Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Junction [GA/NEO] When the Stars Betray Us | GA and NEO Junction of Manaan and Kashyyyk

Korra's gaze flicked down for the briefest of seconds, just enough to clock the subtle movement of his thumb. That satisfying little click of the grenade launcher safety disengaging made her lips twitch beneath the helmet. Not quite a smile—more like a smirk soaked in defiance.

"Something I won't like?" she echoed. "You really think I haven't been launched at by worse things than one twitchy Commando with a grenade launcher and an ego problem?"

She could see it in his stance, feel it through the subtle tension in the air between them. Korra knew that he knew that he would lose in a quickdraw, but at the same time, she knew his armor would hold up. She could hope the blaster fire would give her a few seconds to maneuver elsewhere, but that would be a big if.

"How much credits is worth it to you?" Korra asked, clearly asking if he can be bought. She was trying an alternative method first to see if it'll pay off.

Nos Voros Nos Voros
 


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Objective 1: Siege of Taris
Location:
Taris
Weapons: Lightsaber & Blaster
Outfit: Jedi Robes w/ Jumpsuit & Belt
Tag: OPEN

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The Jedi Starfighter cut through space as it launched from the Venator-class destroyer. Having hitched a ride on Gym Halpern Gym Halpern warship, the Jedi Master threw his starfighter into full throttle as it began engaging Mandalorian dropships. The space above Taris quickly erupted with the fury of a full on fleet battle. Like two wild animals fighting over claimed territory with no rule of first blood.

Kellen's radar pinged with multiple targets and friendlies on scope. His advanced, force enhanced systems and sensors aided him as he quickly took down two targets back to back before slipping away with his extreme speed and maneuverability. With more and more Alliance fighter craft joining the fight by the second, Kellen urged his squadron down towards the planet.

"All Echos on me, we're heading planetside to escort our transports. Let's ensure we get boots on the ground."

As his eleven other starfighters formed up on his flanks, Kellen burned through the atmosphere as he headed for a major spaceport the Mandalorians seemed to be swarming around. His squadron came in fast and heavy, descending on the dropships with laser fire and missiles as they impacted a handful of targets. A small smile appeared on Kellen's face as he watched multiple Mando dropships trailing smoke and crashing if not exploding outright.

He did not welcome the damage caused to the city but if these Mandos were allowed to land they'd cause even more harm. They needed to do what they could to get as many civilians and critical information off planet. This was a delaying tactic and nothing more.​

 



"CDF has lost communications with Spine patrol group twelve."

"Our scientists at Observation Post nine are confirming reports from the Alliance, Galactic Center seems to be pulling Firefist and the Rishi Maze towards its-"

"Sir, the Aur Diamonds have moved-"

Dracken stopped walking towards his shuttle and turned to the group of aids and scientists barking for his attention like newborn Akk pups.

"What?"

"The Aur Diamonds. They've moved...And seem to have grown so large they've taken up several sectors of space."

Dracken shook his head in disbelief. What was happening to the galaxy?

The shuttle ride from the Kyprin Renegade to the neutral star system where he and several other Alliance delagtes were meeting the Mandalorians was short. The aging battlecruiser was a short jump away, a reminder of older times among the shiny new Alliance destroyers. They both were. His thoughts turned to his wife back home on Corellia as the starlines reconstituted into pinpricks of light in the distance. He hoped for the Mandalorians' sake that this wasn't a trap.

"We're here, sir."

The room where the meeting would take place was austere, but it gave a good view of the system. It was strong willed and independent, with its own trade deals and its own destiny. Even still, with the weight of both the Alliance and the Mandalorians they had little choice but to allow them the space to meet. He smirked knowingly as he watched a flight of starfighters in the distance perform a cursory check on the proceedings. A hand fell on his shoulder and he was suddenly alert.

Two Mandalorian commandos flanked the doorway. Was he getting so old that he didn't notice? He looked up from the hand that rested defnsively on his shoulder.

"Wait outside," he said to his Halcyon commando. She looked down at him with her faceless visor a moment then nodded, but not before giving the senate guards a silent glare. Dracken sighed and looked across the room and saw the flickering glow of a holotable.

"How goes the battle?" He asked, stepping purposefully into the meeting room proper and placing a hand on his chosen seat, waiting for the Mandalorian delegation to turn.
 

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R E T R I B U T O R
CRUSADER
MANDALORIAN NEO-CRUSADERS
Armor | Gun | Side | Blade | Cradle

ENEMY : Jonyna Si Jonyna Si
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BLOOD FEUDS, ANCIENT AND MODERN

The Galaxy was governed by strength. Least, that's how the laws of man should dictate the flow of power. Too many times has power rested in the hands of weak, corrupt politicians and scions of morally bankrupt ideals. Cathar. A site of great devestation at the hands of the Mando'ade. The work to be done here was hardly one of strategic pragmatism. Nay, it was to send a message.

To send a message that damage done would be swiftly reciprocated in brutalist violence. The trudge through the jungles of this world gave an eerie familiarity to his time as an observer. It was not often that any tryst in violence didn't. The sun shrouding canopy, the uneven steps all jolted a harsh reminder of his origins.

But even so, the Beskar was his true face once more and today, the holy altar of war would see blood lashed upon its face again. They ran and fleed like pathetic whelps, helpless.

Trajan's means of war was one of clandestine. He was not the vaunted warrior who would come into battle screaming for vengeance atop a Basilisk war droid. For that he earned some ire from the more dogmatic of his brothers. He fought a war that punished the mind as much as it did wear at the enemy. A war from the shadows.

Cathar could be no such conflict. This was the pitched field where the most valiant of crusaders held their swords high in rampant. Screaming for vengeance, violence, retribution.

All the same, Trajan could commit to this dance. A Cathar raised his blaster pistol in anger, one last scream for the silent of the night. The last thing he saw was Trajan raise his own weapon, firing a burst which lit the barrel of his disruptor cherry red with its superheated violence, rendering the defiant soul into a pile of ash.

He trudged forward through the frantic violence around him to see one of their own proud in the slaughter.

Jedi.

As the others charged with bloodcurdling fury to be severed by her blade, Trajan appeared in the horrid slurry of fire, smoke and rain, standing opposite of her he slung the disuptor carbine over his back, snatching the collapsable vibro blade at his hip, flicking its activation with a teloscopic metallic hiss that concluded with its cross guard flicking out. He stood, squarely before her, twenty meters of seperation...and waited. He wanted to concede the initiative in the hopes of snatching it immediately throwing off her balance. His Ysalamiri cradle thrummed with the proximity of the Jedi, the creature within exuding its Force-neutral bubble immediately around Trajan.
 

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Objective One - Siege of Taris

TAGS:
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Phoebe had been on Taris, definitely not watching swoop races. Oh no, she was doing Jedi things like studying at the small Jedi enclave here. But she'd been on Taris before the movements of the Dwarf Galaxies had slipped into a horrible alignment of astronomical proportions. Gravity pulling on the Galaxy from different angles, quite literally, shifted the galactic map, moving hyperlanes and pulling some astronomical objects out of position.

Being pressed into helping keep order until things settled down was both expected and a fairly easy task for Phoebe. What she was having trouble with now was protecting GA citizens and assets from the Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders who found the former Alliance planet within their borders. Right now, she was in a small government office while a few tech experts were initiating a data purge, but due to a breakdown in local infrastructure, they had limited power and so everything was running slower than she would have liked.

Phoebe had just been updated by the techs, saying that they'd need another twenty minutes to finish, when a group of five Mandalorians came crashing through the thin transparisteel. Fortunately, she'd been behind the counter and was able to duck under cover before they noticed her. If there had been two of them, Phoebe felt confident that she could have taken them, but five was too many for her.

Pulling out her comlink and lightsaber, Phoebe got onto a Jedi frequency and kept her voice low, commed for help. "This is Padawan Winsloe. I'm at the government offices on level 50 at 227 Republic Avenue. A tech team and myself are cornered by at least five Mandos."

 


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Objective 1
Location:
Taris
Weapons: Blue Lightsaber
Enemies: Open
The skies of Taris burned.

Warships hung in low orbit like steel vultures, raining fire upon the ruined cityscape as Mandalorian drop pods thundered into the streets below. The once-bustling urban sprawl of Taris had become a graveyard of duracrete and ash, its towers shattered, its streets cratered, its skies thick with smoke and the bitter scent of ozone from blaster fire.

Through the smoke and turbo laser fire, a lone Alliance transport swept across the battle-torn skyline. Inside, Master Lazakrion sat in a meditative state. His figure was cloaked in robes of black and gold, with a lightsaber clipped to his belt. Around, Alliance soldiers clutched their weapons in unease and braced themselves for the drop. Some would occasionally glance at him with a mixture of awe and uncertainty. He said nothing.

The battered shuttle made its descent over the war-torn cityscape. The mission was critical: extract a cluster of Republic engineers, wounded soldiers, and civilians cornered in a bombed-out municipal complex.

"Master Kael," came the pilot's voice over comms, tense and sharp, "We're approaching the drop zone, but it's hell down there. The evac point is surrounded. You'll be going in first to secure the corridor."

Zephon rose slowly, drawing his cloak over one shoulder. "Open the ramp."

The cabin filled with hot smoke-filled air as the ramp dropped. Below, the sector of the city had been pockmarked by shelling. Scattered blaster fire echoed through the rubble of collapsed buildings, where Alliance soldiers made a desperate stand against the Mandalorian invaders. Zephon could sense their desperation and fear. The Jedi master eyed a complex where the roof was half collapsed; inside, civilians and children had taken refuge from the battle raging outside.

Suddenly, Zephon leapt from the shuttle while still in mid-air. The soldiers and civilians looked at him in disbelief as he descended towards the ground. He landed in a crouch that cracked the fractured duracrete beneath him. His lightsaber ignited with a calm, resonant hum, casting a blue glow through the smoke.

The Jedi's descent had drawn more than the attention of desperate civilians. Within seconds of landing, Mandalorian troops fired a volley on his position. Zephon moved with fluid grace unaffected by the chaos around him, the volley was deflected with practiced ease. Finally, a heavy round ricocheted off his saber and into a support beam near the Mandalorian line, collapsing rubble onto the enemy's position. It bought him a few valuable minutes.

He advanced without haste to the complex, guiding panicked civilians behind cover with outstretched hands as he formed a moving barrier of defense. One of the troopers gestured toward a narrow service corridor still intact beneath the structure. "The evac route's clear for the moment, but not for long."

Zephon nodded. "Begin the evacuation. I'll hold the approach."

He watched the soldiers ushering civilians into a tunnel. But time was stretched thin.

Mandalorian figures began to emerge from the dust and smoke. Zephon stood out in the open, calm and ready, blade in hand.

 
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Outfit: Senate Commando Armor [X]
Full Kit Deployment:

"How much credits is worth it to you?"

"Funny, I thought you'd be chasing credits yourself" Nos replied, finger twitching near the trigger.

Ego problem? Perhaps, though he had no doubts of his expendability - such was his duty, to die so others might live. It was not a matter of credits for him, who's life was given willingly to those who had taken him in.

The standoff here couldn't last forever — perhaps a peaceful resolution could occur if the sounds of war weren't growing ever closer.

A pause passed between the two of them lingered. Both assessed and recognized the other's assessment.

Then, all at once, the dance of battle begun.

The thunk of Nos's grenade launcher began the exchange, though be quickly found himself flashing and reeling from bolts hitting his heavy armor's energy shielding, wearing it down until the blue field burst, slowly beginning to recharge its capacitors. The Zeltron had no visual on if the EMP landed in range to affect the Mando woman's gear before she moved - and move she did.

Nos thrust towards the source of the blaster fire, accelerated by repulsor boots and jetpack, firing rapidly, albeit inaccurately, from his own blaster - suppressing fire while he sped along the debris-strewn ferrocrete to close the distance.

 

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T A R I S
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Tags: Open
The Mandalorian people had sunk their claws too deeply into Fett's armor for him to ever truly be rid of them. This time, it was Careena's promise of endless riches that had pulled him back in - as if he hadn't already claimed enough for two lifetimes.

On Taris, the Mandalorians' goal might have been to capture Jedi or secure key positions, but Koda chafed against any form of authority. A petulant child, in that regard. Even the Mand'alor couldn't fully wield Fett as he was. Instead of following orders, he charged headlong into the heart of the conflict.

The greatest bounty hunter the galaxy had ever seen descended upon the battlefield, ego leading the way. His jetpack roared, screeched, and thundered as he pushed it beyond its limits, racing between crumbling buildings toward the transports delivering the latest wave of Jedi.



 

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Objective III
- Vreegan Fett Vreegan Fett - Dracken Pryce Dracken Pryce - Open -
It took the galaxy ripping itself apart at the seams for the Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders to come to the table. One tiny pinprick of a positive within a worlds-shattering disaster.

Alicio saw it before it happened, in that vague way the Force showed things in the future. Flashes of emotion, snippets of panicked reports, the maddening vertigo of a galaxy expanding beneath his sight, bucking and roiling like a midnight storm. He'd briefly wondered if the visions had been parabolic, before the very real reports began suffocating his desk.

There was no time to gawk. They had to act, while they still could. Before it was too late.

Chancellor Organa barely made a sound as he swept into the room, his cloak of layered colors catching the wind in his wake. He didn't bring along any extra protection, no specialized guard beside the squad of heavily armored senate commandoes protected each GA delegate, but he didn't seem to mind. Each step was propelled with the easy confidence of someone who knew it wasn't their last.

Alicio didn't fear for his personal safety. No, his anxieties, written into the subtle tension at the corner of his lip, went far deeper. The scene was... humorously familiar. Or, at least, it would've been, if not for the anxious knot in his chest.


"How goes the battle?"

The Chancellor didn't immediately offer a follow-up, simply letting his shadow touch a chair next to the Corellian. He observed the Mandalorian delegation's response, peering into each visor with a frosted gaze, before finally opening his mouth.

"Thank you for meeting with us." He'd spent enough time with Jenn Kryze Jenn Kryze to know that at least her brand of Mando would appreciate a blunt and concise greeting. "Alicio Organa."

"Shall we?"
 
Envoy of the Galactic Alliance
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Tags: Vreegan Fett Vreegan Fett Dracken Pryce Dracken Pryce Alicio Organa Alicio Organa

Zarion Threx arrived in the shuttle bay alone and walked with a brisk stride towards where he was designated to meet with the Galactic Alliance delegation and the Mandalorians. The cyborg's feet clanked with each step against the floor, a steady rhythm to announce his presence, a nondescript datapad tucked under his arm.

The diplomat paused briefly before the Mandalorian guards and lifted his arms slightly so that his metallic body was easy to inspect with the cloak moved aside, it was clear he was unarmed. As the door of the conference room slid open Zarion tilted his head towards the Vice Chancellor and the Senator respectfully "Salutations, Zarion Threx. It is a pleasure to meet you both in person." his latest endeavor to negotiate any form of restrictions to the war with The Sith Order above Eos had resulted in nothing but sharp words. Hopefully this interaction would be more productive. If only for his career's sake!

His attention then turned towards the Mandalorian delegation and he gave them a similar bow of his head "It is an honor to make your acquaintance, I am Zarion Threx. Envoy of the Galactic Alliance." he introduced himself more formally. The Mandalorian's show of solidarity and strength did in arriving first did not escape Zarion, nor was he surprised with it given their cultural inclinations.

When the Senator of Alderaan made his intentions of starting the talks Zarion's head turned towards him slightly and nodded. Zarion turned his attentions briefly to the venerable warhero Draken, pulling out the chair for him on which Draken's hand was resting and motioning him invitingly with a small sweep of his left hand towards the chair.
 


Tag: Directly interacting with Phoebe Winsloe Phoebe Winsloe
Objective: Be a Distraction - Objective 1 Taris
Shan let out a relieved sigh once he had managed to get his interceptor down onto Taris. The Mandalorians seemed to be having the same idea as them and were finally starting to land themselves. That was fine! It wasn't like he was going to need to deal with too many of them. He was mostly focused on getting civillians out towards the evacuation shuttles! It wasn't like he was going to need to face down more than two or three Mandalorians at a time. I mean, what were the odds that he'd have t-​


Pulling out her comlink and lightsaber, Phoebe got onto a Jedi frequency and kept her voice low, commed for help. "This is Padawan Winsloe. I'm at the government offices on level 50 at 227 Republic Avenue. A tech team and myself are cornered by at least five Mandos."

"...Chit. Chit, Chit, Chit!"

Him and his dumb brain! Why couldn't things be easy? Nooooo! A Padawan needed assistance. Sometimes Shan wished he was okay with being a bad role model. Leave people to get themselves out of situations but it didn't fit him whatsoever. For now, he worked on running through the streets to get to the government offices. These were the times his natural speed came to his advantage, hoping over various bits of rubble that were already starting to litter the streets.

"This is Knight Pavond. I'm on my way. Be ready for a...big entrance."

He could have flown his interceptor in, but that would have been far too noisy. Hell, even his current plan was going to be a bit noisy as he made his way through the building connected to the government offices, practically flying up the steps as he got up to level 50. Okay. This was possibly going to hurt a lot but it would get the Mandalorian's attention on him. The Mirialan rolled his shoulders back, before focusing on the Force. Using both Force Speed and Soft to Solid to become a living battering ram as he smashed himself through the wall and into the group of Mandalorians, finally igniting his lightsaber. Letting the green blade illuminate the room as he fell upon his roots of Soresu.​
 

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D E M O N
IRON LEGION
1st BATTALION, 16th STORM REGIMENT
'IRON WILL'
ALLIES : NEO | Carduul Akahl Carduul Akahl | Korra Kast Korra Kast
ENEMIES : GA | Phoebe Winsloe Phoebe Winsloe | Gym Halpern Gym Halpern | Rann Thress Rann Thress | Vera Noble Vera Noble | Shan Shan | Nos Voros Nos Voros | Kellen Mynn Kellen Mynn

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F0R WH0M THE B3LL T0LLS

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The red-lights of the Barran thrummed to life before the repulsorlifts kicked on, a flicker in the vehicle's power before finally the beast that was this Infantry Fighting Vehicle full emerged into machine-consciousness. Each side of the troop bay was lined with six troopers in their myriad of remnant 'Storm' armor, the poorly camoflaged pieces scrawled with simple but direct phrases, 'HAIL EMPIRE', 'VENGEANCE', 'CULL THE WEAK'. This host of the Lost and the Damned all now clad in Imperial steel. The Galaxy's worst re-armed and reignited with the dead skin of a fallen regime.

They were dregs, the lot of them. At least, they were when they so desperately clamored to Kroeger. Beneath that dreadful visage that was the Stormtrooper's gaze, they were soldiers all. Worthy to don the armor to which so many had sweat, toiled, bled and died to piece together on Adumar in the days of the Order. Days long gone, forgotten, dead.

But even still, its ghost walked clad in plasteel with rifles in their hands and hate in their hearts. Within the turret of the vehicle, Kroeger manned the reins of the vehicle, hand grasping the commander's controls of the turret, swaying its independent viewer back and forth with the steady roll of the Barran. In tandem with the Mandalorian drop assault, Iron Will would be laying siege from the ground. With a battery of 'Imperators' in fire support, Kroeger advanced with his Stormtroopers embarked unto Barran-class IFVs with his own platform of choice, the XT-90M Cataphract (s) in support along with Mantellska ADA guns and 'Condor'-class Gunships in support.

<"Demon-Six, this is Krayt-Six, we've hit phase line 'Dubrillion', eyes on GA, civilians, whole nine yards. Have vessels exfiltrating for evacuation. No doubt 'Cloaks' are here. Dropping my dismounts now and moving in."> One of Kroeger's subordinate commanders relayed to him, the most forward element reaching the outskirts of the city, the stormtroopers clammoring from the troop bays of their IFVs, headed into the city proper ahead of their transports to secure a foothold and sweep the area of any anti-tank threats before the IFVs could bound in behind them and provide fire support.

<"Good copy."> He said, pulling up the tactical display map on his command console, showing the active movement of his units as well as any Mandalorians who had taken the care to attach themselves to his system. On Kroeger's display, the city was broken down into a Grid Reference System, the city broken down into sectors and each sector broken down by each individual building, making snappy communication between the various units under his command a breeze. As confusing and chaotic as urban warfare was, they wouldn't have that problem.

<"Hellfire this is Demon, Krayt is in the city, fire target number Aurek-Besh 5050. How copy?"> He relayed to his gun battery which echoed the message. Within ten seconds, with guns laid on that target to begin with, the horrific screech of airburst mass driver rounds smacked the air above several key landing pads across the city, strategic terrain features identified by Kroeger's map recon hours prior in the hopes of slaying evacuation transports, the civilians clammoring to them and the GA elements defending them

<"Demon elements keep advancing. Bound by platoon. All 'Red' platoons establish support by fire to cover all 'White' and 'Black' platoons. Get your dismounts up as high as they can with 'Arbalest' OPs. Prioritize military targets but smack every evac vessel they have. Iron wills it."> He said over the net. As command element, he assigned his anti-aircraft batteries to himself, positioning them meticulously for the best line of sight of escaping GA air assets. Their mass driver cannons and guided missiles would fire out in hatred for military vessels first but whenever the sky was unsaturated, civilian transports were next.


His gunner next to him tapped him on the shoulder. <"We're at Phase Line 'Bastion', sir."> He said to which Kroeger nodded.

<"Demons. Dismount!"> He commanded before following suite himself, pressing the hatch release before he stood atop the Barran, eyeing the chaotic violence of the city fight before him as his men rushed out, marching up in line with the Barrans and Cataphracts who took up support-by-fire roles for the Stormtroopers rushing into the streets.

An eerily familiar, ever dreaded sight opposite of the Galactic Alliance troopers, Jedi and populace. The Storm. Kroeger crawled from atop his command vehicle, rifle lazily slung over his chest and walked upright, slow and nigh apathetic with a contempt for danger. As soon as he approached his command squad tucked up against the corner of a building waiting to bound forward, he pulled off his helmet and sparked a cigarette, peaking out to appraise the state of the assault.
 
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Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit | Wedding Ring
Weapons: Blasters | Lightsabers


Valery's boots dug into the scorched earth, the hum of her lightsaber thrumming low and steady at her side as the chaos of Cathar surged around her. Smoke thickened in the air, turning the golden horizon into a twisted silhouette of flame and war. Above, escape shuttles screamed through the sky. Behind her, civilians clung to what little hope they had left — clutching children, helping the wounded, eyes darting for exits they could barely reach.

And then she heard it — the thrum of jetpack thrusters. She turned just in time to see Minerva Fhirdiad Minerva Fhirdiad descend in a streak of fire and precision. A blaster bolt tore through a Crusader's chest mid-flight. Another crashed into a nearby structure, body limp before it even struck the rubble. The moment her boots hit the ground beside Valery, the Jedi's expression turned grim, but grateful.

Valery didn't hesitate. She pointed toward the eastern square, where fires had already swallowed half the buildings and screams still echoed through the smoke.

"Evacuation zones," she ordered sharply. "There are civilians pinned under debris and some trying to hold off Crusaders with barely-functioning blasters. Get them out. The Alliance can't hold Cathar — it's too far, and their grip is too tight. But we will get these people off-world. We don't let this turn into another Purge."

Her amber eyes narrowed toward the horizon.

"And if you see any of their warriors on the way?" Her saber crackled to life, casting violet light across the ash and ruin. "Make them regret coming here."

She turned just in time to hear it — the whirring scream of a rifle locking into fully-automatic fire. Her instincts surged through the Force like lightning. Without thinking, she twisted, violet saber snapping up to intercept the hail of plasma bolts now streaking toward her.

Pft-pft-pft — Three were caught in quick succession, sizzling as they slammed into her blade. Another bolt grazed her shoulder pauldron, scorching the fabric beneath but doing little else. Valery's eyes snapped to the source. A figure pushed through the haze — Mandalorian, tall, armored in matte tones of rage and war, and stalking toward her with murderous intent. His aura reeked of fury. Of belief. She could feel the raw heat of his hatred like a furnace.

That one.

She held out a hand to Minerva, palm open — a clear signal.

"This one's mine." Her stance shifted. She didn't rush to meet him. Didn't break into a charge or issue some proud Jedi declaration. No — she waited. She watched him burn energy. Watched him storm forward, every bolt of his rifle chewing into the air, the rage propelling him faster. Her lightsaber danced in tight, efficient arcs, intercepting each one, until the sound of her blade was a constant hum, a rhythm of defiance.

Then she moved. One step forward. Her hand snapped out, and the Force howled. The ground ripped open beneath her palm, torn apart by the telekinetic wave that surged outward like the crest of a storm. Stone split. Metal debris lifted and spun. Dust exploded in every direction. The wave surged across the battlefield — focused, coiled, ferocious — as it approached like a landslide, aimed straight for Brent with enough power to rip lesser warriors from their footing and slam them backward through the air like ragdolls.






 
Korra felt the gut-deep instinct of a seasoned warrior, an instant before the thunk of the grenade launcher kicked off the inevitable, she moved. A sharp pivot and a thrust of her jetpack sent her hurling sideways midair. Quickly, she drew her blasters and began firing upon Nos. She landed a good distance away, not wanting to use up her jetpack fuel so quickly.

Nos was charging—predictable. Big, loud, full of faith and fire. She had no intention of meeting that charge head-on. So her current plan of attack was to just keep moving and get shots off at his flank. Her target with this strategy was his jetpack. The less mobility he had, the better.

Nos Voros Nos Voros
 
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Objective: Tie down the flighty woman (not like that)
Outfit: Senate Commando Armor [X]
Full Kit Deployment:

By the time the static and smoke cleared, Nos rushed through empty space, black carbon scoring the enlarged blue shield-pauldron unique to the Senate Commando armor.

The Mandalorian took to the air, and Nos made to follow - a bolt of plasma from the woman hit the thruster of his jetpack, suddenly tilting it into an unreliable yaw.

The heavy-armored commando swerved into a nearby building, smashing through brick and mortar into the carpeted flooring below.

The clattering sound of multiple collisions within the building was audible from the street. Then there was a moment of silence from within, the sound of the jetpack shut off. Then, a rapid thumping of heavy footsteps at an alarming sprint.

A floor above where he had smashed into the building, anither grenade blasted a hole through the wall, revealing the Captain at a full sprint, using the servo-assisted exoskeleton built into the suit to leap like a madman through the smoke and into the air towards the hovering Korra Kast Korra Kast an instant before his repulsor boots slowed his decent, just enough time to steady his aim.

He quickly extended arm in aim at the Mandalorian and fired - not with his blaster, now held in his off hand - but with an Ascension Pistol, a shot intended to tether the more mobile opponent to him before he dropped back to the ground.

 
The roar of crumbling brick, the crack of breaking furniture, and the rapid percussion of armored boots thundering through the building signaled Nos wasn't down—not by a long shot.

Korra stood, head tilted as she tracked the sounds, her rangefinder calibrating every erratic movement like a huntress circling a wounded beast. But wounded didn't mean harmless.

Her visor snapped toward the blast that tore open the upper wall—and then he was there, leaping through the smoke like some possessed juggernaut.

Korra twisted to evade, but the whip-thwip of the Ascension Pistol fired. The tether snapped around her arm before she could fully dodge. It yanked tight with a jarring clank of tension, pulling her momentum off-course as Nos dropped toward the street.


"Dank farrik."

But Mandalorians weren't prey.

Her jetpack lit up, and she hurled herself forward, closing the distance faster than he might've planned. Korra wanted to catch him off-guard. As she neared, she aimed a knee-strike towards his head.

Nos Voros Nos Voros
 
OBJECTIVE 1: TARIS

Taris. Raphael barely knew much about this planet. He'd heard that, a long time ago it had been part of the conquest of the mandalorians, and then the sith, though this was... millenia ago? Several millenia ago? It mattered, of course, but he couldn't quite remember. It was like... four or five millenia.

But now it seemed like it was coming back to that time. The mandalorians were coming down, again. Raphael's hand lightly gripped the sheath of the force imbued blade. Some people around began to scream. Raphael knew that he would need to get off planet, but first he needed to start helping to evacuate the people.

"Don't panic!" he shouted to the people around him, keeping his voice calm and steady. "Move to the starport and transports." He pointed towards the nearest starport where his own ship was landed. "I'll cover you, go!"
 
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Outfit: Senate Commando Armor [X]
Full Kit Deployment:

As Nos fell to the street below, the tethered Mandalorian was tugged along - satisfaction lasted only as long as it took for him to notice her approaching with a gravity-assisted flying knee from above.

His visor cracked with the impact, head jostled back fast enough that even with hydraulic dampening, his bell was rung - worse yet, the head impact triggered a flare of vertigo from his old brain injury, throwing off his sense of balance and causing immediate nausea.

The armored Zeltron once again cracked ferrocrete on impact, landing on his back. The commando's combat blaster skidded off the pavement out of reach, and the grip of the ascension pistol held only by the integrated Magna Gloves of the heavy armor.

"Not. So. Fast" Nos muttered as he yanked at the tether, pulling him and the combatant at each other to close the gap once more, throwing a retaliatory punch at the chest piece of the woman's armor, the center of mass at least, considering he still nearly saw double.

The moment his arm hit the trigger extension, the integrated sonic gauntlet tech discharged - sending a shockwave of force alongside the otherwise hefty strike.

This armor was proving worth its weight - for now.

The sudden need to vomit churned Nos's stomach and he began to pull at his own helmet with clear urgency; any banter he might have thrown replaced by a desperate need for fresh air as the world spin around him.

 
That light at the end of the tunnel leads to Hell
LOCATION: Taris Obj I
TAG: OPEN.

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Objective I — Siege of Taris
(PvP/PvE)

“CONN-TACTICAL! Mandalorian Dropships have broken through the blockade.”

That was not entirely unexpected, but he thought that the defense group in the sector would have held a little longer. No time to dwell on that now.

Flight Control… reroute fighters to push as many dropships as they can into our gun sights… Tactical if you see them… make them pay for it! If they are landing… stop them from doing so… if they landed… don’t let them take off.

“Aye!”

“Exiting the mesosphere… entering the Stratosphere…”

“Sir! Incoming… Imperial attack ships!”

Tactical… what were my previous orders?

“If it is not Taris local, or Galactic Alliance, it’s a target!”

Bring or main dorsal guns on any ships incoming that don’t have an Alliance tag. Ventral and Bow guns should be taking out any ground targets…

This was a rescue/evacuation mission for them, but it was still a warship that they were in and all weapons went active. They would not fail.

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Objective: Ensure sensitive intel or tech doesn't fall into enemy hands.
Outfit:
x x x x x | Equipment: x x x x x x | Weapons: x x x | Companion: Domxite
Interacting with: Open

The sky above Taris had always been thick, but now it shimmered with something unnatural. A strange aurora, born of the realignment, ghosted across the clouds like the galaxy itself was bruising.

Something bigger was hanging out there. One could see it in the stars.

Zaiya crouched low on the edge of a shattered observation platform, her fingers curled tight around a rusted durasteel beam. Far below, Mandalorian drop ships broke atmosphere like falling stars; too fast and far too many. Her skin muted to a silvery sheen, with light rippling through the bioluminescent stripes in citrines hues of focused but calm alarm.

They were back in Taris again, only this time, they were dealing with the Mandalorians rather than rescuing refugees.

[ Zaiya ] came the voice in her ear. Kyden, her squad's slicer. Too loud. Too nervous.

She adjusted the comm bead then glanced at her small projected holomap on her cuff at her wrist, the other bangles jingling quietly.

"I'm in position. Southern vault's sealed. They haven't reached it yet."

[ Yet,] Kyden muttered. [Our window's closing.]

Zaiya's striped mottled cheek twitched as it flushed a deeper orange in worry as it tried its best to crawl its way up her calm. She shut her eyes, pulled a slow breath through her nose, and centered herself in the Force. The vault below contained something old. Classified. She hadn't been told what it was, just that if the Mandalorians got it, it would be bad.

A familiar ripple stirred through her with a chill at the edges of her senses.

Someone was close.

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