their oppressor. He was only then cognizant of where their efforts had lain previously.

And thus, Carduul’s wrist had shifted - aiming not towards where Kahlil was, beyond the cloud of smoke, but towards the flickering golden barrier. A rocket was loosed, its ignition a hiss amidst the roaring din of battle that bursted out from the smoke cloud not long after, intent on felling that which hid the source of his trouble.

 

[Vynara Rylthar]

​

5th Fleet
Diving to main Mando LZ. Engaging
Keshi Atmosphere

OOC: GA feel free to make use of the two flights of T-65 X-Wings.

Deck plates rattled, and the superstructure of her ship groaned under the crushing weight and g forces as the small fleet made orbit. They sailed clear through a dozen smaller skirmishes, shields sopping up the damage from the junkfields of raked and shattered vessels. Vynaras eyes swept from left to right over her console on the dais, keeping track of their heading and shield density.

A few stray shots rocked them, one penetrating the ray shields, the red beams finding deadly purchase on slick grey ship plating. It burned, and seared and melted a portion to slag. A white hot glowing plate peeled back from their hull. In the con smoke began to fill the air. The scrubbers whirred overtime, struggling to scrub the noxious fumes as sweaty ensigns and Lt's clenched their teeth and their back sides tight.

"Direct hit."

"Aye. Push through," she replied to Cortan.

This was when she really shined. When the pressure was on, her blood was thundering and her veins felt the icy cool of years of training cooling that blood. She compressed her fear to the back of her mind, knowing if she showed her crew weakness or concern, they would mirror it, and operate at a disadvantage.

"A Commander or captain can never crack. When things get rough, your crew is watching, looking to you for cues as to how to act. Act in a military manner, so will they, act cowardly, so will they."​

The words from the officer academy a score or more years ago etched in her mind.

More pieces of their armor flew off as shields faltered. Resolute Dawn rapidly approached the ground now, wreathed in a ball of flame from friction, diving through hundreds of pieces of shrapnel.

She clasped both hands behind her back, standing straight as a gun barrel.

Cortan turned to her.

"We are approaching 1500 AGL. Scopes have few targets for guns. Orders?"

Vynara nodded.

"Engage the main LZ and rally point. Flights one and two away, send them over the city. I want to own the air Captain."

"Aye ma'am."

"Keep our main guns a hundred meters off the cities edge. I don't want any stray shots slaughtering our own civilians, or this mission is pointless."

"'Aye aye."

Cortan turned to bark the orders, crew stepping to as if they were chased by angry bees. Cannons whirred and then the small flotilla opened fire. Several diamond boron missiles ripped from the flagships bow, hungry to find their mark directly on the Mando main LZ. The smaller frigates joined the fusillade, their turbo laser batteries pounding the earth, leaving glowing crevasses and setting off explosions.

"Red leader to Resolute Actual. We are prepped an ready. Requesting permission to launch, over"

The words broke her concentration. She recovered and answered back into her headset.

"Dawn actual to Red Leader, Aye granted. Good hunting. Dawn Actual out."

 

[Diogo Talon]

OBJ 2: Save the stupid, sexy Zeltron
TAGS: Ninurta Slaabur'r + Nos Voros​

Diogo's head was starting to hurt. The air was thick. Sickly, sweet scents wafted back and forth, disparate and competing. There was a pounding in his skull and it was increasingly difficult to focus.

" He saved your life! Now you can repay the favor," His voice grew darker. " Or you can be a man and face me." He hissed as Diogo's flurry of strikes continued. Using his electrostaff to block another strike, he kicked upward with a powerful leg sweep aimed at Diogo's midsection, attempting to throw the Padawan off balance.

The kick connected, knocking the wind out of the Padawan, but not before Diogo managed a backslash with his lightsaber, attempting to decapitate the mandalorian before the kick sent him sliding away. Diogo dug his heels in. Bending his knees slightly, his hand clawed against the sandy dirt to stop his momentum. Eyes filled to the brim with frustration, Diogo glared at his bone-armored adversary. He went to take a step forward, but his body tensed and the Force nudged at his brain. There was an intangible pull, like he was a pup being grabbed by the scruff of his neck.

The Zeltron needed his help. He thought of Aadhir's words from the Ballistakinesis lesson—At the end of the day, you are the one that has to live with the decisions you make, so make decisions that are right for you and those you care about. The headache worsened.

For a moment Diogo just stood there. His white-knuckle grip on the hilt of his lightsaber grew tighter. Diogo roared; a primal howl, wounding in its intensity, in its frustration, in its anger. "Stick around and I'll kill you," he hissed, jaw clenched.

Then he was off, using the Force to speed him to the Zeltron. Leaping through the air, he brought the blue blade of his lightsaber down in a flowing slash, attempting to sever the legs of the pursuing Wyyyshokk. If he wasn't so infuriated, the sight of the Zeltron riding the other spider probably would've provoked a laugh, but instead he just grunted. Then the other Wyyyshokk, sensing his brethren in distress, angrily barreled towards Diogo, its chittering mandibles gnashing the air.

 

[Kahlil Noble]

The echoing scream in his head had him wince and narrow his eyes. Sonic was something he had some defenses for in the form of his runes, but this close it was too much for him to get a proper bead on the Mandalorian. If he had, he could've stopped it. And yet, he didn't. Alarm flared through his mind as he felt it instead. Danger, but not towards him. Valery was the target.

He was gone then. Time and space mattered little to the Dyad they had shared. He was with her, in front of her just as the missile hit. The explosion was caught by another barrier, one hastily made as he protected his wife. One that didn't fully catch the explosion behind it. He lowered his now mangled hand as he looked towards the Mandalorian that had fired the shot.

The ground below Carduul erupted then. The groves pulled by Kahlil and cut with his lightsaber glowed bright. A rune, carved right into the earth, activated as Kahlil stared at the ruined mask. Heat exploded up, much akin to a thermal detonator. "I feel allies close. Reach out to them. Get them here."

Valery Noble | Carduul Akahl

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Wedding Ring

Valery's heart raced as the explosion rocked the barrier, the impact shattering what little strength she had left. She barely registered the searing heat or the roaring fire before Kahlil was there, his barrier forming around them just in time. Her amber eyes widened as she took in the sight of his injured hand, panic and guilt flickering through her expression.

But then, a sudden sharp pain ripped through her abdomen, forcing her focus inward. Her breath hitched, and her trembling hands instinctively pressed against her stomach. A moment later, she felt it, and realization struck her like a lightning bolt.

"Kahlil…" she gasped, her voice trembling. Her amber eyes locked onto his. "The baby… she's coming."

Her body tensed as another wave of pain rolled through her, the signs undeniable now. The battle, the strain, everything had pushed her to the limit, and the time had come. Valery gritted her teeth, fighting against the overwhelming sensation, and reached out through the Force as Kahlil instructed.

Through the chaos, she felt a presence — steady, strong, and familiar. Gil Horn . He was close enough to sense her desperation, and she latched onto his presence like a lifeline, sending a mental plea through the Force.

"Gil, it's Valery. We need help, now. It's urgent. The baby is coming, and we're under heavy fire. Please, get to us as fast as you can."

Her connection was strained, her voice tinged with urgency and exhaustion, but she trusted him to understand the gravity of the situation. As her plea went out, her trembling hands found Kahlil's, her grip firm despite her weakening state.

"Kahlil, you need to take me out of here," she said, her voice a mix of determination and fear. "Gil is coming to help, but I need you with me. I need you to keep us safe." Her amber eyes softened as they met his, and despite the pain, her trust in him was unwavering.

Kahlil Noble Carduul Akahl Gil Horn | Closed​

 

[Carduul Akahl]

Valery Noble | Kahlil Noble​

Another hit upon the Jedi. Not the intended target, but it would suffice - he had glimpsed the extent of the damage it had caused. He was already surging forwards to renew the assault - a flesh wound wouldn’t deter him in the slightest. Fortunately for Kahlil, it seemed he had prepared more.

Again, it was too late to fully evade the blast. The jetpack’s momentum was offset, sending him tumbling aside and towards where they had started this bout. The force felt bone crack - but he could not tell which, perhaps his ribs. He had never seen such a thing - runes akin to shamans that actually worked. The left side of his armor was left entirely scorched over, a painful heat penetrating even through the bodyglove. Fortunately, the defenses were enough to avoid death or disability.

And thus, it was enough to keep him fighting. Despite the adversity, he would slowly come to a stand. Fire clung to his form, relentless. The shoulder-cape was in tatters, and his armor ruined. And yet, Carduul remained, seething with purpose.

<Open fire.> Came the order, at last, to the Crusaders who had withheld such until the duel was concluded. By then, the Defender’s position in this open area had been overrun - a vague cordon of lingering Mandalorians having formed around the makeshift battle circle that was the ‘duel.’ But now the Rally Master knew there were two. There were outside factors. He only saw fit to even the score. Blaster fire, flamethrowers, a hail of weapons fire began to unleash - enough to keep them occupied. He paced forward, his wrist-laser adding a few precise shots of his own. They could not hold out forever.

What was it they were so fervently protecting? Merely the other Jedi? At the moment, it didn’t seem to matter. Only the glory he would receive upon killing not just one, but two of the force-afflicted monks who had cast his kind down. He was ever a historian. To write oneself into the history he preserved, however, would be a grand achievement indeed.

 

[Gil Horn]

Location: Keshi | Objective One
Tags: Valery Noble Kahlil Noble Carduul Akahl Rakkon Yomaget

With his saberstaff changed into a broadsword type weapon, Gil was able to balance the weight more efficiently against the heavy blows of the axe. It was still an uphill battle, but the emerald blade of his weapon was not nearly as much a liability as it had been. Gil also did not let the Mandalorian dictate the range of the engagement. He waded into close quarters melee range, the dial on the end of the lightsaber able to adjust the blades length as he struck against the warrior.

He sensed and heard the activation of the fragmentation grenades, his heightened senses from his connection with the Force warning him of the danger. He was planning his next moves to deal with them when he received the message from Valery. Wincing against the sheer intensity of the message, Gil took a moment to consider what he needed to do.

"We will see each other again, Mandalorian," Gil said, and waited for the moment of the grenades being tossed to disengage. Leaping back, Gil threw up a barrier of Force energy, controlling the edges to create a funnel. The grenades struck the barrier, the detonations seeming to stop in mid air, before leaping up and down along the length of the Force barrier, and back towards the Mandalorian warrior. Gil did not wait to see the result of his ploy, instead turning and making his way through the side alleys towards where the message from Valery had originationed.

When Gil finally made it to the site of the duel between Kahlil and Carduul, he saw that the fight had turned into a full skirmish. No problem joining in then. Leaping up to the roof of a overlooking building, Gil jumped over the edge to plunge down towards the mass of Mandalorian warriors. With a wave of his hand, he activated the grenades hanging from two of the warriors belts, the detonations throwing the warriors back and creating an opening for Gil.

He landed where they had stood, both blades of his saberstaff roaring to life as he waded into the battle, cutting his way through warrior and weapon alike as he sought to draw as much attention away from Kahlil as he could.

"Master Noble," Gil said, ducking the strike of a Mandalorian warrior before shoving a hand into the warriors chest, sending him hurtling backwards, "its a little rude to be giving someone else this much attention when you came here for a different matter. Please, allow me to handle the rest of this dance."

 

[Ninurta Slaabur'r]

Tags: Down below
Beasts: x2 Webweaver Spiders ( IN A CONFUSED STATE ) Nos Voros
Rynka [incapacitated]
Skrel [confused/disorientated]: Charging.
Ninurta engaging: Diogo Talon
Equipment: Blaster Carbine, Sidearm, Vambraces, Electrostaff, Vibroknuckler, Beskar'gam [upper half removed], Boots
Music: Mastermind​

The kick connected, knocking the wind out of the Padawan, but not before Diogo managed a backslash with his lightsaber, attempting to decapitate the mandalorian before the kick sent him sliding away. Diogo dug his heels in. Bending his knees slightly, his hand clawed against the sandy dirt to stop his momentum. Eyes filled to the brim with frustration, Diogo glared at his bone-armored adversary. He went to take a step forward, but his body tensed and the Force nudged at his brain. There was an intangible pull, like he was a pup being grabbed by the scruff of his neck.

The Zeltron needed his help. He thought of Aadhir's words from the Ballistakinesis lesson—At the end of the day, you are the one that has to live with the decisions you make, so make decisions that are right for you and those you care about. The headache worsened.

For a moment Diogo just stood there. His white-knuckle grip on the hilt of his lightsaber grew tighter. Diogo roared; a primal howl, wounding in its intensity, in its frustration, in its anger. "Stick around and I'll kill you," he hissed, jaw clenched.

The beastmaster gripped his neck watching the jedi preternaturally speed off to assist his zeltron ally. Ninurta's grip on his neck remained and for a moment he recalled what had happened. A instinctual reflex that saved his life. Dodging a killing blow by inches. It was far too close for comfort. If the Jedi had not of retreated it may of been that the falleen would be dead. But that did not happen. Instead Ninurta now had the time to recover and both combatants were going to poorly regret that. The mandalorian immediately went into action and removed his helmet, his keen eyesight sharpened and only took a second to adjust thanks to being able to naturally see into ultraviolet, thermal and spectrums beyond. It was during this that he came to notice the lack of heat coming from green haired brats body, this with the quick display of his probiscis earlier meant only one thing. An Anzati.

His green skin contrasted the forrest around him as did his cyan serpent eyes and white hair. Taking out a stim-shot from his utility belt and jammed the needle past his bodyglove and into his neck. Almost immediately his pain was put to ease as the medication bacta did its work. Next came another injection, a adrenaline booster and when this one was injected his body jerked slightly as his already enhanced senses heightened. Leaning back and preforming a kip-up to his feet he then began systematically shedding his bone plated cuirass. His beskar'gam, his second skin! A mandalorian to remove his armor was considered shameful alone and symbolized defeat. The bone plates fell to the ground to reveal green scaly skin and a black body glove with cauterized gashes and cuts in it. Wounds from a lightsaber. After the cuirass was removed then he did the shoulder armor, jetpack and did not stop in till all upper extremities of his form. Though it protected him greatly, it also slowed him down as well and the need to move fast was apon him! The only parts that remained after were his crushgaunts and vambracers.

But the latter was disconnected from their main power cells and system of his cuirass. Many of the offense functions were offline leaving it only for defense due the material it was made of. He rolled his shoulders back and forth and took in a breath to calm his body the best he could. A technique not uncommon to jedi breathing practices or of martial artists. In, out, in, out and back in. He held it. Saturating his blood with oxygen and priming his physiology to prepare for what was to come and Falleen could hold their breath for hours. Both of his hands fell to his waist side and swiftly pulled a safety line connected to small metal cylinders on his lower back.

Smoke and Dioxis grenades though still clipped in place to his form, spewed out the choking mixture around and behind him.

Then he was off, using the Force to speed him to the Zeltron. Leaping through the air, he brought the blue blade of his lightsaber down in a flowing slash, attempting to sever the legs of the pursuing Wyyyshokk. If he wasn't so infuriated, the sight of the Zeltron riding the other spider probably would've provoked a laugh, but instead he just grunted. Then the other Wyyyshokk, sensing his brethren in distress, angrily barreled towards Diogo, its chittering mandibles gnashing the air.

Then he moved! Like a serpent he moved like lightning. Stepping over a pile of his own armor and all his ranged and melee weapons with a pulse of his grav-boots to quickly bring him to speed as his legs propelled him the rest of the way with blinding speed. Ninurta blinked at Rynka's loud skittering shriek when the lightsaber was heaved through half of one side of her bodies legs. Both of the webweaver spiders were in state of confusion, no doubt from the mix of Zeltron and Falleen pheromones, Both of the beasts had served him well and their sacrifices would not be in vain. You showed me mercy and in turn I will end you with my bare fists. Lets see how well you can concentrate when your own body can only focus on itself. Lets see what your pink friend can do when can do, when his own body turns against him.

Closing in on Diogo Talon , Ninurta poised his right armored fist to slam into the kids back side of the snot vampires kidney. All I need is one breath and I want to see you and your friend Nos Voros choke on it.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

The hissing of desperate hydraulics, the crackles of electrical components fizzling out, and strained whines – it was the every-growing tune to which the walker's systems began to fail as Roman sliced his way to the top of the beast.

Cora clung just above the knee of the walker, her vision temporarily studded with pinpricks of light. Her saber no longer worked to disrupt the mechanical joint beneath her, but to block the shots coming from a hatch at the belly of the machine.

The walker strained in place before buckling, jostling her assailant and lessening the distance between Cora and the ground. As she leaped before the leg could crush her in its descent, the weightless feeling that came with being in the air sank unpleasantly into her stomach. A moment later, she found out why – just a few meters away, Roman hit the ground.

"Roman!" Crying out in concern, Cora scrambled to where the Padawan laid sprawled in the dirt. Landing on her knees, she shook his shoulder in desperation. "Get up, Roman! We're not done here," she gasped. He was breathing, that was good. Genuine worry creased her expression, but her voice was hard as stone. Not only did she feel responsible for protecting the village, but also for Roman's well being.

Tiny hairs stood at the back of her neck, and Cora was up in an instant. The Mandalorians from the felled walker were exiting the vehicle, several of them taking aim at the pair of Jedi. With a sharp exhale and steely determination, she stood above Roman and deflected shot after shot with strokes of blue plasma.

"Come...on…" she grunted.

Roman Vossari

 

[Kahlil Noble]

The baby was coming?

Despite the seriousness of everything, the pain in his arm as his mangled hand rested at his side, despite the weaponry aimed at him and his wife and unborn daughter, he laughed. Despite all the people he'd killed to protect them, despite the bodies and wounds, he couldn't help his bright, happy laugh. "Then we really can't stick around here, can we? Of course she has to take after her mother so clearly. Born in a literal fire."

The runes on his skin flared to life, the golden shimmer brightening the world around him. He brought both his hands up, pulling on the Force. His mangled hand cracked and splintered as broken bone was made by those very runes to move his fingers how he needed them to, how his mind had ingrained his control. He brought his hands down, and with it, the hail of bullets and flame froze midair around them. It was like before, the sudden calm as Kahlil forced everything to come to a stop. Last time, it'd cost him almost everything to do this so Valery could escape.

Last time, though, they were alone.

His smile widened as he heard Gil speak up. He brought his hands further down, sending the frozen shots straight into the ground under another immense weight. The relief that allies were here, that his wife was that much safer, washed over him like a much needed warmth.

"Then I leave it to you, Gil. It's time to go, Val. I don't think I can handle an actual birth in a fight."

Valery Noble | Carduul Akahl | Gil Horn

 

[Nos Voros]

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

Nos had been entangled in a deadly grapple of life and death with the spider, constantly shifting his weight and grip to avoid its legs and piercing it in the joints between chitin with his knife. He had not noticed Diogo's return until the boy's lightsaber flashed, cleaving the spider underneath him.

As grateful as Nos was, he had no time to do anything other than dive away from the spider's remaining, flailing legs. As he was about to question if the Padawan had slain their master, the second spider's charge arrived. The spider's mandibles secured his left forearm as the momentum knocked the wind out of him, barrelling him though the brush and mud as his forearm began to crush under the strength of the arachnid's mandibles.

In a brief flash, he saw the insane shirtless Falleen sprinting with a trail of smoke rising behind him, rushing at Diogo Talon .

He had no air in his lungs to shout warning, instead continued stabbing at the Spider's head only to find one of its legs intercepting, causing the vibroknife to embed into the limb. The knife was torn from his grasp as the leg moved, leaving him unarmed as the spider charged into the smoke trail behind Ninurta Slaabur'r .

Nos winced as something in his arm cracked under the mandible's vice. With his now-empty hand, the zeltron threw punches, knees, and elbows at the head of the Wyyshokk to limited effect. The toxins in the smoke began to sting at Nos's lungs and eyes. In an act of desperation, Nos gripped the head of the spider with his free hand, stuck his thumb to the arachnid's largest eye, and pushed inward.

The mandible released him as the spider's chittering and writhing at the sudden pain bought Nos enough time to roll to his back underneath the spider, draw his holdout blaster, point it at the underside of its head, and pull the trigger.

Ninurta Slaabur'r | Diogo Talon​

 

[Roman Vossari]

Tags: Corazona von Ascania

​

Roman groaned, the dirt clinging to his clothing like a second skin. That landing was rough, soreness was already creeping over his body. If he could just lay here a little while longer, he would be fine. But Cora's insistence that they weren't done rang in his ears, shooting adrenaline throughout his body again. "Yup. I'm getting up..." Roman grumbled, straining to push himself up out of the dirt.

His head lifted to see Cora defending him valiantly, a whirlwind of blue lightsaber against a hail of blaster fire. The sight surged his will. He couldn't leave her to handle this alone. He ignited his blade, the familiar hum a counterpoint to the angry roars of the Mandalorians. He joined the fray, deflecting shots with practiced ease. These Mandalorians, however, were noticeably angrier, their attacks more ferocious than before, fueled by the destruction of their walker.

Two Mandalorians charged, their blasters spitting bolts of energy. Roman parried one blast, the force of the impact jarring his arm. He spun, his lightsaber a blur, deflecting another shot before his blade sliced across the first Mandalorian's shoulder. The Mandalorian staggered back, his armor sparking, but he remained in the fight, his blaster still firing.

The second Mandalorian, a towering figure in bulky armor, lunged forward, his fist smashing into Roman's side. The impact sent Roman sprawling, the air knocked from his lungs. He rolled, regaining his footing just as the Mandalorian swung his vibro-axe. Roman blocked the blow with his lightsaber, the blade meeting the dark metal with a shower of sparks. He used the force of the impact to push himself back, creating distance. He couldn't let the brute get close again.

He ducked under a wild swing of the axe, his lightsaber arcing upwards in a swift riposte. The blade found its mark, slicing through the Mandalorian's leg. The warrior roared in pain, collapsing to one knee. Seizing the opportunity, Roman drove his lightsaber into the armored joint of the fallen Mandalorian's knee, the metal groaning as it buckled under the pressure. With a final, decisive strike, he severed the joint completely, disabling the Mandalorian.

As he stood, catching his breath, he saw Cora, dispatching her own opponents. The battle was far from over. Even as the last Mandalorian from their group fell, a new sound reached his ears – screaming. He heard it clearly now, coming from back at the village square. While they had been distracted with the walker, other Mandalorians had found the wine cellar, and were herding terrified villagers into the town square at blaster-point.

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Wedding Ring

Valery was on the verge of collapse when Gil's voice cut through the chaos, grounding her in the present like a lifeline. Relief washed over her like a tidal wave, and she let out a shaky exhale, tears pricking her eyes as she clutched her belly protectively. He made it. They weren't alone anymore.

"Gil," she murmured softly, her voice thick with gratitude, though she was too overwhelmed to say more. Kahlil's laughter, bright and unexpectedly joyful in the middle of a literal warzone, pulled her attention away from the battle. Her amber eyes locked onto him, incredulous and amused despite the pain wracking her body.

He laughed.

"Born in a literal fire," he said, smiling like this was a Life Day dinner and not a nightmare on the battlefield.

Valery squinted at him, her lips twitching into a smirk even as another contraction rippled through her. "Babe, I love you," she said, her voice deceptively calm. "But if you don't shut up right now and help me, I swear I will kill you before any of these Mandalorians can."

The words were sharp, but the faint shake in her voice betrayed the humor beneath it. Valery let out a strained chuckle that quickly turned into a soft, almost tearful laugh. Despite everything, despite the danger, the pain, and the chaos swirling around them, her heart was full. Their daughter was coming. She had no room for fear anymore — just love and hope.

Her gaze softened as she looked at Kahlil, her smile trembling but unwavering. "She's coming," she whispered, her words filled with awe and disbelief, as though saying it aloud made it all the more real. Her tears finally spilled, shimmering like liquid gold in the fiery light. "We're going to meet her soon."

Kahlil's final quip had her snort despite herself, her exhaustion turning her laugh into a quiet wheeze. "Oh, you can't handle birth during a fight, huh?" she shot back, the playful jab softened by the fondness in her tone. "Do you want me to hold your hand while you go through it?"

Valery tightened her grip on his hand — the uninjured one — and looked at him with a mixture of love, humor, and utter exasperation. "Let's go," she said, her voice firm despite the tears. "Before I really do decide you're the bigger threat here." It was time to bring another child into this world.

And to fix his hand.

She turned her attention to Gil, who was already cutting through Mandalorians like a whirlwind of emerald fire. "Thank you," she called out, her voice carrying through the noise. "I owe you one."

Then, her focus shifted fully back to Kahlil, her fingers curling into his as she prepared to move. "You've got us, Kahlil," she whispered. "I trust you."

Because no matter how terrifying the storm around them was, she knew one thing for certain — they would make it through this, together.

Kahlil Noble Carduul Akahl Gil Horn | Closed​

 

[Diogo Talon]

Tags: Ninurta Slaabur'r + Nos Voros

Ninurta poised his right armored fist to slam into the kids back side of the snot vampires kidney.

Distracted by the Wyyyshokks and the Zeltron's predicament, Diogo didn't see it coming. The Mandalorian's armored fist found flesh, muscle, and bone, and after a sharp crack, sent the boy sputtering on the ground. The Padawan managed to lash his lightsaber out again, like a wounded predator, which could've hit the attacker's fist if he didn't retract it out of the way in time.

Pain blossomed in Diogo's battered body. His breathing was raggedly staggered, made worse by the noxious fumes. Concentrating, he surged whatever reserves of Force energy he had left to numb himself and flush the toxins. As he did so, he crawled backwards, away from the Mandalorian and his spewing mixture.

The mandible released him as the spider's chittering and writhing at the sudden pain bought Nos enough time to roll to his back underneath the spider, draw his holdout blaster, point it at the underside of its head, and pull the trigger.

Diogo heard a blaster shot, then the thumping of a massive, lifeless body in the distance. With eyes still locked on the Mandalorian, he couldn't see, but assumed it was the Zeltron taking care of business. Hopefully he was in one piece.

Fighting through a series of coughs, Diogo rose to his feet. He fumbled around on his NJO utility belt, quickly finding the rebreather that was contained in the standard survival kit portion, and attached it to his face. The blue blade of his lightsaber continued to hum as he shifted to an offensive stance.

"Bastard. I told you to leave," he hissed, voice thick with barely restrained anger, glaring at the shirtless Fallen. The Anzati boy's proboscis sprang to life, flailing in the air. "Now I'm going to kill you."

It wasn't a bluff, but Diogo was running on empty. One or two more attacks, and he had nothing left in the tank. So, better make it count. Diogo sprinted to the Mandalorian, lightsaber flashing. He pretended to slash diagonally across his body, but feinted and aimed for a horizontal slice across his adversary's legs instead, hoping to cleave his legs off while avoiding the lightsaber-resistant gauntlets.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Oh, thank Ashla.

A singular thought drifted through Cora's mind as Roman pushed himself up. Relief flooded through her veins; he was alright.

They may have felled the walker, but now they had to deal with the Mandalorians within. They buzzed around the pair of Jedi like irritated wasps, fanning out from either end of the stalled machine.

Two of them leveled blaster fire at the blonde from opposite angles, keeping her on her toes as she whirled to dodge and deflect. She swatted away bolt after bolt until one struck her left flank in a grazing shot. Cora sucked in a gasp of pain and stumbled forward. It wouldn't be the end of her, but it was difficult to ignore the sudden sting near her ribs, jolting her body to a momentary standstill.

Even though they were cast down, eyes still wide with adrenaline could see the shadow that loomed above her, and the menacing shape of a Mandalorian helm and beskad held aloft.

A heartbeat passed as a drop of sweat slid down her temple and hit the dirt. Her left hand extended on instinct, palm outward as she sent a sharp repulse rippling through the Force. The warrior who'd been about to strike her head from her shoulders went flying backwards, and Cora did not see where he'd landed as she turned her attention back to the snipers.

They were perched behind a partially toppled brick wall, concentrating their firepower on the Jedi. One hand spun her saber in a luminescent blue blur, while the other reached out to loosen one of the bottom stones from the wall. It shuddered into a collapse.

The screams that followed were not the injured groans of Mandalorians, but clearer and sharper and terrified.

Her gaze met with Roman's, and a look of understanding passed between them. Sucking up the pain in her abdomen, she followed him toward the source of the noise.

As they approached the town square, Cora suddenly reached out and grabbed Roman by the wrist before they could be seen. "Wait!" She hissed. Her eyes slid to a grove of trees that flanked one side of the square.

Terrified civilians were being gathered in the center. Families hugged one another, parents shielding their children from the Mandalorian sentinels that stood armed and stalwart.

"Distract them," she whispered. "And be careful." That went without saying, she'd hoped.

Without further elaboration, Cora killed her saber and made for the greenery.

Roman Vossari

 

[Nima Torr]

Nima gasped, her golden eyes fluttering open slowly as she struggled to piece together the shattered fragments of her consciousness. The haze of a mirage clung to her, the memories drifting off into the distance, while the warmth of something solid and harsh enveloped her, near boiling to the touch where it pressed against her delicate skin. She stretched out, hands searching for something in the darkness, a gap or weakness, but all she felt in return was the burning heat of a prison that cocooned around her, stretched like a leash that promised punishment if only she dared to escape.

There was a reason she needed to, something that lingered just out of grasp as she took a breath, the heat of a desert caught in the little air that remained as she shook her head. She hissed in pain as the edge of her lekku skimmed along the edge of her restraints, away from the heat that was on the edge of burning.

Her eyes shuddered close, left to focus on the few senses she could reach. Outside, she could hear sounds muffled, the clank of metal against metal and objects falling from a height as they skittered and shattered upon impact, the shards left spread wherever they landed. It took a moment longer to remember the stretch of strings, a constant presence honed and expanded upon with each moment of connection and all the harder to reach towards as the thoughts scattered away.

Time flickered; a moment passed, and, with it, an eternity.

Yet, Nima knew the threads were important. They stretched far and wide, spiralling to nodes of twisting and ever-changing connections, each linked to a dozen more and then a dozen more, each important to the next as the world spun and her head followed. Her presence travelled down one, led by a command and a gesture, then another as they followed, their steps brought into line with another, before a scream and a tear ripped apart the connections linked between them and one more node, its presence slipping even as the threads attached to them stretched and stretched wavering at the fragile ends.

She fell back, further and closer.

Towards the threads that tied around her, their presence bright and stark for the void that surrounded her, glimmers of broken and shattered threads wherever her eye gazed. Their wisps reached for something that was no longer there. Her attention turned to the only one that remained, not untouched, strained at the edges of its core, but despite it all, could still connect and stretch across the web. Herself. With gentle hands, she brought to cup the tattered ends, her fingers stretched along the threads, and energy slipped into her.

With a gasp, Nima remembered the fire, the heat and inferno that had consumed everything.

And with another breath, her shield shattered.

Alone, she stood amidst the shattered remnants of the hangar, surrounded by the smouldering pyres of Beskar, their metallic sheen dulled by the dust and desolation. Her eyes travelled along the path of destruction, past the crumbled frame of her ship, torn and twisted into what had barely served as a shield, now reduced to shattered fragments. Above her, the ceiling creaked and bent, bowed in under the weight of a structure that could no longer support its only purpose, a hanging guillotine with only a single victim left behind.

Her steps were quiet as she walked away under the cloak of a ruin that should have claimed them all, one step after another.

Closer to her target, the bridge and the whole reason she'd come here in the first place. To get it away from the village. Soft hands turned calloused reached towards the blades at her hips.

Tag: Open!​