Dominion [NEO] The Great Taming | [Dominion of Kashyyyk Hex]

[Ninurta Slaabur'r]

​

Kashyyyk, the verdant jewel of the Mid Rim, stands as a bastion of Wookiee culture, resilience, and unity. From its towering Wroshyr trees to the labyrinthine Shadowlands, makes it both a fortress and a sanctuary for those who call it home. But now, the harmony of the forest faces a dissonant threat as the Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders position for attack, devised and spearheaded by Beastmaster Ninurta. This is no ordinary raid; it is a calculated strike to dismantle the soul of Kashyyyk—the Elder Council of Kachiro.

The planets rich natural resources are a coveted prize in the warpath. The Wroshyr trees offer unparalleled materials for ships, vehicles, weapons, and fortifications. The fertile lands and position in the Mid Rim present strategic opportunities for expansion, resource cultivation, and dominance over crucial trade routes. Even the unique ecosystems of the Shadowlands, teeming with exotic flora and fauna, provide untapped potential for bioweapons. Central to the campaign is the Neo-Crusaders' ability to forge and manipulate alien alliances to strengthen their assault. The Rodian hunter clans, enticed with promises of expanded hunting grounds and access to Kashyyyk's famed Ryyatt trails, have eagerly joined the fray, using their sharpshooting skills to dominate the canopy levels. Meanwhile, the Trandoshan Blackscale Clan, longtime adversaries of the Wookiees, has been lured into the conflict with opportunities to raid and enslave their ancestral enemies. Hints of potential rewards from the moon of Trandosha add further incentive, tying the Neo-Crusaders' impending reign to the power struggles of the region. Even among the Wookiees themselves, dissent is sown. Outcast Madclaws and exiles from the Shadowlands have been charmed by the beastmasters silver tongue. Promises of redemption and revenge, lured into the Neo-Crusader fold with the vision of reclaiming what was lost and exacting justice against those who cast them out.

Ninurta spearheads an unrelenting assault on the canopy level of Kachiro, where the Wookiee Elder Council governs. The feral horde he leads—a savage tide of Madclaw exiles, shadow-dwelling Webweavers, and a towering Terentatek—climbs through the towering Wroshyr trees, bringing chaos to the upper city. Neo-Crusaders join the charge, their disciplined formations wiping away what the feral beasts could not. But Wookiee warriors and freedom fighters have mounted a fierce defense, their knowledge of the Great Tree's vast platforms and suspended walkways grant them a crucial edge. Every branch and platform becomes a contested battlefield as the Shyyyo Heart Tribe fights valiantly to protect their tribal elders. A path must be carved through them and Elders taken captive!

While the assault rages in canopy level, Neo-Crusader forces focus on securing lower Kachiro, where the docks and ports are vital lifelines for reinforcements and supplies. Rodian hunter clans, lured by promises of expanded hunting grounds and control of the Ryatt Trail, join the fray, stalking through the lower city with calculated precision. Snipers concealed in the canopy level rain death from above, targeting Wookiee resistance fighters and mysterious Jedi shadows attempting to regroup. Aerial combatants equipped with jetpacks and basilisk droids streak through the dense maze of massive tree trunks and stretch into the coastline. Engaged in perilous dogfights while skirmishes erupt on precarious walkways and platforms. At sea level, Wookiee aquatic forces clash with Neo-Crusader amphibious units, the docks becoming a battleground of clashing blades and heavy weaponry. The Shyyyo Heart Tribe's engineers and warriors coordinate a multi-level defense, leveraging every inch of their city's unique geography to resist the Crusader incursion and protect communication relays, ports and docking stations our fleets need in order to land!

​

The Blackscale slavers join the Neo-Crusader fleet to establish space superiority over the Kachiro Orbital station. The battle rages in the orbit of the planet, with capital ships trading devastating volleys and wings of fighters being deployed. Blackscale slavers, infamous for their ruthless efficiency, seek to capture fleeing Wookiee vessels, exploiting the chaos of war to expand their operations. Neo-Crusader fleet commanders work to maintain discipline among their new so called "allies", ensuring the Crusade's objectives remain paramount. With opposition already heavy, we cannot afford to face the Trandoshans as well. Temper them now while there is time! Meanwhile the defenders and Wookiee ships, fight tooth and claw, using Kashyyyk's gravity wells and the thick planetary atmosphere to gain tactical advantages. The Shyyyo Heart Tribe lends its support by coordinating planetary defenses, using their intimate knowledge of Kashyyyk's terrain to outmaneuver their attackers and strike back from unexpected angles. Break through the veil of opposition and land planetside on the coast!

 

[Ninurta Slaabur'r]

The forest floor was alive with shadows, the distant glow of bioluminescent fungi casting faint halos in the gloom of the Shadowlands. My breath fogged the damp air as I drew the combat stims from my belt, the vial glinting faintly in the half-light. With a practiced motion, I pressed it to my neck, the hiss of the injector masked by the guttural growls of the feral Wookiees gathered nearby. I felt the burn immediately—a rush of fire in my veins as the stims mingled with my Falleen biology, pushing my pheromones into overdrive. The faint, primal musk filled the air like an invisible command, and the growls around me stilled as dozens of yellow eyes turned toward me.​

The swarm moved like a living storm, a cascade of flesh, muscle and sinew. Hunger, claws and fury. My eyes flicked across them, feeling their anticipation in the air, their loyalty not given, but demanded. I breathed in deeply, the combat stims coursing through me, turning my pheromones into a sharp, biting command. They were mine. All of them.

I stepped forward, my voice low and resonant, threading my words with promises and power. "...you have been cast down into the shadows, but here—now—I offer you the promise of vengeance and revenge. Swift retribution. The tribes above see you as nothing but beasts, They have forgotten you but I see warriors. I see a community worthy of the skies above. The tree they built is yours, and you—yes, you—can rise once more and live in the sun. I will give you this." Some bared their fangs in hesitation; others thumped their chests in primal agreement. The exiles were the easiest—fallen warriors longing for a return to glory. The ferals were harder, their instincts warring against comprehension. I used what gifts I could, coaxing the alphas with a mix of pheromones and low, soothing tones, showing them the might of the pack they would join.

Over time, the horde grew. In flashes of memory, I saw the gathering swell: Madclaws emerging from the roots of fallen Wroshyr trees, shadow-crawling Webweavers drawn by the pheromone-coated bait I left for them, and other predatory creatures of the Shadowlands lured by carefully laid trails of blood and more meals. Then, there was the Terentatek—a nightmare of claws, tusks, and venom. It demanded my full concentration, a week of careful manipulation, and the sheer force of will to tame it. Even now, as it loomed behind me, its massive form sent waves of unease rippling through my forces.
​

The ascent began with a roar.

The hordes surged up the Great Tree of Kachiro like a living tide, claws digging into bark, ropes swinging through the branches, and beasts crashing through barriers of wood and metal. The Shyyyo Heart warriors met us first, their war cries cutting through the canopy as they leaped to intercept us. A Wookiee warrior swung down from a branch, his Ryyk blade slashing toward me. I met the strike with my beskad, the clash of metal ringing out as the weight of the blow nearly drove me from my perch and over the edge to the shadows below. A grim fate that was bestowed not to myself but my weapon as it was forced from my hand! I kicked hard, creating the distance needed to launch my forearm forward and bathe the warrior with a warm glow. The scent of charred fur and flesh clung to the air and a crispy barbeque was delivered plummeting into the abyss below.

 

[Sig Dryggo]

Tags: @Open

​

The call of war isnt easily ignored by a Mandalorian. In fact a True Mandalorian sought war- for warfare runs through their very blood and flows into every facet of their society. At least that’s what Sig believed. It’s what most Neo-Crusaders believed. It didn’t matter what was then, all that mattered now.

The Neo-Crusaders had stalled: victory after victory meant nothing if they didn’t keep seeking them out. It wasn’t his plan to re-enter the fold so quickly, in fact he had planned on waiting far longer. But the Game needed playing, and he believed bis guiding hand was required to ensure Mandalorian Glory.

When word spread through their fleet and clans that Kashyyyk would be the next strike, Sig couldn’t be more gleeful. The Wookie warriors would surely produce incredible Foundlings, and those who would serve against them would be put down. Even if no allies were gained, the Neo-a Crusade would still claim victory through terror and sheer force. Sig was all to glad to make it known that he, as well as others of Clan Dryggo, would be at the front lines of this coming conflict.

In fact he currently sat not just behind tbe lines, but beneath them.

Sitting at the bottom of the freezing sea was Sig and a dozen of his vod. Above them they could hear the conflict beginning to form, the roaring thunder of war muffled beneath the waves. After a few minutes of double checking their equipment Sig gave a nod and they began to slowly ascend. Coming up beneath the docks they could see above them dozens of Wookiees preparing the harbor.

Off in the distance the ships and boats of Rodian slavers emerged over the horizon, their forces speeding towards the opportunity the Crusaders had now provided them. Peering up he could see a wookie commander above shouting orders in their native language, which Sig didn’t care enough to attempt to understand. Launching both arms forwards, his hands exploded from beating the great brute’s feet. Gripping them tight, he yanked hard to bring the Wookie down and smashing into the water, parts of the dock surrounding him following.

As he entered the water he would meet Sig’s vibroblade knife, turning the water crimson within seconds. Not a moment later Sig and his vod shot forth out of the water, their jetpacks placing them upon the docks, in the middle of the Wookie defensive line.

Without a word Sig and his vod began sweeping the docks, opening fire on anything that moved. While the Wookiee did prove effective, easily killing several of the warriors, the dock was quickly overwhelmed and taken by Sig and those who remained. As the last wookie was cleared from the dock, Rodian ships began to dock. Glancing at the nearest of these ships, Sig grinned sinisterly. <“This is Dryggo: the docks are ours. All ground forces push into the trees, cut off the lower city support, kill anything in your way.”>

His orders were clear and broadcast to every Neo-Crusader that wasn’t in the upper city with Ninurta Slaabur'r ‘s forces. Today was a day for glory, no matter the cost.

 

[Vreegan Fett]

​

Vreegan observed the tactical display screen as the initial Mandalorian forces landed on their designated targets, intent on eliminating any Wookiee opposition on the planet and cowering the other species that resided on the world.

However, he was not naive enough to think that they could achieve control over the planet without incurring bloodshed and sacrifice, given that the Wookiees' superior strength was more than capable of challenging hardened beskar.

He had anticipated that, considering the planet's history, traces of the Silver Jedi Concord would be present. However, none of his vode had reported any such encounters. If they had, they chose not to share this information with the rest of the Crusaders, likely to retain the potential glory for themselves.

This behavior did not surprise him, as not all Mandalorians exhibited discipline from a mental perspective. He had arrived in orbit with three Slythmonger Assault Frigates to assist the Trandoshans known as the Blackscales in their effort to wipe the skies clean of potential interference but Vreegan certainly didn't trust them to act strategically.

The defender's Auzituck Anti-Slaver Gunships were nimble and sturdy, as they zipped around the heavy firepower of the Trandoshans.

Vreegan commanded from the command chair, his voice slicing through the charged atmosphere of the bridge with precision. "Man the gunwales and establish a wall of fire!" The crew responded immediately, adrenaline coursing through their veins as they hurried to their designated positions.

Outside, the vastness of space shimmered with an ominous glow, populated by the silhouettes of enemy gunships darting like predatory birds. "Ensure they are only straffing the gunships! We require them perfectly aligned with our main batteries!" The air was thick with tension as the blaster cannons began to hum, creating a symphony that seemed to resonate throughout the ship.

The Mandalorian's keen eyes were fixed on the tactical displays, where enemy craft flickered across the star-studded expanse. The stillness of the battlefield was abruptly broken as the crew unleashed a relentless barrage, brilliant plasma bolts illuminating the surrounding darkness.

 

[Armel]

Lower Kachiro, Kashyyk

KA-CHUNK!​

The sound of a mass-driver shell ejecting into the turret basket echoed around the tank turret. A neo-crusader quickly hoisted another shell and set it into the cannon breach before forming a fist with his right hand and punching the shell in. The breach sealed shut and a small light above the turret turned from red to green.

"UP!" he screamed and moved back as fast as he could.

Not even half a second later Armel shouted. "ON THE WAY!" and the turret shuddered as he fired the main gun.

KA-CHUNK!
​

Another shell launched into the turret basket.

Peering through the sights Armel watched as a Wookie Kas tank burst in flames. Armel let out a sigh of relief and felt a hand slap him on the back. He turned briefly to see his loader, a Zabarak named Veel, with a huge grin on his face. The Zeltron simply gave the man a nod before looking up to open the tank hatch. The sound of the outside battle began to flood into the looted AAT. Slowly he peaked his head out and bore witness to the full extent of the chaos, Kashyyk was burning. Armel wasn't usually assigned to armoured vehicles but today the type of warfare they had expected saw the conscript volun-told to get in the tank. It wasn't bad so far.

With it's repulsorlifts set to their max settings the highly modified tank drifted slowly above the water, closing in on the shoreline where the Neo-Crusader vanguard worked on storming the defences. As he watched the carnage a tank to his left suddenly erupted into a fireball, it's burning wreck plunged into the water and slowly sank. Armel quickly turned back in and back into the relative safety of the tank as another to his right returned fire.

The radio suddenly came to life and the voice of Sig Dryggo filled the turret.

<"This is Dryggo: the docks are ours. All ground forces push into the trees, cut off the lower city support, kill anything in your way.">

Armel raised his hand to the side of his helmet and spoke.

<"Acknowledged Dryggo. This is callsign Shuk'orok, we are hitting the beach and are ready to provide fire support.">

Dryggo, he had heard the name before, rallymasters had spoken it in hushed tones. He was never privy to why they didn't talk about Dryggo, he was only a conscript after all but as far as he could tell this Crusader had just finished taking docks and that was welcome news.

"We got a real scrap on our hands boys!" he shouted and the reply that returned were four loud cries of "Oya" from the rest of the crew. He smirked under the helmet. This was the war that the Rallymasters had talked so much about on Dxun.

The whole vehicle shuddered and then lurched forward as the AAT made it off the water. After a brief second the tank lowered down as it's repulsorlifts returned back to its normal output. Armel slew the turret to the left, spotting a group of Wookie defenders setting up a heavy repeater. His hands keyed for the tank's repeating blaster cannons and it let out a volley of blaster fire towards the wookies. The wookie carrying the gun dropped immedietly while the other managed to dive to the floor. He then switched back to the main gun and the turret rocked again as it fired, obliterating the area the wookie had tried to hide.

KA-CHUNK!
​

"UP!" his loader shouted. It was like clockwork.

Sig Dryggo | Open​

 

[Brent Warnel]

TAGS: Ninurta Slaabur'r | OPEN

When the call for war came, Brent responded. He had returned to his fellow Mando'ade now and had a purpose. War. He longed to prove himself again, and win back the trust of those vod around him.

Kashyyyk. The garden jewel. Everyone knew of it, but few people saw it up close, from the towering trees and beasts that lived in them to the deepest depths of the world and the unknown things that crawled in them.

Brent was one of the lucky few who saw it up close. In fact, he was seeing it closer and closer by the second due to the flames shooting out of the engine of the landing craft he was on. They had taken anti-aircraft fire upon entering the lower atmosphere and had been unlucky to take several rounds, damaging the crafts engines and leaving them with minimal steering.

Even now, the pilot still struggled to keep them on their course. Brent donned his helmet and checked that his jet-pack was operable.

"The engines aren't responding," The pilot voiced over the comm, "Someone tell me how bad we're looking. I'm still trying to work on it up here."

Brent slammed a switch down in the troop bay of the craft and watched as both sides of the ship's doors retreated into the hull. Light entered the compartment, and Brent got a good view of their surroundings as they rocketed towards the surface.

Brent leaned out of the craft and looked back towards the rear of the ship, noting the extensive damage and trail of smoke they were leaving in the sky. There was no coming back from the twisted steel and carbon scoring they had received upon entering atmosphere.

"Too much damage," Brent comm'd back to the Pilot, "Get us as close as possible, then jump ship."

Brent peered back outside and witnessed as ships streamed toward the planet's surface in a near-unending wave. Neo-crusaders, allied forces, and anyone else racing to take what they wanted from this planet.

"This is [static]: the [static] are ours. All ground forces push into the trees, cut off the [static] city support, kill [static]."

Brent looked at the identifier for the comm transmission, but it was unknown to him. The raging fire from the drop ship and the AA fire garbled the transmission. The message was more than clear enough: push into the trees.

"We're not going to make the docks; I'll get us as close to the treetops as possible. Get ready," the pilot called over the comms.

Brent held on as the ship hurtled towards the large trees and the villages upon them. As they got closer, Brent saw blaster bolts lancing back and forth between Neo-crusaders and their enemies.

"Go, go, go!" The pilot yelled.

His jet-pack ignited, launching him from the interior of the landing craft towards the large trees that had risen to meet them on their descent. Several vod were around him, all going towards a large clearing in one of the nearby villages in the trees.

He landed heavily, took out his rifle, and pushed up into a nearby group of Mando's who were engaging several defending Wookies on a higher level. Brent added his firepower to theirs, and they began to advance.